Cars, Love, And Farbanti

CHAPTER 4: MOTIVE

I walked down a brick sidewalk that twisted through one of the school's two great gardens, surrounded on all sides by the various buildings of the different classes the university offered. Massive rainforest and palm trees stretched into the sky above me, shadows cast by large leaves and fronds keeping the breeze around me cool, even as the afternoon sun burned angrily. Birds, both people and small animals, crouched in the canopies of the rainforest trees, reading or chatting or tweeting amongst themselves. One figure clapped a book closed, stood, and dropped out of the branches, landing next to me. "Oh, hey, Terry." She smiled. "Hey. So, I know we've gotten off to a rough start, and I wanted to say I'm sorry."

I shrugged. "It's fine. Some people have a hard time opening up." She pulled the hood of her light gray sleeveless sweatshirt off of her head, burying her hands in its pockets. "Yeah. I'm also pretty suspicious of new people, because sometimes my friends trust new friends too much. But you're cool. The open minded type, you know?" I nodded. "Yeah, I try to be." She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. "So, why are you here? Like, for industrial design, obviously, but something tells me your heart's not entirely in it." I sighed, and turned my head away from her. "You're one of those people who can read others like an open book, aren't you?" She puffed air out of her nostrils sharply. "Maybe. Are you going to be honest?"

I sighed. "Yeah. To be real, industrial design was one of my interests, but I didn't know if I wanted it to be a career. The reason I'm going to college, instead of just working and living with my roommate, or just staying at home, is because my high school years weren't great. My grades were good, but I was a social recluse. Didn't talk, didn't make friends, was too busy being depressed to make connections. So I figured I could come here and try to have a social life again. I figured going to school was a good place to start, and college is way cheaper here, so I applied and got accepted. And here I am." Terry was quiet for a moment, and I could feel her thinking through the air between us. "Cool, cool. That's good thinking. We'll hang out then, yeah?" I smiled, and turned back to her. "Thanks." She nodded, and turned towards the medical center, waving as she did so. "See you later, Mike."

"Later." I headed into the main building, finding my advanced geometry class. I sat next to Stan, like always. He leaned towards me, not taking his eyes off of a pair of students huddled in the corner of the classroom. It was two boys, and one looked nervous. "Hey, listen, I think these two are about to confess. The romantic tension, man. I could cut it like that." He slashed one of his curved fingers through the air, like the killing strike of a velociraptor. I turned back to the couple, and the other guy shook his head. The nervous one's snout dropped to their chest. I cringed, before turning back to my laptop. "We didn't see anything." Stan nodded sadly. "Bad luck."

As we walked out of the class later that day, headed for our major, Stan and I strolled next to each other, like we usually did. "Hey," I asked nervously, "What's your type?" He thought for a moment, looking up at the building's high ceilings, and then turned back to me, squinting slightly. "Uh, I'm not sure I have one that I can describe. I know it when I see it, I guess. Why?" I tried to shrug casually, putting my hands in my pockets. "Hm. No reason, just making conversation, I guess." As the day wore on, I realized I was glancing his way more often. Oh shit, I thought, maybe I really am into him.

Groovetown was a place that truly earned its name. It was full of mixed use buildings and townhouses, both absolutely covered in graffiti and vines. The neighborhood was on the east coast of Farbanti, and the sound of music of all genres floated from rooftop gardens and patios, only dying out at around 10 at night. The alleys and street corners were populated by a swarm of vending machines, selling drinks and snacks even after businesses closed, and shedding dim light onto the sidewalks. A few 24 hour convenience stores, cafes, and vending machine stores remained open, offering their customers a hot meal and a moment of peace whenever they pleased.

Of course, Groovetown had its flaws and rougher areas, just like every city and neighborhood, but these were few and far between. Farbanti had once been an incredibly sad city, with skyrocketing crime and drab (if not completely abandoned) buildings filling the souls of the residents with despair. But maybe it was that despair that made Farbanti so desperate to change, and maybe it was that history that gave it some of its character. The drab buildings were now massive canvases and gardens, open to anyone who wanted to add their mark.

So graffiti teams began to crop up across the city, with one simple goal: to leave their brightly colored logos on as many buildings as possible. Sometimes rivalries would form, and teams would cover up each other's logos, a back and forth game of tennis, until someone gave up to go find new buildings to tag, expanding their domain.

Territories were allowed to overlap, and teams would often join forces if a new building showed up or if a new spot had been found. Young people would grab bags of spray paint cans and head to a highway overpass with a less covered wall, and they'd get to work leaving their mark on the city. The point wasn't for it to last forever, or to claim territory and fight others over it. The point was to have a tag be there for a little bit, and for you to walk past it and know that it was you that put it there. And so Farbanti would constantly change, much like the ocean it stood on.

The store and apartment building that housed Sublight Records was one of many on Justice Avenue, covered on one side with graffiti. Our customers were mainly from the surrounding area, going for goth or punk clothing, with tattoos on their arms and legs. Some bought music from local artists, others bought music that humans had made. And my job was to stock shelves and help these customers find specific albums and singles. My uniform consisted of a hat with the company's logo, and an apron with my name tag attached. I also carried an inventory management tablet to keep track of everything in the store. Tonight was a slow day, being at the beginning of the week and the weather being rather stormy.

A robot-like customer walked in the door, and leaned against the register. Jack looked up from his catalog, suddenly smiling. "Don! How's it going, my man?" Don smacked his hand into Jack's. "Pretty damn good. Who's that? Your brother?" Jack motioned for me to come over. "Oh, this is Mike. We go way back. Mike, this is one of our regulars, Don. He's a synth." I tilted my head. "Synth?" Don's eyes were 3D displays set in a black vizor, and they conveyed a great deal of emotion. He had a face and head like a dragon's, with LED lights on horn-like protrusions, and a slim, tall body. A long tail swung from side to side as he browsed the rock albums between E and F. His body was a dark green, with matte, muscle-like panels making up the surface of his skin. "We're sort of like robots, but we have free will, emotions, and resemble organic people more. You know, soft skin, breathing, stuff like that." I shook his hand, which was as soft as human skin, but with a texture like scales. "A pleasure to serve you."

He made his way to the rap releases, and another customer walked in the door. "Hey, Mike." I turned around, and gave Stan a fist bump. "Hey, man! Paying me a visit, ay? You into vinyl?" He nodded. "Hell yeah I am!" He turned to Jack. "I ordered that new release by Glass Prey?" Jack nodded, and descended the stairs behind the counter to the basement storeroom. "Yeah, here you go." He handed Stan an LP, and he headed back out the door. "Remember, Mike, that meet is tomorrow night!" I waved as he left, not really wanting him to go so soon. "Friend of yours?" "What do you think, Jack?" Jack lightly and affectionately hit me over the back of the head with a catalog. "Don't be a smartass. I'm still your boss AND your landlord." I snapped my fingers, and kept working. "Oh, yeah, I am!"