Seth's Journal #70

I pass Greed without the feeling of being watched this time. I pass Wrath, the crowd sounding slightly less enthusiastic than they did before my performance. I pass the dance club level of Pride, where people in their finest, most extravagant costumes posture to the beat of industrial music. I pass the quiet level of Envy where people gossip savagely. I reach the bottom level of Sloth and the sweet lavender smell greets me.

I check in with the desk and tell them that I only wish to stay for an hour. The gentleman behind the counter escorts me to a plush chair and taps the screen on the side of it. I sit and settle myself. Within moments, a lovely Tsume girl lightly places her hand on my arm. I smile, genuinely pleased to see her. She offers the opium pipe and I pull deeply. The taste alone calms me, preceding the slow encroachment of beautiful apathy.

The Tsume girl says nothing. She lifts the pipe to my mouth every time I think I want another taste with the precision of a psychic. Maybe she is one. I want to ask her, but it would break the fragile surface tension of this blissful oblivion. Time… passes…

Far too soon, my time is up. The Tsume girl runs her fingers across my cheek and kisses my forehead, as gentle a wakeup call as possible. She looks apologetic that my time is over. I know it’s fake, but all good customer service is. I appreciate the attempt and slowly get out of the chair, unsteady on my feet. I walk back to the stairs on unsure legs and become immediately intimidated. I am amazingly intoxicated. Sadly and with little enthusiasm, I say a prayer to remove the toxins from my system. My mind clears. I’m sad to let that particular high go away, but I feel… good. It’s been a while since I’ve felt so at peace. What’s going to fuck it up?

I ascend the stairs and pass Envy. From behind me, I hear a muffled voice. “Sir, may I have a moment of your time?” “Fuck,” I say under my breath.

I turn and see what must be an Astral creature of some sort. It, maybe she, looks like light given shape, wearing a low-cut, vibrant purple ball gown and partial gasmask. It seems to float, as if underwater. It’s not holding a weapon. That’s a start.

“Sure,” I say cautiously. It, she, whatever, motions me to join her in Envy. She walks ahead of me. I’m not sure if that’s a good sign. Either she expects no trouble or is confident in her ability to overpower me. Astral creatures set me on edge; you never know what you’re dealing with.

She floats to a high booth and sits gracefully. My eyes dart to scan who may be watching. Everyone is, of course. My least favorite level of this club…

I sit, genuinely curious. I’m trying like hell to hold on to my good mood, but I feel like its time is short. “So. What do you want?” I say impatiently, feeling like my efforts to relax have gone to waste.

The creature meets my eyes. It looks almost perfectly Human, but made of a soft, pale blue light. When I focus on her, I notice more details. Though uniform of color, I can see the irises and pupils in her eyes somehow. Her hair floats on unfelt breezes.

“I am Alcyone, of the Pleiades. The constellation, not the Greek mythological figures. It gets confusing sometimes. You Material beings are such prolific believers, there are myriad parallel entities.” Her voice sounds like the tinkling of windchimes, despite being obscured by her mask.

“You’re a star?” I ask, eloquent as ever. “So you’re all about light and love and happiness and shit, right?” I lean back into the booth, unimpressed.

Her brows furrow. “As a star, I emit the light and heat that allow for life to exist, yes. That is not what I am ‘about.’ I consume and destroy and create anew is absolute chaos to sustain myself. I am a being of infinite hunger, my purpose to live and, to do so, I feed eternally. The light and heat I create are waste products.” She levels her gaze at me. “I do not wish to be judged merely by my… excrement any more than you Material beings would.”

“Well, some of us deserve no less.” I sound glib, but my initial impression was wrong. Maybe we do have something in common. “Fair enough. What do you want from me?”

She leans forward to show an ample amount of cleavage (I think?), and speaks as quietly as her breathing apparatus will allow. “What else? I have a job for you.”