0x00: Corpse
Matt Delano Charadon always wanted to be the center of attention.
Matt's parents had handpicked Matt's traits before his birth to give him the best chance at life, and it was showing. His jet black hair and perfect marshmallow skin are exactly as described, and his deep ocean blue-green eyes are even more captivating than they could have hoped for. His dad has a passion for music, sims, and feeds, and it is something he shares with Matt from an early age. Matt is obsessed with emulating all his favorite actors, feeders, and musicians. He always announces, "Baby, I was born to perform," with a wink when his mother applauds his latest impersonation. When Matt is eight, they move from Neo York to the west coast in search of a career change. Horizon City seems like an obvious choice, then.
His best friend is Rigby, a bright kid with cream-colored skin and brown hair, and a Horizon City native. His parents have moved in as part of the city's grand opening. Matt and Rigby are the same age and have met at Forget Me Not Day Care when they are nine years old because their parents have to work full time to make ends meet. Ever since, they have been inseparable.
They were nineteen the first time they encounter a dead body on their way home from practicing with their bandmates. Home is a fifteen minute walk in the same direction for most of the trip, and they have been under the express tube many times but have never seen a dead body there. Red Level of Horizon City is a relatively safe place to live, and while they have seen plenty on the TV, this is the first one they have encountered before. Rigby sees the man lying there in a pool of blood before Matt.
"Fuck a buck! Will ya look at that?" Rigby explains loudly, pointing at the gigantic slash across his chest with the ribs visible through it, and another through his windpipe. The body is still fresh, and the face is stuck in a look of horror and pain. He has been wearing a blue sweatsuit that is now black in places from the blood, and judging by his pasty white, smooth features, he isn't over thirty.
Matt stoops over the corpse to examine the large wounds, then grabs a stick and pokes at the ribs in his chest. The corpse doesn't move. Matt says, "Wicked. Who do you think it was?"
Rigby shrugs and says, "I don't know. Should we at least drag it out of the main path?"
Matt shakes his head and says, "No. Judges would just look for the people who created the blood trail. Think he's got a wallet?"
Rigby shrugs and pats at his pants pockets, finding nothing. Matt has an idea and checks his ankles. Tucked inside one of his socks is a thin wallet, and Matt fishes it out. Flipping it open, he rummages through the contents. "Byron, James Tiberius. DOB 2/18/2034. 8844 Gernsback Ln. Apartment 223. Red Level, Horizon City, United Federation of States, Earth. A credchip, some business cards, keycard to the Streamlined Modern apartments, sounds fancy, and, hey! Forty thousand yen! Score!" He hands half the bills to Rigby, then tosses the rest on the chest of the corpse. "Want to check out his place, Rigs?" Matt asks as he looks up.
Rigby nods enthusiastically and says, "Are you kidding? Let's go!," and the pair go running off into the night.
Gernsback Ln. is a more out-of-the-way neighborhood than the usual Knife and Fuller areas. On the southwest side of the dome are some relatively new apartments behind a small gated community at the edge of the wall. The keycard works on the double black gates, and after a few parking stalls, they come to Building 22, which the keycard also opens for them. As they walk down the hallway, counting down the doors to apartment number three, a man in a black leather jacket with black hair bursts out of a door near the end of the hallway, turns his back to them, and walks briskly to the exit at the other end of the hallway, a sheathed katana hanging from his waist.
Matt glances at Rigby as they continue on, and Rigby nods imperceptibly at Matt, acknowledging that they both have seen the same thing. They continue down the hall, a little slower now, and as they reach apartment three, see the guy with the sword has hastily left the door ajar when he has come out of it moments earlier.
They exchange another glance as they gingerly push the door open. Inside, the apartment is ransacked. The contents of the bookshelves, desk drawers, and tables have been torn through hastily and are littering the floor, and the cushions of the couch, loveseat, and chairs have been slashed open and their stuffing ripped out. Rigby exclaims, "Fuck a buck! What do you think he was looking for?"
Matt shakes his head, still trying to take in the entire scene, and says quietly, "No idea."
Just then an old man with gray hair and wrinkled loose skin shouts from the other end of the hallway, "Hey! What are you kids doing?"
Rigby and Matt, their adrenaline already peaking, don't need to coordinate with each other; they both bolt for the nearest exit at the end of the hallway, away from the old man, bursting out into the cool evening air and sprinting for the gate.
0x01: Show
"Stalking through the night. Silent killer. Catch the smell of fear from his prey. Target acquired. Hyper chrome. This Judge deserves to pay. Hack and slash! Take them down! Ninja vanish! Underground! Dark as night! Killer breed! Street Samurai! On blood we feed!"
The assembled crowd at Dive! Dive! Dive! goes absolutely wild, throwing beer bottles at the cage in front of the stage as they shout their approval. Rigby has been working on the new song for several weeks, and they have been practicing it for three months, wanting everything to be perfect. The debut is getting rave reviews at the moment. Matt belts out the lyrics in a deep growl with the mic pressed to his lips as Rigby keeps the rhythm on the drums, and Katrina plays the synths on the keyboard. "Kill them all! Make them pay! Street Samurai! Doomsday!" The perversion of heavy distortion from Matt's guitar, frantic rhythm from Rigby's drumming, and Katrina's deep bass synths make for a chaotic picture, and the soundscape thrashes like a rabbit being disemboweled, but Matt's synthesis of all his favorite singers gives it a certain fusion that makes it inescapably head bang worthy.
Dive! Dive! Dive! is a popular club on Red that features live shows from local bands. It isn't their first time playing there, and they have developed a small cult following. This time, they plan on giving their fans exactly what they have been asking for.
The incident with the corpse has been a turning point in their career as a band. A constant source of endless discussion, Matt has become obsessed with the idea of a silent killing machine in human form who stalks Horizon and dishes out street justice to those who deserve it. This has inspired Rigby to write lyrics about the topic, which he then puts to music for Matt to perform. Their friend Katrina has replaced two other members of the band who have bowed out with the shift in theme, and together they have been slowly climbing the screamfeed market as they refine their sound and hone their style. Several other bands have also sprung up to give their take on the topic, but in the fledgling category of "SamJam," it is well understood that Mayhem is the first and most popular.
As the song progresses into the guitar and drum solo, Katrina stands up, walks behind her stool, then takes three running steps, uses her stool and keysynth as a launch pad, and leaps into the air. Her waist-length brown hair flows out behind her, and a long blade is suddenly in both hands. She lands in a crouch next to Matt, who jumps to the side in feigned surprise, as she leaps into a spin, her blade catching the club lighting and sending lasers splaying in all directions off its surface.
Katrina's mocha skin and brown eyes make her the perfect shadow in graceful motion as she twists, spins, ducks, and weaves, slashing and dodging some unseen enemy as Rigby and Matt continue the music, the synths on auto. A stagehand dressed entirely in black drags something from off stage over to where Katrina is engaged in mock mortal combat, then disappears off stage again. As Katrina whirls around, she stops to shove a fully clothed body to the front of the stage, then dances into a series of stabbing, slashing, and parrying motions with her blade, finally plunging it deep into the chest of the body with a mighty crescendo of the song. She whips the blade out, and bright red liquid splays onto the front row of the audience. The crowd goes batshit insane, yelling and smashing bottles against the cage protecting the stage.
The song, having reached its apex, goes quiet at last, as everyone basks in the screaming praise of their fans. Kat breathes heavily, and Rigby and Matt bump fists, celebrating the win. Just as it looks like they are going to walk offstage, the song suddenly starts up again as Rigby double times the already frantic beat into machine gun fire, and Matt jams hard on his guitar. Kat spins into action again, eviscerating the corpse and sending blood flying into the audience. She uses one hand to pull chunks of blood-covered entrails from the body and hucks them at the cage, where it embeds itself and hangs in the air, dripping pieces and drops of bright red liquid onto the floor.
If the crowd is crazy before, it has whipped itself into a murderous rage at this point. The mosh pit that has formed during the song has devolved into a full-fledged brawl, and people are screaming at the top of their lungs, stomping loudly, and are now trying to swarm the bar and overpower the bartender's security. In less than thirty seconds, everyone has simultaneously lost their mind, and a riot is now in progress.
The trio on stage, all but forgotten in the ensuing chaos, hastily exit the stage and make their way out into the back alley. Matt is the first to speak as they run from the club. "Holy fuck, that was some livewire shit! Did you see the crowd storm the bar?!?"
Katrina is the first to pipe up, practically skipping, still holding her blood-covered katana in one hand. She sheaths it and the blood drips from where the tsuba meets the saya. "That was whiz beyond apogee! Like straight up exit velocity and into the stars!"
Rigby is the only one who seems to be a little concerned. "Do you think the club will still pay us with all those damages? It looked like they were going to tear that place down!"
Matt is quick to respond. "Who cares! The screamfeeds are going to eat that drek up like it's breakfast! Hey Kat, where did you find that body, anyway? That was mega choice!"
Katrina grins and says, "They got a HCS collection bin over on the corner of Knife and Clark. They tend to pile up around there until HCS makes it down. I just picked from the best of the lot."
Rigby sighs and says, "The place has really started to go to shit, huh? Fuck. I hate it here."
Kat says, "Oh, don't be such a Benny! We just smashed that drek into orbit! You were fucking kill-kill on those drums, Rigs!"
Rigby smiles at Katrina and says, "You think?"
Katrina smiles brightly at Rigby and says, "Super whiz Rigs. Super whiz. Number one with a bullet, I'm thinking."
0x02: Offer
Katrina and Rigby have been a couple for a few years, and Mayhem has been climbing the screamfeeds charts in a meteoric rise to stardom. Not everything has been smooth riding for the group, or the couple, but they have pulled through it together. The dynamic of Katrina has strained Rigby's relationship with his best friend, which has put pressure on Rigby's relationship with Katrina and Matt, but they have vowed to each other that their friendship is more important, and focused on their screamfeed rating.
The offer from Spinning Disc Media is inevitable, but exciting regardless. Matt runs straight over to Rigby's house, where he and Katrina inevitably are, and tells them, and they all get blotto drunk on expensive rum aged artificially using lightbulbs six times the lumens of the sun.
It is a standard promotional contract, one that requires signing over certain ownership rights, but it is the gift that promises to keep on giving: residuals. Normally a screamfeed sells for a fee determined automatically by its value based on the demand for it compared to any other feed. This operates as an open market, but there is a secondary component, which is when it's viewed. Media corporations buy content to broadcast to VidScreens, HoloVids, and HoloBoards, as well as SimStim. They make money by taking a cut of sold products and selling advertisements. When a piece of media has residuals attached, there is a fee paid to the creator when it's sold, and in addition, every time a retina scan identifies a unique eyeball even glancing in the direction of a TV or using a SimStim, a tiny fraction gets paid as well. While it means giving up the overwhelming majority of the purchase price, the estimated residual will outweigh the loss by anywhere from ten to one hundred times the amount. Mayhem is about to go mainstream.
"It's just the obvious thing to do," Matt says to Rigby and Katrina. They sit down together to discuss it a little more soberly at Rigby's house.
Katrina nods enthusiastically. "I think so too. The estimated residual figures they showed us in the offer were way above what we can get on purchases, even if we were to get those kinds of numbers. Not by a long shot."
Rigby says, "I know, but I'm worried about losing creative control of the work. What if they tell us what to play? Do you really think the fans are going to be into it when the corpies sanitize it? Something tells me they will not let a real blade on-stage for insurance reasons, let alone a dead body."
Matt and Katrina exchange a look, then Katrina pipes up and says, "So we won't let that happen. It's not like we're robots. They can't make us do something against our will. The fans will revolt if we tell them no show because the label is being a dick. We can even work it into the contract. See, this is important, so I'm glad it got brought up. Now we're prepared for it." Matt nods along, and Rigby grudgingly admits she's right.
The day of the negotiations finally arrives, and the three make their way past Spinning Disc security and are seated in a large conference room with a long red synthwood table and about twelve chairs around it. They already know they are going to accept the contract. It is just a matter of working out the finer details. They have secured a very competitive rate, plus some additional amenities when traveling and doing live venues for the company. All that remains is to sign the contracts, which are handled by the finance department. One by one, someone summons them to different parts of the building in a long process of waiting. Rigby spends about four hours in a small office with posters of their success stories. The apologetic receptionist attends to him frequently, bringing him water and showing him to the bathroom while he idly taps away on his phone. Finally, his turn comes.
The tall black man in the business suit walks in carrying a QuikTerm and extends his hand. "Rigby Barclay? Hi, I'm Trevor Hastings, director of finance." He shakes Rigby's hand warmly and takes a seat opposite him. "I'm very sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. Just a crazy, busy day. Give me just a second while I get logged in. Mayhem, right? I'm a huge fan, but my wife won't let me listen to it when she's around. Women, am I right? Can't live with 'em, can't double tap them and bury the bodies in a shallow ditch. Ha ha. All right, let me get it pulled up here." He taps away busily on his QuikTerm, then glances up and says, "Well, that's odd. Give me a second to read the notes here. OK. Um hum." He looks up at Rigby, who suddenly has a concerned look on his face. "Well, I'm very sorry to have kept you waiting all this time, but it seems Spinning Disc Media has decided not to sign with you, Mr. Barclay." He offers no further information.
Rigby's face turns from a look of concern to one of confusion. "Not going to sign Mayhem? Why? What happened?"
The man consults the QuikTerm again and says, "No, we're still signing Mayhem. We're just not signing with you. I'm sorry, but I have no more information."
The man is correct in that he has no more information despite several repetitive questions, unanswered calls to Matt and Katrina, and demands to speak to someone else. Rigby drives home in a fury, desperately trying to reach them, but their phones must be on silent because he receives no response. Upon arrival home, he bursts through the door and calls for Katrina, but she isn't there. There is something else off about his apartment too, but he can't quite put his finger on it. It isn't until he checks the bedroom he realizes what it is: Kat's stuff isn't there. He checks the closet. No clothes of hers are there. Nothing of hers in the bathroom, either.
Having whipped himself into a proper panic, he runs out of his house, forgetting to lock it, dives into his Dash, and fairly flies the half-mile to Matt's house. Upon arriving, he leaves his engine idling as he sprints to Matt's house, and pounds on the door a few times with his tightly clenched fist.
The door slowly opens. Inside is Katrina.
0x03: Signature
The breakup hasn't been the easiest for Katrina, but she feels like she has made the right choice. Rigby has been nice, and while he is wicked smart, he is moody, unstable, and prone to fits of anger and depression. Besides, it's not like she has been faithful to him recently. She and Matt have been hooking up behind Rigby's back for the past few months. The move has felt like a major victory to Matt, who is ready to develop his sound with some unique talent, make some serious cash, and get the girl. Sure, Rigby is pretty broken up by it, but that's just how he is, and it looks like he is now working on a solo career on the feeds. In the end, they wish him all the best and simply cut him out of their lives.
The money flows, enough to put a down payment on a beautiful house on green, and hire a modest staff to manage it. Matt is especially excited about what he calls the kink room, but Katrina loves the open air atrium and massive bathrooms with a hot tub, sauna, and eucalyptus oil steam room. Matt and Katrina are hot for each other, and play up that sex attraction on the stage, much to the delight of their fans, wearing increasingly expensive designer outfits on stage. The fandom grows, and with it the money, and it is six short months until Mayhem is the number one highest paid artist on the music screamfeed charts. They plan an enormous wedding, and within another month, they tie the knot. It is the most publicized wedding ever in the history of the top charts. Mayhem has captured the eyes of the public.
It is on the tail of this newfound publicly that a proposition is made by Spinning Disc. They want to move Mayhem to other vertical markets. If he can be successful as an artist in the tops, and the audience loves his face, why not have him compete in other tops?
Matt is instantly in love with the idea and is ready to dive into it head first. He lives in the spotlight and gives his bodyguards regular heart attacks by interacting with his fans. Attention is the drug he lives for, and he counts down the days until each major event.
Katrina is more reserved, feeling overworked as it is, but well understands that fans can be fickle, and doesn't want to stand in the way of her husband's success, so has agreed, trying to remain optimistic.
The contract only requires Matt's signature, and he has run over to the Spinning Disc building to take care of business. They are the usual example of inefficiency, requiring meetings with multiple departments to handle all the authorizations, but eventually, the job gets done. They assure him this will work as the idea has gotten brilliant responses from test audiences and that this is just a formality to release additional rights to the use of his likeness and move into new verticals and make live shows and promotions easier for him. All designed to make him more money. No rates are changing, and additional revenue streams are unlocking. Matt is sold.
He is driving home from the Spinning Disc building, listening to a HoloVid of his latest performance of Devestatifier, and singing along. He is feeling tired from the day's events, but good about his decisions. "Crush! Crush! Crush them dead! Devestatifier! Kill! Kill! Kill them now! Devestatifier!" It is a newer song and one of his biggest hits so far. As he drives, he remembers the crowd that night, hands in the air and chanting Mayhem. It is charging his battery, and he drains it in getting to the next show. All the practice and studio performances and promotions are a lot of work, but the live shows make it all worth it. Right now he is just wanting to get home and take a few bennies with a drink or three and fall asleep on the couch, but tomorrow it is time to think about how to branch out. "Slash! Slash! Slash their throats! Devestatifier! Die! Die! Now you die! Devestatifier!"
The streets are dark, but his home is well lit and inviting as he steps through the door and calls out, "Kat? I'm home."
She responds immediately, her voice sounding strange, "Coming, babe!" She fairly flies down the hallway and leaps at Matt, tackling him with a hug. "Oh, my life, you were amazing!" She says, kissing him hard. "We're gonna be mega rich, babe! You did it!"
Matt kisses her and hugs her back briefly, then says, "We're already rich. But what are you talking about?"
She says, "The news babe! You were fantastic!" She imitates his voice for a second, "The rad levels are waaaaay up!" Then kisses him again and says, "Don't be so modest!"
Matt just looks at her like she's taken crazy pills, and they just kicked in. "Kat, I don't have any idea what you are talking about."
Katrina just laughs and says, "Oh, come on. It's all anyone is talking about. Come have a drink with me and see!"
Matt just shakes his head, a tinge of panic in his voice. "Kat... see what?"
Katrina takes him by the hand and says, "Come on, silly!" And pulls him down the hallway into the living room where the wall-sized HoloVid is. On the screen is Matt. He's wearing some kind of black vinyl outfit he has never seen before, and frantically strumming his guitar, the distorted signature sound of his unmistakable. It is his voice too, and he is practically screaming about the weather forecast in Horizon City.
Matt stares at it for a second, then glances at Katrina, then back at the hologram of himself. For a second, he doesn't know what to say, so finally, Katrina speaks up, "Mega whiz, huh? What kind of rate did you get on the residual?"
Matt doesn't hear the question. He tries to speak, but the words won't come. Katrina looks up at him worriedly. "Babe? Babe, what's wrong? What is it?"
Matt raises a trembling finger to point at his doppelgänger. "That's... that's... not me."
Katrina looks at him, thinking he's playing some joke. "What do you mean, babe? Of course it's you! Look!"
Matt just shakes his head and says, "That's... not... me. I did not do that."
Katrina laughs and says, "What did you fall and hit your head? You've been at Spinning Disc media all day, babe! I figured you must have..."
Matt is just shaking his head very slowly, his eyes wide with disbelief, trying to understand what he is looking at. They just stand there in stunned silence, quietly watching the news.
0x04: Déjà vu
The contract with Spinning Disc Media is ironclad; sure, he can bow out of his residuals, but they still hold the rights to his likeness in perpetuity and can make him perform any way they want to. His creative input is no longer required, or welcome, and his presence at the live events will be as an audience member. There is also a very explicit clause that prevents him from discussing the specific terms of the contract, or anything done with his likeness, gagging him from even having a public opinion about it if asked. Finally, and this is the real upset, they have removed his publishing access to his own screamfeed. He is now nothing more than a passenger in his own career arc. Spinning Disc Media will do the driving now, fuck you very much.
And drive it, they do. First, it is the news. Then a talk show called the Mayhem Hour, followed by a game show called Climbing Mayhem, in which the contestants try to climb a rope to get at increasingly higher amounts of Yen while vicious dogs snap angrily at their feet and hope they fall. Then a reality show about survival in the desert wastes beyond the city walls. He hosts that year's Miss Horizon City Beauty Pageant. He makes commercials for everything from toothpaste to vibrating male sex toys, which he graphically demonstrates the use of, finishing by squiring on the camera lens. After that, the pornos really get popular, and he is seen screwing some new celebrity every week. At the end of each sex scene, he always says, "Baby, I was born to perform!."
Katrina tries to be supportive at first, but Matt absolutely hates it with a passion. They have stripped his reason for living from him. The drug use ramps up, and he goes on drinking benders and spending sprees in a desperate attempt to fill the emotional void with fast cars and motorcycles and custom guitars and designer drugs, but nothing makes a dent. It just allows him to forget for a while. Katrina says the pornos don't bother her, but she is lying.
Then, one day, Matt wakes up in the clone vats. The automated voice in the tank informs him that the year is 2093, but that is impossible. It is 2086 last he remembers. Isn't it? He has an uncanny sense of déjà vu that presses on him. Something about the date. Like he has this exact thought before.
He quickly dresses in the yellow Genetek Revival jumpsuit, pushes his way past the perpetual funerals in progress in the lobby, and hails the nearest cab to take him across town to get a new clone. As he rides in the cab, the déjà vu hits him again. He is sure he has done this before. Taken a cab? He's taken plenty of cabs. It makes little sense. Sitting in the clone recording pod brings the same sense of vague urgency of something he should remember. Of course he's done this before, he tells himself. Why does this feel so familiar?
Another cab ride up to the green level, and the intense sense of déjà vu is nagging at him like a dejected spouse. Something is terribly wrong, he knows. He has died and his clone hasn't activated for seven years? That's impossible. Clone records don't last over two years, two and a half tops. They are very explicit about the need for regular updates, and not just for memory in the recording studio. None of this is adding up. Why is he dead? He has a clone now, but seven years? Nothing about this is adding up to him.
When he arrives at his house, he calls out for Katrina. A tall pale woman with blonde hair and blue eyes is the one to respond, addressing him by name, but she is unfamiliar to him. The second she sees his yellow jumpsuit, she knows what has happened and pleads with him to sit down while she patiently explains a few things to him.
"My name is Chatana." Her voice is smooth and calm as she speaks. "I'm the house manager. You hired me to manage the staff and to help with your personal affairs."
Matt demands, "Why don't I recognize you?"
Chatana takes a deep breath and says, "Because your clone always updates before you remember me."
Matt blinks at her. "W... what?" Is all he manages to produce.
Chatana nods and says, "I'll walk you through it, Matt. It will make sense when I get to the end, so just let me explain the whole thing, ok? I know this is confusing, so I'm going to give it to you straight, and then answer any questions you have. Just trust me. Alright?"
Matt just nods dumbly, his head spinning with confusion and panic.
Chatana says, "Ok. The last thing you remember is having a fight with Kat, then taking your Mōkin down to Gold and updating your clone. A week later, you hung yourself in the kitchen."
Matt stares at her in solemn silence, trying to process what he is being told, and figure out if he should panic or cry.
Chatana says quietly, "When you made that clone, you were spinning on Demigod. Hard. Something about the drug messed with the cloning process, and you woke up with problems with seizures. You went to the doctor, and their scans confirmed you had cyberpsychosis from the nanostims, and now it was a part of your clone."
Matt tries to form sentences, but his face is frozen in a look of terror. He feels like he is waking up from a nightmare, only to realize it actually happened. "So, I, this means, and, where is Kat?" He looks around anxiously for any sign of familiarity.
Chatana whispers, "When Kat found out you had cyberpsychosis, she left, and took half the fortune. There's no known cure, and it goes with your clone, so updating just records a more advanced case."
Matt manages to ask, "So I just died?"
Chatana nods carefully and says, "Unfortunately Mayhem mania didn't last long, and the revenue streams dried up. You spent a lot of money trying to cure cyberpsychosis, and the rest on drugs and the house staff. You had fired everyone but me six months ago. I had just said you can't afford more than three months here, and you had taken your last car out. That was..." She glances down at her watch. "Four hours ago. You went and updated your clone, didn't you?"
Matt nods ever so slowly, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.
Chatana nods and says, "That's what you do. You wake up in the vats, get a clone, and come up here. Now you can't update again, because the seizures will be more advanced. Do you remember the sense of déjà vu you had?"
Matt's breathing has become heavy as the gears in his head slowly engage.
Chatana has a pained look as she tells him, "It's because you keep doing the same thing every time you wake up. You wake up in the vat, and you go get a clone. You make it not more than eight months before you kill yourself. This last time it was four months." She reaches over and takes his trembling hand in hers, trying to hold it as it starts to shake more. Her voice is barely audible as she says, "This is the twelfth time you've done it."