Let's All Be There, Chapter One

The elevator doors rumbled open and Flashslip led the way out onto the Headquarters medical concourse, flanked on either side by his neophyte assistants.

“It was the first thing she said when she woke up?” asked Mini-Flash Phytolith.

“Requested us both,” confirmed Flashslip with a nod. “So let’s be ready for anything, and that goes for you too, Mini-Flash Meteor. I wish I could say there’s not much even she can pull in a hospital ward, but that’s pretty much what Phytolith and I were thinking the last time.”

Meteor was touched and grateful he’d acknowledged her continuing existence. Something different about that pitiable first gender pair lately, and she kept noticing it. What was the Earthling orotundity Flashslip had been wont to fire at herself and Mini-Flash Phytolith? Thick as thieves? She couldn’t quite put her finger on since when, but these days that expression more than did duty for the latter and his short-skirted senior.

They stepped into a private room. Upon the bed in a shaft of morning sun, a vision swung her milk-bottle legs down to a seated posture and tossed her sculpted auburn hairdo into shape. Flashslip had never seen her wearing anything but that tiny shimmery slip-dress which looked like it was made of tinfoil. One glance however was enough to reassure him Actualsis was back to her old self. Gone were the dozen different onscreen personae jostling for a spot. Were suet puddings pretty, the face looking back at him would have been indistinguishable from one.

“What’s that girl doing here?” was Actualsis’s greeting.

“Getting your pants up your bum in two microns flat, dearie,” Mini-Flash Meteor replied, “should you choose to delight me further with your malapertinaciousness.”

Actualsis indicated the nightstand, where a fizzling computer was spitting out sparks.

“I’ve had a thorough purge,” she informed Flashslip and Mini-Flash Phytolith. “You should have seen how much corrupted flux came out.”

“No-one I know says thanks quite as sweetly as you, Actualsis,” Flashslip declared. “But if that’s the only reason you called for us – ”

“Why would I waste time thanking people for things?” asked Actualsis, genuinely lost. “You’re here to talk contracts. For the show.”

“It’s not a purge you need, it’s a waste-compactor,” remarked Mini-Flash Phytolith.

“There was no show, Actualsis,” Flashslip told her, though he was now the one at a loss as to why he felt the need to break this news gently. “I’m sorry. But we found out afterwards – ”

Actualsis held up a hand to silence him. “The personal difficulties I was going through at the time did lead to confusion over the nature of the broadcast,” she admitted. “Yes, we missed out on our live slot. But the cameras recorded everything. We have a marketable product and it’s just a matter of how we promote it. I have industry contacts. With the right kind of push, I’m confident we can secure a distributor to take Actualsis and her Arena galaxy-wide.”

“Distributor?” repeated Mini-Flash Phytolith.

This time, Mini-Flash Meteor really noticed. Not only Phytolith’s sudden interest, but what passed between him and Flashslip.

“A distributor who might also be interested in other productions?” the latter asked slowly.

Both boys were trying hard to give the impression they hadn’t just looked at each other.

“Of course,” replied Actualsis, oblivious. She took out her own computer and plugged it in, while Meteor from her study of the males concluded they were henceforth committed to whatever this was. Quite where it might fit within the mandates of Flash Club duty was beyond her at present, but this seemed to Meteor one to go quietly along with, observing the whole time. There was most definitely something going on here, and it might benefit her to learn more of it.

Actualsis hit digitalize. The four of them exploded into pixels and shot as streams of information into the mainframe.

A quick trek along pathways and junctions led them to a hub, which here resembled some sort of underground train-station. During the wait Actualsis explained she’d packaged the programme in advance, and booked some prime advertising-space. As for the promotional pop single –

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Flashslip demanded.

“We’re doing this off the back of our highly successful Baumgaarterns advertisement,” Actualsis reminded him. “It’s the soundest strategy.”

“A promotional pop single?” repeated Flashslip, aghast.

“Suddenly I’m ever so glad I came,” commented Mini-Flash Meteor.

“Can’t miss this,” agreed Mini-Flash Phytolith, dangerously close to cracking the first smile Flashslip had ever seen on him.

A chain of carriages was sliding to a smooth halt inside the huge fibre-optic tube.

“Ancient songs from Planet Earth are trending,” added Actualsis, and thrust a recording-pyramid and headphones at hapless Flashslip. “Learn this one.”

So saying she ushered her entourage onboard, and the conveyance sped off into cyberspace.

They glided some way at their table, Flashslip working hard and trying to ignore the smirks from the Bobbsey Twins. Actualsis had announced their destination wasn’t far, but before they reached it the vehicle shuddered to an unscheduled stop.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, glancing fitfully around. “Oh, there must have been a crash somewhere. We can’t be late for our own event!”

Flashslip yanked the phones free, already shaking his head. Actualsis did this. Let there be a crisis, like forgetting how to get to the Headquarters docking-port for example, and she’d reliably stand and smell and do nothing. He scrambled over the seating and grabbed the startled girl by the hand, while shouting over his shoulder for his assistants to come on. Out through the carriage-hatch and down to the track Flashslip led the way, beholding with some awe that they were out of the tunnel, and Actualsis hadn’t exaggerated about the venue. What looked like millions of luminous transit-cables converged on a covered stadium, from whose surroundings spotlights spanned the celestial interstices, and directly over whose dome glowed laser-writing announcing the Actualsis and her Arena launch-party.

Apparently everyone who was anyone was going to be there, and with a bit of luck that might even include the hosts. They ran, as melodious stirrings familiar to Flashslip began to swell across the charged ether. Actualsis stumbling along behind whimpered helplessly that that was his introduction already, but they had broached the mighty archway of the hall by now and were hurrying down a passage to the main stage. Flashslip with renewed vigour hauled at the girl he dragged, as synth-guitar stridency rose.

A dancefloor the size of a prairie lit its squares in steady time to the strains. Disco-ball glitter mimicked the silver tingling from the speakers.

“Flashslip,” pleaded Actualsis.

He turned, as the chords ranged to their utmost register. She was desperately lovely under the lights and magic.

“Flashslip, you’ve got to,” Actualsis breathed. “I forgot. But all their boys wear them.”

From her bosom she took a pair of mirrored sunglasses, and reaching up, slipped them gently over his ears.

The beat began to drive.

TO BE CONTINUED