Pax Galactica - A Space Opera

Chapter 2 - All Parties Are Exactly The Same

M's heart was already beating in tune with it.

The hosts were using one of those big party rooms that's just a gigantic circle. There was a really nice one not far from the race track. All along the edges of the circle were plush, comfortable looking, self-cleaning, wrap-around chairs. In the center was your standard spherical antigravity dance floor full of people happily dancing in three dimensions. 

There was a balcony overlooking the party accessible only by floating up to it through the AG bubble. A lot of the people not dancing seemed to be up there.

Emanating from somewhere inside the AG field and concentrated within it were hundreds and hundreds of shining multicolored bubbles. They looked good enough to eat, and indeed were edible if you could catch one. Each of the colors corresponded to an emotion, positive ones like camaraderie, triumph or mudita, and touching a bubble would give one a brief but intense burst of the emotion lasting no more than 15 minutes (for the larger bubbles) but usually not longer than 2 or 3. The bubbles could be mixed and matched to amusing effect.

The lights were low but all the bubbles were luminous so it evened out for the most part.

As the two surveyed the scene a floating tray came by, offering each of them drinks tailored to their exact genetic profile as read from their pheromones. Both drinks sparkled and exuded pleasant fumes.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," said Decker, grabbing his drink and taking a large swallow of it immediately. Proper etiquette would have been to sniff it first.

"Sam, enough. This is a party. You are pooping it," said M.

A brief moment of awkwardness passed between them.

"Do you want to go dance?" asked Decker, sheepishly.

"That's the first sensible thing you've said all day," said M, grabbing her drink just as the tray began to float away in exasperation.

They finished their drinks while they watched the others dancing, and then headed over to the dance floor themselves. Another tray noticed that the two had finished their drinks and came flying over with a puppy's enthusiasm to collect the empty glasses.

Decker and M, hand-in-hand, walked inside the area of effect of the AG bubble. The both pushed off together and floated up a bit. The music was much louder inside the bubble.

Decker looked lazily up at the balcony and did a double take. It was Thane, sitting at a table on the upper level. He looked over at M, who smiled at him and took his other hand in preparation to dance.

"I just saw someone up on the balcony who I really need to talk to in person. Would I completely blow things if I asked if we could pop up there really quick? Then I promise we can dance until you are completely bored of it."

"Whatever Sam," said M, "you're the one who suggested this in the first place. I'm staying here and dancing though. I like this music, I'm sure whatever you want to talk about is morbid Deathrace nonsense, and I came here to have fun even if you didn't. You come find me when you're done talking and I'll consider dancing with you."

"I'll be right back," said Decker. "I'll make it up to you."

"Oh count on it," said M.

A navy blue emotion bubble bumped into her head and popped, filling her with a sense of awe at the vastness of the ocean. She went with it.

Decker was already floating up through the AG bubble and onto the upper balcony. It took him a couple of tries.

Thane was sitting at one of the tables on the balcony effectively holding court. A large group of men and women, with some incarnated AIs and an alien for good measure, crowded around him hanging on his every word. In a society without money reputation was the only currency, and Thane's recent Deathrace championship had made him rich.

The alien was of a species Decker recognized, a [Shell Opening], old allies of humanity and a relatively common sight as far as aliens went. It floated in the air in a spiraled technological seashell like all members of its species. The shell was a cross between a bedroom, a spaceship, and a suit of power armor. The [Shell Opening] never appeared outside their shells; they had a strong nudity taboo and would never allow an outsider to see any tiny portion of their body.

Decker found it particularly infuriating that Thane had an alien fan. The [Shell Opening] wouldn't have the proper cultural context to understand what a sprellhead Thane was.

"Sam," shouted Thane happily, motioning him over. "That was some fancy flying out there, kov! This is the guy everyone."

Decker narrowed his eyes slightly.

"The guy who blew his hoverpod and still finished second place," Sam continued, standing up and putting his hand on Decker's shoulder. "Good show, kov. There's no shame in losing to the best."

He let his hand drop.

"Especially considering the circumstances."

Decker realized at that moment what had been his plan the whole time. He threw a wild, highly telegraphed haymaker right at Thane's face. He connected hard, bruising his own knuckles. Thane collapsed backwards into his crowd of admirers. Someone screamed. There was blood.

Nobody knew how to react. This kind of interpersonal violence was almost unheard of. It was like a barbarian from another age had shown up in a loincloth, publicly defecating while eating raw meat.

This gave Decker the opportunity to kick Thane several more times before anyone had the wherewithal to pull him off. Two of Thane's fans each grabbed one of Decker's arms and held him.

Decker fought against the hold, pushing himself and his captors backwards in his attempt to struggle free. He turned his head and saw M standing there, watching him.

He stopped fighting. A third man entered the fray and Decker was brought to the ground.

"Goodnight, Sam," said M, loud to be heard over the commotion. She turned around and stepped off the balcony to float back down to the floor.