Let's All Be There, Chapter Three

Later, Flashslip was trying out the cognition lounge. It was a curious sort of space, closed off by heavy hanging curtains and boasting silken cushions to recline on. At the far end the drapes were tied back as to look out on a balcony, though what stretched beyond was imaginary void. Somehow the place scanned brainwaves, to make manifest its occupants’ thoughts in the form of spectral paintings etched across this infinite sky.

When Mini-Flash Phytolith came in, the limpid face illumining the firmament before Flashslip was that of Mini-Flash Semiprecious, beige bows in her curls.

Hers was a pretty smile, and unstinting. In fact, it gave not an inch.

Phytolith marked at once the ethereal semblance of his former classmate, on whom he was not without thoughts of his own. These however remained that way, as he noted with satisfaction but no surprise. If the white stone beneath his skin was proof against even The Four Heroes, it should serve for silly second gender internet tricks.

“You know that she…?” Mini-Flash Phytolith began to Flashslip.

“That’s just what I was thinking about while I was singing,” the other replied. “Don’t get me wrong, Phytolith. I needed you to show me why she said what she did, and I’m grateful. But a lie’s a lie, no matter the reason it was told. Especially when it comes from someone you care about. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

Mini-Flash Phytolith’s silence was eloquent in its concurrence.

“But, yes,” Flashslip went on. “I know now Mini-Flash Meteor isn’t plotting seditious delinquent acts with 4-H-N. Not sure why I believed that in the first place, to be honest.”

“And 4-H-N herself?” prompted Mini-Flash Phytolith.

That was the question. Flashslip sighed.

“Do you think I could feel for her the same way I used to, now I’ve learned the truth from you?” he replied at length. “That the potential threat she poses is light years beyond the nonsense Presh invented? It’s why I can’t blame her, Presh I mean, for doing what she had to do to get the film to you. And it’s why I’m with you in this, Phytolith. If we can only secure a distributor, get the truth out there where it’s needed…”

Mini-Flash Phytolith looked back at him. It was always a struggle for Flashslip to fathom out that strange old-young face of his, and never more so than now.

“What we do today will make a difference to the galaxy,” Phytolith assured him softly.

The quartet disembarked again at the hub, Flashslip helping Actualsis down. Very quaint and homely looked the little lanes of that one’s laptop, after so many bright lights. She led her companions to a pillared porch, producing a key from the same place she kept sunglasses.

“My inbox,” Actualsis declared, unlocking the door. “The guests have had time to take a look by now. So let’s see what they…”

Her voice died.

First impressions were that the inbox was on fire. A fierce red light threw itself to every corner, this emitting from heaped-up stacks of correspondence which radiated angry heat and hue.

They crammed the roomy interior to the roof.

There had to be as many as there’d been pretty parcels at the party.

Actualsis, her glossy lips trembling, stepped inside. With a shaky finger she touched one of the missives, which hissed at once to nothing but stark vermillion print spelling out the word:

REJECTED

More followed, Actualsis poking away, but it was always the same:

REJECTED REJECTED REJECTED

Not only this, but as Actualsis tried again and again in a kind of frenzy, other responses emerged where studio higher-ups had waxed more lyrical, but equally frank:

NO WAY IN THE GALAXY

I DON’T THINK SO!

GOT TO BE A JOKE

Above all though, one message prevailed:

REJECTED

Flashslip guessed he knew now why they called showbiz a brutal profession. He had thought the launch a success, and even caught himself on the ride back feeling optimistic about this part of the day. Had all the anxiety and dashing about, followed by the sheer euphoria of his song, been for nothing? He gazed on Actualsis, watching her whirl from one crushing communication to the next, even in the all-too apparent absence of any that might read otherwise. Never had Flashslip so longed to help, but what was it possible for him to do?

TO BE CONTINUED