Neon Clockwork Love

     

Art by Unknown

Neon Clockwork Love

By

James Kuckkan

            “Remember, ChocoNutts gets you all your essential vitamins and 9/10 therapists guarantee instant anxiety relief!  The perfect gift for that special someone, and with our primary—”

            Teddy Barnes absentmindedly traced the lettering on an empty synth bottle in his hand before setting it down on a small, study iron-wrought table between his chair and Lydia’s.  The whole set had been an anniversary gift from his Mom. 

I should call her sometime today, he thought.  See how she’s doing.

            He sighed and leaned back in the cruddy plastic chair.  The cushion was damp with dew.  It soaked through the kerchief-thin flannel of his pajama shorts, but he didn’t really mind.  He enjoyed the view from their apartment balcony regardless. 

            It was almost ten.  Mid-morning light swam through cracks in the buildings of the downtown sector, a jumble of ancient redbrick fortifications, cream blocks of insurance offices and mood clinics, and jagged steel and glass sabers grazing the soft underbelly of the perfect blue sky.  Fat clouds rolled overhead, casting soft, rippling shadows like clipper ships above the seafloor—

            “Dies Irae, Dies Ira…. Hello my children.  This is Father Pat of the Western Diocese reminding you of our special Valentine’s Day services being held all day today.” 

            Teddy kneaded his brow, exhaling.  The only mar on the view were the ads that played constantly.  Right after he and Lydia had signed the lease, they’d realized what the agent had forgotten to mention—that the building manager hadn’t paid for AdBloc.  So, every time he and Lydia wanted to have a beer outside on a summer night or enjoy a lazy Sunday afternoon, they’d be constantly interrupted by hundred-foot tall ChocoNutts Bars hocking product or a corpulent behemoth of a priest announcing special services, or any other number of advertisements.  The price of living downtown, I guess. Teddy thought.  The only real consolation was the complex manager had managed to pay for Mood Mist, which hazed the building almost every hour.  Guaranteed to keep tenants calm and happy.  Now that Teddy thought about it, that made the ads okay.  They weren’t really that bad. 

            “Another Valentine’s Day thing?” two soft hands came up from behind and held his chest, rubbing faintly.  He chuckled and nuzzled one of the wrists with his lips.  “It’s pretty bad today.” 

            “Would some breakfast help?” 

            He sighed.  “I told you, you didn’t have to make it…” 

            “Don’t be stupid, stupid,” Lydia’s hands trailed away and her voice faded as she headed back to the kitchen.  “Besides, you gotta eat up to get me my present, remember?” 

            Teddy smiled and called back to her—

            “And, to make today even more sublime, there’s a special on Confessionals today.  Families receive half-off, and all children and elderly are at reduced rates as well!  Remember, my children, to take care of your mental health.  We all heard to tragic news of Mr. Charles Groden, who strayed from his prescribed path… perhaps if he had found solace in God, he wouldn’t have become that dreaded five-letter word.  He may have found peace before causing so much misery. So please, visit your local parish today and walk in the light of our Lord.”    

            Teddy chuckled, a harsh, short burst, and underneath he felt a sharp stab of… something.  A pressure in his head and tightening of the jaw.  He glanced at the empty synth bottle.  

            He sat back, confused.  That wasn’t him.  He never felt… especially about the ads.  Not since he’d been on synths  Teddy stared up at the bloated, crinkled, smiling visage of Father Pat.  His monolithic translucent face jittered. The ad cycle was resetting.

            “What is it?” Lydia asked handing Teddy a plate of fried eggs, peppers, and sausage.  She sat down next to him with a plate of her own and stretched out. 

            Teddy nodded at the frozen priest.  “It’s a little extreme, isn’t it?  Talking about that Groden guy in a Valentine’s ad.” 

            Lydia shrugged.  “I mean, it was just last week, right?  And he hurt a lot of people.  That’s what happens when someone nuts like that goes off their meds, I guess.  But who cares?  They got him, right? Now it’s just us.”

She turned her head to him, freckles bunching in a little smile. 

            Teddy smiled back and rested his head against the chair.  He knew she didn’t really mind the ads that much either, but it just felt like the right thing to say. 

            “What’s this?” 

            He turned.  Lydia was turning over the synth bottle in her hand.  She shook it. 

            “It’s my synths.  I need a refill.” Teddy answered, his voice dropping off near the end.  Lydia frowned.  “I thought you had enough to last the month.” 

            “I thought so too.  Guess Dr. Milos must’ve miscounted.”  

            “So you haven’t taken any today?” 

            He shook his head.  Concern crossed her face.  “Are there sideffects?” 

            Teddy laughed, noticing that didn’t seem to lighten the look on Lydia’s face.  “I’ll be fine.” 

            “So you haven’t felt any different?”  

            He hesitated, remembering that sharp pressure after the ad had interrupted him and Lydia.  But he pressed his lips together and kneaded his brow as if considering what she had said real hard before answering.  “No, I feel fine.  Great, even.”  For just a moment, the pressure came back, up against his forehead.  Because of her.

            Lydia studied him for a moment before setting the bottle back on the table.  She brushed her hair back, staring out into the downtown.  A cloud and its hazy shadow drifted above them, cooling the balcony.

            “Hey,” Teddy leaned over.  He squeezed her hand.  She met him with clear blue eyes.  “It’s no big deal.  I’ll pick some up from the clinic when I go to get your present.  But first—”

            He bent over the side of his chair and produced a crinkled little white bag.  The name LOIC was stenciled in curled, soft, gold script on either side. 

            “Part one of your present.”

            “Oh my God,” Lydia laughed, eyes wide.  She opened the bag and, after a small amount of courteous rifling, took out a small, silver bottle.  “Is this—?” 

            “Newest stuff.  Euphoria brand.  I preordered a few months ago, it just came last night.”  Teddy smiled.  “Try it out.”  

            She nodded, and grinned, and closed her eyes, spritzing the perfume on her neck and wrists.

            A faint scent of fig and vanilla wafted from her.  When she opened her eyes, they were dreamy, almost glassy, obscured by calm, deep pleasure that was guaranteed to spread to anyone who caught a whiff.  Teddy breathed in and smiled.  He really liked her.

            She smiled back and squeezed his hand.  “You’re amazing.  How’m I gonna get you back for this?”

He laughed, shrugged, and sat back and starting eating.  “Oh my God.  L, these eggs are…”

She pulled him out of the chair and practically dragged him inside.  He laughed as she pulled him in tight and kissed him, whispering something.

            Her words were drowned out by the next ChocoNutts ad. 

-

            Teddy had forgotten just how busy the downtown got on Valentine’s Day. 

            Or how cold.  He pulled his jacket tighter and wished he’d put on those thermal socks under his boots and the long-johns under his jeans Lydia had given him.  But he’d spent more time at home this morning than he originally planned.

            He made his way down 3^rd Street, a veritable urban canyon of cathedrals and mood clinics and shops.  Priests sold Jesus Heart’s You balloons from rickety wooden carts outside their churches.  A gaggle of Therapists from the Emerson Mood Clinic—identifiable by their uniform maroon sweaters—bustled by Teddy, chatting amiably, something about a new prescription that made the whole group laugh.  And couples thronged the streets.  Teddy crossed by the Lac Du Monde Café, and virtually every table seemed to be occupied by a mid-twenty something pair of star-crossed lovers.  

            He chuckled and ducked down Bowling Way, a side street right off the redbrick cafe.  Lydia wasn’t really into going out, especially not on holidays, and that was fine by him.  He preferred the quiet. 

            Which was why he’d taken Bowling Way.  A quiet little street off the beaten path.  No shops, just apartment balconies with laundry flapping lazily in the morning breeze.

And it was hopefully faster than the choked main roads.  He checked his phone—9:59am.  He had an appointment at Dr. Milos’s clinic at Cathedral Plaza in thirty minutes, and Lydia’s gift pick-up was scheduled for half an hour after that.  He’d asked if the store clerk could hold the gift a little longer, but had been met with a hard iron “No.”  The merchandise was so in-demand that if anyone missed their pick-up, it was sold to the highest bidder in the store.  

Bowling Way spit him out into another wide boulevard, though this one wasn’t nearly as bleating as 3^rd Street.  A few families walked here and there, most crossing over to St. Bernard’s Cathedral, the lone mood building in the area.

Well, that wasn’t necessarily true.  On the street corner kitty from his own, there was one of the cherry-red Mother Boxes.  A tired looking man in a shabby coat took a look around before opening the wide, swinging door and quietly shutting it.

  Teddy snorted to himself in disbelief—so close to a church?  He wasn’t one to judge, necessarily, he’d used the Mother Boxes here and there, they were a nice comfort, but to use one on Valentine’s Day.

No point in worrying.  He had a job to do. 

Teddy checked his map.  Right.  Pass by St. B’s, keep straight, and he’d reach Cathedral Plaza in another ten minutes.  Perfect.  Maybe he could get in to Dr. Milos’ early.  

He strode past the Cathedral, making his way between clumps of families chatting amongst themselves.  For a moment, he wondered how many of them were regular church-goers, and how many were coming only today for the half-off on confessionals.

St. Bernard’s belfry interrupted his thoughts as it sang its 10:00am praises as loud as it could, the peal of its bells rolling uninterrupted through the street with a pious clamor.  Or, they would’ve, if the Diocese hadn’t been strapped for cash and forced to rent out ad space to ChocoNutts.  The goofy mascot was right by the front gate, trying to reel in anyone who came close enough to hear its warbling, nasally pitch. 

Teddy considered going around for a moment, but decided that would be even more pathetic than just walking straight past.

            “Hey!” the sentient chocolate bar with puffy marshmallow gloves and wide eyes with half-moon pupils chipped at Teddy as he walked past.  “Did you know nine out of ten therapists recommend ChocoNutts for depression and anxiety?!  Take a bite of me—

            And, for just a moment, Teddy stopped.  He stared at the mascot.  That pressure was now an urge, something heavy in his gut and tickling his throat.  He wanted to hit this thing.

            That wasn’t right.  He couldn’t want that, because who would?  People got annoyed by ads, yeah, but not enough to actually do anything against them.  That just wasn’t a good thing to do.  

            But Teddy stared into the ChocoNutt’s translucent eyes. 

            It was ridiculous, to want to hit this thing.  But he really, really did.  And a creeping terror tingled at the tips of his fingers.  He’d never wanted that before, never even considered wanting it.

            “Hey, buddy!” the ChocoNutt Bar said.  “Do you need directions to the nearest ChocoNutt shop?  I can tell you— ”

            “No thank you,” Teddy blurted out.  The bar’s smile froze for a moment.  Refusal always seemed to strike these ads as odd, a non-factor of sorts that had to be thought over for a few seconds, because the possibility of the word “no” was just beyond their realm of considered reality. 

            “Are ya sure?  Because—”

            But Teddy was already pushing past the mascot, eyes on the ground.  He jammed his hands into his coat pockets and mindlessly fingered his keys, turning over their grooves and edges. 

            “Alright!  Have a good one, buddy!” the bar called after him.  A moment later, it was accosting some family of four.  Teddy heard the good natured laugh of a father and the giggling squeal of a child.  Delight at the ad.  

            He kept his eyes on the pavement, tracing cracks and wandering over gum stains.  He wanted to get Lydia’s present and head back home as soon as possible.  Get his synths, too. 

A little ways up ahead, a man in a navy smoking jacket and dark slacks leaned up against the iron-wrought gate of the cathedral.  His hair, grey as cinders, was full and swept back, like a rolling wave.  Dark eyes under a heavy brow were lit for a moment by the click of his lighter as he puffed on a cigarette.  If the man hadn’t been flickering every so often, Teddy would’ve thought him just a dispassionate church husband, dragged by his lapels to morning service by a chipper wife.

            The man looked up and nodded as Ted walked past. 

            Andrew returned the nod and kept going.  He wanted to try and beat any Sunday crowds at the Plaza, plus he needed a refill… but he turned around. *he’s going both to get Lydia stuff and to get himself a refill for the synthetic memories.

            “Are you—?” 

            “An ad?” 

            Teddy nodded.  The man spread his arms and sliced one arm through the other. 

            “Oh,” Teddy said, feeling the dumb weight of the word.  He’d known the guy wasn’t real, what the hell was he doing asking him?  

            “I’m Anderson.”  

            “I know.” 

            “You’re a fan?” 

            Teddy nodded.  He came a bit closer.  “My girlfriend and I went to one of your concerts a few years ago.”

            “Well, pleasure to meet you,” The man dipped his chin in a gesture that seemed actually, genuinely sincere.  This was a fucking good ad. 

            “So, what’s it… how did they…?” 

            “Make me?” Anderson shrugged.  “Can’t tell you that, chief.  Company secret.”  He took a drag.  The smoke was on a video loop, blocky shapes, artifacts in the feed.  “You want tickets to a show?  Next one’s tonight.  Still a few seats left.” 

            There it was.  Teddy smiled in quiet victory, but immediately felt guilty.  “No, I’m okay.  I’ve got something with the girlfriend tonight.” 

            “Valentine’s Day,” Anderson nodded.  “Make it count, kid.”  

            Teddy nodded.  “Will do.”  Then, out of respect, he added, “Anderson.” 

            But the man was already turned away.  His cigarette was whole and unlit, and as he bent forward and cupped his hand around his lighter, Teddy noticed his eyes flicking up towards the trickle of parishioners gathering outside the church. 

-

            Dr. Milos’ clinic wasn’t like the rest of Cathedral Plaza.  Most of the other stores in the sprawling market were glittering and blaring; Milos’ had a quiet, amber patina.  Everything, from the evergreen leather waiting chairs to the faux-oak receptionist desk, was dark.  Low.  It drew people in, made them at ease.  At least it did that for Teddy. 

            The only thing out of place was the massive oil painting of the Doctor on the wall behind the receptionist desk. His grey eyes and white hair blazed against the swirl of his tan skin.  A broad smile of sterling teeth lightened smooth nimbus features.  Teddy had no idea why… he just didn’t like it.  

            “What memory did you select for your synthetics prescription?” 

            “June 7^th, 2034.” 

            The hologirl scrolled through her display.  “The Anderson De Ouvere concert?” 

            “Yes.” 

            “Why?” 

            Teddy started.  “What?” 

            “It’s a main security question, Mr. Barnes.”  The girl smiled. 

 “I liked the concert,” he said after a pause.  “That’s where I met—look, how long is this gonna take?  I have to—”

            “Just a moment, Mr. Barnes.  Have a seat in our waiting area, I’ll be with you shortly.

            The hologirl jittered as she scrolled through her displays.  Teddy leaned forward, and through one of the displays.  It fizzed on his cheeks, and the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up from the minor current.  “Listen, is Dr. Milos in?  Can I just speak with him?” 

            “Dr. Milos is out of the office for the holiday. Mr. Barnes,” the girl pulled away, folded her hands and smiled.  Behind her, Dr. Milos’ grey eyes swam through her own. “I can’t do anything for you if you keep interfering.  Please, have a seat, this will only take a moment.”   

            Her smile held.  And in that moment, he wanted to hit her

            Teddy nodded.  “Alright.” 

            He sank into one of the cracked evergreen armchairs and looked out the crystal windows into the bowels of Cathedral Plaza, bouncing his knee.  Focus on something, anything else.

            He looked out the window.  People thronged the boulevard, same kind as had been out on 3^rd Street.  Families going to service, couples grabbing lunch or chocolates for each other…

            Through the crowd, almost directly across from Milos’ office, he watched a group of girls standing under the awning of a dingy shop, chattering.  Offensive purple and blue neon scrawl teased NYMPHORIA above the awning.  They looked young.  A lone, middle-aged, frumpy man crossed by them, and one stroked his arm.  He stopped, they talked for a while, the girl laughed, and she brought him inside. 

            There was a chill of revulsion.  Teddy couldn’t believe a place like that was still open… but, looking around, no one seemed to care.  No one even really noticed. 

A sick guilt washed over him.  He realized the only reason he’d noticed was because he was coming down off his synths.  Most people were already taken care of and happy—why go out of their way to stop someone else from achieving the same end?  Why make waves for themselves?

            He checked his phone.  10:42.   

            He rubbed his thighs and put his eyes down.  He wasn’t supposed to think that stuff.  These thoughts, they were byproducts of being off his synths.  Once he got his synths, he’d be fine—

            “Mr. Barnes?” 

            Teddy stood up, stiff, and smiled at the hologirl.  She smiled back.  “I’m sorry.  Your request might not be ready until later.”

            He nodded and felt an ache settle in his chest.  The back of his neck was buzzing, and his face was hot.  “Okay.  When is later?” 

            “5:00.”      

            “Alright,” Teddy ran a hand through his hair.  “Okay.  I’ll be back around 5:00.  And you’ll have my refill?”   The last few words left his mouth harder than he liked.  It felt like he was spitting teeth out.  

            The hologirl looked at him for a moment, her smile crinkling.  “We should.”  

            “Okay.  Thank you.”  He waved and pushed his way out the shop. 

            “See you soon, Mr.—” the doors shuttered before she could finish.

-

It was a little too loud.  People here were like chattering flocks of birds, all trying to talk over each other with nothing they said leading into anything else.  It all settled in the back of his head, low enough where he was almost sure no one else could hear it, but just loud enough where it made him irritable.  Even a bit a—

            No.  No, he couldn’t be that, the synths were supposed to help with that, so he couldn’t be that. 

            I need to sit down. 

            Teddy took a seat on a bench near a colorful, shifting Cathedral Plaza Map Display.  He glanced at it, noting a few of the event times.  St. Henri’s was having service in fifteen minutes… Maybe he could go.

  Around him, people chattered and milled.  Valentine’s Ads warbled across the plaza, promising instant euphoria, guaranteeing a deliverance from the downs and the blues of everyday life, recommended by 9/10 therapists, hands down, no questions asked.  

His right hand closed around the thin tissue paper bag Lydia’s earrings were in.  After Milos’, he’d practically sprinted through the crowds of church-goers and couples to make it just in time to grab the gift.  So at least there was a victory in that, he thought, dipping his head and kneading his brow.  

            “Headache?”  

            Across the bench, Anderson puffed on his eternal cigarette.

            “How…?” 

            “Targeted marketing, kid.  You’re a special case.”  

            Teddy groaned.  “I just want to go home.”  

            Anderson nodded slowly, thoughtfully.  After a moment, he motioned to the plaza, the ads, the people.  “Do you think this is real life?” 

            Teddy couldn’t answer.  He traced crinkles in Lydia’s bag with his thumb. 

            Anderson flickered and looked out to the Plaza.  “Real life is pain, kid.  It’s bein’ sad.  It’s havin’ a headache.  It’s…” he hesitated, and for a moment, Teddy thought he saw a smile flash on his face, but his video loop stuttered and it was gone.  “It’s bein’ angry, even.  Sometimes.” 

            There was that word.  The “a” word.  Teddy flinched from it—Anderson chuckled. 

            “You’re not gonna get in trouble, don’t worry,” he stood up, hands in his pockets.  He looked out at the crowds.

            “Well, kid… if you do wanna feel somethin’ real, maybe you should check out my latest album, yeah?  Or come to the concert.  We’ve still got tickets.” He turned around and held out his hand.  Two holo tickets spun in lazy circles above his palm.

            For a moment, Teddy considered it.  He could use some music in his life, and maybe Lydia would wanna go out.  She didn’t usually like it but—

            No.  No, this was an ad, this is what they did, and this one, as good as it was, was still trying to trick him. 

            He stood up. 

            “Thanks for the talk, Anderson,” he said.  “But I’m… late.  For church.  See you around.”  He reached out to shake the man’s hand.

            Anderson glanced at it and smiled.  

            Teddy, realizing what he’d just tried to do, retracted it and laughed nervously before heading off down the plaza way, leaving Anderson, smoking on the bench and, he felt like, watching him go. 

-

            For the next several hours, all Teddy could really do was wander around the mall.  He strayed into one of the four main Cathedrals, St. Henri’s, and sat in the outermost back row of glistening chestnut pews, listening to a canticle in French. 

            After that, he headed to the foodcourt and munched on a burger.  He even caved and got himself a ChocoNutt bar.  It actually didn’t taste too bad, and he did feel better after.  For a while, at least.  

            He felt it, though.  A slow descent.  He’d started out this morning at the top of a hill, casually strolling down.  Now, the hill had gotten steeper, and he headed for a full-out run, flailing his arms, trying to call for help but no one was there.  He couldn’t see the bottom, but he felt like he was about to fall. 

            No.  No, I can’t fall, he thought. 

            He was walking back to Dr. Milos’.  Maybe that holo-girl would have his synths by now.  It wasn’t 5:00 yet, but maybe she would. 

            He took Lydia’s earrings out of their bag.  The LOIC script looked silly, crinkled up and ruffled in a simple brown tissue bag.  

            They were pretty little cuts, each a soft-edged eight-pointed star with a ruby the size of a grain of rice in the middle.  Not bad for a book salesman, he thought to himself.  

            There was a note that came with them, gold lettering on a soft, black velvet card: 

            “LOIC guarantees instant release from the lesser sensations of life.  Constant calm and euphoria for life.” 

            “Constant calm and euphoria…. For life…” Teddy turned the words over in his mouth, nodding along with the written sales pitch.  He could use that right about now.  Lydia wouldn’t mind, she’d understand, and besides, they shared a toothbrush, what was the difference?  Nothing else had worked today… maybe… 

            He stuck one in each ear, ignoring the wetness and the pain.  

            He felt better, he thought.  He smiled to himself, got up, and threw his wrapper away. 

-

            Walking back to Dr. Milos’, he noticed that people seemed to have quieted down.  Or, at the very least, their conversations were nicer, softer, almost fun to listen to. 

            Stores were brighter, too, a bit more lively, a bit more warm.  He smiled as he felt that warmth spread from their displays to his chest.  This was it.  He’d missed this feeling, this calm.  He chuckled to himself and strolled with his hand in his pockets, fiddling with the empty earrings bag.   

            He was coming up on Dr. Milos’ office when he felt something brush his arm. 

He turned.  She was a waifish girl in black stockings and a blue lace top.  Didn’t look any older than seventeen, with sharp eyes and a hard mouth that smoothed into a smile. Her hands fluttered over his arm and up to his chest. 

            “Alone on Valentine’s Day?”  

            He shook his head.  She seemed nice. 

            “Where’s your girl, mister?” 

            Teddy frowned.  He couldn’t remember… he just felt so good.

 She smirked “She’s not here?” 

He shook his head. 

            She went up to him and whispered in his ear.  “You look lonely.”

            He laughed—her warm breath tickled, and he scrunched away.  She was cute.  Nice, even.

            Deep in him, there was something screaming.  He felt it, for just a moment.  It was a flash of pure, raw a—   

            Teddy felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of his chest with a sack of bricks.  He took a staggering step back and looked around.  For a moment, everything seemed harsh.  The people were loud and the lights burned and—

            He felt her take his hand.  “Let me help you.”  

            “I don’t need help.” He heard himself say.  Inside wherever they were going, it looked cool.  Calm.

            “No?”  

            Her hand cupped his chin.  Cool fingers traced black stubble. 

            “I don’t need…” 

            “I promise, this will make you all better.” 

            “I—”

            He wanted to say no.  He wanted that more than anything in the world.  But if she could help him… he didn’t want to feel this way anymore.

            She led him inside.

-

            He woke up with a start in somewhere dim and cold and blue.  He felt like he was inside a glacier. There was something on his chest…

            The girl.  Her eyes fluttered as she stirred awake in the bed. 

            The bed.  

            The whole world reeled back to him. His clothes were scattered around dim blue-lit room, barren except for him, the girl, and a sparse bed with black covers and rough pillows. 

            “You’re up.” 

            He ignored her and threw back the covers. 

            “Hey!”   

            He scrambled to put on his clothes, pulling his pants up around his naked ass.  His face burned. 

            “What’s the rush?” 

            He didn’t say anything and went for the door.  It was sealed shut. 

            “You need to pay.” 

            “I don’t have much money left… I spent it all on…”  

            He felt Lydia’s earrings.  The girl eyed them.  She held out her hand.

            He drew back. 

            She smirked, but this time, it was a mean.  Bitter, even. 

            “I can report this to my supervisor.  So…”  Her bare palm twitched.

-

                       

-

            Doc Milos’ office was dim, dimmer than before.  The holographic girl was still at the desk inside, but the doors were shut. 

            Teddy tapped the glass.  The girl looked up and smiled.  In an instant, she was outside the store with him. 

            “Hello.  How can I help you?” 

            She didn’t remember…? 

            “I was hoping… did the Doc stop by?  I was waiting for a call…” he felt the words coming out of his mouth.  They sounded flimsy, half-hearted, pathetic.  He already knew the answer. 

            “Oh, sorry, the Doctor wasn’t able to come in today.”  The girl’s face fell in a frown.  “Would you like to leave a message?”  

            Teddy stared at her for a moment.  He swiped at her cheek.  His hand passed right through her. 

            Her expression was instantly cold and blank. 

            “Sir.  You’d better leave.” 

            But he was already on his way home.   

           

“Hey!” 

            “Hey.” 

            “You on your way home?  Been a while…” 

            “Yeah, yeah, all good, I’m on my way now.” 

            “Great!  I opened part two.” 

            “The wine?” 

            “Yeah…  Sorry.”

            “You like it?” 

            “I do.” 

            “I’m glad.”  

            “Teddy?” 

            “Yeah?” 

            “Hurry home, okay?  I miss you.” 

            “Okay.”  

            He pocketed his phone and headed into the cherry-red Mother Kiosk, stuffing the empty paper earrings bag into his back pocket.       

            The inside was warm and dim behind soft curtains the color of red velvet cake.  Teddy sat down in a worn armchair, aged from countless visits. 

            A single blue display popped up.  

            “Welcome to Mother, a division of Emerson Corp.  Here, we Guarantee release from any depression or anxiety you may be feeling.  Do you have a membership key, or would you like us to provide a Mother for y—

            “022424.”  

            There was a pause and a hum.  The Kiosk chirped. 

            “Welcome back, Theodore Barnes. Which memory—” 

            “Sequence Four.”  

            Another pause. 

            “Sequence Four....”      

            “That will be fourteen per minute.  Your account balance is low, are you sure—”

            He skipped the warning and waited.

            And then she was there.  No flashing lights, no flicker—the tech was that good, not some cheap ad projection, the real commercial deal.  Just like he remembered her.  Grey eyes, a lined face with a soft, slanted mouth and hands with pink knuckles from decades of housecleaning work.  She was wearing a simple sweater and khakis and brown shoes.     

            “Theodore.” 

            He looked her in the eyes. 

            “How are you doing?”  

            He wanted to answer, but all he could manage was a croak.  He rubbed his eyes.  She folded her hands in her lap. 

            “I love you so much.  You’re a good man, Theodore.  Look at me.”  He met her.  “You are.  And I worry about you.  But I know you’re going to be alright.”  

            Her hands took his.  Or tried.  They overlaid and fizzed a bit, blending with his own in the dim light.  But he was still looking in her eyes.  “You’re going to be alright.”   

            Theodore hesitated, but he nodded.  He could feel all the irritation washing away, a calm cooling his nerves.  He could get so… well, he wouldn’t use the “a” word, that couldn’t really be used outside of Doc Ruck’s office.  But it didn’t matter now.  He felt better.  He should tell Mom he felt better. 

“Mom.” 

She smiled a bit.  There was a small tilt of her head… go on.

He sighed.  “I—”

            And then she was gone. 

            There was a moment of dead quiet.  Then the Kiosk hummed up again.

            “We’re sorry.  You have overdrawn your account.  Please refill in order to continue your session.”

            Theodore sat there in the velvet red for a moment.  All he felt was the empty earrings bag in his backpocket. 

            “That’s a downer, kid.” 

            Flick flick. 

            Theodore looked up.  Anderson sat cross-legged where his mother had.  He puffed. 

            “She sounded like a nice lady.”  

            Theodore was numb. Ads weren’t supposed to be in private spaces. 

            “How are you—”

            “Was she worth those?” the singer nodded at the paper bag.  

            “I don’t…” 

            “You do.”  Anderson leaned forward.  “What do you feel right now?  Think.  Think hard.”  

            He felt a dull pain.  Stronger and sharper than irritation or annoyance.  It settled in his stomach and snaked its way up his throat, filling his lungs and squeezing his heart.  

            “What’s that called?  What are you?”  

            In a whisper, Theodore said it.   

            And then he looked up and Anderson was gone.  The Kiosk was empty.  

            “Please refill to continue your session.” 

-

            The streets blared with light and people.  Teddy couldn’t stand it. 

            His phone buzzed, but he didn’t answer.  He’d be home soon enough.  

            He ducked into Alamo Records, a sagging shop between two pharmacies. 

-

            “I’d like to buy the newest Anderson de Ouvere album.  I think it just came out today.” 

            The clerk looked a little puzzled.          

            “Right.  The newest… Anderson album.  Of course.” 

            He headed into the back room.  “Been a fan of his for long?” 

            “I listen to him every now and then,” Teddy said dreamily.  His eyes were staring above, not anywhere in particular, like he was trying to see the night sky through the roof.  “Actually, I’m gonna take the girlfriend out to that concert he’s having tonight.” 

            “Oh.  That should be nice,” the clerk returned with the album, wiping it clean.  “That’ll be eight bucks.” 

            “Cheap,” he muttered, and handed over a wad of bills and a scatter of coins.  He took the album while the clerk was ringing it up and turned over, grunting and nodding to himself.  “You can keep the change.”  

            The man was actually short, but before the clerk could say anything, he was gone. 

         “What was that?” another clerk came out of the breakroom, crumpling a sandwich wrapper. 

            “Some bum, I don’t know.  Said he was going to the Anderson concert tonight.” 

            The other clerk wrinkled his nose and snorted.  “What?  That guy hasn’t toured in ages.  I thought he was dead.” 

            The first clerk shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Hope that guy just makes it home alright.  Said he had a girlfriend.” 

             “Jesus,” the second wiped his upper lip.  “Guy like that gets a girl, and I can’t even get that one from the coffee place to call me back.”  

            “Some people just get lucky like that, I guess.”

           

-

            Teddy knew what he wanted to do.  He wanted to go home, grab some money, and go and see the Anderson concert.  Lydia and Valentine’s Day would just have to wait. 

            “You think that’s smart?” 

            Teddy turned around.  He couldn’t see the crowd, he couldn’t see anyone.  Rain drizzled onto a mass of dripping coats and beat umbrellas like drums.  Who had—

            “Right here, Chief.” 

            He turned to the billboard facing the street. 

            Anderson was set against a black, glossy stage.  A few girls lounged around on red couches, sipping from champagne flutes so thin they almost disappeared.  They smiled at Teddy, but he didn’t like it. 

            The singer walked down the steps of the stage, slow towards the mic. 

            “You think she’ll let you go?”  

            “I—” Teddy was beyond the pale of being scared.  Now he was just lost, and white, fuzzy confusion tinged his fingertips and toes.  Didn’t anyone else see this?

            “They don’t, Ted.  It’s just you and me,” Anderson’s shoes clicked down the black steps.  “She’s not gonna let you come and see the concert.”   

            “Of course she will!” Ted shouted, but covered his mouth.  A few passersby shot odd glances at him.  He shuffled up to the billboard.  “Why wouldn’t she?” he hissed.  He felt now that he wasn’t defending Lydia, but rather asking someone far more knowledgeable than him about her personality.    Like she wasn’t his anymore. 

            “Look around, Ted,” Anderson motioned with a graceful velvet-suited arm. 

            Ted followed the gesture, out beyond the billboard, to the streets.  Neon ads for pharmacies and churches danced above the crowd.  He saw a couple head into a Mood Club, giggling.  A tired man ducked under the awning of a Mother Box, above which the ChocoNutts mascot danced and promised anxiety relief for a bar that only cost $9.99. 

            “Look at the world, Ted.  She belongs to it.”  And even through Anderson was still coming down the stairs, Ted could’ve sworn the man’s hot breath grazed the back of his neck for a moment.  “And what do they do to people like you?”

            Ted felt for the earrings.  The empty bag crumped under his touch.  Hot tears trickled down his cold cheeks.  He sniffed. 

            “You don’t belong to her Ted.  You’re better off with me.” 

            Ted turned back around, rubbing his nose.  Anderson was right.  Not totally right, but right enough. 

            “What do I do?” 

            Anderson was at the mic now.  He fixed his tie and smiled.  “Set yourself free, Teddy.  And come see the show.”  

            And with that, Anderson faced the crowd beyond the billboard and sang. 

            “I was blue before you, now I’m seen, now I’m green…” 

-

            Teddy pushed his way in the front door.  He stumbled into the kitchen and towards the refurbished turntable Lydia had picked from some thrift store a few years ago.  

            The Anderson Album—Blue-Green You—clicked on and fuzzed.  A few turns later, the velvet voice was humming out “Nobody But Me and You.” 

           

I’m in a world all my own

            Until you call me on the telephone

            Then it’s all so true 

            When it’s nobody but

            Me and you…   

           

            “Teddy?” Lydia called from the balcony.  A cool breeze drifted in from the night.  He smelled fig.  She was still wearing the perfume.

            “In the kitchen!” he said.  “Be right out.”     

            He stood for a while behind the counter.  Listening.

            After a few moments, he sighed and walked out to the balcony.  She was standing there, her back to him, facing the deep blue of the night city swirled with neon coral.  Her hair was curled, lightly.  It settled on soft shoulders.

.  She leaned over the railing, peering down. 

            “It all looks so nice,” she turned around and smiled.  “Doesn’t it Teddy?” 

            Behind her, where the translucent ChocoNutts and the priests normally stood, now manifested a giant, flickering Anderson De Ouvre.  He smiled at Teddy.  

            When it’s nobody but…

            Teddy smiled back.

            Me and you…

-

           

            “Our top story tonight, a bloody Valentine.  A man, twenty-seven year-old Theodore Barnes, was found in the St. Bernard’s Cathedral, having fled his apartment after the grisly murder of his girlfriend, twenty-four year-old Lydia Cross.  Neighbors reported the sounds of a struggle and came to check on the young couple, only to find Miss Cross dead, pushed from the couple’s apartment balcony thirty stories above the ground.  Mr. Barnes was nowhere to be seen.  Police found him nearby, in the St. Bernard’s Cathedral, sitting in one of the pews.  When questioned as to his motive, all the suspect reportedly said was, “I’m just here for the concert.”  He’ll be taken to a rehabilitation facility later this week. 

            “We’d like to, once again, thank our sponsor, ChocoNutts.  Only two-hundred calories and 9/10 therapists recommend for your daily dose of anxiety and depression relief.  The perfect gift for that special someone…”