Lucy looked at the couple on the roof two buildings over through a Leopold Mark 8 tactical scope mounted on a heavily modified Les Baer M4 Flattop AR 15 rifle, anchored by a scratched and beaten Bushnell rifle tripod. The night air was clean, crisp, cold and filled Lucy with the strangest tasting energy. She watched the couple drift into each other, their mouths joined in a deep kiss that echoed to the present from the first time curious lips embraced a stranger fruit, forbidden with a wink by The Creator itself.
Andi and Marcus could only feel the primal drive, sourced from The Power that Creates The Universe itself, move through their bodies like fire through a gas line. So distracted from the flow of their reality, they had no idea of forces at play around them, much less the eyes that watched them from two buildings away...
Lucy inspected the very expensive war machine and marveled at the precise construction and sheer artwork of the thing. Mortimer Gordon Smith, the loneliest soul in existence, murderer for hire and silent seeker of truth and love, would be returning soon. Lucy had very little time to measure her response to the discovery of Mortimer's trade craft here on the roof of this abandoned coffee roasting plant. She had arrived to watch Mortimer calculating the mechanics of the kill. She offered a prayer of gratitude to nothing in particular as she observed he had not fired yet. She willed the overwhelming and painful urge to urinate into the nerves feeding his bladder and grinned in the darkness as he suddenly locked the gear down and left the roof quickly. Moments passed and Mort was on the way back up the stairs to resume his task. Lucy disengaged from Mort's gun scope and moved just off to the side of the rig. She could smell any human soul and track it's location in an instant, but in thousands of years of this exercise, figuring out what to do with one when you corner it, was the fun part.
At Whiskey's Whistle Stop, the strip club one building over on the corner, painfully beautiful young women moved like flames on chrome lined, shiny, black lacquered stages pierced by brass poles. The men in the bar bled five and ten dollar bills onto the stages as the all consuming fire goddesses moved against the sounds of "Ball and Biscuit," by The White Stripes. The song, ejaculating hard from powerful loudspeakers could not be contained by the walls of the club and pulsed out into the street.
Lucy, with supernatural hearing, moved to the song along with the dancers in the club below, as she kept her eyes on Mortimer. She moved silently. Earlier, upon arriving at this roof, she pondered stopping the flow of time, but thrilled by the rapidly unfolding events, decided to play this one out in real time.
"De rien," a voice familiar to Lucy whispered from the shadows.
"Fuck, Michaela, not now..." Lucy admonished in angrily hushed tones.
"Morty ne peut pas nous entendre," Michaela smiled.
"What is it I'm grateful for?" Lucy asked, maintaining a tight view on Mortimer, who continued to watch his targets through the rifle scope.
Mortimer's finger moved slowly over the hard curve of the trigger guard.
"J'ai rendu le jeu plus intéressant," Michaela answered, her words vibrating pink into the air...
Lucy spun to look Michaela in the eyes. Michaela stared back with a wide grin.
Mortimer's finger entered the void of the guard and moved gently in to touch the trigger. Suddenly, he moved his hand away from the trigger guard and repositioned slightly to see something unexpected.
Lucy spun back to look at Mortimer. "Now what?" she wondered as she moved closer to collect a clue as to what was vexing her lonely killer. She closed her eyes and allowed all the knowledge of The Cosmic Data Stream to flow through her, full blast, no focus, no filters. She surfed the powerful orgasm that crushed through her to it's conclusion, the inevitable effect of channeling the flow of all Universal data through her being. It was a fun opening to jump through that an eternity of entrances could never prepare a physical being to endure. To be an angel though, that was a different thing entirely. An angel can shrug through an orgasm that would destroy any lesser being. Other beings, who fancied themselves sentient, would write the feeling off as a biological response to a sudden vaso-dilation release and the witch's brew of chemicals produced by the brain in that moment a sexual encounter concludes. They were missing the true point. It was, in hyperreality, the feeling of establishing an open connection with The Cosmic Data Stream.
In this state, Lucy looked through Mortimer's eyes...
Focusing past the Bullet Drop Compensating Reticles that interrupted the composition of Andi and Marcus on the roof a building away, Lucy watched through Mortimer as the lovers were joined by another young woman.
"Shit, this guy's brain is cluttered," Lucy thought. It was like looking through a window of a cluttered, dirty apartment with pulsing walls of wet meat.
Focusing on the problems a couple of rooftops away, Lucy watched as the young woman approached the couple clearly upset about something. The young woman's angry body language caused Marcus to assume a defensive posture. Andi moved a few degrees around to a position just behind Marcus' left shoulder, quick and subtle.
Humans are such fun to watch when they dance.
Suddenly smiling, Lucy fought back the image of the three locked in a sweaty fuck. This didn't look like it was going to resolve out with grins, a joint, and gentle light strokes on sensitive skin.
The opening lines of "In Your Letter," by REO Speedwagon folded through the night air from somewhere impossibly distant. Lucy toyed with the idea of compelling Mort to determine the source, but on deeper reach, knew the vibrations came from a place much farther away than any of the usual suspected origins.
"Michaela," Lucy thought quietly. Lucy's sister light was hovering above the other roof where the targets moved about. Lucy immediately sent a powerful meditation of stillness into the space around her. She minimized the vibration of her sister's name. It would do no good to attract any unnecessary attention from any of her celestial family, at least not yet. The last time that happened a beautiful energy allowed itself to be murdered at the hands of an angry group of delusional morons pushing individual and opposing agendas that would actually vibrate across the Cosmic ledgers. Best not to wiggle reality to that degree. Not yet anyway...
Lucy knew for a fact that Michaela frequently observed REO Speedwagon's projects and had attended every concert and most of their studio sessions. It wasn't unusual for those who travelled to and fro across the veil invisible to double in as a muse in extreme cases, to creative inspiration at the very least, in the endeavors of high vibration emitters, or artists. The Cosmic Data Stream is pure creation, constantly vibrating, expanding, driving and demanding creative output from all of it's occupants, components and energies. Entire lanes of The Cosmic Data Stream are expressly reserved for those who could inspire and drive creation. Lucy herself, was a huge fan of The Rolling Stones (and Kieth Richards in particular) and had on various occasions fought the urge to whisper a chord progression into their collective minds. Their genius however, was their own and needed no supernatural inspiration. The Cramps, Strong Arm Sodomy, and Mister Pus on the other hand, had required a more aggressive approach, and she didn't regret that one night with a kid named Warner who would write her love songs for eternity...
In your letter...
"What the fuck, Marcus?" Amber growled as she stormed the rooftop garden.
"How did you get up here?" Marcus asked in return. He threw a confused glance at the Roof Access Door.
"What happened with Walt? Why aren't you helping him?" Amber asked. An energy pulsed from her that solidified a reality of consequence, the spookier side of totally pissed.
"What's with the 80's music?" Andi asked. Some strains of marijuana act as filters that blind one from common everyday bullshit and she had recently smoked quite a bit of some. Side effects include cosmic awareness...
"Walt's a worthless waste of atmosphere. I blocked his ass from my phone and social and we haven't connected in over a week. What's he fucked up now?" Marcus asked.
High above the stoned and angry triangle of rooftop actors, Michaela hovered in a glow of intention so strong it almost bent into mortal perception. She gazed upon the three humans performing a vibrational opera of tension and ill consequence below her. The girl Amber, touched by Michaela and her friend Reaper surrounded by the aroma of fresh baked bread, was almost in position to receive her anointing. In an instant, unseen by human eyes, Michaela stood just above the floor, her toes not quite touching it, in front of Amber. She touched the girl's throat with her finger and pushed a glowing thought into it.
"I... glurck..." Amber choked slightly as a small spasm twitched around her windpipe. She moved away and turned her head from Marcus until she recovered. Slightly put off by the attack, she redirected her still deeply angered eyes to Marcus. "I don't know for sure. I only know that he's in County and his place has been trashed. I mean fucking trashed! It'll take a crew to clean that mess up anytime soon."
Marcus fought hard to push back the grin that was growing inside. He was beginning to connect now. The situation was the precise opposite of what Amber thought she saw. The trashed apartment had seen a crew already and if the place looked as bad as Amber implied, Marcus could breathe a lot easier. "Sounds like he's safer in County. He's in good shape. Best thing we could do is feel good and be still and let things play out quiet. What's our problem here?" Marcus punctuated his question with a large, open smile, that in the dim lighting on the roof, looked rather like the smile brandished by the Cheshire Cat from Wonderland.
From somewhere close to Lucy's presence in the dark, wet, sponge of Mort's normally lonely brain, the thought "paid for two, not three. Cancel this appointment," rushed up from the dark depths and crashed into Lucy's energy. Mort's will was waking up and would, at it's base energy level, request control be returned in full. Mortal beings in this reality were seriously addicted to experiencing their existence in only 5 dimensions as opposed to the near infinite dimensional constructs available. The flow of The Cosmic Data Stream may give the appearance of predictability in some moments, but from a standpoint of intention, is far beyond all limits of mortal imaginations. It seriously does work in mysterious ways...
"Two not three," the thought repeated.
Lucy released her possession of Mort's body and returned to her own. In that instant, a strange, powerful flash of super-dimensional light interrupted the night sky over Marcus, Andi and Amber, shocking Lucy. "What - the - fuck - is - this - ?" Lucy uttered in full blown surprise. The sheer joy of Temporary Omniscience Failure was beyond ecstasy, and Lucy was riding the condition hard. She watched Michaela in the skies above the targets work her craziest magic.
The wind across the roof grew stronger, aggravated by a strange and alien vibration from a higher state of reality, filling both Marcus and Andi with a sudden, uncontrollable urge to get the fuck away from there as fast as fucking possible. Marcus turned to bolt for the exit when his legs refused to cooperate, freezing in place. He turned to look at Andi. She stood staring down at her feet, confused as to why they would not move. He redirected his attention to Amber.
"All I wanted was to get my lady naked and high and now this weird shit..." Marcus thought as he watched Amber light up like a rave at Fukushima. "And what the hell is with the REO Speedwagon?" The music pounded the air as loud as any concert, now. The wind tore at his face stinging his eyes with dust and anger. He turned to see Andi fall to her knees, hands clasped at her chest, head bowed in fearful prayer. He looked back at Amber and saw that she was shouting something. Squinting to protect his eyes, he pulled Amber into focus.
"What the fuck is wrong with you two?" Amber was mouthing, her voice drowned by the storm.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Marcus shouted back.
A sudden silent, stillness came over the roof. The contrast of the quantum state of peace and quiet threatened sanity itself.
"Why are you shouting?" Amber asked, seriously confused. "What's wrong with her?" She added, pointing at Andi who was crouched down and praying in terror.
"Andi!" Marcus shouted. "Get up girl..."
"I want to go downstairs now," Andi said, almost whispering. With some reluctance, she redirected her attention from Marcus, toward Amber. To her complete discomfort, the weirdness continued. Amber's long hair was now a brilliant, zinc white. Five minutes ago it was a deep, chocolate brown. She pointed a shaky finger at Amber and announced, "your hair is white."
Amber pulled a lock into view and noticed that the girl was right. It was indeed white, like a billowy cloud on a perfect summer day. The beauty filled her with a sense of power that surfed just beneath the intense confusion. Did Marcus and this girl do something to her? Why were they acting so scared?
"I think you just got hit by lightning, or something, Amber. That was some intense shit," Marcus said, barely containing the shake in his throat. "You feel okay?"
"I'm fine. I don't know what's going on here. Maybe I did get hit by lightning or something," Amber replied, continuing to look at her hair in her hands. "I'm fine, really. Fucking weird..."
Andi bolted for the Roof Access Door and disappeared through it as fast as her legs could carry her.
"You might want to get yourself checked out or something," Marcus said. He never wanted someone to leave this badly before. "I'll send my lawyer to County to see about getting Walt released, if you want me to. I still think he's safer there, but whatever..."
Amber turned and began to move toward the Roof Access Door. "Sure to all of that," she said, her back to Marcus. She was feeling dazed and just plain weird as hell. Walter Pynchon could wait...
Lucy watched as Mort began breaking down his gear to pack and exit his position on the roof. He moved with practice and precision. She turned her gaze back to the other roof. She could see Marcus standing, alone now, like an unclaimed paper target. She inhaled deeply through her nose, closing her eyes as she did so. The scents of adrenaline, perspiration, ozone, gun oil, roses and human souls in conflict created an exquisite aroma that made her grin uncontrollably. "Every smile a prayer," she uttered directly into The Cosmic Data Stream. She wondered what wild creation was just birthed at the hands of her Sister In Light. It was delightfully strange to do it in front of three human witnesses. Holy fuck, what their compressed little brains must think of all of it.
"I'd stay away from that white haired girl," Mort said as he slung a heavy pack containing his broken down assault gear over his shoulder. He looked directly at Lucy as he skillfully lit a cigarette.
Lucy looked at Mort as if the world was crashing to an end around her. "You can see me?!"
"I've always been able to see you," Mort answered. "Sometimes you shimmer like a ghost, but you've been following me for years. It just seemed cool to say something to you now. That was supremely weird over there." He inhaled his smoke, pinching it between his thumb and fore finger like Humphrey Bogart. He exhaled a thick plume away from Lucy in a strange gesture of respect.
"Not everyone can, unless I want them to," Lucy said, grinning. "You have a rare talent, Mort."
"The girl, with the hair. You might want keep your distance," Mort reiterated. He disconnected a moment to lift and hoist the heavy tripod over his shoulder. "Not that it's any of my business," he added.
"Right. I'm not sure that's possible now, Mort." Lucy kept her distance as she spoke.
Mort moved slowly toward the exit shack a few yards away. He stopped just at the door. "Oh, next time you need to get into my head, ask first. Courtesy, you know?" Mort stepped into the shack and down the stairs.
Lucy stared at the door to the shack long after Mort had left. This had been a most eventful evening. She wondered if Mort could see Michaela as well. The veil invisible now seemed pretty useless in his case. It had been a very long time since she had considered anyone a friend, but Mort now made her wonder if she might have one...
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