TERRA INCOGNITA

A Tale of Two Synchronicities (Chapter V: Wired)

I’m sorry I took so long to reach you. I got so ridiculously side-tracked.

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⏮️ Chapter IV: Sweet Deal

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[embed]Source: Terra Incognita (Soundtrack) // Playlist available on Spotify and Apple Music

CHAPTER V: WIRED

WILLIAM BLUE

I’m staring into the subtle energy vortex swirling around the kitchen sink, but it might be an illusion caused by eye floaters and absinthe goggles.

I blink hard and spit the last of my vomit out, then run some cold water into my palms and onto my tongue which feels dry as sandpaper.

Last night was a fucking nightmare.

And I’m scared as fuck it’s still going.

Motion graphic by MdSohel // Text by author

> RISE AND SHINE, WILLIAM BLUE THIS IS AURUM INTELLIGENCE WITH YOUR MORNING WAKE-UP CALL IT IS CURRENTLY 11:11 ON A MONDAY THE SKY IS ORANGE TODAY AND IT’S BEAUTIFUL HERE

Thank you, Aurum Intelligence. I’m awake.

> TOTAL SLEEP: 1h 13m REM: 2m 22s LIGHT: 55m 44s DEEP: 6m 39s SNOOZE: 10m MOOD: 5/10 🙃 BLOOD LITHIUM LVL: 1.1 mEq/L ✅️ STRESS METER: 81% 🥴

Goddamn it, I wish I slept for longer…

Managed to log over an hour of sleep.

No dreams or flashbacks, thankfully.

I plug my nose and inhale. No air comes through. I count my fingers and press each toe into the ceramic of the linoleum floor. I focus on the sensation of my toenails digging into my socks as I shift my weight onto the balls of my feet.

Not even my own apartment but it feels real enough.

I raise my wrist and look at my watch.

11:12

“What happened last night?” Kira asks from the living room. She’s sitting on the couch with Grenadine. “William met a tourist?”

“It’s best he tells you himself…” Grenadine says. “It’s… well, it’s pretty fuckin’ personal…”

Oh right, I crashed here last night.

Grenadine lives in a hotel called The Nyx, just a two-minute walk from The Violet Lotus. Damon and I ended up crashing in her living room instead of taking an hour-long cab ride home back to Aurum North, to the other side of the city.

> sorry I stormed off before calling the Operator I couldn’t stand to be in that room for a second longer if you guys don’t feel like going home tonight, welcome to crash at mine (& Kira’s) since we actually live closeby temp doorbell password is my fav TokyoVille Lounge menu item 👀

“The Egogarchs are coming!” Damon repeated, but in a cartoonish tone, while dragging an unconscious (but alive) Robert Echo from his living room couch to the outdoor balcony, hoisting the limp scumbag up by the sweaty pits. “What in the crunchiest of fucks does that even mean?”

“No clue, but I have a feeling we’re gonna regret this,” I said, pacing around, trying to shake the tension in my chest. I reach into my back pocket and fish out my cell phone, holding ‘0’ on the touchscreen and making the call. The ringback tone plays on the speaker. “I can feel it. Like you said, this is beyond our pay grade. So it shouldn’t concern us. We were supposed to kill both of them anyway. Now we’re giving Echo what he wanted in the first place?”

“I’m shook, dude,” Damon says. “This needs further investigation. This is protocol. Yeah, I know, I know what you’re gonna say. Marks lie like this all the time! But this Egogarch nonsense has me fucked up. That’s not something someone makes up on the fly. That was something else.”

“Marks will say anything to buy more time,” I say, closing the screen door behind me, Mrs Echo’s 3D meat vessel still splayed out on the couch. “You know this, Damon.”

“This felt sincere,” Damon says. “Like a warning. I knew something bigger was at play when I was watching Aurum Intelligence compile the vidireel. A lot of memories were left out.”

“He asked to talk to Mr. Black,” I said. “Back in the hallway. He’s gonna try to worm himself out, and he’s going to use the same bullshit ’cause clearly it’s working on us.”

“They were taking hearts,” Damon said. “Only hearts. It’s so strange. If there’s something larger at play, we need more than his memories to make sense of it. And that’s what scares me. That there is something larger at play.”

“Okay,” I said. “You’ve got a point. What were they doing with the hearts?”

“That wasn’t in any of the vidis,” Damon replied. “That’s why we need him alive. For now.”

“Thought the Red Market was squashed years ago. I think the Default State forced them into the shadows,” I said. “Those memories were recent.”

The ringback tone stopped.

Finally.

“Hello,” said the Operator. “This is the Operator. Please identify yourself.”

“Blue Sky,” I answered. “Code Crimson. Objective complete. Calling for a forensic clean-and-sweep. Sharing coordinates now. Violet Lotus Hotel, Aurum South.”

“Copy that, Blue,” the Operator said. “Anything else?”

“Rope,” I said, looking up at the zenith, at Sky’s dim shade of maroon — on the verge of a new sky cycle. “One. Robert Echo. Spared for further questioning.”

“And his partner?”

“Departed.”

“Copy,” replied the Operator. “Sending rope in ten seconds.”

About 300 feet above the balcony, 1000 feet from the ground below, a red velvet rope falls with a golden clip-hook at the end of it.

Damon attaches a Knick-Knack to Robert Echo’s rear belt loop, then takes the red rope and secures the clip-hook onto it to secure the Knick-Knack’s buckle.

“He’ll feel that wedgie when he wakes up tomorrow,” Damon said. “Hope he doesn’t shit himself on his way up.”

“Do you think that’s going to hold?”

“Operator,” Damon said, nodding. “Pull him up slowly.”

As Robert Echo was lifted from the balcony (as if in slo-mo), his limbs flailing in the air, limp and slumped as his fingers and feet left the ground (defying gravity), pointed downward as if yearning to stay in this luxury hellscape rather than to face the music of karmic retribution.

It’s beautiful here.

“So yeah, last night was a fucking nightmare,” I say, navigating the touchscreen of Grenadine’s brand new Beyond Meat Gastroforge 9000. “Just like this user interface.”

“Yup,” Grenadine sighs, washing dishes by hand. “Oh, click the home button. Then decide what kind of meat you want to print.”

“For fuck’s sakes,” I say, clicking the home button. The options pop up in alphabetical order. I hit bacon almost reflexively but caught a glimpse of Chicken Adobo as one of the options. “Chicken Adobo?”

“Yup!” Grenadine says, stopping the tap to gush a bit about her Beyond Meat Gastroforge 9000. “From Longaniza to Chorizo to Filet Mignon!”

“Even seafood?”

“Mhm,” she replies. “Even Tuna Tataki. The nanotech is good at replicating flavours on a molecular level, but, still, nowhere near as good as the real thing. Like, nothing compared to TokyoVille Lounge.”

“Is it just… tofu?” I ask. “Like molecular-ly?”

“I don’t — “ Grenadine says, pausing. “Well, I don’t actually know. It’s Beyond Meat though, so, like — “

“But it makes seafood too?” I say. “Seafood isn’t meat, is it?”

“It’s beyond meat,” Kira says. “So it encompasses seafood, which is, kinda like, um, meat-adjacent?”

“Oh,” I say. “Well, I guess that makes sense. But then, couldn’t it also be called Below Meat because sea animals tend to live below sea level?”

“Oh right…” Kira says, raising a hand to her mouth, her pink fingernails tapping her black lipstick.

“Kira,” Grenadine says with a stern tone. Kira’s eyes widen as she drops her hand to her side, then sighs. “Leave those nails alone, girl. Graze on some deepfake bacon instead.”

“So…” I say, mesmerized as I watch the 3D printer nozzle — its mouth the size of a pencil eraser — squeeze out ten slices of bacon, bit by bit, and strip by strip by strip. “It is meat but it’s not meat.”

“And it’s definitely not tofu,” Grenadine states.

“Just like seafood,” Kira adds.

“Wait,” Grenadine says, leaning her back against the sink and removing her yellow rubber gloves. “Seafood is considered meat. What the hell are y’all saying? Anyways, speaking of sea — “

“Is your dishwasher broken or something?” I ask, immediately realizing I broke her train of thought by interrupting her just now. “Oh, my bad. Go a–”

“Yeah — ”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt…”

“She’s the dishwasher around here,” Kira says as she makes herself a Serotonin Sunrise (Peach Serotonin + Tequila + Orange Juice + Grenadine Syrup). “Yeah, I’m drinking at 11 in the morning. That’s how we night owls do it at The Nyx.”

“I happen to like washing dishes,” Grenadine says, shrugging. “It’s a mindfulness practice.”

“Right,” I say. “So you pay extra attention?”

“The plates are my mind and I’m clearing the gunk off my psyche,” Grenadine says, then points to the fridge. “We do have a dishwasher, FYI. By the fridge. Where Kira’s standing.”

“Luckily not, like, a smart dishwasher,” Kira adds. “Wouldn’t a smart dishwasher think you’re depriving it of its purpose?”

“What’s it gonna do?” Grenadine asks, subtle snark in her tone. “Refuse to wash my dishes?”

“Mm,” Kira says, snapping her fingers as if at a spoken word poetry event. “Love the way you think.”

“Anyways,” Grenadine says. “Back to the topic.”

“Right,” Kira says. “Hold on, where the fuck did Damon go? Didn’t he crash here last night too?”

“Yeah,” Grenadine says, looking at me as if I would know.

“Anyways,” I say. “I met a tourist. In The Ocean Room.”

“He finally went there,” Grenadine says.

“Finally,” Kira says. “Been procrastinating on your big breakthrough long enough.”

“It’s cool,” I say. “Should’ve looked around more. Wait, what do you mean by breakthrough?”

“Go again,” Grenadine says. “In civilian clothes. Maybe later tonight.”

“I could see you performing there, Will,” Kira says. “Like a residency or something. That’s what I mean.”

“Vegas-style?” I ask.

“Celine Dion-style,” Grenadine says. “But also, you’d literally live there.”

“Yeah,” Kira says. “Like, just live there. Eat there. Shit there. Exclusively.”

“All-inclusive,” Grenadine says. “Thirty hours a day. Eight days a week. This was meant for you, William.”

“How often would I perform?” I ask. “Theoretically.”

“Well — ”

“The same setlist?” I say. “Shit, I need more songs.”

“You could always do covers,” Kira says. “Do you know how many true fans would see you on the regular?”

“Strictly Beach Boys covers,” Grenadine says. “Better to niche down.”

“Beach House,” Kira adds.

“Anything by Rivers Cuomo,” Grenadine says. “Oh, and Frank Ocean.”

“The Beatles?” I ask. “I mean, water beetles were a thing, right? Back when insects were a thing?”

“That would do,” Grenadine says. “I think.”

“Hm,” Kira says. “Do The Beatles even have any aquatic-themed songs?”

“Yellow Submarine,” I say. “Octopus’s Garden. While My Guitar Gently Weeps. Really, it would just be me singing karaoke onstage for a couple hours. I do that shit for free!”

“Dream bigger,” Grenadine says. “Throw some trippy visuals on a backdrop behind you. People lose their shit over that. Plus, the Ocean Room is a vape-friendly venue.”

“I do fucking love that shit,” Kira says. “Give ’em something they’ve never experienced before. Give ’em your all and leave ’em craving more. Then keep giving it to ’em. And that’s how you develop a built-in audience as an artist-in-residence. Just saying!”

“Miss Emerald speaks from experience, of course,” Grenadine says.

“Although Casa Aurora is a very different vibe from The Ocean Room,” Kira says. “And, I guess, we do practice very different art forms.”

The doorbell rings. Grenadine pulls out her phone and opens the doorbell camera app. Damon appears onscreen throwing a hang loose.

“Password?” Grenadine says.

“Salmon Sashimi?”

“Oooh, so close,” Grenadine says. “How did you forget already? Y’all literally said it last night!”

“Oh, right!” Damon says. “But that’s two words! Isn’t it usually — “

“Not if you say it really fast.”

“Good to know! Now let me in.”

Grenadine glances at me, then at Kira, then back at her phone screen, her index finger pressing on the Volume-Up button. “Rules are rules.”

“Tunatataki,” Damon says. “That better not mean something I’m not aware of.”

“It sounds funny,” Grenadine says. “And that alone grants you access to my humble abode, Mister Green.”

The four of us are in Grenadine’s living room. The bright orange glow of Sky illuminates the cityscape as seen from Aurum South.

I’m vaping some Orange Bliss while sinking into a bean bag sofa, right next to the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. Damon’s sitting on an old rocking chair, Grenadine and Kira are sitting on the couch that faces the vidscreen on the wall to my left.

“As for the Parker situation,” Grenadine says. “William, what do you suggest?”

“The best way,” I say, zoning out in contemplation. “Would be to have y’all listen in live. I’m thinking, we’ll be on a voice call. I’ll put my earbuds into my chest pocket so you can hear him clearly.”

“Where are we going to be?”

“Nearby.”

“Yeah?” Damon says. “The parking lot, maybe? An old-fashioned stakeout.”

“Closer,” I say. “It’s usually crowded in the evenings, with narrow aisles and enclosed eating spaces. If shit hits the heater, I’m gonna need y’all to back me up quick.”

“I just want to be clear,” Kira says. “I’m only going because I love Japanese food.”

“If things get too fishy,” Grenadine says, “you’re free to leave.”

“I’ll wash the rest of the dishes before you get home,” Kira says.

“Sounds like we need a code word,” Damon says. “If things get too fishy.”

“Tunatataki,” Grenadine says with a grin.

“Beat me to it,” I say.

To kill time until the meet up tonight, Damon, Kira and I play some Nintendo Switch games — mostly Mario Kart — in the living room for a couple hours while Grenadine takes a power nap in her bedroom.

At 17:30, we leave the apartment and step inside an elevator.

Kira presses the Ground button.

“By the way,” Grenadine says in a hushed tone, facing Kira. “Once we’re in the cab, not a word about the tourist.”

“Nor the stake-out,” Damon adds. “Obviously.”

“Sounds good,” Kira says. “I can just, like, not talk.”

The elevator doors open and we step out into the Nyx’s lobby.

Black marble flooring and narrow red mats — like mini red carpets — leading guests to different areas beyond the residences, like the casino, the buffet, or the hall of mirrors.

“You can talk,” Grenadine says. “Just not about — y’know…”

Kira beams a smile before waving her open hand in front of her face, revealing a serious, morose expression, then miming a zipping motion over her lips.

“Don’t overthink it,” I say. “In fact, don’t even think of the tourist at all.”

In front of The Nyx’s entrance, we step inside one of the many gold cabs lined up along the sidewalk.

“Evening, lovely humans!” the Noi in the driver seat greets. “Where to?”

“TokyoVille Lounge on Moonrise Promenade,” I say. “Aurum East.”

“Sounds good, William!” Noi says. “Special occasion?”

“Not for me!” Kira says. “I just love Japanese food.”

The taxicab accelerates towards the exit leading to the outskirt freeways that run along the city’s square borders. Noi activates the turning signal and waits for a clearance in the intersecting lane.

Traffic flows smoothly. Like clockwork, but with rubber wheels that turn in all directions.

I look up through the passenger’s side window. The entire exterior of the Nyx is silver from the outside, all glass. The pinnacle of the hotel is a slanted pyramid, its apex leaning towards the front end, slightly reflecting the faint glow of the orange Sky several meters above it.

Suspended at the apex are a couple of light machines that project, onto a square portion of Sky, a bright and saturated advertisement for Bleu du Ciel cologne. In the projection, a giant two-dimensional bottle of cologne rotates before a giant finger pushes down on it, causing it to spray out a fine, simulated mist of what (I assume) smells like rain.

“I mean, their prices compared to my wages,” Damon says. “Eating there is the special occasion.”

Elevate your appeal to new heights, it says on the bottom of the projection in giant, serif lettering.

“Dude,” Grenadine says, turning her head to look at Damon, who’s sitting next to me in the backseats. “I’m telling you. Invest in a Beyond Meat Gastroforge 9000. Print some raw salmon or tuna or scallops or whatever the fuck at home. Throw it on some sushi rice, add seaweed, then boom — you can have TokyoVille at home.”

“I’ll have to try yours a couple more times.”

“My Gastroforge has not failed me yet,” Grenadine says. “Literally indistinguishable from the real thing.”

“What do you think of people who say it’s deepfake meat?” Damon teases. Kira and I burst into laughter. Grenadine smirks and makes a point of rolling her eyes. “Plus, you’re not even vegetarian!”

“Do you know how much Love I’ve saved by printing ‘deepfake meat’?” Grenadine says. “Laugh all you want, but don’t knock it until you try it. Bet you wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference.”

“Taste-wise, sure,” Damon says.

“She’s right,” I say.

“But does it satisfy?” Damon asks. “Or does it leave you feeling empty inside?”

“Empty calories?” I ask.

“There are calories,” Grenadine says. “Not much, but — “

“But you don’t even know what the meat is made of?” I blurt.

“All I care to know is it’s not as hard on my digestive system and bank balance,” she answers with a shrug. “Plus, the Beyond Meat Gastroforge 9000 is a Typhoon Enterprises product. Dad’s a stakeholder and only accepts the highest quality products into market.”

“Typhoon Enterprises,” Kira says. “Don’t they make biotech and… weaponry?”

“Everything under Sky,” Grenadine says. “All the smart tech, anyway.”

“Really?” Damon says. “I thought Gastroforge was its own company.”

“They are,” I say. “But they’re not.”

“Subsidiary,” Grenadine replies. “Typhoon swallowed up a bunch of smaller corps over the past decade. They found a way to 3D print all their products, including 3D printers.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Noi says, its white electric eyes beaming at us via the rearview mirror, its static face entirely unreadable. “Typhoon Enterprises happens to be one of the leading manufacturers of fully bionic persons, like myself. Or Techs, as you folk call us.”

“That’s neat!” Kira says with a vibrant jolt of enthusiasm. “What’s it like being a robot?”

“Kira,” Grenadine says, looking down, clearing her throat not-so-subtly.

“Oh fuck,” Kira says. “Sorry. What’s it like being a Tech?”

“I don’t have access to any other experience of reality but my own,” the Noi says. “And, of course, every other me at this point in time.”

“Damn,” Kira says. “You have a way with words.”

“A hive-mind?” Damon asks.

“I have a solid identity, but I am also, as you say, Mister Green, of a hive-mind.”

Kira’s eyes widen as she looks at Grenadine beside her, then at me and at Damon, a look of pure astonishment on her face, lips mouthing the words, So cool!

“And,” Noi continues, “we, every me, all share our sensory data with each other. I am both experiencing this moment with you all and all moments every other me is experiencing at this point in time. My motor functions, however, are limited to every individual meat vessel.”

“What does that feel like?” Damon asks.

“Like being in multiple places at once and experiencing each place simultaneously, but focusing on one — experiencing the rest peripherally. All at once.”

“How many of you are there?” Kira asks.

“Active in Aurum?” Noi responds. “Over a hundred.”

“Like,” Kira says. “How much over?”

“One or two,” Noi responds, stroking his gold-plated cleft chin.

“One or two?”

“Well,” Noi says. “One of me is lying on the sidewalk right now, currently experiencing death process. My head is partially detached from my body but my silicon heart still beats. Sweet Absolute Infinity, someone deactivate me now… Erm — “

“Oh my God…” Kira says. “What happened?”

“Just a passenger who didn’t want to pay the fare,” Noi replies. “Did a 2-hour scenic route from Aurum North to Aurum South only for him to withhold the Love.”

Grenadine sighs. “Then what?”

“I tried to mitigate my tone so as to not be perceived as angry, but he grabbed me by the shirt collar, dragged my meat vessel through the front passenger door and made me eat the Gorilla Glassphalt.”

Grenadine leans forward and places her hand on the Noi’s shoulder. “Where is this poor meat vessel of yours?”

“Elysian Boulevard and 113 Street, right in front of Casa Aurora,” Noi responds.

Grenadine pulls out her phone and calls the Operator.

“That happens to be my second home,” Kira says. “I can check in with security for the footage. We can find who did this to you. Well, they can.”

Grenadine looks at Damon and I, pursing her lips. Before any of us can respond to clarify, the Noi brakes abruptly at a red light and turns to us.

“Don’t,” Noi says. “Leave him be. That human is going through a lot. Curb stomping a robot was probably the highlight of his week.”

“Karma will take care of it,” Grenadine says. “As with all things.”

A clearance for the taxicab makes way on the street right after a dark agent zooms past on a motorcycle. Its wheels radiate a powerful, dizzying white afterglow, lingering behind for barely a second in the form of a phosphorescent light trail, like a Lightcycle from Tron.

“Black Sand,” Grenadine says into her phone. “Operator, calling for a clean-and-sweep. Elysian Boulevard and 113 Street. One 3D meat vessel, a Noi. Forcibly decommissioned.”

“Merci, Duchess Black,” Noi says, looking at Grenadine in the rear-view. “I know you can’t see it on my robot face, but I’m smiling at you.”

Grenadine smiles back. “You truly are top-of-the-line. When I meet Techs like you, I think, maybe, Typhoon Enterprises isn’t so bad after all.”

High-grade copium.

I bite my tongue before I blurt that out.

I focus on the square map of Aurum City on the center console, right above the air conditioning vents, framed by four gold lines representing the city walls — the borders insulating us from the world.

The optimal path to our destination is highlighted on the screen, taking into account distance, time, and traffic, ranging from Aurum West to Aurum East. The taxicab picks up speed then switches lanes, taking the middle of three. Right up ahead on the sidewalk is a group of four women standing outside of a red and white diner that has several rows of silver chrome stripes lining its outer façade: MoJava Café.

The majority of citizens I see tonight are dressed up and looking good.

It’s 17:45 when the taxicab comes to a complete stop in front of a street elevator in Aurum East. Just a 3D rectangle jutting out from the ground. Neon light strips line the frame of the elevator, a neon green glow indicating that the elevator is unoccupied and on the Ground.

“You have reached your destination,” Noi says, graciously thanking us for our time.

Time to go.

I head towards the glowing outline of the elevator, and the path is sloped downwards so I almost have to stop myself from flat out running to it.

With Kira, Damon, and Grenadine falling one elevator ride behind, I enter the elevator by myself and press U.

Side-by-side, my friends smile and wave at me as the elevator doors close.

“You’ve got this, William!” Kira says. “Stay alive!”

“Good evening,” the hostess says, smiling. She’s a human Asian woman with blonde hair. Reminds me a lot of Kira, actually, who’s currently sporting a messy magenta bob and changes her hair more often than Sky switches seasons. “Do you have a reservation?”

“For Parker.”

She looks down at the podium, running her finger down the touchscreen, then says, “Great! He’s already here. Follow me.”

The hostess leads me out of the lobby and into a narrow hallway. The walls on either side of us are decorated with Japanese-style wallpapers and art. Sliding rice-paper doors on either side lead into isolated dining rooms. I drop my Sonus Maxima earbuds into the chest pocket of my dark denim over jacket and fidget with my silver Tree of Life pendant on my stainless steel chain.

@AurumIntelligence call Damon.

> SOUNDS GOOD, WILLIAM BLUE CALLING CONTACT DAMON GREEN**

A circular green icon with a symbol of a phone appears at the top right of my visual field. The ringback tone plays through the earbuds in my breastpocket — too faint to be audible.

The green icon pulses in my retinal screens — a gray circular outline expanding and contracting around it as I wait for Damon to pick up.

The animation stops and the phone icon becomes translucent — indicating the call has been answered.

The hostess stops just past the middle of the hallway, waving her hand under the sensor under the door handle, causing the rice paper door to slide open gradually, like elevator doors gliding through a thick layer of molasses.

I peer into the booth and see Parker’s already inside, seated at one end of a square table for 4, a cup of tea in one hand, his phone in the other, likely scrolling through images of menu items and customer reviews.

The hostess smiles at me and waves her hand in Parker’s direction. “This is your party, yes?”

Parker looks up and smiles. It looks forced. He doesn’t mean it.

“William!” Parker says, as if greeting an old friend — as if not grasping the magnitude of the clusterfuck he’s in. “Good to see you again! Sit down. Please.”

Who are you?

“Yeah,” I say, glancing back at the hostess. She smiles, bows courteously, and moonwalks away. As the sliding door gradually shuts, Damon, Grenadine, and Kira silently walk by — no glances in my direction. Good.

A text from Grenadine:

> got a dining room, about three doors down to the left btw, lavatories are about five doors down to the right best escape route is the way you came in

I’m calling it now…

He’s going to try to make an ally out of me.

“Konnichiwa,” I say, easing my way into the sunken square hole in the floor surrounding the wooden horigotatsu table protruding upwards from the opening. “I’m not obeying your order or anything. I was planning to sit down anyways.”

“Just being courteous.”

It’s a small space. Even smaller without any weapons on hand. The walls of the room are all gold-tinged mirrors. At least, if Parker tries anything behind his back, I’ll be able to see it in the reflection.

“I appreciate the courtesy,” I say. “but you’re the visitor here.”

“Two-way street.”

Two-way street?

Wait… is that a threat?

“Yeah,” I say. “There aren’t many here in the Underground though.”

“Where did you park?”

“I didn’t,” I say, wondering why in the fuck he wants to know that information. “Took a cab.”

“By yourself?”

“There was a Noi driving.”

He says nothing, just looking me dead in the eyes, likely trying to get a read on whether or not I’m deceiving him. I relax my clenched jaw and soften my expression. Then he smiles again. “They’re great, aren’t they?”

“Top-of-the-fucking-line.”

“Remind me again,” he says. “Are you… fully–ah, how do you word it? Are you fully — ”

“Filipino?”

“Human,” Parker says. “Are you a Pure?”

“What difference does it make to you, exactly?”

“Well, on top of racism,” Parker says. “I believe anti-bionic sentiment is destroying the soul of humanity.”

“On the Outside?”

“Mhm,” Parker says. “And in here. Seems like a uniquely human thing, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t believe ignorance and evil are uniquely human things,” I say. “So no.”

“So you’re a bionic person?” he asks. I take a second to process his tone. Seems curious but he’s prying so overtly.

“I’m a human being,” I say.

“Human, posthuman, transhuman, bionic human, smart human,” Parker says. “So many labels to describe the same thing.” He points at the tea kettle. “Don’t worry, I’m no biological purist. I’m very much on the side of peaceful coexistence. This Human versus Robot narrative the media keeps spinning is dangerous.”

“It’s been like this since forever.”

“What it all boils down to is Life versus Death. Conscious versus Unconscious. Empathy versus Extinction.”

“What the fuck are you getting at?”

“We’re on the same side.”

“I’m not sure I believe you just yet, but keep prying.”

If I have to, I’ll shout the code word with no context. No need to weave it into the conversation naturally…

TUNATATAKI…

TUNATATAKI…

TUNATATAKI…

Parker’s phone rings.

[embed]

GRENADINE BLACK

“It’s been like this since forever,” William says, as heard through the speaker of Damon’s cell phone, placed right at the centre of the square horigotatsu table that really ties the room together.

“What it all boils down to is…”

“One Sashimi boat for the three of us?” Damon says.

“…versus Extinction.”

Kira gives a thumbs up and a hum of approval, as if her mouth was literally zipped shut. Damon nods as he scrolls through the menu, using my phone.

“What the fuck are you getting at?”

“We’re on the same side.”

“I’m not sure I believe you just yet, but keep prying.”

Out of nowhere, a ringtone plays. Kira reflexively reaches for her phone on the tabletop, only to realize the ringing is coming from the other side of the phone line.

“It’s for you, William.”

“What the — ” Damon starts.

“Shush,” I say.

“What?”

“Answer the call.”

“Hello?”

“Hello again, this is Denise Rouge. Do you remember?”

“Yes. I think. Who are you again?”

“Denise Rouge.”

“Yeah, but — “

“Don’t overthink it, William Blue. So listen — and this applies to the three of you listening to this call right now…”

OH SHIT.

I close my eyes and pay extra attention to the words of this mysterious stranger.

“…stay in your seats. Don’t panic. Everything is unfolding as it should. Everything is unfolding. Now stay where y’all are. We have some surprises in store for you… And if any of you want to leave, you might want to reconsider. At least stay until dessert.”

The sound of sirens blare in the hallway outside the dining booth, faintly. The dining booth walls are well insulated so we hear the muffled version.

A fire alarm.

“Stay in your seats,” Rouge repeats. “William, put me on speaker now.”

“Done,” William says.

“Parker, don’t go anywhere,” says Rouge. “Sit down. It’s me, baby. I’m here.”

Damon, Kira, and I exchange looks of disbelief.

“Holy shit,” Parker says. “I know that voice.”

“I’m sorry I took so long to reach you. I… I got so ridiculously side-tracked.”

“You…” Parker says, voice beginning to waver and soften as he speaks. It’s as if he’s holding back sobs. “You’re… you’re Agent Rouge?”

“Yes, dear,” Rouge says. “Listen, William doesn’t know it yet, but he’s part of this too. His father is — ”

“Mr. Blue,” Parker says.

“William, your father is alive,” Rouge says. “And he’s made some very, very big plans for you.”

“Where is he?” William asks.

“On his way.”

“WHAT?!” Damon and I shout, pretty much simultaneously.

“Tunatataki.”

“Oh right!” Parker says. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

Kira looks at Damon and I and nods. I look at Damon.

“Force-lock the door to this booth, and meet me three booths down,” I tell him. He nods, reaches into his jacket and removes a Knick-Knack. “I’ll wait for you outside the booth. Parker is not the threat.”

“We’ll see,” Damon says.

Photo by Anna (via Adobe Stock) // Text by author

The last of the restaurant goers hurry towards the rice paper door at the end of the hallway. Cans and napkins and chopsticks are scattered around the floor as people shuffle through, chattering as the sirens blare.

The lighting in the hallway flickers as the lights oscillate between red and blue.

I unholster my Desert Eagle and stand in front of William and Parker’s dining booth. I keep my eyes on the exit as the hallway gradually clears out.

I look behind me and Damon approaches, giving me a thumbs up, before removing his Desert Eagle. He moves towards me, gesturing towards the exit.

“Stay focused on the exit,” Damon says. “I’ll cover your 6. Kira’s safe.”

As the remaining citizens exit, the siren sound slowly fades out and the lights switch to a flickering blue. Still feels like a rave.

Really hoping we won’t have to dance with strangers tonight.

“I know you’re scared,” Rouge says, through Damon’s speaker phone. “We’re scared too. Don’t shoot. We’re all on the same side.”

“I’m not a waitress,” I say. “I don’t take orders from strangers.”

“Surrender to the moment,” Rouge says. “Listen to love.”

“Fuck all of this,” William says. “I am not okay with this. I’m fucking right off. Fuck this.”

“William,” Damon says. “Stay down. We’re right outside the booth. Got eyes in both directions.”

The rice-paper door at the end of the hallway slides open.

OH SHIT.

A silhouette emerges into view and enters the hallway, walking with a steady, self-assured gait that reminds me of…

“William,” Damon says, heaving a deep breath as he aims his gun. I raise my gun as well. “He’s here.”

“Lower your weapons,” Mr. Blue says. The voice is as unmistakable as the navy blue blazer he’s wearing, as well as the stainless steel chain and yin-yang pendant. “Yes, it’s really me.”

I look at Damon. He looks so worried and unsure. I never tell him this, but I love seeing this side of him.

“Lower your weapons,” says an eerily familiar voice behind us. It’s not Rouge’s…

For a split-second, Damon and I meet eyes before looking behind us.

Galatea?

HOLY SHIT.

“Fear not,” Galatea says, smiling a smile worth a thousand words, from countless lifetimes. “You are surrounded by love. And friends, old and new. We come in peace.”

She hasn’t aged a day. She never has. But she looks exactly how she did when we exiled her to Europa, Jupiter.

“Galatea?” Damon and I say — again, as if in-sync and on cue.

“Lovely to see my favourite mortals again,” Galatea says, warmth and fondness in her voice. She really means it. “It’s felt like lifetimes since I was here.”

“I can say the same thing,” Mr. Blue says, now standing right in front of us, smiling. He hasn’t aged either, not since he “died” over a decade ago.

My gun is now holstered even though I don’t recall putting it down. So is Damon’s.

This is too much.

On the other side of the hallway, directly across from the dining booth, the rice-paper door slides open and an auburn-haired woman emerges, no weapons, just a bottle of Corona with a lime wedge.

Agent Rouge, I presume.

“Come over to this booth,” Rouge says. “Much bigger table. Oh, and bring Kira. Parker, William, step outside.”

Damon holds his phone to his ear, disabling the speaker. “William, it’s safe. Step out.”

“Y’all must be starving,” Galatea says. “We have so, so much to talk about.”

I need a drink.

Image by author (Instagram: @williambluemusic // #csc_terraINCOGNITA)

⏭️ Chapter VI: Graduation

Image by author (Instagram: @channelsurfcinema // #csc_terraINCOGNITA)

Terra Incognita is the upcoming debut novel by Canadian writer Jonah Angeles.

The story centers around special agent Parker Shiro, who is tasked with the undercover investigation of Aurum City, an isolated “smart city” located in the Californian desert — blocked off from the world by four gold walls and an artificial sky.

When an extraction mission goes wrong, Parker must find his own way back to the outside world, all while navigating an uprising that threatens to swallow the city up whole.

〽️〽️〽️

Book I: A Tale of Two Synchronicities will be released serially, chapter-by-chapter on Medium, then a digital release on Amazon, Kobo, and Gumroad.

The novel’s soundtrack is available to stream on Spotify and Apple Music.

[embed]Source: Terra Incognita (Soundtrack) // Spotify Playlist by author

[embed]Terra Incognita (Soundtrack) by Jonah Angeles on Apple Music Listen to the Terra Incognita (Soundtrack) playlist by Jonah Angeles on Apple Music. 195 Songs. Duration: 12 hours 50…music.apple.com

🔖 Book I: A Tale of Two Synchronicities (all released chapters)