Ghost Codes 020
Two nights later, he took possession of the icon pod. It cost most of the wages Dixie had given him, but Break had no choice.
He snapped open the lid and released the mist. There it floated in the dark room, the singer’s image illuminated: gold, electric blue.
A few seconds of footage torn from a promo video, caught in endless repeat. The red speckles on her face a remnant of special FX.
Break played Dixie’s track. The apparition moved in time to the rhythm. He could not stop looking at her.
He didn’t know her name, didn’t recognise her face. Somebody from before he was born, before memory. Lost in the archives until now.
Somebody damaged, the victim of a bad manager or a crazed fan or a cruel lover. Or someone who had taken a knife to her own flesh.
But she had sought Break out, in both image and sound. And here in this room, this city, with his help a kind of life was being made.
He stepped into the mist, his body sparking at the points of contact. It was all he could do.
The track played on. The woman sang. The ghost of fog and light danced. And danced. And danced. And danced. And danced. And danced…
[: REMIX/CODA :]