Moon Age Daydream By Shaun Von Dragen... ....or Izabael? A Nuith Publication In Class A.A. Subclass: Abrahadabra First Printing ® ©2007 Shaun Von Dragen All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Nuith Publications, Los Angeles. Layout/copyediting — Robert Bethel Izabael drawing — Ninyshka “Ancient song” on pages 68, 83 & 147 from Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan” ISBN-13: 978-0-9767060-1-4 LCCN 2007926546 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Moon Age Daydream Table of Contents 0. Prelude in Blue ........................................................................................................................1 I. Celestial Twilight ..............................................................................................................29 II. Tenochtitlan Princess of the Night ..................................................83 III. The Perfect Girl ...........................................................................................................151 IV. No Sanctuary ................................................................................................................... 191 V. The Lachrymosa ..........................................................................................................231 VI. Chaos Come Again .................................................................................................259 VII. Abrahadabra ................................................................................................................291 Appendix 1: Tree of Life ...........................................................................................305 Appenxix 2: Lexicon ......................................................................................................307 Dedicated to her whose Name is written silently among the stars. Part Zero: Prelude in Blue here was some local hydrotynectrix band gurgling away upon the makeshift stage. The music was barely tolerable, Tbut they had an impressive holoshow. Panoramic pulsations of redolent scentuosity created a surrealist landscape of writhing, paniferous fl ora—thus born an orgiastica magnifi que of deleterious proportions. Very Pinkfl oydesque, though I doubt anyone there except for me, and maybe Dust, would have realized it. Few of these hipshique pretenders would have considered it halopreme to listen to Classical. I was getting bored, thinking I should’ve stayed home to play A.D. Domination, when Dust came up to me smiling. “Hey,” he said. “What?” “I found some LOSS.” “Icy,” I said with the most mild of enthusiasm. “Where is it?” “Right here, fi end,” he said, pulling out a neuromitter and handing it to me. “It’s all loaded and ready to go.” “Arctic,” I said. “I’m going to shoot in your bedroom.” “Sure. Don’t irradiate my bed though.” Shaun Von Dragen “Kidding? I haven’t had a geddon on LOSS in at least an EY.” “Yeah, me neither. We need a new drug.” “Speak like the devil,” I said and walked off. I pushed my way through the crowd of Crangers, Vamps, and other assorted schtiques. There were a few diabolikal wahines here and there, but I was depressed and not in the mood to bust out with my lucky Irish charms. I walked into the living room and there were people scattered about here and there, laughing and chatting. Walking by the couch I noticed a young but voluptuous voluna idly slipping her white feet, with pristinely lazed toenails, in and out of Vivariccii heels. My eyes wandered up to her face, and at once her smile dispersed my melancholia like the gleaming trident of Tahtagatah parting the hordes of pakao. I smiled back awkwardly. I don’t suppose it was love at fi rst sight; I was already too cynical for that. Still, I did experience complete kynetik-overload as I gazed upon her cool countenance for the very fi rst time. Her eyes seemed purely innocent, her expression entirely chaste. “Uhm, hi,” I said, holding out my hand. “Hi,” she said, extending her hand to mine. “I’m Marlowe.” “Marlowe? I’m Celeste.” “Euphonious name.” “Thanks.” She was sitting alone on the couch. “So where’d your kwazi run off to?” “My kwazi?” she giggled. “What kwazi?” “I don’t know. Certainly you weren’t sitting here all alone.” “Actually, I was. Surprised?” “Maybe.” “Why so? Because I’m too shakti to be sitting all alone?” she drawled with coquettish irony. I laughed, because sadly, I had been about to say that. “May I?” I gestured to the seat next to her. Part Zero: Prelude in Blue ° 6 • Moon Age Daydream “Sure.” I sat close but not too close. “So do you like the party?” “It’s okay,” she said, tossing her long, dark hair in a most alluring fashion. “Do you?” “Yeah, I guess.” “You sure?” “Yeah. I mean it’s okay. I’m just ashed on these parties. They’re always the same.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. Don’t you think so?” “I don’t know. I kind of like it.” “Well, don’t get me wrong. I mean it’s halopreme now that I’ve met you.” She blushed a little and lowered her eyes. “So where do you go to school?” “Arkadia.” “Ah. An innocent Christian girl.” She shrugged. “That’s not Christian though,” I said, picking up the pendant hanging around her neck. “No. It’s Egyptian.” “An Udjat-eye?” I said, letting it drop back around her smooth, pale neck. “Yes,” she said, smiling. “And your earrings,” I said, gently touching one. They were large gold circles with winged scarabs inside. “Egyptian, too. Correct?” “Yes.” “So you’re an Egyptian?” “No, silly,” she laughed. “Of course not.” “Then what are you?” “What do you mean?” “So are you religious or what?” Her eyes drifted off to gaze past me, and she said with a very serious expression on her face, “I don’t know.” Then she looked at me again. “What about you?” she asked with sincere interest. Part Zero: Prelude in Blue ° 7 • Shaun Von Dragen I shrugged. “Who knows? I believe in the here and now and that’s about it. Sometimes I’m not even sure about that.” She nodded as if she understood completely. “I’ve never seen you around before,” I said. “No. Probably not. I don’t get out as much as I’d like. What with school and track and all.” “You run?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because it’s fun.” “It’s fun?” “Yes.” “I don’t like to run.” “So I gathered.” We laughed. “So what do you do?” she asked. “Nothing of any particular use to the world, I guess. Hack, play games, do drugs. Work on Voudonics.” “Voudonics? What’s that?” “Well, it’s a pet theory of my own device. I’ve been working on it for quite some time. It’s complicated, but basically I’m trying to synthesize ancient shamanism with modern biomechanical theories on evolution.” “Ah,” she nodded, understanding. “I’m interested in metaphysical things as well.” “Really?” I said with enthusiasm. She nodded slightly and changed the subject, “So you like drugs, huh?” “Eh. They’re okay, I guess. I was going shoot some LOSS just before I saw you. We can share the hit if you want.” “I’ve never done LOSS.” “No? The fi rst time is ultraprematik—nothing better. Want?” “I don’t know,” she said, furrowing her brow in consideration. I shrugged. “It’s up to you. I’m going to shoot mine now though.” “Right here?” Part Zero: Prelude in Blue ° 8 • Moon Age Daydream “No. I’d better go into the bedroom, but you can come with me.” “Uhm. Okay.” Celeste seemed to be decidedly well-rendered, but due to the looseness of the pinas I couldn’t completely discern the shape of her legs. However, judging by the rest of her, I surmised they would be rather diabolique as well. Indeed her contoured dimensions impugned upon the credibility bespoken by the innocence of her face. As we entered Dust’s bedroom, I had a sad, empty feeling about the LOSS. “You know,” I said, turning to her. “I don’t really feel like doing the LOSS. You didn’t want to, did you?” She shook her head. “No. Not really,” she said, sitting on the edge of Dust’s bed and looking around placidly. “I mean it doesn’t matter to me.” She kicked off her heels, scooted up onto the bed, and then leaned back carefully against the charcoal bone headboard. Her allure was like scented jasmine borne upon a rare bloom of winter respite. “Do you enjoy Eternal?” I asked. “Uhm, yeah. It’s halopreme.” Above her head was a Boralian Bryeweave, portraying an Amazonian angel with white armor and go-go boots. She held a large sword, poised to battle the loathsome psiwraiths ascending from below. “D-scan_sys,” I said, and a musical chime answered to let me know it was awaiting my commands. “Create playlist of composer Khachaturian. Compositions: Spartacus, Gayaneh, and Masquerade suites. Random shuffl e, except begin with ‘Waltz’ and ‘Romance’ from Masquerade. Play. Oh, Wait. Stop. Add the ‘Adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia.’ Play.” The music started on Dust’s ultraprematik Tawagotchi. “You know a lot about music.” I shrugged. “A little.” I climbed upon the seductively soft bed and sat next to her. The lava shifted comfortably beneath our weight. There were dozens of candles along the top of Dust’s headboard. Part Zero: Prelude in Blue ° 9 • Shaun Von Dragen Real candles, all in a variety of colours that spanned the visible spectrum. I found a laz on the headboard and began lighting them one by one. I looked over at Celeste and she smiled sweetly. After I’d fi nished lighting about thirty candles, big and small, I said, “Light_sys: Off.” The lights winked out; now the only illumination came from the fl ickering candles and some pale blue light from the window. I moved close to her and gently lifted one of her hands and held it in mine. She had small hands with slender, delicate fi ngers and unpainted but fi nely manicured nails. I lifted her hand to my mouth and kissed it softly. She was smiling. I caressed her face, sliding my hand back through her hair. I pressed my face against her neck, gently rubbing my lips against her skin. “Mhmm,” I moaned slightly in spite of myself. Her skin was so warm, so ambroscious.