Young Writers Society

Airon was enthralled by the DAW before him. It was the latest model by LAS Inc -- so shiny! The synth was black, smooth and sleek. A series of dials and knobs brought up interfaces which glowed and lit up with different colors and pulsated depending on the mode and layer you activated. It was glorious. Airon's azure eyes gleamed with pleasure as he dynamically changed sample within a bar, and modified brightness with a turn: this caused the blue screen to thrum and change a deep shade of crimson. The result was played back in his ears in real-time.

Admittedly, the Skyline club and lounge was not the best place to produce, but Airon had the excuse of sampling and live mixing: the upbeat tempo of the DnB playing inspired him somehow. Besides, the noise was mostly dampened by the transparent walls that separated the guest lounge from the actual club.

He was about to add a kick to his bassline, when he was suddenly distracted by a bright flash outside, on the roof garden of another building. He stared at it, contemplating what it might be. A few seconds later, he glanced back at the DAW. Thoughtfully, with care, he added just the right atmospheric pad. Airon took a sip of the cocktail he had by his side and smacked his lips. He stared out into nothingness for a seconds.

It then hit him he would have to meet with the others soon enough: they were waiting for him in the Silver's Lounge, if he recalled. Airon had forgotten what they were supposed to be doing, but he was sure it'd be fun. After all, this was supposed to be an exclusive event. Airon finished the cocktail in one go and shuddered at the flow of heat. He blinked away the lights that flashed before his eyes.

Grinning, Airon slid a finger against the quasi-transparent door, and a soft hiss indicated it had opened. He adjusted the sleeve of his white suit, which flared at the shoulders but was narrow at the waist, which he was so proud of. The full impact of the music hit him. They were playing some mix or another, probably by Xein, he was all the rage at the moment. It kept the dancer's blood pumping, and that was really all that mattered to the DJ, Airon assumed. He walked, watching the indistinct figures move on the dancefloor below. It too glowed, in sync with the people's steps: this pleased him greatly.

As he walked, he took off his left glove -- it too white -- to shake hands with random people that apparently knew him, or had seen him somewhere, and wanted to take the trouble to applaud his work in the field. He kept moving up, climbing stairs, the dancing figures getting smaller, though the music was ever-present. The lights changed, though. Below it was a pulsating neon white-silver, here, it was a softer, more elegant shade of light blue. People were smoking on the roofs, talking softly to each other.

Airon saw the door he assumed he was supposed to go through. It was black, and hinted of grand tales, grand tales indeed. He put his hand to the door, and heard the click of the neuro-electronic impulse laser go off. Once he was recognized as a legitimate person, the laser blinked. He pulled down the collar of his shirt, and the laser focused on the sub-cutaneal chip he had installed.

The door opened. Airon realized he'd forgotten to add kick.

Rogan Campbell

It had taken some time since the opening of the club this evening, but business had started to pick up and my ability to handle the bar and wait the many well-paying customers was being tested as they waved their account cards in the electric air. Rapidly I shifted between the credit-register, glasses, beer taps and liquor shelves to earn my monthly pay, which was considerable to say the least. However, this did not stop the job from being stressful and mentally draining. But I worked to my skills, and my abilities lie, as it so happens, in waiting and mixology, so what could be a more ideal occupation than a bartender?

Despite this, my taste in music was not the sort that was played in Skyline, it was much too deep and heavy; it had taken me months when I had started to become immune to the throbbing headaches it caused on my brain.

Finally the customers started to let up a bit at the bar, leaping and frolicking towards the dancefloor- some intoxicated, others not- leaving me to pour myself a little something and move the used glasses into the rinse-washer. Sighing deeply, I sipped at the drink, being careful not to dose myself on alcohol (my job would become impossible had I been inebriated) while allowing myself to relax.

I stroked back my crimson hair, emerald eyes darting across to an attractive young woman who had appeared at the bar. She was, oddly, not drunk.

"What can I do for you, my love?" I called over the blaring music.

Radius

Radius bobbed and jumped in time to the beat, one hand pressing the headphones to his ear, and the other flipping switches and turning knobs on the S&L Boards laid out in front of him. At his hands command, the bass in the music boomed and the tempo increased. Whenever he wished it so, the color of the pulsing lights changed and flashed in a hypnotic loop. A wide smile nearly cracked his lips, it was almost all he lived for to see the people on the dance floor behave in the way his music and lights commanded them to. He wanted them angry, all he had to do was flip a switch and turn some knobs. They were puppets in his hands, and it was all he could do to not take full control over their impressionable minds using nothing but a tempo and some color schemes.

Centi, Radius' pet bird - his own creation -, flew manically around his head and bit at his hair - which changed in color ever so often of its own accord and was now very bright green. He knew what she was fretting about, but didn't have any intentions of leaving his throne right that second. He batted his hand at her and turned up the music. The dance floor shuttered and reformed, changed into nothing but a pulsing mass of gyrating bodies. It was intoxicating. Centi flew down from her orbit around his head and pecked at the time stamp on his wrist. He ignored her well up until he could feel a trickle of blood flowing from where she'd pecked.

"Alright, alright, damn," he hissed. He turned to his assistant, Tony, and handed over the controls. But, before he let the boy take over, he retrieved all of his "special additions" on the system. As soon as he unplugged his specially made modification on the S&L Board, the people in the club seemed to snap out of a trance, his trance, but didn't stop dancing, just as he knew they wouldn't.

~

Centi flitted quickly around Radius as he laid his hand on the black door. The bird fixed his hair and suit with her claws and beak, putting him back into a presentable state from the disorder he always turned into when at the controls of the board. The laser blinked and he walked in, and he nodded casually at the people that had already formed there. He saw the pulsing lights in the ceiling and itched to find their system to tamper around a bit, but Centi clamped his suit's wrist cuffs and pulled him swiftly away. Radius rolled his eyes and took out a cigarette. As soon as he had it lit, someone approached.

"Radius," Airon greeted. "Out of the control box, I see."

Radius nodded and gave a soft laugh before reaching out to shake Airon's hand.

"Yes, but not of my own choice. Why are we here anyway? I don't suppose you'd know, would you?"

Cybil (name comes from a friend)

As I sit in the sleek black chair I start to read the news on my HoverPad. A projection of the newscaster pops up and starts talking. The news were so boring and foolish that I had to close it. I lean back into my chair and call for a waiter. A white robot comes over with the speed of lightning. "What-is-it-that-you-want-miss?" It says with no emotion at all. I sigh, "I would like your best wine please. And make it fast!". The robot nods and goes back to the bar to get the drink. I, Cybil, the billionaire. It has such a nice ring to it.

In a few minutes the robot comes back with a glass of reddish fluid. "Did I not say fast?!?" I say angrily. A billionaire does not have all day to wait for a drink. "I-am-sorry-miss" "Humph" I take the drink and shoo the robot away. I take out my HoverPad again and set it to Hover mode. It hovers in front of me and I command it to show a book so I can read peacefully.

The HoverPad then produces a small headset in which I cover my ears. Time starts to slow down and I am pulled into a peaceful forest. The emerald green trees seem to tower over me, protecting me from anyone trying to interrupt my reading. The vibrant color of the plants relax me by producing a scent. I live my life on reading and my money of course. However reading will always be in front of money. Reading is my place to relax and be apart from others.

The place I am in now is a place of my own creation. Everything here is created by my own imagination. I get up and stretch and wait. Suddenly a bird with plum purple wings and a blue speckled body swoops down and sits on my shoulder. I smile and stroke its silky smooth feathers. "Ah Goran you came" I say with relief. In the real life most people are afraid of me because I'm always so mean and snappy. I've never had a friend in my childhood so I created this friend. Goran was like my personal diary, my best friend that would listen to anything. I could say as much as I want, my childish complaints, my disgust at someone, anything.

I continue reading peacefully when a person walking by accidentally drops their cup of water. The person walks away like they didn't notice anything. I'm pulled back into reality, where there are a bunch of noisy and immature people. "Excuse me! You just spilled water on me and you don't even say sorry?! Such rudeness! Do you not know who I am? I am Cybil the -----" I am cut off by a stranger. "No one cares" he says and then he falls over. "Probably drunk" I say to myself. "I need to get out of this place and find somewhere else to go. Ah yes The Silver Lounge" I get up and walk up to the lounge with my glass in hand.

Cyrus.


"Stop right there!"

Cyrus froze, cursing himself for his stupidity. Why hadn't he taken the left turn! Slowly he slipped a CF2 spike out of his sleeve, no time to hesitate.

"Now turn 'round, real slow!" the steady voice continued.

Got that you dumbass.

Cyrus spun around as fast as a single twist could move him, and sent the eight inch glowing spike straight for the uniformed police officer standing behind him, stunner leveled at his back.

There was a violent flash of light and the man sank to the muddy street without a sound, his stunner falling from limp fingers. Cyrus stepped over to the body and picked up the weapon, leaving the dud spike in the water. He flipped it around, the long black spike of steel protruding from the end of it flashing in the light of the street lamps.

He shrugged and slipped it into his pocket, it might come in useful.

Time to move: now. Turning he began to pace down the back-street, glancing nervously behind every now and then. In Skyline crimes were hard to get away with. The technology used by the police was so advanced that if someone committed a crime anything short of picking up a random nickel you hadn't been asked to pick up . . . whoosh! Next thing you knew a stunner would temporarily fry your brains and you'd wake up in the Skyline Hall of Justice.

Which was why Cyrus was considered a major criminal for having already gotten away with three bank robberies. Granted, a lot of people had gone to jail for them, but Cyrus had always played his cards right and kept out of sight.

But thirty minutes ago a police camera had caught him, and though he'd run, one of the officers had apparently still found him.

Suddenly there was the sound of police sirens wailing behind him, and before he knew it a pair of Z80 police trucks whistled around the corner, police men in tow.

Oh, hell, he whispered angrily to himself. There'd be no getting away from them. What an idiot he'd been!

Suddenly he looked up and he felt a surge of hope rush up inside him. Perfect.


A moment later the police Z80's whizzed by the massive black door, not even bothering to glance up at the massive flashing sign hanging five hundred feet up the side of the skyscraper.

This is just a little description of Cybil:

Origin: Cybil was born into a very rich family. She lived in a humongous mansion with her own library and servants. Her father had his own company that produced HoverPads. Cybil's father became a multimillionaire off of this.

Description of Look: Cybil has long strawberry blonde hair that is almost always in a messy bun. Her eyes were always a mystery to her parents. They were purple with a hint of electric blue. She had lips that always seemed to be the right shade of color eveytime. Cybil was a natural beauty and never needed any makeup.

Personality: Cybil grew up in a rich family and grew to become stuck up and mean. However inside is a girl who is soft and kind that is only shown whenever Cybil is reading.