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OBS! Denna textfil ingår i ett arkiv som är dedikerat att bevara svensk undergroundkultur, med målsättningen att vara så heltäckande som möjligt. Flashback kan inte garantera att innehållet är korrekt, användbart eller baserat på fakta, och är inte heller ansvariga för eventuella skador som uppstår från användning av informationen.
### ### ### ### ### #### ### ### ### #### ### ### ##### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ##### ### ### ########## ### ### ########## ### ### ### ### Underground eXperts United Presents... ####### ## ## ####### # # ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## #### ## ## #### # # ####### ## ## ####### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## ## ## ####### ####### # # ####### ####### ## [ Majik ] [ By Lisa Guliani ] ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ Majik by Lisa Guliani Late August ushered in the first stirrings of Autumn in Northwestern Wisconsin. Ren Whitehorse drew her arms up into the overlong sleeves of a well-worn Packers sweatshirt, feeling the new chill in the afternoon breeze. Summer had indeed brushed by her like a swift wind across a burning green field. Now, as she strolled absently along the blacktop road skirting her diminutive Northwoods cabin, a wave of melancholy washed over her. Her mind switched reflexively to previous months even before the warmth of summer, to the frozen heart of February past. It was then that He had entered first her computer, and then her life. Seven months had flown by since that first encounter with the stranger, and so much had happened in between. She had later dubbed him her "Man-In-The- Box," preferring to refer to him as such unless in direct communication with him. His screen name was intriguing, she had to admit. It lured her into a world of fantasy and illusion despite its simplicity and uncommon spelling. His name had become branded onto her heart, and into her imagination. It was He who would lead her into and beyond the glass screen of her monitor, through the doorway of a dream... She felt the familiar tingle as the word escaped her lips in a whisper: "Majik..." Instantly, a shiver ran through her body, up and down her spine. She felt the familiar rush as her pulse quickened and her heart began to beat faster in her chest. Looking around, she cast her brown eyes out over the wide field adjacent to her tiny home. Nothing to see but dried wild grasses and an occasional haybale. Reminding herself that He was not here, she shook her head a little, as if to clear it of the image of Him, once and for all. In a daze, her feet continued walking woodenly southward along the empty road toward a distant stop sign. A year earlier, Ren had suffered a fall down the basement steps, breaking a bone in her right foot. The injury had never healed properly; consequently she had sustained a rare and aggressive form of nerve damage, called RSD. RSD was the acronym for Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, and involved the nervous system of the body. The nervous system was sending incorrect information throughout her body and extremities, thereby causing pain. This had been going on for a year and had consumed Ren's thoughts until He had come into her life. Ren's mind was far from RSD as she walked though; instead, she imagined the four winds whispering his name, "Majik"... and a single tear rolled silently down a tanned cheek. Ren walked on, oblivious to the clouds that had formed overhead in the midst of the brief reverie. She was too busy looking back, remembering the events that had led to her current reclusive living situation in the Northwoods. His name again... and the fantasy awakened within. She thought of Him at the edge of the Sun, and eagerly those wooden feet carried her, as if nothing bad had ever happened. The sound of a pickup truck heading toward her on the road snapped her back into the moment. She recognized the driver, a neighbor who only nodded in passing from time to time. The truck kicked up several small rocks as he rushed past. Ren could feel the heat left in its wake. Sighing, she wrapped her arms about her middle, making her way along the edge of Dawn Road, toward the bright red of the stop sign. Focusing squarely on its one word command, she willed her mind to obey and stop thinking of Him. The Man-In-The-Box had vanished weeks ago, suddenly and without warning. He had not said a word, nor given any indication that he was leaving; rather, one day he simply went *PooF*, thereby ending their relationship in the same way he had ended their emails and late-night rendezvous. Ren was left to wonder and taste the saltiness of her own tears. It was loss she felt, an emptiness in her soul. Fittingly, with the exit of Majik, summer had begun to fade, until all stood in readiness for the arrival of Fall. A few maples had already started turning color, and bright deep flashes of crimson began to appear here and there along the fringe of the woods. She noticed these, and a small smile traced her lips. It was a smile of sadness and longing; for though the winds were blowing, she knew the Majik was gone. Sighing deeply, she turned around at the stop sign and headed back the way she had come. Another tear slid silently down her cheek and her heart ached. All around, maples, aspens, oaks, and birch rustled as the wind came in from the northwest. Overhead, a couple of blue jays perched on a wire, observing the lone woman walking aimlessly below. Instinctively, the jays huddled closer to one another and watched with unblinking eyes as she passed. 3 February 2001 Winter seemed to be getting longer with each passing year in northwestern Wisconsin. In Ren's mind, it stretched on interminably. Though the season had not been especially brutal as far as subzero temperatures or blizzards as in previous years, snow flew almost daily and accumulations of the white stuff were significant. The cold was still bone-chilling and the days were painted a dull gray - one after another. At night, she could look out of a north facing bedroom window to watch the moon's light reflect off pristine snow-covered fields. In the distance, coyotes howled in unison, long into the darkness. They only seemed to gather when the moon hung full in the clear sky. What a moon it was, bejeweled with a dizzying array of stars, all aglitter in their perfection. Ren and her dog Shadow lived a solitary existence, spending their days and nights in a cozy split-log cabin sandwiched between an L-shaped field and a fragrant stand of hardwoods. Inevitably, long wintry days made her restless and lonely for human conversation. It had been more than a month since she'd spoken to anyone in her family, all of whom lived in Florida. There really wasn't anything much to tell them anyway, since she had more or less holed up in the cabin for most of the winter, nursing a broken and slow-healing foot. She'd gone into town for supplies only; however, those trips were infrequent and not meant for socializing. Every paperback on her bookshelf had been read and reread, and the library shelves had been scoured and devoured weeks before. More and more, Ren found herself switching off the television and turning on her computer. The Gateway system had been a Christmas gift from her parents in Daytona, and she figured if they had paid not only the cost of the system itself, but also the price of shipping it all the way to her little cabin, the least she could do was to learn how to use the darn thing. Her previous education was comprised mainly of academic coursework, without any computer courses. This was all to her dismay. So, the February evenings took on new purpose, as Ren set out to explore a new world of technological wonder. It didn't take long for her to realize what a wonderful gift the computer truly was. No longer did she feel alone and divided from fellow humanity. The computer allowed her to go wherever her imagination wanted to go. She explored other cities and countries across the ocean. As her cybertravels expanded, she found herself visiting chatrooms as diverse as her many interests. Poetry chatrooms fascinated her for a while and in them, Ren grew to feel something of a kinship with her fellow poets. One morning, sipping on a steaming cup of Joe, waiting for the computer to boot up, she laughed suddenly out loud. In wonder, she considered the computer, realizing how much fun it had infused into each day and night. It wasn't long afterward that she began looking for other new and interesting rooms to join. Ultimately, she found the adult chats. She had heard of these rooms, where men and women "hung out", in cyber-bars or cyber-clubs; rooms devoted mainly to the hunt. The folks in these rooms were mostly looking for one thing: cybersex. She became fascinated with watching the screen roll as one after another introduced themselves, stating an age, location, and gender. Men often volunteered personal information about their genitalia; and most, the women flirted brazenly, surpassing the vixens of primetime television through words alone. And so it went, day and night, as Ren became obsessed with watching the sexroom occupants engage in capturing one another for a roll in the cyberhay. Anonymously, they detailed on the screen sexual acts, sensual motions, and erotic foreplay. They celebrated with cyber-drinks and settled themselves in front of roaring, unseen cyberfires, leaning back to smoke invisible cigarettes against comfy cybercouches. It was a whole other world within the box. Slowly, Ren was drawn into this world, drawn into the vibrations of complete strangers, all doing what they needed to do to endure the unendurable: loneliness. Ren chose Blackfeatherzz as her screen name, adopting a sarcastic, witty persona which became very popular with the "regulars" in the room. In addition to the attendees, the room was monitored and moderated by operators, or "Ops". These people enforced the rules, making sure all who entered the sexroom were of legal age and noone hassled anyone else. Ren as Blackfeatherzz became very friendly with many of the Ops. In time, they asked her to join their ranks and become an Op herself. She took some time to consider this, and it was during this timeframe that she met Him. Majik was an Op, one with whom she had flirted playfully and consistently, enchanted by his charms, his name, and his sense of humor. She also loved the cyberflowers he spread across the screen in her honor. These public displays made her feel special and brought seldom seen smiles to her face. February turned into March, March turned into April, and Ren barely noticed. Her world was centered within the box on her writing table, as she continued to withdraw from reality and became enmeshed in the lives portrayed before her eyes on the screen. The world-within-the-box assumed a central importance, and she found herself canceling appointments, putting off errands, and neglecting housework in order to maintain her post in the leather office chair in front of the screen. As spring came, her realtime friends emerged from their individual hibernations and complained about the fact that her phone was forever busy, and noone could get through. Ren just smiled, apologizing weakly, offering up feeble excuses noone believed. Everyone knew by now that Ren Whitehorse was addicted to the Internet. What they didn't know, was that one man alone was the object of her obsession, her desire, and her dreams. It was this man, this man-in-the-box, who controlled the woman named Blackfeatherzz, unbeknownst to her realtime buddies. It was He, Majik, who pulled the strings of his puppet at will, tugging and twisting them, drawing Ren closer and closer to Himself. Through His words alone, the Majik-man enchanted her as no other had ever done before, Ren found Him completely irresistible. He diluted her tough-girl fasade, spinning a spell which would be hard to break. Cyber-love was altogether unfamiliar territory, but Ren had heard plenty of horror stories. However, when it came to Majik, she refused to see any parallels or manipulations. He was her Fantasy man, a self-proclaimed warlock, a poet, and a techno-geek. Happily, she shed the garments of reality and stepped bare and new into an unknown world, holding Majik's outstretched hand. She never looked back once, and the door closed softly and swiftly behind her. Summer Ren let the screen door slam as she returned from her daily walk, aka physical therapy. Her eyes went beyond the kitchen straight into the living room where the computer stood, waiting. The computer was now her new best friend. The small house was strangely silent, with Shadow curled up in a corner of the kitchen on his fleece doggy bed. He was, not unlike his mistress, oblivious to the rest of the world. Ren slipped out of her walking shoes, a modified version of what had once been leopard print slippers, and headed for the refrigerator. Opening the door, she stooped to grab an icy can of Mountain Dew off the shelf, then walked into the living room. Lighting a cigarette, and taking large gulps of the Dew, she reached for the mouse and left-clicked once. The machine came to life with a corresponding click and whir. Lights appeared flashing green on the monitor and modem, and all systems were "go". Within minutes, Ren was online and signed in as Blackfeatherzz, one of many screen names she now had. Checking her email, she looked anxiously at the seven new messages listed. Her heart fell yet again as she saw Majik's name was not among them. Sighing, she clicked on "Folders", where a carefully maintained folder bearing His name existed, containing almost every email he had ever sent, at least to that account. There were over 200 on this single server alone, she figured. Sadly, she browsed them at random, her heart weeping soundlessly, missing desperately this stranger who had become such an important part of her life. She knew there would be no more emails from Majik. It was just a strong feeling, but it rang true. All she could do was linger over snippets of conversations they'd shared over time... savoring each morsel of innuendo, each smiling emoticon, every red flower he'd electronically bestowed upon her. Her mind began to drift lazily back to a time when she and Majik were at the beginning of their time together, when he had Ren Whitehorse completely mesmerized by the pulse. It was back to a Thursday in February, late in the wee hours of the night, and Ren and Majik had been doing their flirty, electronic dance around each other across the screen. Words flew as they tried to outwit each other with sexual references and humorous one-liners. Ren remembered how the chemistry surged through the glass screen, causing the hairs on both arms to stand straight up. It was a tangible chemical sensation he exuded through words and symbols, affecting the very core of her being. She had never felt such a strong, clear connection with anyone before, and Majik reciprocated that He experienced similar sensations. The conversation flowed easily, veering toward black magic, witchcraft, spirituality and mysticism. He had her intrigued with his admission of being a practicing warlock; and his discussions on any chosen topics were intelligent, articulate, and thought-provoking. Through the glass, she sensed the depths of His soul. It was through the cold glass they spoke, of politics, religion, society, poetry, and careers. He confided to her his anxieties and shared with her His good and bad days in long, late-night emails which he typed as she slept. Their mutual passion for poetry served to deepen the connection between them. That night, the moon a mere sliver dangling from the blackest of skies, He invited her to his private chatroom, the Monolyth, to talk further, away from the trolling masses of the sexroom. Ren said hasty good-byes to her chatbuddies and followed Majik online to his private rooms. Monolyth A cryptic message greeted Ren as she appeared at the entrance to Monolyth. It served also as a warning to those with intentions of being disrespectful or acting crudely, that such vile behavior would not be permitted. Almost at once, someone named Tabytha appeared and addressed Ren by name. "Good Evening, Blackfeatherzz!" the words appeared across Ren's screen. Confused, she stopped typing to consider who this Tabytha person was. She had assumed that Majik had invited her here so they could talk more privately. But here was this Tabytha, whom Majik was calling "Tab", acting like the hostess, or... something. Majik watched the interaction of his guest with the other presences in the room delightedly. Ren had stopped typing after Tabytha had asked if she owned all her own teeth. Suddenly, another presence made itself known in the room. Majik interceded on Ren's behalf just as Machine Gunn, another entity, began to bully the now hesitant Blackfeatherzz. She imagined Machine Gunn to be a militant fanatic. "What's going on here?" Ren typed to Majik, leery of the warrior-like persona of Machine Gunn and uncertain of the bubble-headed Tabytha. "Tabytha and Machine Gunn are bots of my own creation and design. I have others, whom you will meet shortly. They protect me and guard Monolyth." Ren sat transfixed, watching as Majik demonstrated the interplay between himself and his Bot Army; it was an affectionate, yet commanding banter, yet shaded by sexual overtones whenever He addressed Tabytha. Ren imagined "Tab" to be platinum blonde with a full set of choppers, all gleaming and pearly white. For a minute or two, she felt a small pang of jealousy toward the affable bot, sex slave of her Master, Majik. Ironic, that "she" stood in the very place where Ren imagined herself to be. Already, Majik had taken hold of her in a jolting way, arousing possessive feelings about Him. The uncertain knowledge of this caused a conflict within her. After all, who was He, really? He was extremely guarded when responding to any kind of personal question. She couldn't discover anything about him by subtle probing either. He had protected himself well. Searches of His online identities yielded nothing but dead ends. His profiles were nonexistent, or inaccessible. He would not reveal His real name. He did confess to her that His own mother called Him Majik. With intrusion protection programs Ren could only imagine, albeit unclearly, as well as the mysterious bot militia, Majik remained an anomaly, a secret. Yet, with all of this protection at His command, He seemed very paranoid of hackers, of unnamed individuals who might be "out to get him". He was constantly upgrading, updating, repairing, improving and replacing that which did not serve him maximally and completely. He was never fully at ease. It was this perceived discomfort that increased Ren's curiosity and excitement. Ren soon became a "regular" at Monolyth, appearing nightly. She found Majik waiting there in shadowy corners her mind contrived, surrounded by adoring, obedient bots. They had been commanded to admit Blackfeatherzz entry into the sacred rooms. He would step out from the shadows, greeting her warmly, offering fields of flowers, spreading sprays of blooms across the stark whiteness of the screen. He would transform the backdrop to a rainbow of coloration, switching font colors with impressive speed. Ren was dazzled and delighted by His antics. Little by little, word by word, petal by petal, she fell in love with this creature, Majik, with his mystical spookiness, exquisite poetry, even the mysterious vault of secrets. She wondered what was happening to her, watching herself withdraw from former interests, preferring to stay off the phone and on the pc. She didn't want to miss a single moment with the man-in-the-box. Monolyth soon became "their" room, or so she thought. Every night, there they would sit, each at his or her computer, weaving together an uncommon tapestry, words strung on silken threads of thought that bound themselves, wound themselves, round and round. On those late nights, Majik often slept a mere 3 or 4 hours, rising again at 6 am to get ready for work. Yet, he seemed to thrive on the contact with Ren as much as she did. Energy flowed between the two with amazing intensity and neither found it easy to shutdown their pc. Majik rarely used the word "good-bye". Instead, as per his eerie style, one word would appear on the screen or in an email: PooF -- and then he was gone. Somehow, it was better than "good night", and usually preceded by "See ya in a dream"... Ren fantasized Majik in a cloak of billowy black cloth which swirled about his legs, his long curly hair framing the noblest of faces. She longed for him. He began to invade not only her thoughts, but her dreams as well. These "majikal" interludes revolved around the words, indeed. Back and forth, they emailed verse, one to the other, each spinning the web a bit tighter. Those gossamer threads crossed snd recrossed, until the two humans behind the glass became as one soul. Months had ticked by and still, Ren knew little about the warlock poet, this Majik. Finally, unable to contain her secret any longer, she confided in her closest friend, Ann. Upon hearing the strange tale, Ann asked Ren what she knew personally about Majik. Sheepishly, Ren admitted she knew little, if next to nothing, about his real identity. This disturbed Ann, who had suffered greatly at the hands of a former internet lover of her own. She cautioned Ren to be careful of online romance, reminding her not to divulge any personal information of her own. Ann knew all too well how quickly these affairs could turn into ugly stalker situations. Ren read Ann's warnings with a distracted eye. Her mind was centered upon Majik and the dreams that came in the night. They were enchanting captures within shadowy courtyards, where lovers spoke in whispers, laughed with abandon, and danced intimately as melodic harmonies drifted along caressing breezes. He described his dreams to her in long letters, which she read countless times. Ren absorbed every word, every line as though it were the last. It was a tantalizing time. By August, she was spending 18 to 20 hours a day online. Unable to sleep until Majik offered her a dream, forgetting to eat, she resented any real-world intrusions that divided her from Him. The world was spinning out of control, she knew, but this realization hardly bothered her. Ren was content to explore the psyche of this Majikal creature, this fantasy come true. He sent her two pictures of Himself. He possessed a handsome face, stong jawline, a regal nose. His eyes seemed to be painted from the darkness that spawned Him, but she knew it was just a trick of black- and white photography. He admitted they were actually hazel, changing color with the light. His hair was a wild, untamed mane of dark tresses. He symbolized to her a man of the Renaissance, this dreamy warlock with eyes that pierced her very soul. Ren couldn't remove her own eyes from his face. "We even resemble each other," she whispered to the beta, swimming silently in the tiny aquarium on the bookshelf. It was true - they looked as though they were brother and sister, and Ren began to feel they were fated to meet, face to face. The thought swirled round and round in her brain, until feverish with the image of His face burning into her mind, she called Ann and broached the subject of a visit to her dear chum - a trip to New York. Ann thought for a few minutes, then assured Ren she would book the ticket online and mail an e-ticket with itinerary for her poet friend to review. Soon, the plans were made, and Ren buzzed with happiness at the thought of telling Majik she was coming to see him. She had her opportunity later that night. New York "Boink!" Ren laughed aloud. It was ten pm central time, eleven pm in New York. Majik had signed on and began the conversation with his usual greeting. Quickly, she clicked the mouse on his name and began instant messaging him, telling him excitedly of her plans to fly to New York. He was unbelieving at first, quizzing her on every detail of her trip. She answered swiftly, almost defiantly. Then asking, doubt creeping into her mind, if he was happy she was making the trip. "Ecstatic!, Ecstatic!" he cried in response. Ren breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at the beta, who refused to smile back. They talked long into the night, until worn and weary, they cyber- kissed good night. He gave to her a dream, whispering "I'll see ya there, my sweet Featherzzz"... and then, *PooF*... and he was gone. It was a warm, breezy day when the DC-10 touched down lightly at JFK airport. Ren could hardly contain her excitement. She had envisioned this day for months. Now, the moment was almost upon her. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her system with the force of a fire hydrant. She had come this far, she was determined to see it through all the way. They had made hazy plans; hazy because Majik had not solidified them. Fingers of doubt and fear had begun to creep upon her, warning. Ren uneasily brushed them aside. Nothing was going to ruin this moment for her. Nothing. Ann was waiting in the Arrival Hall, looking a bit flustered after roaming the endless corridors of JFK to find her old friend. They embraced and laughed, setting out to locate Ren's one leather suitcase. After retrieving it from the baggage carousel, they made haste for Ann's brand new silver Honda civic, not even minding the bottleneck of afternoon traffic in the Big Apple. On the way to Ann's place, they spoke of childhood and the years that had come and gone. They talked excitedly, interrupting one another just as in the old days. The subject finally turned to Majik, and Ren could not keep the grin from her face. Ann glanced at her old pal, smiling and shaking her head. Ren was sickeningly in love. She hoped, for Ren's sake, this love would not make her just another statistic in the record halls of online romance. When they finally arrived at Ann's bungalow in Rockaway Park, Ren jumped at the offer to use the laptop computer to check her email. There they were, two emails from Him. Opening the first, she read the first of perhaps a hundred lines, all asking the same question: "Are ya there yet?"... Over and over, scrolling down the length of the page, He had written the question an uncountable number of times... Ren's heart soared. Ann giggled, watching her friend dance with joy. They talked and laughed well into the night, catching up on old times, sharing dreams both old and new, speaking of ex-husbands and careers and new-found spirituality. The next day dawned, full of promise and light and hope. This day was THE day. She had emailed Majik a phone number to call, so they could cement their plans as to when and where to meet. At about ten am, the phone rang, cutting through the edgy tones of Melissa Etheridge blasting through the basement where Ren had set up "camp". Suddenly, she felt nervous. It was Him, she knew. In a daze, she made her way to the phone, Ann nudging her to "Hurry! Hurry!" The receiver was weightless in her hand as she barely breathed. "Hello", managed to escape her lips. "Hi." The voice replied. "May I speak to Ren?" "This is she", Ren answered. "Majik?" "Featherzzz!!!" His voice was as she had heard it a thousand times in her dreams, deep and commanding, with a solid New York accent. They both laughed with the rush of this first phone call, savoring the sounds of unfamiliar voices, those resonant tones each had only imagined for so long. Hastily, they agreed to meet at a steakhouse on Long Island later that evening. It was decided they would spend the next two days together. Ren 's heart skipped a beat and every nerve tingled. Ann helped her pack an overnight bag, attempting to soothe the nerves of her close friend. Ann had misgivings, especially since Ren still did not know Majik's real name. By this time, Ren had begun answering Ann's pointed questions with, "I don't even care what His real name is, Ann. He will always be Majik to me." Sighing, Ann turned away from the woman standing beside her. They had long since past adolescence. She could only pray that Majik turned out to be all that Ren wanted Him to be. If not, the results would be devastating, leaving her to pick up the pieces of a shredded heart. Still, Ann would make good on her promise to drive Ren to the designated meeting place. If it was in the cards for Ren to know disappointment, it would be through no fault of her own... Ren was acting like a bumbling idiot, wandering around aimlessly, tossing aside one shirt, then another, scrambling for her earrings, swiping at the cat hair stuck to the black overnight bag. The walls vibrated to the scorching rhythms of Melissa Etheridge, hinting of the chase, and of passions that burn hot as the August sun. PooF The Riverfront Steakhouse was a popular hangout for the thirty-something crowd. As Ren and Ann walked in, the sounds of laughter and muted conversations filled the lounge. In the dimly lit room, Ren could barely make out a face. She knew they were early, and Majik had phoned just minutes earlier to announce he was on his way. The two friends decided to sit at a cozy table affording a good vantage point of the entrance and have a cocktail. Ann knew Ren was a bundle of nerves. Suddenly, her friend was full of doubt: about her looks, the $80.00 Guess jeans she HAD to buy the day before, and most of all, whether He would really appear. Ann bought her a whiskey and coke, ordering Ren to drink it - fast. Ren complied and Ann proceeded to order her friend another. "You need to calm down and relax," she advised. "I can't, I can't", came the response. "I'm freaking out", Ren admitted. She downed drink number two, followed it with drinks number three and four, and then decided they should wait outside and smoke a cigarette. He was late. Ann glanced surreptitiously at her watch. 9:00pm. Suddenly, the cell phone made its peculiar screeching sounds. Ann spoke into it and nodded to Ren. It was Him. He was on His way into the parking lot. They watched in silence as a red Eldorado cruised slowly to a stop in front of the steakhouse. Someone else was driving, another guy. But there He was, in the passenger seat, beaming His beautiful smile upon her. As the two men parked the car, Ann turned to her friend, remarking, "Oh yeah, he's do-able." He was even better than Ren had imagined. His hair was shorter, but still a mane of tousled brown silk. He had perfect white teeth, and wore jeans and a faded green t-shirt. He was a feast for her eyes. Their eyes met and they embraced. He breathed deep of her cologne, the cologne she had bought just for Him. Majik introduced his friend, Vintucci, to the women. Ren had the feeling she had met Vintucci before. Then, she realized, that indeed, she HAD met him. It had been online some months ago, at Monolyth. She hadn't liked this person. His words on the screen had left her feeling chilled and violated. She was puzzled at his presence now, but figured Majik had probably brought him along for moral support. The drinks began to pour, and beers passed over the bar; Majik held onto His Corona, a lime protruding from the lip of the slender bottle. He and Ren embraced again, whispering to one another beneath the din of the smoke-filled lounge. The four spoke easily and laughed for hours, until the bartender called "last call". At this point, Ann had cornered Majik , drilling Him with questions, wanting to know His real name. He handed her a business card, and Ren looked at the name printed there: Billy Kapps. "Billy, Billy..". The name tumbled around her mouth like a cold, unfamiliar piece of ice. She couldn't think of calling him Billy. He was, after all, Majik. He would always be Majik. The bartender was becoming more assertive about asking people to leave, so Majik stood up to pay the tab. Ren and Ann agreed to wait out in front of the restaurant while the two men went to the mensroom. Fifteen minutes later, Majik and Vintucci had not returned. Ann remarked to Ren that it seemed strange for two guys to go to the mensroom together, like women often did. Ren hardly heard her. Her mind was somewhere in a fog of whiskey/coke and warlocks and wild sexual adventure. It was a place of music and poetry and billowing black cloaks and whispering winds. Suddenly, she was jerked out of the reverie by Ann, who was now talking like something was very wrong. "Where are they?" she was demanding. "Huh?" Ren managed to say. "It's been thirty minutes, they haven't come out yet, and everyone's leaving." Ren began to push her way through the heavy glass door, and reentered the lounge. No Majik, no Vintucci. Just the bartender wiping the sticky bartop. The room reeked sourly of beer and wet money and stale smoke. She continued back toward the restrooms. Approaching a small corridor, she looked up, noticing for the first time, an exit sign. This was the way to a side door of the restaurant. Her heart now felt like a lead weight in her chest. A strong sensation had crept up behind her, an altogether unpleasant one. It was Fear. Reaching the mensroom, she waited for a young woman with dirty blond hair to pass her in the hall. Then, pressing forward, one hand on the wooden door, she boldly entered the lavatory. She stood for a minute, unsure and frozen in the glare of fluorescent lighting. There were three stalls. All were empty.The mensroom was devoid of any men. No Majik. No Vintucci. Turning on her heel, she let the heavy door slam behind her. "Well?" Ann searched her friend's face for clues, but already knew the answer. "They aren't in there."came the dull reply. "They're not?" "It was completely empty." Cursing under her breath, Ann ran out to scan the enormous parking lot the restaurant shared with Roosevelt Field Mall. Ren followed behind her, stumbling blindly in a daze of alcohol and misery. She wandered the rows of parked vehicles, searching in vain for a red Eldorado. It was gone. Majik and Vintucci were nowhere to be seen. Ann began punching numbers into her cellphone, swearing violently into the mouthpiece. "You better hope I never run into you, you little maggot. I'll feed you your balls one at a time and laugh while you choke on them. How could you do this to her?" He never answered; his cellphone had been switched to the voicemail setting. Ann unlocked the Civic and guided Ren into the passenger seat. She looked worriedly at Ren's face, at the quiet tears that had replaced the joy of just a short time ago... "I don't understand what happened here." Ren whispered. "I know, sweetie, I know." They drove along in the darkness, each wrapped up in their own dark speculations... There was much to be said, but it would have to wait. Now was a time for facing that which had been avoided for months. Reality pounced and landed dead center. Ren reeled from its impact. There was no getting around it, no justification. He had left her standing there out on the street. Her mind fumbled feebly for some reason, but she killed the thought before it became a statement she would regret. That was a long night. The black overnight bag lay forlornly in a corner, still packed and collecting cat hair. Ren and Ann hugged and cried, trying to make sense out of nonsense... Ren's mind kicked viciously at the thoughts assaulting it. It was unthinkable that He had done this to her. Thrust from her world of Illusion, she now sat drunk, dejected, and in shock. For two days, she retreated into the safety and relative darkness of the basement den in Ann's bungalow. She ate nothing, emerging only to use the bathroom and refill the coffee cup. Downstairs, Ann's stereo rendered one haunting tune after another, intent on breaking her heart again and again. Fat, unforgiving tears rolled down her face, and she lay there alone on the couch, unable to face Ann who had warned her, Ann who had taken care of her in the hysterical state that followed, Ann who had the class NOT to tell her, "I told you so." Two days she lay there, mulling everything over and over. Finally, Ann descended the spiral stairs and sat quietly across from her. "I guess it's time I re-entered the real world, huh?" Ren looked soberly at her friend. "Yeah, I think it's time," was all Ann said for the moment. "He didn't break his promise altogether," Ren added. Ann looked at her expectantly. "What do you mean?" "He promised to appear before me in the Sun, and this he did. " Then, as he had done so many nights before, whilst they sat at their computers, he had simply gone **PooF**, without warning, without a word. In an instant, he was no longer He. The atmosphere felt empty, the air fell flat. Now, she realized, he was just Billy Kapps. Not Majik. Just a guy named Billy Kapps who lacked the courage to be honest, to be a man, to be anyone's reality. His brand of honesty was offered guardedly, behind the protective glass of his computer. She had fallen under his spell, enchanted for a time she knew she would always remember. His smile would stay with her for a long time to come. She felt no anger toward him, surprisingly. Just a sense of magnificent loss, of exquisite pain, of reality. Later, Ren walked alone on nearby Rockaway Beach. Closing her eyes, she strained to listen beyond the honking horns at an intersection, past the barking of a neighborhood dog. Longing for some sign that he wasn't truly gone, her yearning was interrupted by the shriek of an ambulance as it sped past on the boulevard. Fantasy had ellipsed Reality, and for a time, the Warlock Poet had taken her hand. Together, they had wandered through Illusion, crossing a Bridge of Dreams with eyes wide open. For what seemed the briefest moment, they had shared a connection. They had shared the same dreams. She had looked upon him, radiant and alive, in the sun... His words were entwined with hers; now, she felt for him in her mind. But, he wasn't there. She sensed this keenly, and pain shot through her heart, hot as a glowing poker. Sighing, her eyes swept out across the expanse of beach. High tide was rolling in. Waves pounded the shore, erupting upon the sand foamy and free. She watched them crash and break and spill their tears. Over and over, they ran toward her, barely touching - only to dance away again. Glassy-eyed, Ren stood captive, held within the arms of the hypnotic rhythms. "Majik, Majik.." she whispered . The current carried his name far, far out toward the horizon, but he never answered. All she heard was what was left, what was real. Her soul filled with the simple songs of wind and water, derived from so many uncounted wishes... All the while, seagulls circled the gray-tinged sky, their cries lost in the wind. Ren aimed a paper airplane into the breeze, and watched as it was dashed upon the rocks, to be claimed by the sea. **PooF** --------------------------------------------------------------------------- uXu #604 Underground eXperts United 2002 uXu #604 Send your submissions to: submission@uxu.org ---------------------------------------------------------------------------