Through a Dark Blue Lens: Chapter Four

This story has existed in some form or another for 9 or so years. It was “completed” in 3.5k words at one point. But someone told me that the real story was still in there somewhere, between the lines. So here is the second version of Through a Dark Blue Lens, presented one rough chapter at a time.

Read Chapter One Read Chapter Two Read Chapter Three

Through a Dark Blue Lens

Chapter Four:  Anyone, from Anywhere

By: Peter R. Heaton

The hotel was nice and clean and the bed was incredible.  Her room even had an auto-face which went a long way to making her look presentable.  She ate, picked out an outfit, and instantly felt silly. As it had been at customs, everyone here spouted bright colored clothes of simple design.  She’d come out wearing Old Earth motley.

Whatever.  Maybe it’ll draw just the kind of person I’m looking for.

Anya didn’t linger in the hotel, not wanting to risk the place where she was staying.  There were a few glances her way but she moved past sandy columns as quick as she could; something made her stop at the fountain--an old memory she couldn’t summon.  Water showered into a pool from an unseen nozzle in the ceiling, the effect being that of a localized rain shower. Watching it for a few moments, she felt herself smile.

Then the eyes again, and this time she met the one whose gaze had not dropped.

Intense.  Big black pupils.  Thin brown rings. Brilliant white.  Just the slightest hint of dark bags, an underline, almost looking like make-up.  But if she knew one thing, she knew someone locked in on pheramol.

Wicked, she thought to herself, while she locked eyes with the man.  You’ll do, pip.

Stealing outside, she soaked in the sun for a bit to let him stew, maybe see if he followed her.  Refreshed by the light, she went back inside, circled the fountain and finally, upon passing him the second time, let her eyes fall on his face.

Bronze skin surrounded his eyes.  He carried a little weight in the stomach--but overall looked clean.  All except that slight underline--no, something else wasn’t right. Something was uncomfortable about him.  A mask, she thought, it’s just a mask he’s wearing.  That’s the way you’d need to look if you were involved with things you ought not to be.  Maybe…

“Um, hi, sorry, I know this is--”

“Let me guess, first time to Gliese?” it was word-vomit, but at least he said it smoothly.  She didn’t really care about his words, she only knew that her ears wanted to drink in the sound of his voice all day.

“Me?” She asked sarcastically.  “How’d you guess?”

“It’s the suns,” he said, offering her the seat next to him, “people like vivid colors with all that light.”

“Oh do they?”  she replied with a brilliant smile.  

“That’s what I’ve been told, anyway.”

“We get a lot of light where I’m from,” she said wistfully.  I’ve played this game before, she thought, knowing exactly how to draw him out.  She’d told Kelli her mother had been an oldie (maybe they knew the lie was a lie, but they certainly didn’t know the truth), a real oldie, one of those ones that thought she was an earth witch.  That Anya’s mother had told her how to enchant men: A little bit of mystery or laughter draws them in, makes them think they’re on the right path.  Keep eye contact, a light touch here or there, and, with the right words, they’re all yours.  

But Kelli was Kelli and hadn’t gotten it.  What words? she asked.  What are the words to the spell?  Anya had laughed it away after that.  But she got a killing laugh out of it, when they’d be drunk, and Kelli would pull her aside and ask her again.

“Where’s that?” the man said, cutting through her memory.

She thought about what she was wearing.  An outfit like this, I can be Anyone, from Anywhere.

“You can only get there one way.”  The other way, she thought and was a little disappointed when she’d thought she’d been too obvious.

“Oh and what way is that?”

He doesn’t get it.  Must be some real Earth slang.

“Maybe you’ll find out.”

He smiled, waving down a server.  “I’m Antonio, by the way.”

“Sarra,” she said, accepting his handshake.

The server rolled in front of them, a strange, bug-looking thing, no more than a large gyroscopic roller with a half dozen metallic arms curled around its body.  The robot addressed them in a melodious, human voice.

“Well, Sarra should we have a drink?” the man asked.  “Answer carefully, you’ll only get so many on Gliese. Six every cycle.”

“Whatever you’re having.”

“Me, just water.”

“Oh.”

“That disappoints you?”

“I was hoping I was going to have some fun while I was here.”

“Fun? I can do fun.  You want to go somewhere else and we can get to know each other a little better?”  Their eyes locked. His whole face was warm--smiling. Rays from the suns’ splotched his face through the skylights.  She was somewhere else for a moment, picturing haunted, black rimmed, eyes--David’s eyes.

Why Anya, why did you send me to this hell?

“Hey.  I didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah, we can go somewhere more private.  How about my room?”

Stupid, Anya.

“It’s a little bit early for that don’t you think?”

“I didn’t mean…” she caught herself, seeing his face, he was trying to turn it into a joke.  “It’s just, there’s not many places around here I know to go.”

“It’s okay.  I don’t think you’re like that.  You’re not, are you?”

“Like what?”

“Hey, you--”

“Sir,” the pleasant voice coming from the server interrupted them, “do you require anything?”

“No, thank you.”

“Have a nice day.”

“You too.

When he looked back, she was laughing.

“Alright, you got me back.  Here, I know a spot.” He stood up and offered to help her out of her seat.  A real gentleman?  Never meet men like this back at home.  But she’d saw his mask slip, for just a second, when he hadn’t known she was joking.  What are you hiding, Antonio? Whatever it was, she knew she wanted to find out.  

“You can behave, right?”

“We’ll see,” she said.  

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Anya snapped the privacy lock in frustration.  How do I always do this?

What she wouldn’t give to be back on Old Earth.  It wasn’t just the drugs. Earth was wysiwyg. Gliese was bright but a sun is not the only thing that leaves behind shadows.  

It was night, at least all the clocks said it was night.  She ordered the sun shutters closed.  Darkness reigned.

Onto the bed she collapsed, pulling all the blankets onto her body, wanting to scream.

How do I always make the wrong choice.  How do I always go and ruin everything?

A screech tore from her lips, muffled by pillow and blankets, all hot air and anger. She wanted to scream and scream and scream until time finally heard her, unwound itself and brought her back.

But how far did she want to go?

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A flickering fire tickled the vinyl floor in shadows; hiding all the tiny bits of the ceiling that time had sloughed off.  Cold wind came in from the far wall--the place where a great window had once been. Her mother tossed half of a box onto the fire, not caring where the embers were scattered.  Her father had been good at pretending. He’d given her the blanket that kept her warm. It was dirty, but it was hers and she didn’t care.

The air was thick with a smell.  It overpowered the crooked stench coming from the fire--crooked because it was fueled with things it ought not be.  A real oldie wouldn’t do that, Anya thought, pulling the blanket tight around her legs, pushing her back into the wall because it was comforting and she didn’t care why.  A snap-crack echoed in the night.  Shouts chased it away. Reminding her.

The smell: gunpowder.  Drummen, mudmen, it didn’t matter.  Little people worried about little things.  

They’re all little people, baby bird.  She’d met the boy fighting over a scrummy shiner.  He’d let her keep it. You like that?  S’funny, huh? Well, that’s you.  All stupid, and like. Baby bird, you know.  Me? I’m no bird. I’m just mint.  

Not soon after the combatants had melted away and the brief skirmish was forgotten.  The noises of Old Earth nights--the only time it truly came alive--radiated up from the streets--a sickly sound-smell; the rotten vapors of debauchery; the taste of life.  The meaning of things for some people.

Her mom wouldn’t look at her.  With a rusty pipe in one hand she stirred the fire.

“That’s just how it’s gonna--gotta be.”

Why?

“Loran’ll take good care of me.  S’what you want, isn’t it? Your mom to be happy.  To be comfortable?”

Why?

There was a flash of blinding orange and yellow light from somewhere not too far away, followed by a great roar.  They both stopped, staring out the broken window of the skyscraper, straining to catch a glimpse of the ship between the shadowed, steel shapes of the city.  The rumble echoed and echoed, and the great ship lifted upward and into view, rising higher and higher, shaking her whole world. There was the sound of snapping as more windows were lost to the ship’s passing.

Out in the atmosphere, the ion engines began to glow brilliantly.  

Anya thought of all the people on board, their heads filled with some destination de fantaisie (that baft french rat had been following her around too much, yapping in her ear) some place that wasn’t real and would never even exist.  Yet, there they were, every time. Going somewhere they could never reach.

She wanted that.  Just once. To climb on a ship and think, wherever I’m going is going to be better cause it won’t be here.

The ship sat peacefully in the sky, its nose drifting around ever-so-slightly.

Then--BANG. It was gone, leaving behind nothing but dancing fireflies of white-blue.  The fireflies would linger for some time--trapped in her eyes, seeing them no matter where she looked.  

Anya’s eyes watched the dancing lights.  Her mother was quiet for some time, her hand stirring the fire absently, dragging the rusty pipe through the fire--corpse-like.  

Why? Anya thought again.  Her eyes drifted away, staring out the broken skyscraper’s window, seeing fire glowing from hundreds of other places just like their’s, and she wondered how many of the people sitting around those fires were as lost as she was.  How many of them were just like her. Neon light reflected off of the frames of the buildings, off the windows of those lucky enough to have them.

Finally the little girl asked the question she was too scared to ask.

“Why?” she peeped.  

“It’s just.  You had to go ruin it with Loran and Pie Eye.  You just. You just always...always ruin everything, Anya.  Look, Pie says you’re a real good spotter. You can make some good money with him.  What do you want with all that out there anyway, Anya?”

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Not that far back, was her answer.  She gripped the sheets as tight as she could, bit the pillow, screamed until her lungs hurt.  No, she definitely had not wanted to go that far back.

The rest of the day came bleeding back to her.  

Things had gone well.  She’d stopped seeing David in every anti-David look or movement Antonio made.  It had been fun, too.  Her pretending to be whoever it was she was pretending (Sarra, she remembered--who had been a real girl once, a friend of Kelli, with a terrible story all her own) and Antonio being whoever he was when he wore his mask.

It’d been a mask alright, but not the one she’d thought.

Enough time had gone by, she’d managed to talk him into one drink, and then another (but no more than that).

They’d locked eyes in that way where they both knew they were really connecting, and she decided not to be Sarra for a moment, to be Anya, and ask for what Anya wanted (Stupid Anya; Stupid, Anya).  

They’d been talking about secrets (she’d been trying to pry his from him):

Secrets, everywhere and everyone’s got them.

You so sure? He had replied, all suave and cocky like.  It was overboard but she had liked it.

Gliese for instance.  All those boards. All those warnings.  You’re going to tell me there’s not a single pleasure drug on this planet?

They’re here.  But they get stamped out pretty fast.

But I bet, if you knew the right person…

What are you saying?

I just mean, what I wouldn’t give for just a taste of pheramol.  Now, that’d be fun.

Sarra--

Oh come on, a smooth guy like you, you must know all sorts of people.  Just one or two would do the trick.

Shit, Sarra.

What?

I just...I didn’t think you were stupid.  

Stupid?

He’d leaned in closer, grabbed her hand too tight (was it the drink?) and for a moment she’d been in the mindfield but she’d pushed that memory away, her mind wanting too badly to know what he’d just done…

It’s, well, I couldn’t tell you.  I was going to but then you were all…

What?

Don’t what me. A finger in her face.  She didn’t like it. You.  Your name’s not even Sarra.  Come on, don’t look shocked. Didn’t they tell you the local station would be sending someone to check in on you?

Huh?

I’m a fucking badge, Sarra.  Those warnings are there for a reason, we take this shit seriously...I can’t just...shit, Sarra, shit.

At that moment she’d wished she was anywhere else.  Even if it meant going the other way. So she ran.

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