Muse

Battleground

We're not going to make it to the walk of fame before its doors open to the public. I check the time on my compac. I also see I have hundreds of new notifications since the last time I logged on. Maybe. Maybe if I go a little faster. When I do break into a jog, my left ankle loses stability and it rolls. A sharp pain shoots up my calf that wanes to a numb ache. I don't fall, but I slow up, Dart flying ahead of me. Heels ended up a poor choice.

The rear entrance to the con-appropriated ballroom lays a few steps away. The guard who hassled me yesterday sees my approved badge and waves me in with a grin. Despite my agitation, I manage a weak return smile. There's my table and there's Daniel's. He speaks with Tim, hands slicing the air in a chopping motion as he murmurs to his friend. Tim nods and gestures at the many bodies filing towards their station and wrangles Daniel into his chair. Security holds back the hordes, sorting them into a semblance of organization. Here's my chance. While they form a line, Daniel can relay his message then I can sit quietly at my table for the rest of the day. Dart goads me onward. Before I take my first step, several people move in front of me.

Women and men make up the blockade. Con badges dangle from their necks. The badges aren't marked with walk of fame VIP access. These are standard con attendees. I blink at them, bewildered. One woman, and I get the itchy intuition I've seen her somewhere before, speaks up for all of them.

"Where are you going, Cornet?"

A man at her side raises an LD. Looks like he's recording this. I'm looking at him, but I address all of them.

"Why are you record-"

The woman sticks her face in my space and I jerk back. "Do you wanna be famous?" She sneers. "Isn't that what this is all about?"

I want to shove her. I clench my fists instead. "What what's all about?"

She angles her head at my table. "Your not-good-enough-for-a-real-publisher books." Her head tilts Daniel's way. "Your uncanny ability to have yourself set up next to the most famous guest here and then spread for him two seconds later like some desperate groupie for some worthless Titter publicity. How does it feel to actually be a whore? I've never met one."

Darkness pools at the mob's feet. When their leader spits her insult at me, a phantom whips from the black stain of envy and anger. Its snake's head snaps and hisses at me and I flinch, cringe. The woman who smirks at me thinks she's intimidating me. She laughs. The anxiety in me fizzles under a blaze of anger. These people might be able to terrorize me on the net, but I won't let this crap bleed into reality.

My aetheric body bubbles within me like a vat of boiling oil. A flick of my hand sends a red and pink lick of aetheric fire down my arm. Tongues of energy shoot from my fingertips and strike the phantasmal snake ready to strike. The woman before me flinches when I do then again when I crush the snake's head under my foot, grinding it into non-existence with my heel. Though my heart slams against the back of my sternum and numbness tingles in my extremities, I punch down my fists and square my shoulders at this group. I look right into everyone's eyes then at the LD that records me.

"I came here to meet people and sell books, not myself," though Daniel would argue that point with me. "I don't want to be famous. I want my work to gain notoriety, but-"