written by Pedro Lins
The deepest place of Hecate – name of a Chat-Bar that refers to a moon’s deep abyss, where the souls suffer and are punished for the things they did after becoming spiritual beings.
“The deepest place of Hecate” is an almost decayed Chat-Bar that, nowadays, with a new pandemic ravaging the Ancient Mother (Earth), survived underhand after the curfew. Stinky from ragged tobacco smoke and past due motor oil served to automatons that should be offline, but, for some reason, rebelled against their standard, were also where people composted, mostly, of flesh and bones – alive, yet not so much; human, although not much – met after a match to meet physically. In person, well, at least at first.
Sonny thought he was going to be okay there, as once before. Once again (stupidly) he didn’t plugged his Inhibitors Chips, and the place started to feel progressively tight and claustrophobic.
All that indistinguishable sound wave of machines gnashing, hazy voices, terribly euphoric and frightful, exceed and fake laughs, that were getting on the few sanity nerves that he still had, causing an existential malaise and dread. Why he had to be so stupid again? The night life compulsion, from times where Vertigo had not affected his reality perception, still insisted on show up whenever he felt bored and, for a change, too alone.
He thought that music would do good… And the crowd, where he could lose himself between so many people and forget his personal life’s shitshow. But all that ambiance now was nothing more that a damn trigger (maybe not the poll table that floated like his bed and that brought him to know that a Chat-Bar is not the ideal place for an addict.) He was in a Symmes Hole. That meant, he was in an unsuccessful search of something that didn’t existed. He believed in an illusion.
Averting the glazed look, now with a melancholic subtle aspect, from the poll table, he noticed a woman with curly hair, shaved on the left side, where a radiophonic sensorium had been implanted where one of her ears should be. She had a little of a bitch face and, apparently, wasn’t there physically (despite being), immersed in the cell phone, probably consulting the digital menu. So, subtly, the plain-vid behind the counter announces an extraordinary last minute news.
In the last years, a series of murder were afflicting the mutants. Which generated a lot of repercussion and divided opinions between the people and the not-people. Many had a dear person infected by the virus and the others were just… the not-people.
Another disastrous move of the construct soldiers on search and seizure of the Suicide Murder. Please, if see this person, report immediately to the authorities! - declaimed the plain-vid.
The cold down the spine rose like a sharp hissing noise to the back of Sonny’s neck. A frightening feeling automatically opened even more his eyes and he suddenly knew: It was her! What the heck! The mysterious lady from the table behind him was the mutants suicide murder that the plain-vid were talking about! He did a quick sweep of the place, and obtained the visual information that she was gone, as soon as the news has been projected.
That was enough for Sonny. What a damned night! It was time to finish it all, and get out of there too, optimize his time and who knows, find a healthy hobby too!
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