The queue of Citizens snaked around the Tree of Transcendence now, and it was becoming rather conspicuous that I hadn’t stepped forward to greet them. Meg began to debrief me as I took a deep breath and ventured forward.
“I was able to acquire the info we need,” she said, cracking her theoretical knuckles like a seasoned hacker. “It was as if they wanted me to see it.”
I extended my hand to the man at the head of the line. He was chiseled and tan, like a cross between MegaTed? and the depiction of Asteroid Mining Interests in a late twenty-first-century political cartoon.
He seemed to find my gesture repulsive and instead performed a deep bow that somehow managed, at the same time, to show me a measure of respect and mock the curvature of my spine.
Meg cut in, apparently reading from some dossier she had on the man.
“His Earth name was Fled Granick, though in here he’s elected to go by Blaze.”
We exchanged pleasant introductions as I tried my best not to laugh. With Meg’s intel in mind, I caught a subtle hesitation in his delivery that told me he was still getting used to his new moniker. I also got the sense he was toying with adding an umlaut.
Meg continued searching his file as he made nauseating small talk about the unending bliss and mind-melting pleasure he expected the next few eons to hold for him.
I tried my best to steer us back to the weather when I could, but “a programmatic seventy-seven and sunny” doesn’t leave much meat on the bone.
“Back in his life he was just a Data Tailor. Up here, his metrics appear to be some of the most impressive of all. He’s quite popular already.”
I took another glance at the waiting crowd. Up front, I could see a fairly large group had broken off from the rest, eagerly leaning in to see how this interaction went. It seemed Blaze had a clique of his own.
If I could just win him over, it would be the key to letting me lay low again while I got myself situated. Meg dug deeper into his file, which caused more than a little discomfort in some of my dental fillings.
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“His interests in life included Rule Following, Moral Superiority, and an unskeptical attitude toward the status quo.”
I nodded along as the bootlicker carried on about some of the repulsive ideas he had for icebreaker activities later in the night.
I was going to need something a little more interesting than that if I was really going to seal the deal and win him over as an ally. Just then, Meg struck paydirt.
“Apparently, he based his current Chosen Appearance on a certain pool boy who played a significant role in the collapse of his first marriage.”
I froze mid-nod. This was great. I’d found my way in.
In my younger days, I too had been a lovesick lothario of sorts. Not, you know, usually in actual physical reality. But the parasocial sagas I had endured were the stuff of tragic poetry, and Lord knows I had written it. Heartbreak was something I could converse about until the proverbial you’ve been banned from this platform for bumming everyone else out came home.
This was, of course, all squarely in my past. But if all I had to do to secure a spot in the in-crowd was commiserate a bit with this poor soul, I was sure I could reach back into that well and pull out a bit of empathy.
Maybe I’d even recite a few lines of Ode to an Unfollowing for him.
“You know, Blaze,” I said, “I think the best part of being here is the opportunity to finally move on.”
He furrowed his brow, trying to understand my meaning. This was an uncomfortable display, as he had evidently been issued a brow designed for an existence completely devoid of furrowing.
“Move on to what?” he asked. “Bigger orgies?”
I clapped him on the back, mangling my thumb and pinky against his granite build.
I saw it all clearly now. Blaze was a textbook overcompensator. All this talk of tuning into the Frequency of Infinite Flesh? A thin veneer papering over an aching heart.
I looked him directly in the eyes, which were so piercingly blue that my childhood twitch returned momentarily. I collected myself and lowered my voice.
Dr. Ludo Brax — Psychologist of the Heart — was here to make a house call.
“You know,” I said, “move on from your pain. The horrible, all-consuming darkness that led you to become pathologically obsessed with living a ‘perfect’ life so you could get back at your ex by living as her lover in paradise?”
I leaned in, affecting my most sympathetic expression. The deal was as good as sealed.
“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ve all been there.”
He stared at me for a good long moment, bowled over, perhaps, by the depth of my insight. This was not abnormal, I’d heard, in situations of profound breakthrough facilitated by eminent connoisseurs of the psyche.
What was a little weird, though, was that parts of his body — and the area around him — began to deconstruct into data-abstracted cubes of pure chaos.
Meg’s voice cut back in, more offhanded than urgent.
“Oh, right. I probably should have mentioned. All that information from Earth? He doesn’t recall any of it.”
She paused.
“None of them do.”
[ARCHIVIST NOTE]: From here on out, I will make my transmissions on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 8:30 PM (EST) until the end of the first phase of Ludo's story.
