Daydreams In The Land Of The Magic Pill - EPILOGUE
My 2022 novella serialized in nine parts
CHAPTER 8 RECAP: Chapter Eight opened on Beatty’s next day at work. Rayford is missing and a new boss had taken his place. Alora is fired and has no place to live. Beatty, Alora, and Mar Vel prepare to leave town. On Beatty’s way to meet his friends he is chased by someone. The scene ends with Beatty being shot with an unknown stun-like weapon that temporarily paralyses him. Luckily, Mar Vel had been tracking him and, along with Luella and Alora, they pick him up before whoever is after him can. Beatty finds out his coworker was the one that gave the private information about him to Panacea.
six months later….
Annika’s shop was looking better and better by the day. The mural Beatty was working on was almost finished. The guys from Bakerville had finally brought the salvaged, refinished tables for customers to sit at. The kitchen was up and running. Just a week or two more and she’d be able to open. Beatty was excited for her. She needed this to lift her spirits. Life had been hard lately.
Annika walked over and handed him an indigo glazed bowl brimming with a new stew she’d been working on. The food was part of his payment for the mural and other odd jobs he did for her, along with free lodging upstairs. It was unreal to think about the condition this building had been in just a few months ago. The whole quaint, downtown area had been left to rot for almost a decade, devastated by Provox and too far outside of any Metro area to ever really recover.
He gave her a smile of thanks as he took the food from her hands, wondering to himself if the day would ever come where he didn’t have a landlord who was also his boss. Although Annika could hardly be called a landlord, or a boss. She was more of a universal mother who adopted various refugees that came through town. Having her in his life made the adjustment to semi-rural living a bit more bearable. Someone mentioned she had been a social worker long ago and Beatty was not at all surprised.
His first stop after leaving the city had been a commune in upstate New York, the one Drexel recommended. It was a stint that only lasted about three weeks before Beatty had had enough. Mar Vel, equally exhausted by the drama, had bailed along with him. Mar was traveling at the moment, visiting friends on the West Coast for a few months to scope out what long term prospects might await them there. Alora ultimately decided to stay in New York. She had met someone right away, possibly her “soul mate”, and was less bothered by the drama and infighting that had driven Beatty crazy. She could always join up with them again later, she figured.
Annika was a city refugee herself, an amazing cook as well as a trained potter, which was maybe why she had such a soft heart for “artsy kids” like him. A lot of the folks she gave shelter to were young creatives and misfits. She accepted them, flaws and all, with a hint of mild amusement at times. Despite Beatty’s mangy appearance when he arrived, along with the many years and aesthetic taste that separated them, she treated him like her equal. It was a mutual respect Beatty hadn’t really experienced with the older adults in his life before. Maybe a bit with Rayford, although that relationship was still very paternal in a lot of ways.
As far as Beatty knew, Luella was still trying to figure out what happened to Ray. She was supposed to contact Beatty if she found out, but he hadn’t heard a word from her in almost five months. Beatty was not a fan of loose ends. It brought back that sickness in his gut, reminding him of the mistakes he’d made and things he’d lost. He thought about his old boss often, missed his gravelly voice and empty threats. Someday he would find out what happened, even if he never heard from Luella again.
As he ate his lunch, a news feed was humming away on a small monitor perched on the counter. Annika was old school and used to relying on news feeds to keep up with what was happening. She always had one on around lunchtime and Beatty would tune in and out while he painted. He’d been forced to use brushes instead of spray cans since the mural was indoors and most of the time he found himself needing his full concentration to focus on what his hands were doing.
Today’s feed drew him in though. He shoveled heaping spoonfuls of stew to his lips while staring at the surreal looking newscaster who hosted Annika’s favorite program, Action Now.
“In tech news today, another developer has announced they are going to try their hand at creating biologically integrated technology for the consumer market.
After the devastating Bios Upthink controversy back in May, one that left many who were hoping to utilize the technology without options, a new tech firm, Insight Integrations, is ready to offer a superior version of the technology that puts more control in the hand of the consumer.”
Beatty almost dropped his spoon. This was him. He helped make this happen. The news feed cut away to footage of the coin-sized device.
“The new product is not an implant. Instead, it fits on the outside of the head, allowing the consumer more control over where and when they choose to use it.”
The feed cut again to a public relations manager at Insight Integrations.
“Our product will change the way people think about bio-integration. We have completely removed the threat of dreamlink addiction and the device can be used without a direct implant. It is the safest version of biointegration to come on the market.”
Another cut brought the segment back to the newscaster.
“Multiple major corporations are already saying they will require their employees to wear Insight’s device as soon as they become available. Marketing firms are already strategizing how they might partner with Insight to help offer discounted devices in exchange for serving them ads.
“Critics point out that the threat of intrusive ads was one of the things that damaged Bios Upthink’s reputation, but the developers at Insight Intergrations insist the voluntary nature of the discount for ads program and the lower cost and health risks of the new, mostly external tech, will ultimately be beneficial to society.”
They rounded out the segment with a quote from Insight’s CEO.
“At Insights we believe in equity. We want our product to be available to everyone, no matter their income status. By partnering with corporations to improve worker efficiency, while also using ads to offer discounts to underserved communities, all of society will be able to benefit from being better connected.”
It went on a moment longer, but Beatty had stopped listening. He wasn’t hungry anymore.
He should have known. It will always be like this. They don’t care. They have never cared. The good guys are always bad guys too.
“Beatty…” He looked up to see Annika staring at him quizzically. “What’s up? You look haunted all of a sudden.”
He gave her a weak smile to reassure her. He’d never told her the details about why he was fleeing the city in order to protect her.
“Just the news,” he offered, gesturing to the screen on the edge of the counter. “It’s never good.”
She nodded in agreement. “I don’t know why I bother anymore.”
She walked over and turned it off via a button on the side. “Don’t let it get you down. Look at this beautiful mural you’re giving me! That’s the only news we need to bother with right now.”
Beatty spun on his stool, surveying his progress from a distance. Annika surprised him when he first told her he was a burgeoning grafitti artist.
“I’ve always thought those big colorful ones were beautiful!” she exclaimed at the time. “The crazy ones especially, where you really have to take time to figure out what they say...like a puzzle.”
“Wild style?” he offered, amused by her enthusiasm.
“Is that what they call it?” she asked. “Well, I think it’s great. People should be allowed to paint on everything...as long as they’re not too terrible at it.”
Within moments Annika decided she needed a mural for the cafe. Once he told her he went by LUCID she could be convinced of nothing else.
“Oh, I love it. It’s perfect!”
So, in honor of Annika, he made his first attempt at Wild Style. He sketched for days, studying the old masters first, wrapping the abstracted letters in shapes that mimicked many of the ingredients Annika used in her recipes. It was quirky for sure, not something he ever would have created on his own, but it was kind of awesome because of that. She was over the moon when he showed her the finished drawing. Now it was covering an entire wall in her shop, with just a few finishing touches to go.
As he sat and stared at his mural, he tried to muster the strength to put what happened at Humaneyes behind him. Things may not have gone as he planned, but there was only so much he could do. He was just one person in a machine set to self-destruct. The only way to keep his head above water was to keep moving forward.
Before picking up his brush again he stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, turning to face the rugged, three-story brick facade that stood between two vacant lots where other buildings had once been. This time of year it looked like the building was floating on a neon yellow stripe, trapped between pavement and sky as the early-September weather turned the empty lot behind the shop into a mass of blooming wildflowers. They were as close to the ones from his memory as they could find. Rudbeckia, or Black-eyed Susans, was what their neighbor had called them. The variety was so big they still towered over his head, just like they did when he was just a kid. A thousand green bugs called katydids had moved in recently, rattling these clear things on their backs with a click-click-click that merged into a collective hum all around him.
It wasn’t the same field from his memory of course—he’d never find that one—but he wasn’t sure that ever really mattered anyway. It had the same effect on his soul, the way the color looked en masse; big swaths of brilliance made with seeds instead of cans of paint.
That was why the memory had stuck with him—the riot of color, how the flowers became abstracted when he squinted his eyes. It was something so simple, yet so visceral. Whatever had existed beyond that field wasn’t the point at all. It was this moment—a state of being—stretching across time; a balm, something he could recreate anywhere, adapt to any situation no matter where he ended up. He knew things might get bad for him again. He knew he wouldn’t be in this town forever. He longed for the city, a new one where no one was trying to track him down. But moments like this were something he could take with him, something that was entirely his, that smoothed away the rough edges. It was a part of him they could never steal, never own. It was the closest he’d ever come to finding a solution—his own magic pill.