SHIP'S LOG:

The Sadie Hawkins

Starry Skye 7/17/2021 11:12pm

In the Night District, everyone wears a mask. Literally. It's considered common courtesy. Why put me in the position of being able to identify you in a line up? This way, everybody's freed up to relax.

The Night District is also quite dark. Inside and out. Sometimes only lit by the glow of the paint on our masks, or the path down the main thoroughfares.

Everyone moves silently. But we're attentive, and no one makes contact when moving through the dark. Unless it's an intentional lift or a plant or a stab or a prick.

"Ginger-corn," I tell the waiter.

But for all its anonymity, I can read the place like a book. Who's on top, who's calling the shots on this block, who just made the biggest score. The signs are all there, in the dark.

No doubt eyes are on me too. I'd been a regular, more or less, and while I'd been gone for years, subjective time, I was just here a few weeks ago in this timeline.

"Antares, Algo, Electra," says a familiar voice behind me. Everyone speaks in code in the Night District too.

"Ear, horn, and eye!" I reply. "Let's go somewhere we can talk."

Armando Lupiz 5/30/2021 11:58pm

Little lightning bolts sputtered out my fingertips and died. The iridescent cloth was still. I found myself in a great museum, or library. A huge hall of towering bookshelves and a great domed ceiling, dotted by occasional display cases like the one I still had my hand in.

There was no one around.

I shut glass door to the case and retreated behind he nearest bank of shelves. The great hall was silent, as a library should be, but I had the sense the entire space was unoccupied. I slinked down the aisle, peering round every corner, till I reached the end of the room. There was a reference desk, as unattended as I'd sensed.

What was this place?

Suddenly the room was filled with crackling energy and noise, and I dropped beneath a table.

"He can't have gotten far. Split up and sweep the aisles."

Why did I come unarmed? I mean, I guess it made sense at the time, but...

Captain Armando Lupiz
(The Sky Wolf)
lost and not aboard

Billy Nails 4/17/2021 11:56pm

I know it's not right to speak disparagingly of the captain, kid, but he's left us in a lurch and no mistake! Going into a future fashion house with no backup and then gettin' hisself kidnapped, or eaten up, or otherwise disappeared. Me and some of the more surly sailors turned that whole block looking for him and he wasn't nowheres to be found. And he left ol' Starry to head off on her own into to even rougher parts of town and now we've lost her too! And who's left holding the fort here on the Sadie Hawkins? Naturally yours truly @Billy Nails! But I won't be for long if this crew gets any more temperamental, what with being thrown back in time, splittin' the timeline, and losing the cocoon of the cutest plasma moth this side of the Uranographia Fields! We ain't never been leaderless and I'm telling you the truth when I say ol' @Billy Nails just ain't cut out for it. No I ain't, not one bit.

Starry Skye 3/5/2021 11:58pm

I knew the captian's fashion fancy would be a dead end. Not only was Cat Tracer, the second most amazing zero-G cat burglar and pickpocket in the Tarantula Nebula, not interested in fashion, she always worked alone.

Like me.

Which is why I knew there was only one person who could track her down. That is, the number one most amazing zero-G cat burglar and pickpocket in the Tarantula Nebula.

Me.

So how do you hunt a quarry that leaves no tracks? How do you follow a cat that leaves no trace?

You look for the absence that it leaves in its path.

I would start in the Night District. The place all the rest of the less amazing zero-G cat burglar and pickpockets in the Tarantula Nebula called home.

My home.

Armando Lupiz 1/21/2021 11:49pm

Clothes of Tomorrow... I couldn't help feeling like I'd heard it before.

"But zey are zee Fashions of zee Day, as we say!" the salesman said.

Rather than just go in, guns blazing, we decided to take a different tack.

"Ah, yes, well, I'm looking for something in bulk. Something I can use to spruce up the uniforms of my crew."

No use pretending to be something I'm not.

"Ah, just zo. Zomething a little... military?"

"I was thinking something more... bell hop. Something that says 'service.' Perhaps something in a pill box hat? Like I've got my own squad of flying monkeys running around the ship. Perhaps in blue?"

The salesman gave me a "the customer is always right" kind of look.

"Of course. I will be right back."

It was my chance to look around. The tiny shop was piled high with fabrics, tables strewn with needle and thread and patterns. It wasn't really a showroom. It was clear this wasn't a retail operation. More upstream in the fashion world.

There was, however, a glass display box in the corner. I maneuvered around the workroom to see it better. Something sparkly was inside. I looked over my shoulder to see that the salesman was still occupied, then opened the door on the case. It was a single bolt of cloth, maybe a long scarf, or a kaftan, with an iridescent shimmer. I reached out to touch it--

"DO NOT TOUCH ZAT!" cried the salesman.

But it was too late. The tiny shop disappeared in a pop and a flash.


Captain Armando Lupiz
(The Sky Wolf)
onboard the continuous merchant dirigible Sadie Hawkins

Billy Nails 12/8/2020 9:06pm

Sky sailors weren't cut out to be spies, kid. Ain't in our nature, ain't in our training. Working on a ship is all about communication, and being clear about what you're doing. It ain't about hiding and getting away with something. So why the captain had us all trying to "blend in" and "keep a low profile" looking for clues in the streets of the fashion district of Uranographia Fields made about as much sense as a sunroof on a blimp! It was purely by accident that I happened to be purchasing some of those delicious fried sucker snacks from a street vendor when that rude fella bumped into me and my snack got all over his fine suit. "Here, here, let me get that" I was sayin', wiping him down with my ship's rag, when he slapped me away and called me a name you're not even old enough to learn yet, kid. Then he heaves off an into a door in the alley that says CLOTHES OF TOMORROW and beneath it in little letters it says "fashions of today" and ol'@Billy Nails figured he'd found something, spy or not.

Starry Skye 10/21/2020 11:51pm

"Fashion?"

"Yes," the captain said.

Cat Tracer, the second most amazing zero-G cat burglar and pickpocket in the Tarantula Nebula, wasn't interested in fashion.

"Cat Tracer is a master of disguise. She wouldn't--"

"Remember micro-fashions?"

"Uh... no?"

"Back in this time, in the Uranographia Fields, fashion trends lasted a day at most. There was a hat in the crowd that didn't come out for another two days."

It wasn't much. There wasn't anything else to go on. But I was having trouble hiding my despondence.

"So?"

"So, who makes these fashions? I mean, they must be made ahead of time, so people can buy them in stores. Who plans them out? Who decides? And are they connected to this?

"So?"

"So we're heading to the fashion district. I'm going in."

Armando Lupiz 9/9/2020 11:52pm

"Ok, give me a breakdown on 11-G to 42-J, enhanced, half speed."

@Starry Skye says we won't be able to find anything in the spy-eye footage. I'm beginning to think she's right.

"Try it from the reverse angle. Apply Lope-learning algorithms."

Just a bunch of lactose-resistant Milk Bar snoots drinking at the Rainbow Zone.

"Alright show me the perimeters. Gallery paranormic."

The thief is long gone by now, but we need something to go on. Anything. History changed before our eyes, and now we're in uncharted territory. Before, it all seemed like a quaint rerun, but now, seeing the denizens of Uranographia Fields going about their daily business has never been more terrifying. Like the whole world creating itself anew, in the most banal ways, and it's all our fault.

"There captain. That bus boy."

"What about him?"

"Enhance B-15 to full."

A navy blue pill box hat with a big feather in it fills the screen.

"Nice hat."

"That's just it, captain. It's too nice. The micro-fashion craze was in vogue at this time, where new styles were being introduced and replaced almost hourly. That particular hat -- the Ponce de Leon -- wouldn't make the scene for another two days from now."

"An anachronism?"

"Exactly."

"Well, I'm glad to see all that time you spend with those fashion magazines hasn't been wasted. Let's see what @Starry Skye knows about hats."

Captain Armando Lupiz
(The Sky Wolf)
onboard the continuous merchant dirigible Sadie Hawkins

Billy Nails 7/31/2020 8:33pm

See what did I tell ya, kid? We travel back in time, start messing around, and before you know it we've started a whole new timeline. One we probably shouldn't even exist in! At least not "us" us. The "us" us has already left Uranographia Fields. Our ship has sailed -- without Starry Skye onboard. And what about poor Sparkleshine? That sweet old plasma moth was stolen from right under our noses. Or her egg, or cicada, or whatever you call it. What happens now when it hatches and @Starry Skye's not there to be her mama? Or what if it never hatches? And in the meantime, how is Sparkleshine anyway? Does she even exist? That toothless hag said she had to stay with her back in the Purple Dimension while we went ahead. Not that she would have been much help--a big ol' fire breathing plasma moth like Sparkleshine would attract nothing but the wrong kind of attention at the Uranographia Fields. But what I want to know is if our Sparkleshine even still exists, now that her egg's been stolen. It's enough to make an old airshipman's mind just melt. And his heart. I just hope our @Starry Skye can track her down and steal her back.

Starry Skye 6/22/2020 10:44pm

The spy-eyes were set up so we could see everything, hovering at various distances and angles (at least as far as the Rainbow Zone's basic security allowed for, which wasn't a problem).

So why oh why did we not see her coming? And why did it work out differently this time??!!!

Everything seemed perfect. I mean, my memory wasn't *that* exact, I suppose, but it sure looked right in the spy-eye view screens. @Billy Nails and the kid roughing it up in their dusters, knocking into my table, spilling the milk. (And what is it about milk that makes people so excited? Sure, it comes in different colors, but still?).

I see the kid drop the package in the chair.

"Turn around..." I say to myself. To me, myself, that is. Not the myself on the screen.

I don't remember pausing this long. Something else catching my attention--a purple feathered sentient boa around someone's neck rears and spits--for just a split second. I don't remember that.

But it's just enough time for her to snatch it from my chair. Even in disguise, I'd recognize her silky moves anywhere.

Cat Tracer. The second most amazing zero-G cat burglar and pickpocket in the Tarantula Nebula. Holding the package tied up with string and in very clear handwriting in black pen: THE SADIE HAWKINS, and slipping it into the folds of her cloak.

And disappearing into the crowd.