Resonance Ink

Amira stood before the mirror and admired her swirling gold tattoos. She wore a fitted, sleeveless, cropped tank top and short shorts. She tied her hair in a high pony, swiped on some lip gloss, and stepped out to meet her personal Golden Mask shuttle.

“Today, we celebrate our good work and honour those with the highest achievements. Cheers to another year of perfection!” The speaker held her glass up, filled with gold wine, of course. The crowd cheered.

Once the crowd settled, friends and strangers alike gathered around Amira. They admired the golden swirls intertwined with deep blues, purples, and greens. They handed her endless glasses of the glowing elixir. She smiled, thanked them, and returned compliments.

Now on her fifth glass, she excused herself. Once inside the restroom, she quickly tossed the drink down the drain. Too many always gave her an unpleasant wooziness she’d rather avoid.

She straightened her shoulders and put a smile back on her face before stepping out. In her absence, the adoring crowd had chosen a new golden-clad icon to admire. Her best friend Lina - fashionably late as always.

Lina’s outfit outshone Amira’s, but her tattoos paled in comparison.

“Amira!” Lina exclaimed, bounding over happily, the long feathers on her shining gold mask fluttering as she moved. “Wow, you're really showing off tonight!” She said, looking Amira up and down. “Good job keeping that gold so pure!”

“Ha, thanks.” Amira said as she leaned in for a hug.

Glad for the shield, Amira stayed close to Lina. Lcals approached and fawned over them, but she let Lina do the basking.

Back home, Amira hurried past the paparazzi waiting at the end of her driveway. “Please, no pictures,” She shouted at them, hiding her face.

Inside, she wiped off her makeup and changed, finally relaxing her smile. She stared at herself in the mirror and was startled to see a thin slice of black breaking into the colourful swirls encircling her wrist. She sighed.

Setting down the yoga mat and candle, she lit the wick and began her practiced breathing. She repeated her mantras until her muddled anxiety slipped away. “Harmony is a choice I make. My colour is my truth, and I choose peace. Feel it, then free it.” She repeated until she felt the glow return to her arms. Her skin warmed as the black faded.

Peering out the window, she smiled to see the sun had gone down. Needing some air, she ventured out for a late-night walk.

After wandering for some time, lost in thought, she suddenly heard a screech to her right. She glanced into the small public park, where a young child clung to the pristine metal bars of the swings. A security guard gripped her slender arm, riddled with red, black, and muddy brown hues. The child cried as the colours darkened.

Amira clenched her fists as she approached. She only made it a few steps before she felt fingers curl around her arm in a gentle grip. She looked up, brow furrowed.

A strange man, hair a touch too long, and his shirt missing buttons, whispered in her ear. “Interference may reflect in your patterns. I would hate to see your golden glow dimmed, Amira."

“Right. You’re right. Thank you.” Amira said shortly, watching as the guard dragged the stray child to his car.

“You’re not supposed to be here. I can see your tattoos shining a mile away.” He said, breaking through her thoughts.

Amira looked around and realized she’d wandered into Tarnish Town by accident.

Heart racing, she hugged her arms into her chest and put her head back down. “Right, I’ll be going, now.”

The man took a half step forward, mouth opening and closing again. She took a step backward and froze.

“You’re Amira Vale.” He finally said, demure expression lifting.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Your artwork is beautiful. The way your pieces can lift moods is incredible.” The man stepped further into the dim light of a street lamp. Amira stepped back again, seeing a crowd of frozen black fractal tattoos covering his arms and neck.

“I know, it looks a fright, but they’re from a long time ago.” He said, casting his eyes down. “I’m Cassian.”

Amira stayed silent. She studied his face and wondered how he’d earned such gnarly, permanent tattoos.

“Where are they taking that kid?” She asked suddenly.

Cassian shrugged, “I dunno, but once kids get black tattoos, we never see ‘em again.”

A chill ran up Amira’s spine. “When did you get yours?”

“I was older, only 19, though. My fiancée died when a robber panicked, shot her, and took off with my laptop. They hadn’t mandated the resonance implant for everyone yet. I had a mental breakdown and wasn’t fixed in the allotted treatment time frame, so I landed here.”

Amira’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve only ever heard of criminals getting frozen black fractals.”

Cassian bristled and glared. “Of course a goldie would think that. No, they can happen to anyone.” Her gaze fell to his bare arms as she watched closely for the colour of lies to appear. It didn’t.

Amira’s mouth fell open as she instinctively gripped her wrist where black and red would creep in sometimes. “I’m… sorry.” She stuttered. “That’s terrible.”

“Cassian, you out here?” A young woman appeared from the worn-down building behind him.

He turned, “Yeah, I’ll be back soon. Was just getting some air.”

Amira’s brow furrowed. “Hey, you’re Amanda Rowe, you used to paint for the gallery my friend opened.”

The woman stepped forward, revealing a chaotic array of muted gold that swirled into pulsing black, and a soft, reddish-orange hue that scrawled across her arms and chest. She chuckled. “That’s me. Then I had to go and fall for Cassian’s sister here, who insisted on visiting him in Tarnish Town all the time. My colours fractured as I spent more time here, and that was that. No more city-approved artwork for me.”

“Huh.” Was all Amira could say.

“Do you want to see some of it? Or, maybe you want to go?” She looked pointedly at Amira’s tattoos.

Amira opened her mouth to agree, knowing she should protect her colours. But she closed it again, the image of the child stirring in her mind. ‘I’ll… Come see a few.” She said, following them into the ramshackle building before she could change her mind.

She crossed her arms over her chest protectively as they descended a damp, concrete staircase. Once at the bottom, light spilled into a large, airy room filled with happy, smiling people. Her shoulders tensed further as she scanned the crowd and saw a flurry of black and red.

The people started greeting Cassian and Amanda, but the chatter slowly stopped as all eyes turned to Amira. No one seemed hostile, but most couldn’t hide their shock.

“What are ya doin’ down here, goldie?” Came a voice from the back. Everyone chuckled lightheartedly, but Amira’s heart picked up.

“Amira’s just here to see some of my art,” Amanda said, shrugging. After a few more seconds of staring, most returned to their conversations.

“What is this place?” Amira asked, looking wide-eyed at Cassian.

“When you have enough black and red, this street is the only place you can go. Most people hang around here in the evenings. We talk, make music, Amanda paints, and some of the kids work on their reading.”

“Kids?” Amira asked as her eyebrows shot up.

Amanda chimed in, “Sometimes people have kids after they come here. So we’ve set up a school.”

“How long has this all been here?”

“Ever since the city stopped allowing permanent fractals in the core, we had to set up somewhere.” Cassian said with a sad smile, instinctively scratching at a faded gold tendril on his neck.

“How come I didn’t know about this place?”

“Because they don’t want you to. They only care about gold. You’re very talented, I’m not surprised you keep getting more.” Amanda said as they entered a new room, walls lined with art.

Amira nodded and bit her lip to avoid blurting out how difficult it is to keep the gold pristine; how tiring it is to meditate and repeat mantras until the tendrils of black and red disappear. How badly she wanted to succumb, sometimes. She turned her attention to Amanda’s paintings.

“These are incredible,” Amira breathed as she took in the deep, weighty scenes and mosaics. Something stirred in the pit of her stomach as found a piece depicting a woman screaming. Her face contorted in something - grief? rage? - and arms outstretched. She stood in a field of bent, scorched wheat and blackened stone.

“I did that one after a woman told me about losing her young daughter to a heart condition. They sent her here when she couldn’t get a handle on her grief.” Amanda explained.

Amira’s eyes widened further. “Wow.” Was all she could manage. It felt like a brick had settled in her chest. Her wrists burned.

“You should probably get going,” Cassian said, gesturing to the thin, grey lines creeping up her forearms.

Amira pulled her sleeves down, heart hammering. “Yes, I probably should.” She said, hurrying back down the hall and up the stairs. She barely looked up until she was back home.

“Only criminals wear black fractals, Amira. Red fractals are for unstable people. Very dangerous.” She remembered her father’s warnings well. This was all she’d ever known.

As she sat to paint the following day, Amira’s mind wandered to the child. Letting her brush take over, she created an abstract likeness of the girl’s grey coat and orange hat, leaning against a worn-out metal swingset.

“Well, this won’t do.” She said and shoved it into the closet with the rest of her unapprovable work. As she gently closed the door, she noticed thin red tendrils crawling up her arm. She closed her eyes and sighed. Back in her office, she set up the pieces of her refreshment ritual and got to work.

Later, she unleashed her brush again to create her own rendition of the woman screaming, her heart overwhelmed as she recalled Amanda’s story. She sighed and left it to dry.

“Amira!” She heard a voice call from her front door.

“Hey Lina! In the kitchen!” She called back, long-since accustomed to Lina arriving unannounced.

“I brought snaaaacks!” Lina trilled, tossing the munchies on the table. “You got any wine?”

Amira chuckled as she sat down at the table. “What’s up, no galas or parties to attend this afternoon?”

Lina laughed. “No, it’s a quiet weekend. Debriefing from Golden Mask, I guess. I haven’t seen you since the festival, what’s up?” She sat down and poured them each a glass.

“Just relaxing, debriefing myself, you could say. Some painting, too.” She replied.

“Oooh, some new pieces for the gallery?” Lina asked, clapping her hands. “I wanna see!” She got up and hurried to the studio.

Amira suddenly remembered the screaming piece she’d left out. “Wait, Lina, it’s kind of a sur-” She stopped as she found Lina staring at the painting, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

“Mir, what is this?!”

“Oh, uh, I was just messing around. Getting some emotions out.” She said, cheeks flushing as she pulled down the sleeves of her top.

“Amira, this is what gets you black resonance ink! Do you wanna go to Tarnish Town?” Lina asked, eyes fiery.

“Maybe,” She thought before anything else. “No, of course not. I’d never submit that.”

“Right…” Lina said, still staring at the easel, eyes filled with an expression Amira couldn’t read. “Well, I think I’ll leave you to it.” She said, leaving abruptly.

Amira sighed as a pit formed in her stomach. She shook her head and downed the rest of her wine. She spent the evening meditating and trying to get her mentality back on track. It was hard, though, as her mind wandered to that basement in Tarnish Town, where everyone seemed so happy.

She woke the next morning and stared at the painting once again. She sighed as the black lines crept up to her shoulders. Today, she simply couldn’t muster the mental energy to address them.

She stepped out of her front door to decompress on her porch when she heard the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter. She saw a flash of movement.

"Hey!” She shouted, running to the hedge but finding nothing.

“Well, so much for a nice morning in the sun.” She huffed as she went back inside. She walked past her closet mirror, and her heart skipped a beat as the reflection reminded her of the black ink crawling up her arms. She also couldn’t help but notice her gold had dimmed.

Later, she scrolled mindlessly through her social feed, content until a familiar image flashed on the screen. Horrified, she jumped up from her chair. The image was out of focus and far away, but it was unmistakably her, standing in her door, black ink on display. The headline scathed, “Has Local Legend Amira Vale Been Hiding Black Ink All Along?”

Before she could process, her phone rang. She answered quickly.

“Amira, have you seen the picture?”

“Yes,” she squeaked.

“Explain yourself.” At this point, she recognized the voice of the gallery director.

She took a breath. “Sir, I was in the privacy of my own home. They ambushed me in my driveway."

“Amira, I’m sorry, but you know the gallery only awards contracts to those with clean ink. I’m putting your place on hold for now.” He hung up before she could respond.

For the first time since she was a child, Amira felt tears spring to her eyes. She fought against them, but that didn’t stop the black tendrils from splintering. “This is it, this is how it ends,” Amira said to herself.

Despite the warm day, she dressed in long pants and a sweatshirt, donned a cap and sunglasses, and ventured out to clear her head. She walked without purpose, without thinking. Soon, she found herself back at the building where she met Cassian and Amanda. She stared at the broken door for a long time. Finally, the knob turned. She spun around to leave, but a voice stopped her.

“Amira! I didn’t think you’d be back!” She winced and turned back to see Amanda beaming at her.

“How’d you know it was me?”

Amanda chuckled, “I’ve never seen anyone else wear gold shoes.”

Silence ran between them for several seconds, and Amira struggled to find words.

“Would you… Like to come inside?”

As much as she wanted to fight it, all she wanted was to come inside. She nodded wordlessly and followed Amanda. Once again, silence befell the room. Slowly, she removed her hat and glasses. She pulled off her hoodie to reveal her blackened tattoos, already splitting into fractals.

Her smile grew as everyone cheered.