"Hell on Earth, huh?"
"Hell on Station."
"The man who killed Reena Song is over there. I have to go."
Now it was Royal's turn to lose his cool. "Didn't you hear a goddam word I just said to you! There's an army of killers over there, half men, half weapons. And you don't even know who you're looking for. Great! A fucking twisted fellow with long blades on his forearms. Do you know how many Risers could fit that description? Cause I sure as fuck don't. You'd be looking for a needle in a haystack of needles, and all the needles are tipped with poison. And as you're looking, dark creatures are hurling spears at your back. Do you understand what I'm saying, Hadder!"
Hadder had never seen such anger come from Royal and appreciated it from his friend. Despite now viewing the world through Rage-tinted glasses, Hadder could still recognize when someone was acting kind. "I do understand, Royal."
Royal, exhaled, deflated into the booth, exhausted but content that he got through to Hadder.
"You're saying I need to know who I'm looking for before I go over."
Royal jolted up, back straight. "That's not what I'm saying at all! I'm saying that crossing the Skirt is suicide! That I'll lose two good friends instead of one, you stupid bastard!"
Hadder held up a hand to calm his friend. "I understand, Royal. And I appreciate your concern and your friendship. But I'm going, and you can either watch me go over there blind, or you can help me get some intel before I go."
Hadder's words, tone, and demeanor left no room for negotiation. Royal looked again at the man with whom he shared a booth. Royal stared into the man's eyes and was frightened by what he saw. Gone was the Marlin Hadder that he knew. The man he saw looked the same, sounded the same, and dressed the same, but was much different from the man he met and shared so many pleasant times with. Where there was always a deep sadness within Hadder's eyes, there was now ice, a cold rage that refused to veer from its chosen path of destruction.
"Very little, if any, gossip comes over from the Rising. And that which does rarely travels beyond an ear or two. Information about the Rising is a valuable commodity, one that those in the know hold close to their chests."
"And who's in the know? I need a name."
Royal hesitated, wanting nothing more than to remove himself from the booth, to do anything rather than deliver the name he was about to give. Hadder grew impatient. "Royal Winters, I need a name!"
Royal's head went back at Hadder's voice, such power there was in his demand. "Lester Midnight. He's one of the original Keys. He runs Lester Midnight's Biomass on the far western edge of the city. If anyone knows anything, he will."
Hadder's crazed eyes softened. "Thank you, my friend." He got up to leave. Royal grabbed his arm.
"Hadder, you have to know, Biomass is a real freak show, the most extreme Elevations on this side of the Skirt. And Lester Midnight is the biggest freak of all of them. And the place is invite-only, so you may have trouble getting in."
"Oh, I'll get in, don't worry about that."
"But once you do, Hadder, you have to be careful. Monsters aren't only found in the Rising. Biomass is swimming with them."
"Then, I'll fit right in."
Hadder's face warmed where Lilly had struck him. She stood across from him defiantly, fists clenched at her sides. "Why?"
Hadder said simply, "She was our friend."
"No, she was my friend, Marlin. But I'm not going to die for her. What was she to you? Did you love her?"
"I loved her just as I love Royal, not as I love you."
"Then, why? I need a better answer."
Hadder sighed, tried to find the words. He wasn't ready to share the truth of himself, of the Rage that had laid dormant, now awakened by a terrible act. "I was finally happy, Lilly. Here, with you. You, Royal, Glen, and everyone else had made a home for me here, the first I've had in a long time. That home was broken in two the other Haela, and it won't feel like home again as long as the man who killed Reena Song is out there. If he was able to get into The Soiree unseen, what's to stop him from getting into Cranesman? Into The Royal?"
"Marlin, the Caesars are on high alert now. They won't let anyone else through."
"I can't take that chance."
"So, instead, you'll take the chance of killing yourself?"
"I've done it once."
"We've all done it once. You're not special."
"I'm sorry, Lilly. I understand your concern. And your anger. I really do. But I can't relax here, can't be the man you fell in love with again until this is taken care of."
Lilly fought back tears, but one escaped to fall gently down her soft cheek, sending a shard of glass through Hadder's heart. She stared at him through water-logged eyes. "What if it had been me, Marlin. Would you be so gung-ho about marching into the heart of darkness if it was me lying on the ground bleeding?
Hadder put his hands on Lilly's shoulders, kissed her forehead. "You? If it were you who was gone, dear Lilly, I would burn down the whole fucking city."
"I knew him, you know?"
"Lester Midnight?"
"Yeah, back when he was Lester Minnot. The original batch of us wasn't huge, so all the Keys know each other to some extent. He was always odd, a disgruntled artist. In the Before, he did all kinds of weird installations and performance art. Shock art is what I would call it. He couldn't deal with the fact that the general public refused to acknowledge his unique brilliance and ended up in Station. Here, when he discovered Elevations, he was convinced that he'd been given a new palette and discovered his new medium - the human body. Biomass is his living gallery, where the most extremely Elevated residents of the Setting go to pay their respects and gain inspiration for future enhancements. He's treated like a god there, as if he didn't have a god complex to begin with. Nowadays, he straddles the border of complete insanity, a fucking Willie Wonka of flesh. You can't go in there with bad intentions, Hadder. He has too many followers that will throw themselves in front of you."
"This is the Setting. That means all those extreme Elevations aren't weaponized, right? Everything's just for looks?"
"That's right."
"Then, I'm not worried."
Royal shook his head, still in disbelief at this friend's dramatic turn. "I'm saying, there might be another way. One that leaves fewer bruises. They're not gonna want to let you in. I mean, you're basically going to a hardcore tattoo festival with no tattoos. You're gonna look like a fucking tourist. They're notorious pricks at the door at Biomass; they make Monty the Mod look like a Walmart greeter. When you get to the door, tell them that one of the Keys, Royal Winters, sent you. That you’re someone Royal thinks Lester should meet - a fellow artiste. Knowing Lester, his curiosity and competitiveness will get the better of him. He'll have to see this new artist, if for no other reason than to shit on you and convince himself that you're not on his level. But at least you'll get a face-to-face."
"Sounds good, Royal. I'll give it a try."
"But it's no guarantee, Hadder. Lester and I were never the best of friends, I hated the little shit, truth be told. But I've never sent anyone to him before, so this should pique his interest."
"If this doesn't work, I have a plan b."
"And what's that?"
"Punch a hole in anyone that gets in my way."
Royal snickered, a sound full of the weight of exasperation. "Fine, but at least put something different on before you go. Biomass is full of loonies, but they're loonies who think of themselves as members of the glitterati. You'll do better if you don't look like a fucking dick at a cunt party."
Hadder laughed heartily at the analogy but stopped when he saw that Royal wasn't laughing with him.
CHAPTER 16
Hadder stood a hundred yards away from Lester Midnight's Biomass, a garish building ripped straight from the mind of Salvatore Dali. Looking like a museum that had a blowtorch taken to it, it resembled a Frank Gehry construct, if only Frank Gehry had no taste and a head full of acid.
> Assuming that those who frequented Biomass shied away from the harsh reality of Solay, Hadder had waited until deep Haela to make his way to the Bar. Residents continually approached the entrance, with many getting turned away by whoever was handling the door. Even from this distance, Hadder could make out the extreme Elevations of residents trying to gain entry.
One man's head had been stretched and elongated, resembling an ancient Scythian or one of those firsthand renderings of alien abductors. The woman he came with had a similar Elevation, with a neck that had been stretched, a callback to the National Geographic videos Hadder had seen on several indigenous tribes in Myanmar.
Hadder took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles, and moved towards Biomass, his custom blood red tuxedo shifting silently with him. As he approached the main door, Hadder saw that two men guarded the entryway, one checking guest lists and the other acting as muscle. The man making decisions looked to be a tall skeleton covered in skin, as if he had been pulled directly from King Tut's tomb, all the water drained from his body and just enough muscle to support the overall structure. The creature wore a schoolboy outfit to complete the look and showcase his veiny legs. The man that stood behind him, however, was the complete opposite. Thickly muscled, he wore the traditional black suit of a bouncer, one that Hadder had worn many times in his youth. Down his head was a mohawk of thick bone that escaped the confines of flesh to peer up towards the heavens. Hadder took note of that potential danger as he stepped to the forefront.
"Name," asked the mummified man, looking Hadder up and down with disdain.
"Marlin Hadder."
As he flipped through his pages of names, Hadder held the larger man's stare. "That bone hawk looks awfully close to a weapon, friend. I thought those were outlawed in the Setting."
The big man shook head. "Just for looks. The girls fucking love to pet it."
"But if it came to it…" prompted Hadder.
The big man smiled. "Yeah, if it came to it." Good to know, thought Hadder.
The mummy concluded his search. "Not on the list. Fuck off and fuck you for wasting my time." The skeleton stunk of chemicals, and his voice wheezed like that of someone in the throes of emphysema.
Hadder smiled patiently, like an adult dealing with an unruly child. "Please tell Lester Midnight that Royal Winters, a fellow Key, sent me. He knows they haven't spoken in some time, but he thinks that Mr. Midnight would like to meet me, a fellow artiste."
The talking bones snickered. "Take a look here, Gondo, a fellow artiste. But he don't look like any artiste. He looks like a fucking lame." The skeleton moved close to Hadder, standing a head taller, invading his space, looking down at him with disgust. "And let me tell you something, plain man, Lester Midnight is the only artiste in Station; he has no fellow. Now, fuck off before I have Gondo here make that boring face of yours match your outfit."
Hadder didn't move.
The skeleton tried to smile, said over his shoulder, "Gondo, please take this plain man and…"
He didn't get a chance to finish his order as Hadder executed a perfect Muay Thai leg kick to the creature. With no mass to cushion the blow, Hadder's shin shattered the mummy's leg, almost passing clean through, only to be stopped by a few shreds of dried skin. The skeleton crumbled in a heap, screaming like a banshee that had been lit on fire. Hadder backed up quickly, readying himself for a series of blows from Gondo. Seconds later, he realized that those blows weren't coming.
Gondo looked down at the squealing man and chuckled. "Shut up you worthless sketch of a man! You have no respect for the city's history." He looked to Hadder. "Truth be told, I've wanted to do that for a long time. It was almost as satisfying to watch it, though. If Royal Winters sent you, go on in. I'll have someone send word to Lester for you. Have some beverages, and check out the displays. If Lester wants to speak to you, he'll find you."
Hadder nodded thanks to Gondo and stepped over the whining bag of bones on the ground, making sure to come down on his outstretched hand on the way in. Standing in the entrance, Hadder straightened his clothes, something he always did when anxious, and moved forward, walking into the mind of a maniac.
Lester Midnight's Biomass was a true freak show, a living Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum. Only the creatures that adorned the walls and nooks of Biomass weren't the unlucky recipients of genetic mutations, bad genes, or horrific accidents. Instead, they were accomplices in their disfigurement, willing palettes upon which Lester Midnight wreaked his stomach-churning brand of art.
The entire building was mainly one large middle chamber surrounded by side rooms. As Hadder cleared the first hallway and entered the main showcase, he was greeted by a woman standing on a pedestal. Tall and lithe, she stood utterly unclothed, proudly displaying her artistic Elevation. The woman's skin was completely transparent, allowing anyone an unencumbered view of her inner workings. Hadder watched her lungs as they heaved, saw the direct effects of her pounding heart beneath her ribcage, and observed muscle flex as she moved. To enrich the show, the woman steadily ate from a basket of fruit next to her, giving the audience a peek into the entire digestive process.
A strange little man with an Elevated pixie nose saddled up to him and spoke conspiratorially. "There's a man in one of the outer rooms with the same Elevation. If you stay long enough, they'll perform a sex show. You haven't really seen the intricacies of sexual performance until you've witnessed the Transparent go at it."
"Good to know," said Hadder as he moved on, glad to be away from the repugnant little man.
Continuing through the main chamber, Hadder was hammered by all manner of visual assaults. One woman had been "reptized," her skin now scaly, her eyes like a viper, and her face pulled forward like that of a lizard. A far cry from the sensual Elevations of Helen and Nestra, Hadder felt no attraction to this changeling, only revulsion.
Many "exhibits" were residents that had been sewed together at various locations, with pretentious titles like "The Sharing Ideal," and "True Commitment." Other exhibits were residents who had their bodies rearranged, legs and arms reversed, heads turned around, and mouths that been placed on chests. Visitors walked around and gawked, some laughing, others cringing, and several discussing the artistic merits of each piece. "What do you think LM was trying to say with this one?"
Hadder rolled his eyes and continued on. At the back of the main exhibit hall, near an open door that read "Biomass" above it, Hadder had to stop and swallow down the urge to puke. Next to the door, hanging from wall supports, was a man whose skin had been flayed and pinned back like a frog in biology class. Beside the man, a woman whose mouth had been sewed shut, wearing a white nurse's uniform, regularly sprayed water onto the man's muscles, keeping them moist and protected from the dry chamber air.
Hadder looked into the man's eyes, convinced that he would see agony there, a silent call to set him free. But as he stared, Hadder only saw confused ecstasy staring back at him, with an oddball sense of pride lurking beneath.
Shaking his head, Hadder walked through the open doors that led to the "Biomass," shaking his head. Whether from pity, discomfort, or anger, Hadder wasn't sure.
If the main exhibit hall was disturbing, then the "Biomass" room was genuinely confusing. The entire back of Biomass was comprised of one long, thin room. As Hadder entered, he saw that soft benches ran down both directions, facing the most beautiful garden Hadder had ever seen. While the gardens scattered around Station and tended to by the manikins were wondrous, this was beyond description. Flowers the size of umbrellas and supported by stalks as large as thin women were peppered throughout the display. Massive chunks of colorful pollen were spit out by one flower to be gobbled up by another. Below these behemoths, equally exotic plants played out similar scenes in shades of purple, blue, orange, and red.
Hadder thought it impossible that such a diversity of plant life could exist in one location. It indeed was a "Biomass," as all the shapes of nature were in full display - bells and funnels, trumpets and bow
ls, saucers and tubulars, and sphericals. For several minutes, Hadder lost himself in that wondrous garden, for every square yard held a vastness of natural beauty that would take years to note and accurately describe in words. How could the man responsible for the wickedness in the room behind him also have created such beauty? This thought plagued Hadder as he relished in his recognition of the garden's perfection.
As Hadder stood appreciating, he noticed that several other residents had entered the "Biomass" exhibit. Unlike himself, however, they paid little mind to the lush garden before them, giving it minimal attention before descending stairs that appeared at the long room's opposite ends. Curious, Hadder bid adieu to the nursery and walked down the stairs to his right.
Upon reaching the bottom, Hadder's eyes widened, and his stomach churned with increased bile as he discovered the real "Biomass" exhibit. Against the back wall, directly below the garden above, was a glass enclosure of soil, some of it classic black and brown, but the majority of which was a clear substance that had obviously been added to give the audience an improved view of the actual "Biomass."
Within the soil swam nearly a dozen Elevated residents. Their limbs had been removed, their bodies thinned and elongated, and their mouths enlarged, making them essentially large worms who wove their way through the dirt. Hadder watched in shock as they devoured soil as they made forward progress, simultaneously expelling dark material from their open anuses and leaving black trails in their wake. Without thinking, Hadder stepped forward, closely approaching the glass, a perverse curiosity overtaking his disgust as he studied the human worm farm.
A voice coming from beside Hadder wasn't enough to tear his attention from the bizarre scene. "True art doesn't exist without sacrifice. Would you sacrifice that which is most precious to you, namely your humanity, to create a beauty not found elsewhere in this universe? These brave souls have just done that. Their vermicast, or humicast if you will, can only be produced one way, and is absolutely essential in creating the enchanting garden found above. To have that kind of dedication, that kind of spirit, that kind of courage - that is what true art is all about."
Station Page 17