A rather neat little café and wine bar had been constructed near Ariel Sherman’s home, and the golden cyborg tried to drop into the place at least once a month. Normally, top-name entertainers tried to keep their private time to themselves. Ariel Sherman, CRO, COV, and one of the best-known performing stars in the quadrant, almost always managed to pass her time quietly in this café, whether by herself, with members of her ‘borg family, or friends from town. Partly, it was because this was Videra, and the laws of the pleasure planet that was Ariel’s home and place of work could be summed up in a sentence: “Feel free to do whatever you want, so long as it does no harm to yourself or others.” Native Viderans were apparently taught this in the womb; they were always exquisitely polite, there when you needed help, and otherwise let you live your life in peace and quiet — not antisocial, just understanding that you wanted to pursue your pleasure and had the right to do so without interference.
Which was what Ariel was doing now, sitting in the café alongside Dara Furtano-Fa, her close friend and fellow ‘borg. The pair were hanging out beside the coffee bar, with frothy drinks in hand or beside them. Between bouts of conversation, whenever someone passed by carrying a similar beverage, Ariel would smile and exchange a few words of greeting that were distinctly ritualistic in form. Dara had learned the words instantly, of course, from listening to Ariel and the others, but they meant little to her. After another lifeform, this one a Zovitchian with lemon-yellow skin and a nearly flat nose in its elongated head, had bowed to them both and clinked his cup against theirs, Dara turned to her mentor and friend and murmured, “And you really don’t know that much about what this is all about?”
Taking a smoke break outside of the strip club near the station’s main promenade, the bleached-skin woman tries to gather her energy and determination for the next round back inside ….
I work in the chorus doing three shows a night
Wearing fishnets and feathers under blinding white lights
I’ve served shots to hard hats who had booze on their lips
Been fondled and leered at for an occasional tip
And it don’t get no better, but it can’t get no worse
For the working girl’s world is the size of her purse
From Detroit to Des Moines it’s the same ugly scene
I’m a cog; you’re a wheel
He’s a king; she’s a queen
From the smokestacks to the meat racks
When you’re eyelined and curled
There’s a lot to be said for the working girl
Sweating for sweet water just to run through your hands
Six kids in Cleveland for one wedding band
Tied up to a mill loom for the minimum wage
A nest egg’s a daydream that never gets laid
And it don’t get no brighter, but it’s clearer to see
There ain’t no working girls like the ones on T.V.
From Detroit to Des Moines it’s the same ugly scene
I’m a cog; you’re a wheel
He’s a king; she’s a queen
From the smokestacks to the meat racks
When you’re eyelined and curled
There’s a lot to be said for the working girl
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I’m wearing:
Head: Akeruka Monika 2.5
Body: Maitreya Lara 4.1
Skin: Fallen Gods Pure Ivory
Eyes: IKON Sovereign (Quicksilver)
Hair: Letituier Samba
Nails: Absolut Vendetta Elisa
Attachments: Vista ProHands hands 2 Maitreya Lara feet 4.1
I’d finished the posing for my last article — well, I had to get myself into the stadium somehow in Second Life as well as real life, and that takes some photographic tricks — and was taking the time to meet with Jem, to discuss the next piece she was planning on. (You’re seeing a sneak peek here.) We were talking about where might be a good place to pose, when there was an almighty whoosh of air, coming out of the cavern entrance I use as a teleport point for the temple platform we were at.
Taking a peek inside the cavern, we found something what didn’t belong there — a big glowing ball of blue radiance. A little scary looking; but, being reckless, uh, curious women, we walked carefully forward into the blue mist.
It was a Saturday evening, two nights before the official public première of The Land of Fantasy’s new revue, which Lady Ariel Sherman and her writers had christened Nights of Fantasy. Newsstream writers, critics and celebrities from across several stellar cubes of planetary sectors had been invited to a preview of the show, and an after-party to celebrate. And the mood of the people milling through Sherman Mansion at that party, hosted by herself and her husband, Lord Adam Sandhara, gave Ariel every encouragement that the reviews soon to be written and off-hand interviews to be given would be strongly in the positive. Her smile gleamed almost as much as the sheen of the garden lights from her golden integument as she moved through the crowd of information-hungry reporters and celebrities who toasted her with sparkling etrinya wine and air-kissed her when they saw her.
Four years ago, such an event hadn’t been needed. The news coverage of the freeing of over 700 citizens of the Limlight Republic from bondage, following their near-total conversion into cyborg “pleasure workers,” had still been fresh in the public’s mind when the original version of Ariel’s revue premiered. Now, Nights of Fantasy needed to compete in the market alongside the other entertainments on the pleasure planet Videra, and that meant publicity. Ariel had set the marketing group her theatre always used to work on it, and that included Dara Furtano, the young woman who had arranged and masterminded this party.
Young indeed, Ariel thought as she spotted Dara under a wooden gazebo in the garden and went over to speak with her. Figuratively, Dara was less than a year old, though she had been born over twenty years before. Dara had requested that Ariel provide the means to convert her into a ‘borg herself, for reasons that still mystified Ariel in some ways. Ariel had resisted every request — until an accident at the theatre had almost killed her and her daughter, Zana. Dara, nearby at the time, had saved them, which placed Ariel in lifedebt to Dara; and, after more discussion, had agreed reluctantly to the conversion. She had found no cause to regret that concession; indeed, Dara, already an excellent publicist and marketing executive, had grown even better with her now total recall of needed data, as well as the ability to synthesize solutions on the fly. And her already present beauty had been intensified by her conversion into a silvery cyborg.
“Dara, if I had to give the night a review, I’d say you’re what they used to call a boffo success,” Ariel smiled as she stepped under the gazebo. “Thank you so much for what you’ve done for us. And you are as charming as could be in that gown! I thought it would look good on you.”
Dara smiled back, if shyly, and dipped a small curtsey to her host, the fuchsia folds of her dress billowing about her in the bob. “Thank you back, lady. The same could be said about you, how well the show went off; it was fantastic! And your dress is lovely, too.”
“Something I pulled out of my closet; I hadn’t had a decent place to wear it until tonight, and I don’t think you can find it anywhere now. Who knows, but it may come back into style after tonight.”
Accessories:Adam n Eve Opera Gloves for SLINK Hands (Black); Anachron group gift cigarette holder; Chop ZueyFrench Kiss suite (bracelet, earrings, ring, necklace) and Lala in Love wedding suite; Heth Haute CoutureRoyal Star brooch (you’ll find this on the men’s side; I’ve borrowed it for Ariel’s Republican Order brooch)
When I do storyboarding for my short fiction, as I’m doing a lot of lately for the story based on “Like a Thief In the Night,” I like to get as detailed a set as possible, so that I’ll have the place my characters inhabit as clear in my mind as I can. When we first meet Melanda, Duconna Ceal of Eldav, we’ll see her in the office of a doctor specializing in biosculpt and cosmetic enhancement technology. Not surprisingly, though, there aren’t many places even in Second Life that boast a biosculptor’s office and exam rooms. So I was forced to build one for myself and my partners.
Photographed in The Golden Delta, Fantasy Faire 2016
…But Fantasy Faire 2016 is not forgotten. Especially the amount of good that has been done here. As of my check a few seconds ago, the Relay for Life has raised L$ 7,380,456, or better than $29,000 in RL money.
The builds won’t be forgotten, either. My favorite (where I’m posing here, as Latifah) was The Golden Delta, based around an Egyptian theme, and there was also moody, misty Blackmoor, which I didn’t get any photos of myself; however, Conan shot some in a few spots. Jem and I both enjoyed our day at Sapphire Moon Lake — not surprisingly, as that was the home for the arts activities. You can see all our photos as I add them to my album on Flickr, or at our individual streams.
=====
Latifah wore something similar last year, and most of the jewelry is the same, so we’ll just look at the changes to the costume here.
This is Part II of the story which was begun yesterday. In Part I, Ellen entered into a slightly shady “gene-jig” clinic to prepare for a “job,” the details of which we don’t know of yet.
But we shall shortly….
=====
One month later —
The evening sparkled, as it always did at the Hotel Capulus, in the Resort Districts of Metroplex 84. No matter the actual weather conditions, the night sky twinkled with stars and a bright full moon, and the sun was always warm in the daytime, thanks to the hotel’s climate-controlled dome. The guests glittered as well — only the elite’s elite (there were always super- and substrata in any social class, even if the levels were as shallow and artificial as wealth and social or political standing) could get a reservation here. Daytime or nighttime, men and women came to the Capulus to relax, to meet, to transact business or attend events, and always to dance and preen in the time-honored game of “king of the social hill.”
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