Louis Hannibal Nez
A seagull searching for food amid so much garbage is the only living creature to witness what happened to Rob in the Wastelands. Indifferent to it, however, and finding no food, the gull takes flight and leaves that foul-smelling river behind.
That afternoon brings one of the fiercest storms in recent months, the heaviest rains. Even so, the seagull flies away on wings of freedom. It flees the Wastelands and clears the great wall that keeps the area isolated, flying too high for the machine-gun sensors to detect it. It heads toward Stormport. Near sunset that same afternoon, the sun shines again with unusual force. The gull reaches Baybeach and, somewhat exhausted, crosses Stormport's skies. There, people live through one more ordinary day. The vaccine has been administered to the population on a massive scale. No trace of the virus remains, although it has changed everything.
As recompense for so much material and emotional loss, the city council has spent weeks organizing a celebration for local residents and occasional visitors. The arrangements have come together in record time so that everyone can enjoy superstar Brittany Condon's new mega-concert. To restore the residents' confidence, the Storm NRG Stadium has been chosen as the venue this time. The organizers have erected a revolving stage at the center of the field. They have also strategically positioned one hundred holographic projectors to interact with the artist.
At sunset, the Storm NRG Stadium slowly darkens while glowing with brilliant colors. The long-awaited moment of the concert approaches. The screams and human stampedes of the previous show on a Baybeach street—the assaults against police, the fear, the widespread destruction, contagion and death snapping at their heels—all seem to have been left behind. The change of venue is a dazzling strategic success. More than sixty thousand people crowd the enormous stadium's different entrances. Night draws near and the spotlights blaze in vivid colors. A holographic Brittany dances seductively on the stadium roof. The image is so sharp and immense that it can be seen perfectly even from miles away.
Inside the great building, people finish settling into seats around the circular stage. Suddenly the lights go out completely and darkness swallows everything. At first it seems to be a blackout. The crowd grows uneasy, and rumors of a resurgence of the pandemic begin. Fear becomes thousands of murmurs. Amid it all, a powerful white spotlight cycles through different hues to illuminate the motionless young woman, barely visible from the farthest seats. From the center of the circular platform, which turns slowly counterclockwise, an enormous hologram rises, reproducing her in such sharp detail that it is exactly as though one stood beside her. The young woman's head is bowed, her eyes closed. She does not move so much as an eyebrow.
The audience waits in anxious expectation—families who have come to the show and groups of friends alike. At last, her voice begins to sound.
"Before the ardor of the flames, beneath the falling petals, springtime calls our names and restores the life that death begets," Brittany recites, moving nothing but her lips to speak the words, still bent low on the revolving platform.
With that, the young woman raises her head. Once more, she displays the sweet, beautiful smile and emerald eyes that melt concertgoers and television viewers throughout Stormport. She rises fully to her feet. The stage floor turns slowly beneath her while she remains perfectly still. After long weeks of lockdown because of the pandemic, people happily admire her pose. They watch her directly below or in the crisp three-dimensional hologram above her. After a moment that seems to last a very long time, her voice sounds again.
"Our loved ones lie in the dust; with joy we keep them in our hearts. For them, upon this day, we give all our love away." Just as before, the ovation comes after Brittany speaks.
This second time, people can see her lips more clearly as she recites. Her voice sounds unmistakable, perfect. She wears short black boots gleaming with a patent-leather shine. Her long stockings are the same color and reach halfway up her slender thighs. From there to her hips she wears tight shorts patterned like a chessboard. Her torso is barely covered by a daring bra that turns translucent according to the light. Her long hair, which has been every color known to humankind, is now blond with pink streaks, styled to either side in twin ponytails. Her red-painted lips contrast with eyes outlined in striking black.
"The pandemic is done; get up from your seat. It's time to dance here by my side—come sing with Brittany Condon."
Even before a fresh roar can rise from the crowd, music explodes through the Storm NRG Stadium. The concertgoers join in. Brittany begins to dance to music that pounds like a hammer. Seconds later, trails of golden light rain down on either side of her, beneath which a young woman and man materialize. They dance in steps identical to Brittany's. The revolving stage never stops turning. Another pair of dancers joins the artist, then another and another, until at least thirty holographic young people are dancing with her before the entire audience.
The crowd erupts with joy. They lift their backsides from their seats as electronic melodies announce the arrival of a song everyone knows, one of immense popularity. Brittany breaks away from the dance troupe and sings with tremendous fervor. Overcome with excitement, the audience accompanies her with unbridled passion from the stands and field level. The enormous hologram projected dozens of feet above her head clearly reveals the artist's delight in displaying what she does best onstage before a packed stadium. She does not disappoint. Hundreds of thousands of voices sing the song's melody and lyrics in unison.
Her performance is enjoyed outside the stadium as well. The second hologram, larger still than the first, displays above the stadium the same crisp three-dimensional details produced by her singing and dancing. In this way she sets people dancing throughout Stormport—in streets, avenues, boulevards, houses, and buildings. Her talent even reaches the infamous Destiny Building. Fortunately for many property owners in the area, none of the assorted filth associated with the building remains. It has been demolished, reduced to dust. In its place stand construction cranes that will raise the new luxury hotel planned for the site. The beautiful nocturnal panorama of Baybeach, immortalized by cameras aboard automated drones, is abruptly cut away by the directors.
Instead of the beautiful landscapes, the smiling face of a television host fills the image. His expression is one of false concern, framed in turn by neon lights and dancers wearing very little cloth over their bodies.
"Hello, um... what did you think of that glimpse from last night's concert?" Ricky whispers to the camera as if sharing a secret in someone's ear. "She's back, dear early birds! Brittany Condon is back! I'll show you on...!"
"Showbiz Buzz is super awesome!" sing the dancers performing behind him.
"Yeees!" he shrieks wildly. "Showbiz Buzz is super awesome. After so many, so many—so very many—rumors, I've just shown you that our most beloved artist has returned to the land of the living to work her magic. Haven't you seen her with an energy and power unlike anything we've ever seen before? Write to my account and tell me whether you agree. Ah, and I don't want to forget to tell you: you can experience or relive the entire concert as many times as you like by subscribing to UHR Channel Showtime. I've prepared a very special presentation there for you before the incredible concert, dear early birds, in which I tell you what she..." The screen displaying Ricky and his shrill, piercing words suddenly vanishes altogether.
In the place where the image was projected, there is now a pile of dirty socks waiting to be washed. Remote control in hand, Aquilino remains uncertain for a moment after switching off the holographic screen. He has completely recovered from the treatment he underwent at BioGenLife. He is lying comfortably on the bed in his bedroom, at home. It is early morning; the sun has barely begun to rise above the horizon. Little by little, Stormport awakens to its customary frantic, stressful motion. More alert now, Aquilino feels relieved to have silenced the host's irritating voice.
"You were right, Britania. I must stop watching garbage. You are free of that storm of lies now. Rest in peace, my dear."
He sets the remote aside on the bed. Barely awake, he shifts into a more comfortable position. He will no longer watch this in the mornings or lend it any importance. He throws off the blankets, revealing a wrinkled, flabby but healthy body, without the scars the accident would have left had he received no treatment. His restless movements inadvertently wake a drowsy, tiny puppy. Her little body is brown almost all over, except for her front paws, which look as though they are tucked into amusing white gloves. On waking, she gives her master's hand a lazy lick. He gathers her into his arms, tucks her beneath the covers, and showers her with kisses.
"I'm sorry, Tita. Did I wake you?" He tucks the blankets around her.
This is his second chance. He has no intention of wasting it.