Mickey hands me an invitation for the Pretentious Film Festival. Scanning down the list of premieres, I can see that Cord’s wholo has been accepted in the short film category. « It would mean a lot to him if you’d attend, » says Mickey.
When I enter the pleroma, I’m met by a squad of escorts: Davy and X’khaim, my two newest Golden Boys, Cord – of course, but less explicably, Cillian. « I’m a critic, » he says.
« But all these films are something Ash has dreamed up in his own mind, right? »
« Any artist who doesn’t listen to his own inner critic is a pompous hack, » says Cord.
It’s a formal occasion, so Quennel wheels out a rack of gowns for me to choose from, most of them blue moth silk. Davy and Cord both look rather uncomfortable in tuxes, X’khaim looks dapper in a more modern jumpsuit with bolo – the latest in IndWorld formalwear – and Cillian wears his dress uniform, his chest littered with medals.
On the way, we pass over the Gulf of Bridging. X’khaim leans and points out the window. « Are those mollusks forming some kind of walkway? »
« It’s getting stale, » says Cillian. I look out the window anyway, only to watch a tourist yacht named Celadon Queen dock next to the bridge and disgorge a flock of penguins, who go eagerly hunting for pearls.
Pretentious, like everything in the pleroma, is truthfully named. The venue is located at the end of a gorgeous parkway called Esplanade of the Hipsters. I pose on the red carpet with Cord as penguins snap away with a dazzling array of ancient photographic devices. My favorite is called an Instaroid; it pops out images like a vintage toaster, grainy, badly focused images poorly fixed with cheesy filters. « This is so nostalgic, » says Cord.
The theatre is full of glamourous people – actually, a good number of them are penguins with bowties, and the walls are covered with grape vines. The four films the judges initially rated highest are being screened. The first is one of those slice of life films which makes you think, “Yeah, that’s true, but so what?” And the critics say, “But it’s such a poignant depiction of something we all go through,” and you say, “So what?” And they say “Nobody ever filmed that before,” and you say, “There’s a reason for that.” This one was about a little boy who got a multifoldfloatripper for Solstice and then took his sister to the park to morph the doldrummers, but she bought candy instead. Geez, that has to happen to half the kids on Skarsia.
The second is one of those artsy films where everything is out-of-focus and the film gets really grainy in spots, and lots of people in gray walk around aimlessly for what seems like forever, and suddenly it shifts into a holograph and someone is chopping down trees with a laser saw.
X’khaim winces. « I hate gratuitous violence. »
« It’s just a shock effect, » mutters Cillian. « Juxtapose the banality of the earlier images with the brutality, and the vague uncertainty created by the earlier medium contrasts with the pristine sharpness of the latter. The technique is incredibly effective, but artistically, it’s shallow. Also, why isn’t there any fucking popcorn? »
The third is a kind of clever animated short about a slickweasel and a bloobird. It’s the sort of things which gets points because cartoons.
A murmur ripples through the audience as baskets full of polished wood are passed around. One by one, the crowd is transfixed, immersed in the wholo the moment the smooth wood slips into the palms of their hands. Together, we personally experiencing the miracle of Simon reaffixing plucked flowers to nau’gsh trees. « Yam ey elihw sdubesor ey rehtag, » he says.
The scent of the rose seems to withdraw from the nose into the flower, fading gently. The buds close and Simon walks backward down to a beach. My mouth is suddenly filled with the taste of creamy chocumber as Simon uneats an ice cream cone.
He stares at the cone hungrily. « Loof s’emit ton s’evol, » he says.
Then Simon stares out to sea as the sun unsets and the waters are suddenly filled with oysters building the mollusk bridge. Their shells gape open, revealing their pearls, which glow brilliant orange in the reestablished sunlight. I can feel the warmth of the light, the smell of the sea salt.
« It’s always dawnest after the dark, » Simon says.
And then it becomes clear that Simon is thinking about me. All the light in the sky, all the water in the sea, all the shining pearls disappear into the vision. The audience gasps, then rises to its feet, applauding.
I’m dimly aware of the cheering crowd, of Cord being awarded the laurel throne by the festival judges. I’m fixated on one realization: That is what Ash feels about me. I can’t see anything; my eyes are too full of tears.
X’khaim and Cillian lead me to the others. Davy is joking with Cord about the award. « Selby got one of those too. Winners of the Pretentious Art Festival can rest on their laurels. »
« I dunno what to think about that, » says Cillian. « It’s rude to plop your butt on some unfortunate guy’s leaves. »
I’m surprised that we’re not going out on the town to celebrate. « Nope, » says Cillian. « We’ve got an appointment in the Gold Lounge. »
« An orgy? » I say hopefully. « Although as much as I like the Gold Lounge, I was hoping to get a shot at Fairchild or Zadornin or maybe the combo of Lakeland and Durant. »
« Nope, » says Cillian. « Actually, it’s open to everyone tonight. Another film festival. »
« What? »
« You said that you wanted to approve all my wholos, » says Cord. « Tommy agreed to organize it. »
Tommy? « I can see exactly where this is going to go. »
« Yeah, he was hoping you’d supply prizes for the event, » says Cillian.
« What kind of prizes? »
« Dispensations, » says Cord eagerly.
« That’s exactly where I thought it was going to go. »
Roan meets me at the door, holding a runestone. « It’s pomum, the apple. Divinatory meaning is fruit – An offering, oblation, votary, incentive, reward, that which is consumed. »
« That’s very nice, but what does it mean? »
« Give somebody a gift. »
I walk towards my seat, past Quennel, who is whispering to Evan, « This could be really kinky. »
« It can’t be worse than the Hedgemegeton, » Evan replies. « Every time I close my eyes, I see ketchup. »
Nearby, Caddoc is trying to chat up Gwion, who seems strangely disinterested. « That dirigible would be great for aerial maneuvers! I’d just like to fly it around for a bit and, you know, drop some bombs. »
Tarlach has whipped out his datapad and is typing furiously. « I’m not one for heavy artillery myself, » he explains, « but I realize that it does have a certain attraction. It’s important for the therapist to understand all of the inclinations of his clients. » He leans in, placing a hand on Caddoc’s knee, « Explosions can be quite sexually charged. »
As I reach the front, I notice that Tommy is standing anxiously by the podium. He keeps glancing at a little speech he has written, which must be a nervous reaction since most certainly he has the whole thing stored in branch memory. But the champagne has been flowing freely, and I think he’s had a little too much bubbly. But not nearly as much as Lucius, who already has his shirt off.
« Maybe you should give an award for most inappropriate behavior at a pornography festival, » I suggest. He smiles a little, but still looks distracted. « Why are you so tense? You MC all the time at your club. »
« Yeah, but I mean, that’s for humans. This is for you and the boys – I mean, I actually care what you think. »
Well, that was honest.
« You know, back in the old days, when I was running the original Tom O’ Bedlam’s, before Thomas turned it into a disco, I really did get nervous when I had to sing in front of you. »
That’s so sweet. And then I remember what Roan said. « Tommy, I’m going to give you a gift. » I summon the box marked “4.” Such a low number – it’s his number in the correspondence chart. I wonder if those numbers have meaning?
He opens the box to reveal…another box. It has writing on the top which says, “Dispense with wisdom and humor.”
He looks at me, shrugs, and opens the box. A moth flies into his mouth, and suddenly, he’s convulsed with laughter. He shows me the box; it’s full of tokens: black ones marked “T,” white ones marked “B,” and gray ones marked “C.”
« I guess that solves the prize problem, » he says, grinning. « Just remember, doll-face, you gave it to me. The moth is a universal dispensation. I can play as I like with anyone. That’s necessary for me to administer the box fairly. Those are fucktokens: top, bottom and choice. I give them out, and when one is used, it returns to the box. There are only ten of each, so the pressure is to use them, because sitting on them too long keeps them out of play. »
Hmmm…I’m not sure what to feel about that. I’d like to keep a bit more control…but with 102 of them now, I have to admit that it’s gotten completely out of control. Better to give them something to do. Besides, it could be hilarious.
Tommy swiftly grabs another flute of champagne from an attentive penguin, and then steps up to the podium, tapping for quiet. I return to my seat between X’khaim and Davy as he begins, « I’d like to thank you all for attending what I hope will become a weekly event, the recognition of the best performances in the pleroma…an award I decided to call the Woodies. And believe me, there were some hard – and I mean hard – decisions to make. So many of the best contributions involved mass orgy scenes. I decided that for each submission, I’d give out only two prizes – a Woody for director and a Woody for best actor. Without further ado…our first award for Best Orgy with Tara goes to The Honey Trap, directed by Lorcan Fearghus, and starring that promising ingénue, Dig! »
Wait, there’s a prize for best orgy with Tara?
« Ciao, baby! » yells Lorcan, throwing a kiss.
As Dig and Lorcan make their way to the front, Davy passes me a lump of wood. « It’s a compilation of the winning scenes, » he says. « We’re just accessing them through branch memory. »
It’s that scene with Dig and Sloane and the…I stare at the wooden knob in my hand. If Lady Lorma ever got hold of this…
« I’d just like to thank…well, everyone, for making me feel so welcome, » says Dig.
« With this, you’ll be welcome anywhere, » says Tommy, handing him a token. « It’s a one-time bottom dispensation. But Lorcan gets a choice token because who knows what he’ll do? »
All at once, everyone understands what the tokens are for. I’ve never seen motivation level rise so fast.
Barnabas leans over, whispering to Ethan, « Maybe we should start going to the Stud Buffet more often. »
So that’s it! This gift is designed to incentivize joining those social clades. Those young sprouts with their boringly gray trading cards are tomorrow’s potential porn stars. Where did Chand get his model of social design, bonobo monkeys?
Lorcan and Dig have returned to their seats after many air-kisses and much playful butt-slapping. Tommy resumes with the next award, which is apparently for “Best Orgy without Tara.” « He Ain’t Horny; He’s My Brother, directed by Solomon and starring everybody’s favorite weird scientist, Cüinn Cleary! »
Kink with Cüinn? I’ve got to see this. But after a quick rub of the wholo, I can also taste, touch and smell it.
Woot.
« It’s great to be recognized like this, » says Cüinn, « but I couldn’t have done it without Dermot, the man who saved humanity with a flip of the foreskin. »
Dermot looks mortified. I can relate; I’m not sure that’s exactly how I’d want my name to go down in history either.
« Since Dermot already has a dispensation, » says Tommy, « I’m giving both of you top tokens. So you can always show your gratitude appropriately. Next up is another inadvertent star. Hottest Romance goes to The Reconciliation of Ethan and Barnabas, directed by Tarlach Tadgh. »
« Piss off, » mutters Ethan, burying his face in his hands.
« It was really difficult to decide the best actor in this scene, but I think at the end of the day, we all have to agree that no one tops Ethan for that combination of emotional reserve and lusty abandon. »
« No one tops Ethan, period! » shouts Blackjack. « That guy is a kickass dom! »
« Really? » says Pallav. « Let me see that clip. »
Ethan trudges up the steps, takes the token grudgingly. Back in the seats, Barnabas grins and gives a thumbs up. It’s clear why: there’s no way he won’t see the bottom end of that token.
« The next set of awards is for lifetime achievement, » Tommy continues. « Our best director is known as being the top man on the scene, and our best actor is somebody that everyone knows…carnally. Sloane is the man, and Constantine…well, if you’ve ever watched an eight-hour clip of Constantine taking one guy after another…it’s like an Andy Warhol film with butt fucking. That’s why, for once, Constantine is getting a top token! »
Well, I can’t exactly disagree with that assessment. And neither does the crowd, as every man stands for an ovation.
« Before our final award of the evening, I have a few announcements to make. The first is that I have a naughty list of branches who haven’t joined a club yet. At next week’s awards, I’m going to have to read it, so don’t make me name and shame! On that note, Thorne would like to announce the formation of a new social clade. »
« Templeton and I were talking, and we realized that there are a lot of new guys who don’t have anywhere particular to go, so we decided to form our own society. It’s called the Ophion Irregulars, but despite the name, it’s open to everyone. We hang out in the diner doing crosswords and math puzzles, and we also host a murder mystery dessert banquet every Archonsday. »
Thorne is certainly getting some blank looks. Is that somehow a euphemism, or is he really that naïve about what these clubs are for?
« And finally, our winner for best short scene is a last-minute recommendation from Patrick. In fact, very few have seen it, so I’ll let’s share it now. It’s called Appetizer. »
Everyone’s eyes are glazing over, so I grab my wholo. Suddenly I’m in a luxurious and well-equipped kitchen which I somehow know is Patrick’s. The occasion is a party thrown by the Formal Dining Clade for their friends in the Aquatic Adventure Clade. Selby is busily preparing mini-blinis with Eden eel caviar, when Hyde pokes his head through the kitchen door.
Hyde is hungry. Hyde is incredibly hungry for all sorts of things. It’s a disconcerting experience to be so immersed in a body not my own. VR isn’t like this – VR simply creates new experiences to be conveyed through your own sensorium.
« Is there anything to eat in here? » Hyde asks. « I mean something substantial. All those little snacks are making me hungry. »
« Of course, there’s something to eat, » Selby replies. « But you should learn to savor the experience, not just wolf everything down. » But Hyde looks so miserable that Selby relents: « Here, try one of these. » He offers Hyde a tray of blini.
Hyde takes one, closes his eyes. « These are fish eggs? They pop in your mouth. »
« I prepared them especially because I heard that Lucius finds them arousing. »
« Oh, so you’re trying to seduce him with food? I suppose you can’t blame a branch for trying. » But Hyde’s attention is diverted by a baking tray on the counter. « Hey, what are those? »
« Sucksow prosciutto and kasmilkase buns. They’re for later. Don’t touch them now – they’re not warm! »
« They look good as is. »
Selby swats him away. « But they’re at their peak when served at 73C. Why settle for less than perfection? »
« Why not just make them through alchemy? » Hyde sulks.
« Where would the challenge be in that? It’s much more fun to cook than to simply make the food appear. »
« Speak for yourself. I’m starving. »
« Heat the buns, if you insist, » Selby snaps, turning away in passive-aggressive fury.
« But you don’t want me to, » mopes Hyde, returning tit for tat.
Selby turns back, arms folded, but softening a little. « I’ve planned them for a precise moment in the evening. I’ll tell you what. I’ve got a few minutes before the blini are served. I’ll make you an omelet. »
Attaboy Selby. You can catch more bears with omelets than with nul-cages. And now Hyde is all snuggles. « That’s really nice of you. I wish I had something to offer you in return. »
« You do, » says Selby, moving deep into Hyde’s personal space. With a low voice, almost a whisper, he says, « Roasted nau’gsh and rambat cheese tart. »
« Oh, for a moment, I thought you meant sex, » says Hyde, clearly disappointed. Selby raises an arch eyebrow while Hyde scratches his head. « I guess I’m really slow on the uptake. »
« Aren’t those furs a little warm in the kitchen? » says Selby, flicking a perfectly-tuned official Archonist Church egg-whisk seductively.
Hyde removes his coat slowly, letting it drop to the floor, revealing black jeans and a Bendigra Tigrons jersey. He stands there awkwardly.
Selby hands him a plate. He smiles, remaining just a little too close to Hyde. Hyde takes a big forkful. Even without the wholographic enhancement, you can read on his face that he approves.
« It’s nice to have somebody capable of appreciating my art, » says Selby. Of the two men, Selby is smaller, much thinner, and appears to be younger than Hyde, but he is clearly in control of the situation. He looks up at Hyde with a cheeky grin.
« Nau’gsh tart… » says Hyde, breathing heavily.
« There’s some in the stasisstorer. Isn’t that funny? I guess it’s like they say – the pleroma provides. Let’s heat it up. »
Hyde turns to retrieve the tart. Behind his back, Selby worms out of his clothes. When Hyde turns back to face him, the cheese sprinkled on the crust begins to smolder and bubble of its own volition.
Selby takes a step closer. « Ah, toasted cheese. Such a lovely scent – real comfort food. You’re like that too, aren’t you? Comforting. Protective. » He sticks his finger in the cheese tart and licks it.
Behind me, Cillian mutters, « That kid is a natural bear-hunter. »
« Come on, Hyde, taste me. » Selby pulls another plate from the fridge. It’s a deconstructed nau’gsh-scented crème cake with nau’gsh-wood grilled nau’gsh and javamelon fluff in a redberri-jasmine rhybaa sauce. Selby grabs a very thin spatula, and with one swift movement, whisks the contents from the plate. He lies upon the tile floor and, with his finger, dislodges the trail of sweets onto his concave stomach. « Presentation is everything. »
Hyde drops to his knees and begins to lick the confection from Selby’s naked skin. Just then the kitchen door opens. It’s a rather irate Patrick. Selby gestures wordlessly at the tray of blini. Patrick stands in the doorway, eying Selby’s lithe form spread upon the tile floor. « I hope I can expect that kind of service. »