Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
These pseudo-profound thoughts continue in an untrammeled stream of consciousness as she scrambles out of my arms and goes and hunts for the kitchen.
Medic Sukar gives me a long-suffering look. “Whatever she’s on is quite a concoction,” he notes. “There are some psychoactive substances that can work on humans for many hours at a time. I would keep a very close eye on her.”
I do keep a close eye on her. I watch her sit and talk to her lemonade, which she alternately apologizes for drinking, and then praises for feeling so good inside her body. Meanwhile, Simon Scowl is of course attempting to make contact. I reject his calls until he starts pinging every system in the ship and I realize putting this off is not going to help.
“What the FUCK was that!?”
Simon is livid. His feline face is a perfect picture of absolute disgruntlement.
“Seems she was slipped something during the performance.”
“That’s literally your job to prevent. Do you remember that? If they can give her drugs that turn her into a fucking….” He purses his lips so tight while looking for a word that refuses to come. “It would be just as easy to poison her.”
I am equally as mortified by this incident. He’s an asshole, and he is absolutely correct. She could have been poisoned. She could have been dragged down into that morass of leaping, screaming humanity and never emerged from it again.
“Oh. Simon Scowl! Simon’s growl!” Lyric wobbles over. “The lemonade is amazing. Each of the bubbles represents a small but discrete consciousness. If you think about it, decarbonation is a tragedy of unbelievable proportions.”
“YOU DIDN’T FINISH YOUR SHOW!”
“But I did. I finished my show, and all the shows that ever were. And I began them too. And I performed them, but I also attended them. Because the performer is actually also the main observer. Even though there’s an endless…”
“Is she fucking high!?””
“Yes,” I confirm. “Someone in the crowd appears to have slipped her a compound of significant potency.”
“Absolutely incompetent!” he rages. “I’ve never seen such a complete shit-show in all the time I’ve been recruiting starlets. Look at her. After everything we did at the last concert, the hundreds dead. And for what, so she could get absolutely wasted at the very next stop?”
“What do you mean, hundreds dead?” Lyric sounds very sober when she asks that question, suddenly very aware of the finite nature of things like life.
I don’t answer and neither does Simon.
“You have responsibilities,” he lectures. “You have one main responsibility: performing.”
“What do you mean, hundreds dead?”
And that’s when the screaming starts, as the trip that had obviously been very innocent and amusing up until this point turns on the harsh vibes emanating from Simon Scowl. Lyric is suddenly having a very, very bad time.
“HUNDREDS DEAD!?” Her voice is twisted and hollow, a dark wail.
“I need to handle this,” I tell him, shutting off the connection. It’s time this girl went night night, whether she likes it or not.
“Medic!” I call out. “We need sedation here. Now.”
The medic appears, and this time I don’t just let the trip take its course. This time I pin my lover down while she screams bloody murder and the medic tries to find a vein. He’s good at his job, and after twenty or so seconds of intense chaos, she’s out like a light.
“Quite a handful,” Sukar notes. “Human tolerances to drugs are variable. Keeping her from being spiked is the only way to ensure safety.”
He’s telling me what I already know. It’s better if strangers don’t drug Lyric whenever they feel like it, but it is pretty damn hard to stop if she insists on pulling this star shit and throwing herself into the audience.
“I didn’t see them spike her.”
“Maybe a prick. Something when she entered the crowd.”
“Which she was not supposed to do.”
“People never do what they’re supposed to do. And they almost always do what they’re not supposed to do,” Sukar notes. His species of aliens are best described dolphin-like. They have very smooth, thick gray skin, deep soulful eyes, and they like to fuck in packs. None of that is particularly relevant in this particular moment. It is nice to have someone to talk to who does not have intense skin in the game, though. We are both here to serve the greater purpose, and we both know the greater purpose is bullshit.
Lyric sleeps for two days straight. Sukar swears he didn’t do anything to put her out for that long, and I suspect it has little to do with his drugs, or the drugs she previously took. I think she is exhausted. It’s fortunate she can be hydrated during her long sleep via the IV, taken care of even in the midst of being terribly exploited.
Eventually however, she rises, and when she does, she is significantly worse for wear.