65. EclipseGala
EclipseGala
Playlist: Cyber City – Gunship
Lyra
The convoy of limos glide through the cordoned streets, cutting a path through the city’s pulse. Every tower is lit like a beacon in eclipse colors: dark purple, violet, and lilac. VikkCorp’s signature logo splays across the building, lighting the skyline in blood red.
Eclipse Night: A celebration of hedonism disguised as corporate progress. That’s how Kael described it.
Ash strolls in with Ember on his arm, looking like the true rockstar he is. Cameras flash incessantly, fans asking for selfies and autographs. His burgundy velvet jacket fits him perfectly, framing his inked chest and slightly unbuttoned shirt, he leads Ember through the paparazzi that follow him.
Kael approaches from behind, appearing out of the shadows. He touches my elbow, his lips brushing my ear. He must have come up from the lab. “Have I told you that you look absolutely ethereal?”
That little dark look he gets when he pours on the bad boy charm melts me every time. “Like something the gods might have invented just to destroy men like me,” he adds, sealing the deal.
The heat flushing through me is interrupted by Ash’s slow whistle. “Remind me to start bringing holos to work with me. Damn, they’re everywhere.” He looks Kael up and down. “You clean up well, Bro. You’re really leaning into the tortured-genius aesthetic tonight. All black? Nice!”
“Go to hell, Ash.” Kael’s smile is laden with daggers. It leaves me pondering the deep connection between these two. They can venomously joke with each other. I’d swear they were siblings.
“I already know that I’m going to hell, thank you. At this point, it’s just go big or go home.” Ash stiffens, straightening his velvet jacket.
Ember smirks beside him, looking so beautiful in her sleek black gown, form fitting, with sparkles of silver thread that look like tiny circuits. She could kill a man at fifty paces in that dress.
Ash tips his head toward me. “She’s great arm candy, yeah? Don’t be jealous, sweetheart. Some of us know how to accessorize.”
“Enough, Ash.” Kael takes my arm. I chuckle as he leads me by a wall of mirrors lining the long entrance. I catch his reflection in the glass, my salvation and my pure sin.
His slim suit fits perfectly, of course. Ember tailored it for him, polished obsidian weave with a matching vest and black shirt and tie. She said it would “help him blend in.” But the all-black look just makes him look dangerous, like a tech weapon. Maybe that’s the point.
I take a moment to look around the event, VikkCorp’s Obsidian Hall, a space carved out of black tile and glass.
Designed by Vikktor himself, a disgusting display of luxuriance when just two blocks over, citizens are starving in the streets.
Every surface gleams with cold reflection: black iron columns rising like ribs, glass panels that look out into the starry sky, and a terrace that looms over the skyline, watching the fading neon slowly degrade the city.
Electricity has been intentionally cut for the occasion, a ritual not only symbolizing the darkness of the eclipse, but also a reminder that the Corporation controls the light. As citizens, we should never try to shine too bright.
“Wow, it’s ominous but also beautiful.” I’m in awe. “No lighting at all in the gala?”
Kael answers, as we stroll further down the long entranceway. “Candles. Vikktor insists it’s symbolic, a return to candlelight to honor the brilliance of human innovation. The irony huh?” He tsks.
Rows of tall, slender candles in polished white gold candelabras line the walls and floors, flickering, their open flames catching on the iron and making it shimmer like liquid. The lighting turns the faces of the corporate elite in the room ghostly, half-alive, just like their souls.
Every table is draped in velvet the color of dark plum. Centerpieces of violets, black dahlias, and deep amethyst orchids spill over mirrored vases. The scent is rich, almost intoxicating, something sweet yet floral: spun sugar and jasmine blooms, piping through the air ducts.
At the far end of the hall sits a raised platform, bathed in dim light.
A velvet curtain of deep violet, thick and heavy, ripples faintly as the air is disturbed by guests.
Behind it, hidden from the crowd, Kael’s creations await the reveal.
The culmination of Vikktor’s cybernetic initiative, the prototypes for a new class of enforcement soldiers, machines dressed in humanity and programmed for obedience.
He told Kael they were being designed to keep the streets safer for citizens and to help him monitor rebellious activity.
But I know he wants them built to squash the rebellion.
Everyday, peaceful protests are becoming more violent and more desperate.
Apprehension fills my throat, threatening to block my airflow.
Kael ignores the stage, passing right by it, focused on every face that looks at me. His expression is blank yet predatory. He’s on high alert, studying exits, identifying immediate and hidden threats, as he’s been trained to do.
I look around, admiring the elegant decorations.
One thing stands out among the crowd. Almost every older man in the room has a holo-date on their arm, the colors of their dresses vivid with elegant prints.
They’re the only thing that looks alive.
One is wearing a gown that is practically nude, leaving nothing to the imagination.
It shifts with every movement, responding to her pulse.
The wealthy are always wanting to push the limits of fashion as they do with humanity.
I suddenly feel exposed. I look very different from the rest, too human to pass for a PleazureHolo, yet exquisite enough to make the elite stare and whisper as they walk by. They want whatever Kael has created.
Kael is very aware. With urgency, he pulls me into a quiet alcove, violet light spilling across his face, revealing the orange and gold specks in his irises. He takes my hand in his, and just the slight touch wakes the currents inside of us, our eyes pulsing once reactively.
On my ring finger, he places a slender silver band with intricately carved sigils.
Exact duplicates of the ones inked onto his fingers.
“It’s a Fawkes ring. I designed it to mask your signature.
It looks like jewelry, but it’s really protection, to keep the wolves at bay.
No one should be able to scan you for recognition or for profiling. ”
It’s so typically Kael, stunning but with purpose.
“You didn’t have to do this. You could have just slapped a band around my wrist or something,” I whisper, eyes following the superbly put together guests passing by.
I raise my hand to match the symbols of the ring to his ink, and once again I feel the universe whisper from over my shoulder that we’re connected.
“Yes, I did. It would be scandalous to put something unaesthetically pleasing on someone so beautiful.” He covers my hand with both of his. “If Vikktor suspects anything, we could jeopardize the extraction. I won’t take that chance.”
I look down at our hands, my voice quiet and apprehensive. “I still think this is insane.”
“Probably,” he says, allowing the corner of his mouth to lift. “But that’s never stopped me before.”
We enter the grand ballroom together, and for once we aren’t dark and light, we’re two fragments of the same creation born from StarFell. Built to destroy each other, yet drawn together by something I thought I’d never believe in. Fate.
I can’t stop looking around; the space is breathtaking.
The VikkCorp ballroom opens up before us like a cathedral, all glass and onyx with robotic servers gliding like specters between the elite.
Normally drones would hum overhead, broadcasting the event across public news channels, but since we’re in a blackout, I just hear beautiful music instead of a constant buzz.
A holographic banner flares across the ceiling, powered by a battery pack on the floor below.
ECLIPSE NIGHT: THE FUTURE IS HUMANITY PERFECTED
More irony. I see Kael glance up, his face contorting in disgust.
A short, stout, gray-haired man approaches us.
On one arm is a PleazureHolo much younger than him; on the other is his human wife, turning her pointed nose away from us in dismissal.
“Dr. Ryudon, good to see you. I hear you have outdone yourself in the cybernetics space this year. Putting my endowment to good use, I hope.”
Kael straightens his suit, putting on the good corporate employee facade. “Thank you, Mr. Dillinger. Dr. Vosse and I have been working hard for this night to come to fruition. I see you have the latest and greatest update to the PleazureHolo product.”
His gaze turns to me, and I can feel him mentally undressing me. I feel as if I may vomit.
“Yes, yes. But what do we have here? Your holo looks like she stepped out of a dream I was never meant to have.” His eyebrows raise in curiosity. “Very realistic, very stunning.” He begins to touch me, but Kael steps in front of him casually.
“This is my upgraded PleazureHolo prototype. Version 2K. Neural cybernetics with a DreamNet overlay. She’s a demo for the evening. Just a little test run for me to collect some valuable data to present to the investors.” Kael’s arm whips out behind me and draws me in around the waist.
Mr. Dillinger notices the possession and still dares to touch me, defying Kael. “This is incredible, Doctor. She’s absolutely beautiful, and she looks so present, so alive. May I?” He squeezes my forearm without waiting for Kael’s response.
I can hear alarm bells going off in my head. If this doesn’t bring out killer Kael, I will be floored. Let the games begin.
“Lyra is her name. She’s both present and untouchable, sir. We wouldn’t want my prototype broken now, would we? I’d just have to spend more of that endowment of yours for repairs. Not very cost-effective.” Kael’s jaw is clenched so tight I think his teeth are going to crack under the pressure.
His words are smooth, tempered, but I can feel the edge in them, the warning hiding behind the corporate charm. Stars, he knows how to play these people.
The couple laughs, that slick, condescending sound that fills the air like dense fog. His wife, draped in violet silk and boredom, leans in with a fake smile. “Does it speak?” she asks, her voice dripping with jealousy and animosity.
It.
I suddenly feel my cheeks flood red with rage, calling me to assert my dominance in a room full of soulless predators.
Do not let your magic flare, not here, not now.
I tilt my head slightly, the motion deliberate, almost feline. “It speaks,” I answer, eyes locked on hers. “And it also listens, remembers, and sometimes, if you’re not careful, it bites. It also sucks and fu—”
Kael begins a nervous laugh, placing his hand over my mouth before I can finish.
“She’s still learning her manners; you’ll have to excuse the bluntness.
Just haven’t uploaded the social norms data yet,” he says smoothly, though his eyes reflect something darker.
If we were alone, I’d definitely get the “What the fuck, Taiyō?” face.
Mrs. Dillinger’s red-painted lips falter, the smirk freezing midair. A few of the nearby guests exchange uncomfortable glances. The silence stretches, just the robotic symphony providing the soundtrack. Two can play Kael’s dangerous game. I may be a damsel, but I’m definitely not in distress.
Kael’s hand brushes the small of my back, part warning me to back off, part pride for defending myself.
“But that’s the beauty of AI evolution, isn’t it? You never quite know what it’ll turn into next. It learns from us, mimics us, but it also evolves. I mean, one minute a pup, the next a wolf!” he jokes, mouth turning upward one-sidedly, his brow not receiving the message.
The man’s wife gives a stifled laugh, pretending to understand the threat. The candles flicker across Kael’s face; it’s strained. He’s had enough.
I smile sweetly and press my breasts out, the kind of move that wins the older men over with a dash of hope for something they’ll never own. “Don’t worry, I’m not hungry this evening,” I add.
Kael exhales softly beside me, but there’s a gleam in his eye now, like he’s both terrified and turned on by my defiance.
Right on cue, Ash grabs Kael by the shoulder. “Thank the fucking stars,” Kael spits through his gritted teeth.
“Dr. Ryudon,” Ash’s usual grin is plastered across his face.
He’s out of place here. He knows it and embraces it boldly.
As confident as ever, whiskey glass in hand, eyes all glowing wild neon blue, he smiles mischievously.
Ember stands beside him, a very large wine glass in her hand, eyes constantly scanning for her father across the room.
Her tension is palpable, but she’s right to be on such high alert. The poor girl is terrified of him.
“Apologies for interrupting the science fair,” Ash says, eyes flicking between Kael, the man, his wife, and holo. “But the good doctor’s needed elsewhere. You know, saving the world, curing cancer, breaking hearts, same old agenda.”
Mr. Dillinger frowns, unsure if he’s being mocked by Ash.
He is.
Ash leans in conspiratorially, lowering his voice just enough to make the woman blush. “And between us, love, you really don’t want to see what happens when someone calls his creation an it. The last guy’s still paying for reconstructive surgery.” He makes a biting motion with his mouth.
My lip twitches with satisfaction. The look of horror on Kael’s face is priceless.
Ash raises his glass in a mock toast.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have to go make a scene. There’s a whole table of overpriced champagne waiting to be consumed, and I’ll need Dr. Ryudon to measure just how much I can drink before passing out. You know, for research purposes.”
Before anyone can protest, Ash claps Kael on the shoulder again and steers him away, murmuring just loud enough for the couple to hear, “Come on, Dr. Frankenstein. Let’s get your monster a drink before she decides to bite someone she shouldn’t.”