Wedges of love (Ai no Kusabi)/ The Space Between

The Man Who Came Back - Strangers

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The city was like a tyrant who mocked the night's silence and the peaceful flow of time. Lifting its skirt now and again to display the gaudy brightness of its neon lights, it gave a licentious smile as it seduced the hearts of those who fell to its charm. Here spread the complete decay of sensibility, willpower, and intelligence, and fearing no one, the city reigned over the darkness.
This was the Pleasure City, Midas.
Famous satellite city of the capital, Tanagura, which was ruled by the massive computer [Lambda] 3000, known under the alias of Jupiter; Midas was the city that never slept, in which there were casinos, discos, bars, luxurious brothels... It was pointless to try to count the various amusements and pleasures that could be found there.
In the night of Midas, yesterday and tomorrow didn't exist. Its haughty magnificence overtook the night, and every day, being pure incitation to corruption, it sank into obscenity. In that place, under that resplendent appearance, there was a hidden face which was repellant. Instincts and naked desires, free of their chains, became intertwined and hypertrophied, paying homage to unrestrained pleasure. Such was the grotesque and undisguised face of Midas.
Lascivious and seductive, lights floated in the darkness, and among the close press of people, the air was warm and foul. Clinging to their languid limbs, the sighs of Midas fascinated the crowd as if they were an aphrodisiac, but only in stepping away from the main streets did that sticky sensation lessen, melting away in the cold air of the night. In that moment, the face of the city changed.
This was the ninth area of the outskirts of Midas, Ceres.
The inhabitants of the Pleasure City knitted their brows with disgust, showing their scorn towards what they considered the armpit of Midas: the slums, a place it never even crossed their minds to come. In the rubbish strewn streets, there was not a single soul, but the flood of brilliant neon that dyed the night of Midas drew halos on what it could reach of the half torn down walls just to avoid being accused of showing complete indifference.
It seemed as if time had suddenly turned aside towards a direction where the concept of past and future was unknown. It was a weird and uneasy sensation. Neither the warm air emanating from the Pleasure Zone, nor its charming voice reached this tired old district which was content only to surrender to its own chaotic and macabre colouration. In this place, the only thing to be heard was an indolent breath flowing in time. Its putrid scent propagated, making no distinction between day and night. This was a dull, empty zone where there was not even a single dream of which to gather the crumbs.
Tanagura, the capital where everything was ordered, where even time was controlled, was too distant a place for those who were not allowed even to bear the train of the proud dictator of the night that Midas had become. For the ones dwelling there among the ghosts of a destroyed past and a sorrowful reality, there was no future to aspire to. Things such as talking with a friend were their sole commitments.

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Friday night ---------

A mysterious iridescent moonlight spangled the deeply shadowed darkness.
They were killing time in the room they had made into their den in a half ruined building.
"You know what? There's going to be a market soon in Mistral Park."
In the semidarkness Kyrie held back the hand with which he passed the bottle containing that hallucinatory alcohol known as 'Stout', and said this as if he had just thought of it.
"Market? An auction?" asked Sid, raising aggressive-seeming eyes.
Kyrie nodded. "This time they're going to sell Academy bred Pets, and it's said that even the nouveau riche from Kaan and Rijina are pretty thrilled. It's a widespread rumor that, this time, the price will be much higher than the usual double."
"Purebred... pedigree..." said Guy, talking to himself.
"What do we care about that?" spat Luke.
"It's not that I mean to compare us to Academy Pets, but with enough time and money to polish us up, we wouldn't look all that bad. The only problem might be our awful manners. Don't you think so, Riki?" Directing his odd eyes, one ash-grey and the other blue, to Riki, Kyrie smiled at him, but Riki, seeming to want to show that he was not in the least bit interested, just held Stout in his mouth.
Faced with so blatant a gesture, Kyrie frowned angrily. What annoyed him was not the fact that Riki did not agree, but that he ignored him so calmly in front of everyone. Although sometimes he had embarrassed the others with his shamelessness, they had never treated him contemptuously. That was why Riki's behaviour was to Kyrie like a slap in the face.
'Maybe all of this is because Riki hates me...?' Kyrie had felt so for a long time. It was not that he had heard anybody commenting about it. Neither had Riki made any sarcastic remark to his face, but in spite of that, the thorns in those dark and fleeting glances that Riki directed at him could only suggest such a feeling. If it were mere slyness, he could put up with it, since in that case he knew how to throw a counteroffensive, but to Riki's behaviour, Kyrie didn't even know how to react.
'I don't give a damn about what you're saying.' Having this so obviously pointed out to him made him glare at Riki fiercely, but Riki was paying no attention to him at all, nor to anything else around them. He didn't even attempt to raise his eyes, lost in the far off distance. Burning with rage for that, Kyrie's lips twisted, mumbling something. He was on the point of swearing when, as if he had calculated the precise moment, Guy said softly: "What is it, Kyrie? Would you like to wear a collar with your name on it around your neck?"
In an instant, those thoughts were cut off at the root. Kyrie clucked his tongue lightly, and, taking a deep breath, showed a false smile. "Why not? If my master let me trip out on first-class drugs, I'd be able to lick his feet!"
That stirred up something in Riki's soul.
Kyrie found himself the focus of a chill and withering stare, and unconsciously clenched his fists. They showed displeasure with Kyrie, those exasperating eyes... Having them focused directly on his face made his repressed anger rise in a column of fire.
"W... what?!"
But, even his suffocating bitterness was frozen by that cold, silent gaze, and no words welled to his lips. Only displeasure with his own clumsiness moved in the depths of his heart.
When, in that moment, Luke's lips curved in an ironic smile, saying "It's not so easy to find someone with a fancy for a Mongrel Pet..." nobody laughed, nor was any sarcastic remark made because that was the plain truth.
Riki looked down, and drained the little Stout remaining at the bottom of the bottle, but when he held it in his mouth, it was bitter on his tongue. However, the taste was not that of Stout. He could feel a much deeper and somber displeasure.
'It's just my imagination...'
Pushing that thought away, he swallowed the liquid slowly and purposefully. If he'd had money, he would have preferred to get high on something that tasted better, but in this place it would be more than difficult. Unless he were generously offered a mine of gold... Here, he would find no one to borrow money from, either. Luxuries like expensive alcoholic drinks were a dream for people who couldn't employ their youth. The Stout they were drinking now was a priceless commodity - let's call it so - that Luke had gotten for himself somewhere three days ago. But treasuring its value was not the only reason why they always drank it slowly and by turns. Stout was a nerve stimulant which contained non-authorized substances. In other words, it was an illicitly manufactured alcoholic drink. It was really dangerous to drink it on an empty stomach. Instead of tripping, with a little bad luck, they'd run the risk of writhing in pain and suffocating to death right there.
That was the reason why it was said that among the alkaloid type hallucinatory alcohols, Stout was the worst one. Perhaps, deep down, it might be the one most appropriate to the Slum. However, good or bad quality was not so relevant to getting temporarily drunk, and it was just at that point where there was a fascination for the glass which, covered by their sighs, looked as if the mere touch of a voice could shatter it.
The young people in the slums shouldered a rage for which there was no outlet. Such was the emptiness in their souls that it could not be described by words. "There is no way." With such hopelessness, they would resolve everything by saying that phrase. Even if only temporarily, the Stout liberated them from all that. Nobody was there to tell them, "Stop it. It's dangerous."
After a few minutes, the silence became stagnant. Lack of air was the cause of one or two faint sighs when the flow of the foul and dim atmosphere slowly began to invert its course. Then, suddenly, maybe because something had crossed his mind, Luke half sat, and locked his glassy eyes on Riki.
"What's up with you, Riki? Are you ashamed of tripping out on a cheap drug with us? That's it, isn't it?"
Luke looked annoyed at something, and his blurred eyes crawled over Riki's body as if they were licking it. That gaze was so undisguised that, normally, anyone would have frowned in disgust at such a crude look, but perhaps because the Stout had started to have the desired effect, Riki didn't care. His heartbeat slowly marked the passing of time, and as it gradually increased, began to surge through his limbs, marking a peculiar rhythm.
Riki stretched his arms and legs widely, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes gently, and listened to nothing, saw nothing, just felt that soft, almost soporific vibration...
When he relaxed, captivated by that fascinating sensation, both his body and soul seemed to lose contact with reality. The darkness behind his eyelids swirled and multicoloured spangles began to jump up. In that moment he was interested in nothing except concentrating on enjoying that agreeable tingling sensation.
When Guy peered over his shoulder at Riki's face in profile, smiling that vague smile, suddenly he felt the vacuum left by those three years, and turned his eyes down.
'This... is not Riki,' he told himself.
The Riki whom Guy had known had been so fierce as to strike sparks wherever he went. Extremely egocentric, he had also had great self-esteem. To Guy, Riki was not only his pairing partner. Long ago, they had so intimate a relationship that each one knew the number of freckles on the other's body. However, even at that time, Guy always had the impression that, although they were looking at the same thing, they were traveling down different paths. That was why Guy, much more than Luke, couldn't stand seeing this shell of a human being that looked like Riki.
"I'll say goodbye to the Slum someday." That had been the favorite phrase of the old Riki. Many young people had left the Slum after swearing the same, but in less than a month everyone had come back again.
Shoulders slumped in defeat, used up, or with a weird brightness in their eyes.... But in spite of this same scene replaying again and again, Riki was not intimidated at all, and raising his voice, he repeated, "Someday. Count on it." But he seemed to speak more for the sake of encouraging himself than for Guy.