Xeno stopped chewing his cornbread, interrupted by a faint trotting sound. He looked down to see a small unicorn foal with pearl-white fur and small gold alicorn, nibbling fallen cornbread crumbs at his feet. Xeno broke off a chunk of his cornbread and merrily fed the mythical creature by hand.

“Are you capturing all this, Garry?” Xeno bent over so Garry could get a better look at the unicorn with the POV camera. “It's a real unicorn.”

“Set the flashlight on your black box to infra red,” Garry said from the studio, “and shine it in its eyes.”

Xeno shone the black box infra red beam into the unicorn's eyes, revealing the translucent barcode in its reflective iris. The creature remained still, without being spooked by the observation.

“It's artificial,” Garry continued, “complete with an artificial digestive system.”

“Expensive?”

“Very. It's the cost of doing fantasy.”

The lull was broken by a distant shriek, echoing from the rubble stone corridor beyond the banquet tables, sounding like an angered electronic insect. The unicorn blinked and fled in the opposite direction.

“What the hell was that?” Xeno gazed into the dark void of the empty corridor, anticipating someone or some thing to emerge in the light of the torches, the flames fading fast in the holders along the walls.

“Whatever it was, it didn't sound friendly,” Garry cautioned.

Xeno drew a large steak knife from a set in a hardwood holder and held out the blade.

“You want a gun?” Garry suggested. “There's one in the glove—”

“No, I don't like the idea of shooting anyone or anything. I'd much rather stab it and not have to kill it. Just . . . kind of . . . hurt it, and scare it a little.” Xeno crept away from the kitchen, to the mouth of the corridor, drew a torch from a holder, keeping the flame in front of him.

“I'll be standing by if you need back up.”

“Roger that.” Xeno entered the corridor, holding out the torch with one hand, the blade of the steak knife with the other, making his way through the gloomy arc of the rotunda, the sound of air conditioning and plumbing for a few yards, a door slam up ahead. He came to an alcove with a metallic hatch, set the torch in a holder, and pressed his face into the porthole glass. All he could see was the interior section of a vast torus, the whole surface covered with an unbroken stream of florally embossed whorehouse red carpet, the bright ambient light radiating from fiber-optic stitching. He stepped back and pressed the call button beside the door. Once again, Holly's solarized face appeared on the small screen, eyes glowing red:

FACEPRINT SCAN: COMPLETE

GUEST: XENO

ACCESS: GRANTED

GETTING WARM!

The hatch door hissed open. He stepped inside the torus, holding out the steak knife, letting the door hiss shut behind him. The ceiling appeared to be two stories high, the hollow doughnut interior looking like a fresh artery just emptied of blood. He walked a ways, hearing nothing, seeing no one, admiring the carpet, rounding the crimson bend, coming to a group of comfort disks, parked at his feet. They were roughly the size of a child's wading pool, contoured like an ashtray, upholstered with white leather. The inside contained simple seating pads, a basic control panel, a joystick for steering.

He sat upright in one of the discs, looked over the control panel, powered on the engine, then toggled the REVERSE POLARITY joystick towards UP. The comfort disk emitted a faint hum and rose from the ground, hovering several yards above the carpet.

“You know how to work one of those things?” Garry said over the transceiver.

“It's all done with reverse magnetism.” Xeno pushed the joystick forward, slowly accelerating through the torus in midair. “The reverse polarity strip is beneath the carpet. I wonder how they do that with a pleasure dome.”

“Pleasure domes don't use reverse polarity.”

“Then what?”

“Hydrogen gas. It's lighter than helium, but far more explosive. Hope you aren't dumb enough to fly around in one of those things.”

“As a matter of fact . . . I am . . . Hold on. Something up ahead.”

Just around the vacuous bend, a young girl in a reverse polarity suit came into view, floating Xeno's way, her feathery blonde plumes and slender limbs swaying in space. She slowly cartwheeled over the bow of the comfort disk, opened her eyes with lids at half-mast, took Xeno's face in her hands, mushing his cheeks, and gave him a big half-conscious smooch on the lips.

“Call me, sometime.” The floating girl giggled, let go of Xeno's face, and twirled away from the disk, bouncing off the torus wall like a jointless rag doll.

“Who was that?” Garry asked over the transceiver.

“I have no idea . . . Just some . . . chick . . . drifting through space. Her hair smelled wonderful . . . like strawberry shampoo . . . like she just stepped out of the shower and—”

“Xeno, stay the course! I know she's hot, but we have to fight down the hubba hubba factor.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“What's that up ahead? Looks like another hatch.”

“I'll check it out.” Xeno steered the comfort disk to the next hatch, centered in the outer wall of the torus, and docked at the threshold. He peered into the porthole, seeing nothing but darkness, then pressed the call button and let Holly's glowing red eyes do their work:

FACEPRINT SCAN: COMPLETE

GUEST: XENO

ACCESS: GRANTED

GETTING WARMER!

The hatch door hissed open, allowing him access to a dark corridor, lit by a path of parallel strip lighting, like the center aisle of a movie theater. Several yards in, he tripped a motion sensor, activating Holly's phantasmagoric “Energy Vampire” music video, rear-screen projected on all sides of the corridor walls, accompanied by her wince-inducing lyrics:

Your soul is like a tomb

deep inside my womb

I'll never give you cooties

C'mon, shake your booty

He muffled his ears with his hands, until he came to a pair of elegant red velvet curtains. He pushed the fabric aside with the blade of the steak knife and peered into Holly's lair. There was no one there to greet him, just the blank stare of department store mannequins in the flicker of candles, melting down in antiquated iron holders. He passed through the curtains, navigating through the mannequins, towards the center by looking up at the night sky through the open oculus of the dome.

He came to a circle of several mismatched armoires, with the doors and cabinets all facing inward. Through the space between the armoires, he could see Holly and Ramen behind mosquito netting, passed out in their party gowns on a large palatial bed, neither of them stirring. Finally, the song ended, and they continued dozing in silence.

He circled around a bit, found a wide gap between the armoires and crossed through towards the bed—something cracked under his feet. He bent down and picked up the damaged object, a black box covered with all sorts of girlie stickers—hearts, butterflies, animals, flowers. The front panel was completely caved in. He turned the black box over to see the sticker with the owner's name:

RAMEN'S TOY

He looked towards the bed to see Ramen crouched on her hands and knees, glaring directly at him through the mosquito netting.

“Hello. I'm a friend of Holly's. I mean, Hollymonde.” Xeno held up Ramen's box. “I'm really sorry about your box. I'm sure I can have it repla—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Ramen sprung through the netting, scrambling across the floor in a blur. She clawed her way up the fabric of Xeno's suit, locking her legs around his upper torso, grabbing his throat with her tiny hands, choking him, the joints emitting a mechanical whine.

“Ramen!” Holly shrieked, now awake and sitting upright on the bed. “Let him go!”

Ramen released her grip from Xeno's throat, growling and hissing with disappointment, scampering out of sight beneath the hems of the red velvet curtains.

“What's with the grip?” Xeno massaged his windpipe back to life. “She almost strangled me to death.”

“Ramen was just being protective.” Holly poked her head out from the mosquito net. “She's still adjusting to her new environment.”

“Why does she make those shrieking noises?”

“It's machine language.” She pushed the mosquito net aside and sat up on the edge of the mattress. “She speaks in a frequency you can only understand, if you have vocal/audio implants like mine.” She picked up a half-finished milkshake from the night stand and continued sipping through the straw.

“What was she saying to you?”

“She had to go to the bathroom and wanted me to take her to the plants. It makes her cranky.”

“You can't potty train her?”

“Believe me, I've tried. She can't sing as well as I can, but she satisfies my desires. I wish she had my figure. Then I could try clothes on her and see what they look like on me.”

“Why don't you just have a clone made of yourself?”

“There's only one Hollymonde,” She slurped at Xeno with mild scorn, “but you already know that.”

“Oh how I know that.”

“You showed up late.” Holly finished the last of her milkshake, making loud snot noises with her straw as she circled the bottom of the glass. “Out slumming with Trianne?”

“Actually, she's missing. I now work for Intellegella. It's a matter of public safety.”

“Do yo have a badge?”

“Oh . . . yeah.” Xeno flashed his official Intellegella badge.

“Wow, a real badge, and a real job. I'm impressed. I haven't seen Trianne since we partied on the pleasure dome.”

“And Lew?”

“Not since the Shoki Pao burned down.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yes, Xeno,” she flicked on a chemorette looking irritated, inhaled, and blew smoke his way, “that's a fact.”

“Actually, it isn't. The two of you were recently photographed in the Galaxia mall, having a blowout at the Orange Curious.” Xeno held up the Polaroid of the squabble inches from her nose. “There's you in a booth, dumping a milkshake on Lew's head.”

“So what?”

“So, is that vanilla or piña colada?”

“The milkshake?”

“Yes, what flavor was it?”

“What difference does it make?” Holly huffed. “Who took that goddamn photo?” She tried to swipe it from his fingers.

“Surveillance.” Xeno jerked the Polaroid out of her reach.

“Surveillance? Why am I being surveilled?”

“We'll get to that . . . So?”

“So? So what?”

“So, was that milkshake vanilla or piña colada?”

“Holy crap! Oh my gawd! If you really must know, it was piña colada! PIÑA! EFFING! COLADA!”

“Ah, now we're getting somewhere!”

“Geezus Sikes on a bike! Why is that so important?!”

“Because, I want to get all the facts straight. What was the argument about?”

“I don't recall.”

“What's in the Polaroid you're holding up to Lew in the malt shop? The Polaroid within the Polaroid. Do you see it, right there in your fingertips?”

“Yes, Xeno, I see it! I see it! I don't recall. I lost it.”

“Are you sure it wasn't this one?” Xeno held up the Polaroid of Trianne standing in front of Klownburger.

“My god, you're just pulling those things out of your ass, aren't you? Where did you get that? I threw that out weeks ago.”

“At the bottom of your punch bowl. Not a very good hiding spot.”

“I didn't hide it there. Ramen must have dug it out of the trash and tossed it in. She does weird things like that, especially if she smells fish or chicken in the garbage.”

“So, where did you get this Polaroid?”

“All right,” she sighed with remorse, “Lew and I were sleeping together. He began to stray and—”

“Yes, he has a wandering eye, and blah, blah, blah.”

“That Polaroid came in the mail with no note, no sender, no return address. I didn't know what to think. Was Trianne dropping a hint? Was Lew two timing me with her?”

“And then you burned the Polaroid.”

“No. It came that way in the mail. I don't know who burned it.”

“Trianne and Lew were seeing each other at one time. For all we know, this photo could have been taken before your fling ever begun.”

“Or after . . . If the stunt was designed to make me jealous, well, it worked. I confronted Lew at the Orange Curious. He confessed to nothing. That was the last I saw of him. Then Trianne surfaced with you, and—”

“Trianne surfaced with me because you invited us both to your concert.”

“Oh, that's right, but the whole burned Polaroid in the mail just doesn't make any sense.”

“Unless, it was sent by someone else?”

“But who?”

“Other women scorned by Lew, and that's a whole boat load of people.”

“She doesn't look very happy in that photo.” Holly lingered on Trianne's forlorn expression.

“She doesn't look very anything in that photo.”

“Do you suppose Velva would do something like that? Burn a Polaroid of Trianne and send it to me.”

“No, but she's the kind of person who would have Lew's child.”

“They're having a kid together?”

“She's having the embryo grown in plasma, so she can preserve her girlish figure.”

“At her age? Ewww! I had no idea they were—”

“You didn't know Lew was working for Boutique?”

“No. Doing what?”

“Synthesizing Black Magic. Revamping Insto-Plas. He disappeared, leaving Velva in the lurch, but that's another story. Holly, I need to find Trianne.”

“You'd rather sleep with her than me?”

“That's beside the point. I need to get her into rehab on the double. She's showing aggravated signs of spontaneous human combustion.

“Spontaneous combustible what?”

“It's caused by Black Magic. You incinerate from the inside out. You burn alive.” Xeno sat beside Holly on the mattress. “That's what happened to Zoom.”

“Poor Zoom . . . I guess.”

“That's what will happen to all of us, if we keep taking Black Magic.”

“Maybe it was just a bad batch?”

“Yeah, but whose bad batch from where? There's no way of knowing who will go up in flames.”

“Speaking of heat, I could use some right now.” Holly pressed a button on the headboard of her bed, releasing designer drug mist into the canopy, accompanied by a strange hydraulic sound under the mattress. She yanked Xeno back onto the sheets, trying to press her lips against his. “C'mon Xeno. Breathe deeply with me. Breathe. Breathe!”

The reverse polarity mattress shuddered, rising from the ground, hovering up towards the oculus. Xeno wrestled himself free from Holly's embrace, slid off the mattress, fell a short flight, landing in a drop-roll on the dusty floor. Holly peered over the mattress, cackling in the smoky moonlight, until the entire bed rose through the oculus and drifted out of view.

Xeno made his way back to the comfort disk, still parked at the threshold of the hatch as he had left it. He stepped onboard, undocked the craft, and hovered back towards the main hatch.

Holly's party mist spewed through hidden pores embedded in the torus walls, forming a succession of dense clouds, rolling up behind Xeno, closing in on the rear of the comfort disk. Ramen's shriek echoed throughout the vast interior, her exact location unknown. Xeno arrived at the main hatch, hopped off the disk, and smacked the EXIT button. The door hissed opened on cue, allowing him to jump to safety through the entry.