CHAPTER 3
“Thargelia”
SUMMER
BROKEN LAND
By now, THEO is a regular at Broken Land and looks the part. He’s dressed all in Rick Owens black, a red LOMO camera hanging from its bandolier, and a new faux hawk fade with overlapping triangles shaved in one side. In practiced ease, he walks to the front of the crowd at the subway entrance with a coffee in each hand. He passes one to THE SERBIAN, now clearly enveloped in three overlapping Auras, who greets him with a curt nod and lets him in. Must be his main persona, thinks Theo. Together they walk down the echo-filled station hallway.
Three months of Theo’s ingratiating behavior have filed The Serb’s gruff exterior down a bit. But it always depends on which one you get, like Serb roulette. As they approach the station elevator, Theo reaches for the cord on his neck and fishes a gold key out of his shirt as he starts in on their nightly ritual.
THEO
OK, so three shapes are trying to get into a club. It’s a club for shapes, right? Anyway, the first shape goes up to the bouncer. Bouncer says sorry man, you’re too square.
The Serb smiles as Theo slots the key, imprinted with the words “Do Not Duplicate,” into the elevator control panel. The door opens to reveal a glowing, black velvet curtain.
THEO
Ah, but I have money, the square tells him. Oh, in that case, the bouncer says, and lets him in—
SERB
Cute.
THE LOUNGE
Theo steps through the glowing curtain mid-joke and emerges into the front lounge of Broken Land. The curtain on this side of the portal flows seamlessly into the billowing cloak of SHARON’s Aura. With a little Rust built up in his system, everyone’s Chrome was now obvious to Theo. These manifestations of The Alchemy’s abilities also served as beautiful extensions of each’s unique personality. He hands her the other coffee and is greeted with a trio of air kisses.
Walking through the scattered train benches toward the raging party in the main room, Theo takes selfies with friends he sees along the way. He sees a second version of the triplicate SERB, surveying the crowd and scowling at everyone he sees. Ah, the mean one. Theo continues the joke without missing a beat.
THEO
—so the second shape goes up to the bouncer and the bouncer says, sorry dude. You’re too round. Body shaming, amiright?
THE SERB
(growling). You and your dumb jokes.
Theo, unfazed, takes a quick selfie with him and continues.
THEO
The shape says, I know I’m round, but I know all the other shapes. We’re all in the same circle. Get it?
The Serb shakes his head at the pun as Theo continues on, cutting through the crowded dance floor, heading up to the bar.
MAIN BAR
Theo heads for a remote corner of the bar shrouded in darkness, orders a mezcal, and waits. Soon, the shadows dissipate, revealing MANNY and his latest customer, their drug deal completed. Manny’s Chrome interrupts the EMS around him, absorbing it to give him super strength. He powers down, his spiky Chrome shrinks in size, and he becomes visible once more. Revealed is the smiling, diminutive Colombian within.
MANNY
Theo! What’s up, hermano!? Get in here!
They hug, Manny powers back up, and they swap cash for Rust with practiced ease in the enveloping darkness.
MANNY
Here, have some on me.
He scoops out a massive pile with a gold horn pendant, offering it to Theo.
THEO
Dude, you’re gonna get me oxidized before I even make it to the booth.
He blows off half the pile then leans in for the remainder, Manny laughing incredulously. The nerve of this kid! They exchange goodbyes, and Theo makes his way shakily around to the front of the bar as the familiar Rust high kicks in. It’s been a pain free few months, with Theo’s normall EMF headaches virtually nonexistent.
DEADALUS is already on, conducting a symphony of otherworldly sounds for a packed house. It’s unclear what is responsible for the crazy lights and sounds exactly. Is it the DJ’s skill as a musician, the drugs Theo is on, or the strange technology of Deadalus’ fabled Magnum Opus sound system? All of the above, thinks Theo, amplified by Deadalus’ powers, evident in the overlapping triangles of energy that spill from his hands. They flow into the mixer and reel-to-reels, controlling them. The equipment is constantly flowing and changing like some fourth-dimensional Rubik’s cube. Theo wants to be there in the booth to see it all up close, to be in the center of the action. This is the kind of thing he came to New Brooklyn to experience.
He walks down the length of the subway platform to the far end of the station, where the raised DJ booth extends out into the crowd. It is flanked by two subway trains that jut out at an angle from the massive mirrored wall behind the booth. The cars extend behind the towering speakers and terminate at the platform on each side.
DJ BOOTH
At the door set into the front of the train car, a third SERB stands guard. Great! By process of elimination, this must be the nice one. Theo now knows he isn’t triplets, just one man who really can be in three places at once. The exact science was unclear, but The Serb could create three auras at once, and by some fluke of time or space he’s actually IN all three places simultaneously. Was it time travel, teleportation, or just an illusion? No one knew, least of all The Serbian.
What Theo did know was the bouncer’s powers allowed him to oversee security in three parts of the club at the same time… usually the door, the dance floor and the DJ booth. His fractured psyche, traumatized by his time fighting in the Bosnian War, allows him to mentally control each of his selves independently. The hybrid gold dog tag/razor blade hanging from his neck may have been based on his real dog tags, but the name is crossed out. Theo had heard that even The Serb doesn’t know his real name anymore.
The only difference between them was their personalities. One the queit “main” personality, one nice one, and one mean as shit. Luckily, the nice one was guarding the booth. That meant Theo had a shot getting in there tonight.
THEO
—so the third shape, a triangle, goes to the door and the bouncer just lets her in, no questions asked. The other two shapes are like, what the hell? Why did he let you in so easy? The triangle just looks at them and says—
THE SERB (interrupting)
Cuz I’m acute!
THE SERB (laughing)
When are you gonna let me get some ink on you, Theo? I’ve done almost everyone here.
THEO
Soon, buddy. When I’m ready. Still looking for an idea.
Theo thanks The Serb and goes to enter backstage. Into the promised land. But the Serb stops him… Minus told him not to let Theo back here. Fuck! Banished back to the bar to nurse his drink and his Rust, Theo looks around. He looks at the catwalks and the ladders and all the people having the best time in the DJ booth. And he gets an idea.
DANCE FLOOR
THEO pushes through the middle of the dance floor, the Rust catching up to him. He suddenly trips, feet tangled in thick, black yarn. He tries to get out but just makes it worse.
VOICE (OS)
Hey! My yarn!
He looks around for the source of the voice, becoming further entangled. He’s poked with a knitting needle, and looks up.
ARIA, looking annoyed but bemused, slides the needle back into its home in her wrist cuff. She’s sitting on a podium in the center of the dance floor, knitting and smoking a joint. He stares up at her. Her Aura glows brightly, with multiple Chrome arms and eyes swaying and pulsing hypnotically. One pair of arms untangles him, another continues to knit and the third move to the beat in slow patterns over her head. Theo stammers apologetically.
THEO
Aria, just the person I was looking for. I’m kinda lost. Can someone get into the DJ booth from the catwalks?
ARIA
Always the troublemaker, huh? I see what you’re up to. Lemme help. There’s a symmetry to this place that makes sense once you realize how it’s laid out. If you’re not oxidized, at least.
She waves up to Russ with exaggerated writing motions, using all four free arms. He drops down his IR pen, and she leans over and begins drawing a stylized map of the entire club on Theo’s arm in bright, infrared lines. He’s enraptured by her, cute and sexy with her pierced tongue sticking out a bit in concentration. She draws a large circle with a dot in the middle, in the crook of his arm.
ARIA
This is the dance floor, and you can usually find me right here in the middle. The skylight is directly over us, and Deadalus’ tower above that.
She draws the location of the bar on one side, the stage on the other, and the front and back edges of the subway station at either end, forming a series of squares.
ARIA
Here’s the entrance, by your shoulder, and the booth on your forearm.
She draws three overlapping triangles inside the circle.
ARIA
These are the catwalks. And these three points where they intersect the circle are the speaker stacks. There are ladders up to the catwalks at all three points, attached to the speakers. That’s how you get there.
An intricate pattern of geometric lines now covers Theo’s right arm. She adds some flourishes and caps the pen dramatically.
ARIA
Voila! Now just look at this whenever you’ve lost the thread.
THEO
Thanks, I love it. Very helpful.
ARIA
How are you settling in here?
THEO
Minus is a dick, but other than that everyone’s been great.
ARIA
Fuck that guy. He’s in it for all the wrong reasons. Money, power, and the influence he has on others. Ignore him, and stay out of his way. He’s unhinged.
THEO
Good advice. Thanks.
As he turns to leave, Aria kicks him lightly in the butt, then tosses him the marker.
ARIA
Give this back to Russ, would ya? And tell him he owes me some apiary work this week.
LIGHT BOOTH
Theo finds the ladder by the rear speaker stack, climbing up into the high, narrow maze of catwalks that cut across the soaring space of the station’s domed ceiling. Deadalus had the cracks in the dome filled in with a gold-like metal, a nod to the Japanese art of Kintsugi. If shattered pottery can be put together with gold, then maybe anything broken could be fixed.
He makes his way across the catwalks, nodding to Russ as he goes. His friend was checked out, his Aura currently out of his body and flying around the club. The thin, glowing ghost form spun around the venue on outstretched wings like a spectral bird. Russ’ consciousness always went with it, Theo now knew. It was how Russ had known Cyrus was coming, that night they first met.
Russ is young, but has seen a lot. He worked his way through the rave and EDM scene, with a wrist-full of festival bracelets to prove it, before discovering this place. He started as Deadalus’ runner before being promoted to light guy. Now he controls all the club lights from up here with a small analog controller. He jolts to attention as his Aura returns to his body, seeing Theo run past.
Theo waves. He would catch up with him later.
BACKSTAGE
Finally arriving at a front corner of the catwalks, Theo climbs down the ladder to arrive behind one of the front speaker stacks, finally backstage.
Here was the ultimate VIP area, off limits to all but the most connected, the inner circle of the club. These two subway cars formed the back two sides of the triangular DJ booth, the insides becoming a de facto green room and backstage area. The cars’ open doors allowed the Alchemists and their various hangers-on a great view of Deadalus at work. Unlike at GR€€D, this crowd is a rainbow of skin tones and sexualities, a concentration of casual coolness that calls to Theo like a moth to a flame. They sit along the benches inside the car or spin about the subway poles, stripper-like, casually snorting Rust off gold keys and gilded fingernails like others sip cocktails.
Theo feels the vibe change in the train car, and turns to see MINUS and a pack of his disciples.
MINUS
What are you doing back here?
Minus reaches out with his Aura, glowing black metallic chains that slither out from his fist and wrap out around Theo’s throat. The “King of The Broken” leads by fear and intimidation, enforced by his ability to mind control anyone on Rust. He interrogates Theo, forcing him to answer against his will.
MINUS
Why are you buzzing about? You come out of nowhere, act like a stalker, and now you think you belong in the booth? Are you a narc? Did Cy send you?
The answers are wrenched from Theo in curt, painful responses. His denials eventually satisfy Minus, or at least bore him, so he decides to embarrass Theo. His chains reach out to Theo’s ankles and wrists, puppeteering his movements like a marionette.
MINUS
Look at me, I want to be a real boy! Hey Manny! I’ve got one too.
Minus’ immediate posse, including those two look-alike booth groupies, The Erins, laugh derisively. He marches Theo down the length of the train car to the back corner, behind the spinning mirrored clock and leans Theo’s face toward the jagged, rotating surface. Theo stares at the three small moon shaped holes in the middle while waiting to be scarred for life, before being dragged back towards Minus. The bully flexes his hand, and the chains wrap around Theo’s neck, and pull him against a subway pole. Theo can’t breath, looking out though the subway door and heavenward for divine intervention. He finds it when he locks eyes with Russ and mouths “help”. Russ’ winged aura shoots out of his body and rockets towards them. The feathered projectile slams into Minus, knocking him across the subway car. His chains evaporate, and Theo slumps to the floor.
Fire burns in Minus’ eyes, and with a motion, his minions surround Theo. Russ’ Aura reforms between them in defense. His massive wings fill the space, knocking the Rusted down one by one as they advance. This is gonna get ugly.
DEADALUS enters the train car.
DEADALUS
Minus, don’t be such an asshole. Our new friend has been vouched for by Russ. He’s just as Broken as the rest of us.
Minus protests, but Deadalus grabs the center pole, sending his Aura down into the floor. It turns into a conveyor belt, carrying Minus, and the other bullies out of the car.
DEADALUS
Shoo!
The doors morph into solid walls, they were now alone. Deadalus turns to Theo.
DEADALUS
Sorry about that. He’s a bit enthusiastic in his defense of this place. There are many who would see our downfall: the establishment, the competition, the squares. Just because he literally makes the keys to this place, doesn’t mean he gets ultimate say in who gets in.
Deadalus lifts one of the three keys hanging from his necklace, interlocking triangles that extend into three tubes of differing lengths. Like a puzzle ring made out of tiny gold slurpee straws.
DEADALUS
I built this place. With my mind. With my powers. He’s the jeweler. But I am the architect.
He does a bump off one of the keys, then serves one to Theo.
DEADALUS
Now get out of here, I’m about to go back on. Get lost in the music!
THE TOWER
Theo stumbles out of the booth and is met by the real Russ at the edge of the stage.
RUSS
Let’s get out of here. I think we could both use a little perspective.
Russ pulls Theo behind the curtain, taking him to the crumbling wall of the old station. Russ reaches into a shadow-filled alcove, and opens a hidden maintenance door. Ducking inside, Russ pulls Theo with him. A claustrophobic stairway yawns both above and below, both ends shrouded in darkness. Echos and moisture abound.
Russ leads Theo up the narrow staircase, the Rust not helping an unnerved Theo. A chunk of concrete falls off a loosed step and drops into the void.
THEO
Good job. The concept of falling to my death in the darkness is really taking my mind of the beatdown I almost got. What’s down there, anyway?
RUSS (climbing)
The old Shanghai tunnels— a whole catacomb underneath this part of town. They used to use them to grab people here by the water and put them on ships to the “exotic orient” as forced labor. That’s the legend anyway. But then later on the tunnels were used by local gangs for bootlegging during prohibition. They were sealed up when they build the subway, and we discovered it all after the Breaking. No one goes down there, scary as hell. And it’s what’s at the top of the stairs that I want to show you.
THE TOWER
After climbing for what seems like forever, Russ slams open a door at the top and lets them out onto a small rooftop. The building they are on is the crumbled shell of an old warehouse, holding up a large wooden water tower. Looking down, Theo sees thick glass bricks set into the masonry of the building’s central courtyard: the skylights of the subway station below.
Theo looks around in wonder. The the west is the river and the Manhattan skyline. To the east the rising sun is just cresting over the horizon, painting a dark red glow on the morning clouds as sunbeams shoot like lasers through the streets of Williamsburg. It’s beautiful.
RUSS
Behold, Brooklynhenge! Two times a year, on the Solstices, the sunrises and sunsets line up perfectly with the streets that run east and west. See, you can see it shine directly through the East gate! When it sets, it does the same thing through the West gate.
You can see GR€€D all the way in Manhattan, Werk! up noth of us, the Magnet School to the south, and your loft is way past the east get. And here we are, in the middle of it all! This is my favorite way to appreciate New Brooklyn: way up high, with everyone below us as small as ants. All our problems far away.
The two sit, dangling their feet over the edge of the building, with the water tower looming over them, and talk. They talk about Theo’s need to make it to the center of the Broken Land inner circle, and Russ’ boredom of that very thing. Russ sees the changes happening to Broken Land and New Brooklyn as similar… overexposure and gentrification threatening to rob both places of the things that made them special. They bond, and Theo sees a little of his brother in him.
Theo’s seen a lot of crazy shit this year… superpowers and drug-induced time jumps and secret underground societies. But the chance to sit with his friend, and enjoy the beauty of a sunrise, is both new and wondrous.
RUSS
Come on, I’m starving. Let’s hit up The Break Room!
THE BREAK ROOM
The Break Room is the automat next door to Werk!, also corporat-themed. This 24 hour hang out is filled with old school vending machines filled with sandwiches, stoner snacks, and tallboys of cheap beer (hidden behind a button with the handwritten label “My light is on but I’m broken”). Me too, says Russ. Me too. And the best thing, in another classic trade, the automat takes Broken Land subway tokens. They were like a second currency around here, Theo has come to realize.
NEW BROOKLYN
Having settled into a silly, mellow Rust high, they stumble around the city, scaring the squares, making each other laugh, and watching the disco skaters and techno marching band in the park (their members overlap with the club’s). Russ casually uses his powers to confuse, help or flirt with various boys they encounter.
THE BREAKING MEMORIAL
This ends when they stumble upon a Breaking Memorial. Theo gets super quiet, and Russ asks him if he knew anyone.
THEO
Yeah, my brother Herc. Sorry, Hector. But I couldn’t pronounce that as a kid, so it became Herc.
In a way, he’s the real reason I’m here. We grew up in a small town, with shitty parents, so when he moved out here to study music, it was like my whole world crumbled. But he would write me letters on his sheet music about all his grand adventures here in New York. In the last letter I got, Herc talked about all the things he would show me when I would come visit.
But I never got that chance. He died in the Breaking. So when I got old enough, I came here, to experience the New York that Herc did.
Russ is moved, and looks like he wants to tell Theo something.
THEO (checking his watch)
Shit, it’s getting late. You’ve gotta get back to the club for the finale!
They head back to the club, Theo planning to ask him about it another time.
BROKEN LAND
The pair sit in the catwalks, Russ working the lights and Theo taking photos. They do bumps off of Russ’ gold sword necklace, its blade similar to one of Deadalus’ keys, before it’s returned to its one-hitter scabbard. Minus is a dick, but he sure makes some useful jewelry.
Russ pulls out a stack of his newest flyers, with a fallT-themed haiku, and tosses them down onto the crowd. The leaflets flutter down onto a trio of cute girls dancing below them. ERIN (the blond) and EREN (the brunette), Minus’ booth groupies, seemd to have picked up a third member, ERYN, the strawberry blonde barista from WERK!. The Erins brush the leaflets out of their hair, yelling at the boys above them. This cracks Russ up to no end. The two girls flip them off, with Eryn mouthing “I’m sorry” behind their backs. Theo doesn’t like that these two seem to have adopted Eryn into their ranks. She was so sweet, and these two were trouble. Minus-flavored trouble.
They get a little too oxidized, barely able to move from their perch or talk. But Russ can still hit his light cues on beat, almost without thinking. Theo is impressed, because he was beyond taking photos. He was beyond the CONCEPT of photography at this point. One of Russ’ flyers, lodged in a spotlight just below them, begins to smoke from the heat. Theo stares, watching as the words burn away, the lines of prose becoming lines on a page of sheet music before disappearing altogether.
Theo shakes it off and goes to stand up.
THEO
Dude, I gotta go. I’m way too corroded to be social anymore.
RUSS
No worries, man. I can’t leave. But it’ll all be over soon.
He appears lost in thought till Theo’s camera flash snaps him out of it.
THEO (heading to the ladder)
Cheer up, man, There’ll be another one soon enough.
Russ pulls out his journal and begins writing furiously as the party rages around him.
RUSS (to himself)
Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.
FADE OUT
Russ’ Journal
My soul can fly, but by body will always be stuck on the ground. That sucks. When you can see all that’s out there, and get a glimpse of things that could be, or always were, it’s maddening. I get as high as I can, but I’ll always be tethered to this goddamn earth.
Up there is the sun. You know, that thing we denizens of the night never see? I miss it. It’s part of that normal life we gave up, a life I can’t have. Maybe I could be a screenwriter, sitting in a coffee shop somewhere, or a copy writer in an office full of other squares. Seeing the sun after a party used to feel forbidden somehow, cuz we’d been up all night. But now it’s just depressing, and othering. So of course I’m perversely drawn to it.
I have this need to open the windows and shed a light on Broken Land. To expose the flaws I’ve been seeing of late. I'm sick of the whole thing: Minus' bullshit, the drugs, the drama, all of it. Theo, if you ever read this, it’s why I took you up to see the sunrise, to get out of our little bubble and live like normal people for a bit.
So I’m taking the coward’s way out. Life’s a party, and I'm making an Irish goodbye. (Great writing Russ, using two cliches, and a racist one to boot.) But every celebration must have an end. Doesn’t a never-ending party lose all meaning? It has for me. I think I need the ultimate afterparty, the thing after all this, even if it means giving all THIS up.
I’m going to miss you all… Aria will look fierce in my disco hoodie, and maybe my Jeremy Scott’s will give Theo some much-needed style. Deadalus doesn't really need me on lights, anyway.
The sun is waiting. I must fly.