Neon Grave

Chapter 7 Androgynous Vision 1/2

Jessica stepped out of her room, feeling the phantom pain of bristles on her cheek. Edward was still active down the corridor, scrolling through pages of Azarean text when he turned a cheek and beamed.

"Lady Leibniz," he said on cue, then removed his top hat and bowed with knightly grace.

Jessica already knew her cheeks were redder than the Devil's ass, but, ironically, relied on white blush to keep it hidden. She checked up and down the length of her corset, rethinking the whole thing.

"The occasion must be exceedingly illustrious if you have chosen to reimagine your fashion sense."

"I've always told her that!" Valerie slid out of the room, an hourglass silhouette. "'Raze to the riches, and grind to the pour of Undyne.' She stepped down the corridor as if strutting a walkway, black lips gleaming under the lamplight as she opened her jacket and revealed her Androgynous Vision tee. It had jagged lettering in vibrant magenta, and the faces of the four band mates."Did your faces just melt?"

Edward gawked. Jessica couldn't tell if he was scared or planning a wedding. Right then, Shannon appeared at the table, sporting a blazer with 'AV' stitched in gold lettering. She'd redone her hair into thick curls along the side of her face.

"We ready?"

"I suppose so," said Jess, checking her watch.

"Then let's get it."

Valerie was already at the exit.

"And a fair bit of trivia before you go," Edward exclaimed with an eager step.

The girls paused on their way to the elevator, throwing Ed the universal glance for, 'What do you want?'

"In case you were not aware. Through the innovation of the microphone, American Jazz musicians catapulted new forms of music into the limelight, eventually incepting the modern concert as we know it. Rock and Roll would follow, spawning legendary ensembles led by the mythic 'front men' who have seen a resurgence in the last decade."

"What's Jazz?" asked Valerie, a question that left Shannon glaring.

"Exactly. Music is subjective yet unrecognizable unto itself. Enjoy your concert!"

Kilometers of magnetic rails zipped Jess and her friends across several skylines. The magnificent sprawl transformed into a Jack-o-lantern outside the windows. Down the aisle of the bullet train, a biotic nun shepherded a group of kids in ying-yang makeup. As they left, new adults appeared in their place, garbed in white and black strokes. They were, in turn, interrupted by tops hats and bright fonts. By the evening, every commuter was in transit to the same destination. By the final kilometer stretch, the train was an AV fan club.

Her research into Androgynous Vision had come up rich with lore about the band's influence on music and the mainstream. Four members: one taught herself to play guitar and program any sound into the strings. Nobody thought it was special until she incorporated all the sounds of a Mozart symphony into a guitar solo. Research on the drummer had found asymmetrical focus on her gender; nobody knew it. Others found it astonishing how he or she or he-she was blind yet could play the drums with the ambidexterity of eight limbs; no implants and no prosthetics. The third instrumentalist, he played synthesizer as well as bass, disc, sitar, cello, and violin. And the singer, well, she was a great singer. And flamboyant. Some E-Mags attested that no one had seen such a talented group since the 70s. Entire cities witnessed a new wave of goths, mullets, leather, and everything in between. Androgynous Society, as it was so termed, was the 22nd-century counterculture that became mainstream.

Azareans didn't like it. Humans were cryptic enough without cannibalizing one another and inventing new labels for trends based on trends based on trends.

Situated between her friends, Jess started to sink in her seat. Maybe, I didn't think this through.

"Yo, what's the name of the venue?" said Shannon.

Valerie looked up from her watch, visibly anxious. "The only place big enough: The Gypsy Theater."

"That place is huge! Jess, which seats did you get?"

"About that..." Jessica started to wonder if she'd jumped the gun, if she'd readily accepted a gift without due diligence. Perhaps all she could do was play along. She showed the tickets to Shannon, whose eyes bulged.

"You got front row seats?"

Jessica cupped Valerie's mouth before she could scream, paying special attention to the prying eyes of strangers. "Yea. No big deal."

No one tried to jump them as they hopped out of the bullet train. Instead, overhead lights sprayed them with hype as a cadre of concert-goers began climbing the escalators. And above the underground exit, Gypsy Theater overtook the horizon. Even at a distance, the venue was huge, round, and styled after a Colosseum. Already, the musical castle fell under siege from more and more cars funneling in from the superhighway.

Everything passed in a blur once Valerie became the acting captain. Toward the dome, they found themselves in one big circuit, home to souvenir shops and bars. The superhighway curtailed the masses. Everywhere, neon signs pinpointed the roads leading to different sections. Up and down, escalators and treadmill walkways circuited the antfarm of subculture. Despite black legions, people funneled into the stadium like one big rainbow of cliques. Already, the roar of the crowd began to echo across the halls.

At the final entry point, security was on standby, some bros with the band's insignia on their shoulder plate. Like a private military. They stopped Jessica and her friends for a quick frisk. The whole thing felt oddly formal and intimidating, so she quickly flashed the tickets. One guard, a rifle strapped to his chest, scanned the bar codes and confirmed their authenticity. "Go right ahead," he said deeply.

Past the final threshold, inside, the roars became real.

They followed one clear path, cutting through the vast sea of raving fans. For every strobe over the massive stadium, thousands of hands illuminated among the glowsticks. Just one, loud, ongoing cheer surrounded the center stage. Additional platforms surrounded the main platform in radial symmetry, every one of them rubbed by antsy ravers.

At long last, the front row had the cover of a seven-foot wall at their backs. Jessica couldn't stop shaking. The ground was trembling, and for a moment, she actually considered the integrity of the building. But at a glance, the weight distribution was mathematically sound in proportion to the support pillars. Math, even in the middle of a mad crowd, was a comfort. Homegirl was already dancing next to her. Maybe the concert wasn't a bad idea. Still, she couldn't forget her reason for being here.

The whole stadium suddenly turned pitch black, minus the constellations in the audience. Howls of hype swept the air like a hurricane. Raw excitement, in the dark, preceded the tick of drums just when the stadium couldn't get any louder.