House on the River

Chapter 8: Rock and Roll Lifestyle

Two weeks had passed since their meeting, and they both had painfully managed to not run into each other. Although far from being an alcoholic, Na Na had found himself to be drinking more these days, attempting to offset the unwanted emotions that he was inexplicably feeling for that particular girl that should have been his natural enemy. Yes, he had kept his eyes open, just as he had requested of her, but just like Kira, the more he looked around himself, the more he came up with nothing. As he paced around his small apartment becoming increasingly agitated, he looked at his watch. The time had come to leave for band practice.

Na Na entered the small warehouse located just off of the property downtown where the Random House sat. Along with SkekTek, their former scientist on keyboards, SkekUng, their Garthim master on lead guitar, and SkekZok, the ritual master on drums and synthesizers, the former slave master was the lead singer for a recent band they had put together called Skinny Puppy. While on stage, he went by the moniker of Ogre, although this had a hard time catching on, and most people still referred to him as Na Na. Through their music, along with the hard, spasmodic industrial beat that accompanied Na Na’s fierce growling, almost inhuman vocals, they sang of death, destruction, and the things that would make most everyday, normal people not want to leave their homes for fear of their own sanity. While definitely not a mainstream band, they still had a growing cult following among outsiders and Random House residents alike that was almost enough to satisfy their craving of power and domination while at the same time being adored and admired on stage.

SkekEkt, although not a member of the band in the normal sense, not only designed and developed their album covers, but much of the stage props and set theatrics as well. She attended most of their rehearsals, and probably out of all the Skeksis who were not formal members, gave the most support to them. SkekSil, their former chamberlain, acted as their public relations assistant, although most of the time he could be found chatting it up with underage girls, or taking part in all the fine mind altering substances that came with facilitating a dark, industrial band such as this one.

SkekTek, who was preoccupied with tuning their amplifiers, and coordinating their synthesizers, was dressed today rather casually for a Skeksis, wearing baggy, stonewashed jeans with several layers of silk, cotton and polyester shirts. Draped over top was a long, rather ratty and frayed cardigan sweater. A dozen or so different silver and gold necklaces hung from his neck. Like the rest of the Skeksis, he was far younger looking here than back on Thra, and was complete with all his limbs, despite the mutilation he had done to himself back at the Crystal Castle. Having far superior intelligence, well past the point of madness, he always wore a creepy smile on his face, and those who knew him never wanted to question why or how. It was because answers usually either didn’t make any sense to those asking, or worse, the answers were so frightening it was just thought best to leave him alone.

“Hey Na Na, we have a show booked next week at the Intersection, correct?” the mad scientist called out to the former slave master across the room.

“Yeah, it’s not this Friday, but the next. Make sure you’re prepared too,” Na Na replied authoritatively, lighting a cigarette. “We want don’t want to this fuck up. ”

“Did I say I was going to?” Tek shot back, almost hostilely.

“No, I’m just saying. Be on top of your game. That’s all,” he responded.

Tek changed the subject. “By the way, you know I saw that little shit gelfling was in the communal room hanging out near our gear. What’s his name, the dark haired one – Jem, I think.

“What about him?” The last thing Na Na wanted to think about was gelflings, any gelfling for that matter, not just one in particular.

“You know they’re all little thieves. I’d watch them real close; keep an eye on them if you know what I mean. I’m sure he’d have an eye out to hock our equipment if you let him.” Although this accusation was of course, way off base, in Tek’s deranged mind it was the absolute truth.

“I’m sure you’re right, Tek. I’ve thought about investing in some security here at the warehouse, so we can store it here, instead of lugging our shit back and forth all the time.” Although it had subconsciously occurred to him Jen was more than likely innocent of those charges, he outwardly agreed with him nonetheless.

“Great idea. Let’s do it. I’ll talk to Shod to getting that getting that in order for us. I don’t think she should have a problem,” replied Tek, referring to SkekShod, their castle treasurer.

There was a moment’s pause before Tek started up again. “And what’s his little girlfriend’s name - that blonde little waste of trash? We should have drained her properly while we had the chance. It’s bad enough we live on the same floor with those detestable things.”

Kira’s name suddenly popped into Na Na’s head, although he resisted the urge to say it out loud. A sickening feeling entered his stomach; so sudden it almost doubled him over. An acute sense of infuriation swept over him, although he could not tell who or where it was directed. Above all, he had no idea where these uncomfortable feelings of petulance were coming from. From all that he knew, the former scientist should have been right. She was a waste of trash, wasn’t she? That’s what he had always been taught from the very beginning. So what had changed to cause him to no longer believe that?

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” was all he could mutter under his breathe, looking away, carefully not looking Tek in the eye.

Meanwhile, back at the Random House, alone in her room, Kira was once again contemplating everything that had happened to her, especially regarding Na Na. She could not remember how long she had been in this little predicament, but it couldn’t have been more than seven or eight months, that she did know. In truth, it had only been exactly four months since her friend Eros’s little life-changing blunder, but time gets blurry when caught up in confusing emotions such as these. She tried to concentrate on happier things, things she truly enjoyed, such as her job as a journalist for the Random Times, and through it all the different people she was able to meet. It was then that she remembered one interview in particular that she had done, a little less than a year ago.

She remembered walking into work that day, picking up a list of potential assignments, and abruptly running into her manager who appeared to be quite unsettled. Thinking this could possibly give her a clue; she replayed the entire scenario through her head as if it were yesterday:

“Kira, thank god I found you!” Her manager exclaimed, obviously relieved to see her.

“Hey Cynthia, how are you? Is everything all right? You look a little flustered.”

“Well, I sort of am. Newt can’t make it in today; she said something about having chest pains. Well, she’s probably just sick, but you know how she gets. I’d be the same way too if I lived on that floor with those creatures.”

“Completely understood! That alien – what’s her name – Jaloshala, I think - she is absolutely nuts!” Kira agreed, referring to the humanized alien xenomorph who lived on the same floor with Newt and her adoptive mother, Ellen Ripley and a dozen or so other soldiers who were part of the Marine Corps.

“Anyways, I don’t have anybody else to do the interview. Are you available?”

“Sure, I don’t mind! I’ve been looking for some extra work, anyways. Who will I be interviewing, and when is it?”

Cynthia scanned Kira up and down; a little nervous about what she was about to request of her.

“It’s tonight.”

“That’s a little short notice, but that’s okay. I don’t have anything planned. Who is it, Cynthia?”

“Um, that’s just it. We’d be willing to pay you extra to do this. We don’t have ANYBODY else to do this interview, and we really want this on tape to broadcast on tomorrow’s morning slot.” Cynthia was referring to the Random House’s news and arts channel, which they both worked directly for, called Random Exposed, which was broadcast solely and exclusively to the residents who lived there.

“Okay Cynthia, you’re starting to make me nervous. Who will I be interviewing?”

“Skinny Puppy.” Her expression was deadpan.

Kira’s jaw dropped. “Skinny Puppy. Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Are you mad? How am I supposed to interview them when they can’t even stand the sight of me?” She honestly could not think of anything less pleasant at the moment than this little task that was being offered to her.

“Like I said, you know that we would pay you extra.”

“I don’t know, Cynthia, I really don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides the fact that the members of the band are pretty much responsible for every horrible thing that’s ever happened to me, I’m not a big fan of their music. It’s downright scary. The music has no rhythm whatsoever, and the vocals sound like the lead singer’s about to eat me. You can’t even dance to it.”

“It doesn’t matter if you like them, you just have to interview them. You know how it goes. Ask them questions you think their fans might want to know.”

She did remember seeing them live on one occasion, playing with a bunch of other local Random House bands at some ‘open to the public-type’ festival a couple of months prior with Vera and Marty. She didn’t like them then, and she liked them less now.

“I don’t know, Cynthia. The whole thing sounds...”

“One thousand dollars.”

Kira’s shaky expression turned into excited shock. “Are you kidding? For a fifteen minute interview? One that I’m sure will turn sour five minutes into it, if that?”

“Alright, fifteen hundred. That’s my final offer.”

Kira thought about it for a moment. Fifteen hundred dollars for one interview. That could buy a lot of shoes. Hell, that could buy her a lot of things. And all she had to do was spend fifteen minutes in front of the camera, conversing with her worst adversaries. “Are you serious?”

“You asked me that already. And the answer is still the same, Kira.”

She took in a heavy breath. She reasoned with herself that the worst thing that could happen was they might swear at her on camera. Either way, she still got paid. “Alright, I’ll do it. Oh my god, I still can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

“Thank you so much for your help, Kira! You know I will make this up to you!

“You’d better!” She grinned slightly as Cynthia gave her a quick hug.

The truth was, even gelflings could be bought. Or, at least part of that was true. Part of Kira really wanted to help a friend, and at this time that happened to be her manager. Perhaps if the two reasons were separate, that is, only one or the other existed, she may have passed on it. Combined however with the prospect of cold hard cash, and the opportunity to lend a helping hand, Kira accepted the offer.

The interview itself actually went smoother than she expected it to. Other than the looks on the Skeksis’ faces when they saw who would be interviewing them (which she actually had to admit was quite amusing), it really was a no-brainer. They were more unprepared for this than she was. She just got a list together of generic questions she really thought their fans might want to know before hand, and that was that. Where they got their start, how they met (which she already knew), their musical influences, etcetera, etcetera. Other than one snide remark from SkekTek towards her pertaining to the topic of genocide in one of their songs, she came out of it relatively unscathed. In the weeks and months that followed, she also seemed to be favored when it came to getting the fun projects and tasks, which was never a bad thing.

As she focused on this memory, she tried to think of what emotions were going through her head at the time of the interview when she was face to face with Na Na. Was it the same confused entanglement of adoration, lust, love, hate and repulsion that she now was accustomed to, or was it simply the latter two? She couldn’t be quite sure, but if it was, she thought she would remember something like that after the whole thing was said and done. She didn’t. She simply remembered the excitement of collecting her paycheck, thinking even the most difficult things sometimes have their rewards.

She began to stare at her telephone. Perhaps it meant nothing; perhaps it could be another clue to the puzzle. She didn’t know. Pulling out her wallet, she looked at the phone number she had written down and saved off of her caller ID two weeks prior. God, she did not want to call him. God, she had to call him or she’d go insane. But wasn’t she, already? How could it possibly get any worse?

Kira picked up the phone and dialed the number.

After about four rings, she was about to hang up when Na Na finally answered.

“Hello?” he answered, sounding rather groggy.

“Hello, Na Na. It’s me. Kira.”

“Oh. You. Hello.”

“Did I wake you? You sound like you just woke up.”

“Yes and no. I was finally able to get a little bit of sleep, but I’ve just been mainly lying awake with my eyes open. I’m sure you know how that goes.”

Yes she did. A short moment passed before she spoke again, getting straight to the reason for her phone call. “Look, I have a question to ask you. It pertains to our little problem.”

Na Na chuckled. “I’m sure it does. Why else would you call me?”

“That’s very funny.” She said with unrestrained sarcasm. She wasn’t quite sure if he was referring to the fact that given their natural hatred for each other, she should have no other reason to call him, or if he was taunting her with the fact that he was well aware she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Nevertheless, it didn’t matter. “Anyways Na Na...”

He interrupted. “Kira – before you go any further, whatever you have to ask me, I don’t think it should be discussed here. Telephone lines in this world are funny things, and you never know who else is on the line with you.” Still being semi unfamiliar with this world and all of the technology that went along with it, as well as having a leaning towards slight paranoia just like all of the others of his kind, Na Na was about to ask if he could meet up with her again. Kira felt differently.

“If you are going to ask me if we can meet up again, the answer is no. You know we can’t do that. I’ve already explained this.” She almost wanted to ask him again what his true intentions really were, but immediately thought better of it.

He reconsidered. “Then tell me what it was you wanted to ask me.”

“Do you remember that interview I did with your band about a year ago?”

Na Na laughed. “Yes, of course. How could I forget? As a matter of fact, how could the entire Random House forget? I always wondered how they talked you into doing that.”

“That’s a story for another time. Anyways, I need to know something.” Kira paused, trying to find her words. “What was going through your head during the interview?”

“Like I said before, I was wondering why you agreed to do the interview. We were all caught by surprise by it. I know Ung and Tek both were quite angry about it afterwards, even myself, but there was nothing we could really do.”

“What else?”

“What else what?”

“You know what I mean, Na Na. I don’t want to have to spell it out.”

“Oh, you mean that. If you’re asking what it is I think you’re asking, the answer is a definite no. Nothing unnatural was going through my head. Quite the opposite. Believe me, I had thought of that too, in trying to figure out when this all started. Is that all you needed to know?”

“That’s it,” she replied.

“How about you?” he asked, not wanted to end the conversation just yet. “What was going through your head?”

“Same as you. Nothing. I just wanted to end that interview as quickly as I could.” Her voice was flat and to the point.

“Are you sure?”

“Sure about what? Trust me, I enjoyed doing that as much as I enjoy rubbing sand paper across my eyes.”

“Interesting. If that’s true, then why did you agree to do it?”

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder.”

Na Na laughed. “If nothing, well, how do I say this – strange, was going through your head when you and I were conversing during the interview, how much did they pay you then?

“Same answer Na Na. See above.” She reckoned rightfully her paycheck was none of his business.

“Was it more than the usual fair? Twice maybe? Three times?”

“What does it matter?” She asked, becoming increasingly annoyed with this interrogation. His outward display of arrogance reminded her rather painfully of who he was. He was so typical for his kind.

“Just curious, that’s all. I just wanted to know how much shows such as these, even one that’s closed off to the public, pay to get ratings.”

“You think it was for ratings that they wanted me to do that interview?”

“If you’re telling me the truth on this matter, then I know it was.”

“Well, if you must know, I was filling in for somebody else who was sick.” At first, this idea sounded almost absurd to her, but then, as she gave it some thought, slowly it started to make slightly a bit of sense. Why else would they pay her that extravagant amount just to fill in for somebody who couldn’t be there that day?

“And you just openly agreed to do it without any hesitation.”

“Of course not. I told you this already – this was not my idea of entertainment.”

“I’m sure others were entertained by it though. And you had fun afterwards, I’m sure.” She could almost hear him smiling in his conceit on the other end of the phone.

“For the third time Na Na, that is not your business. I have to go now. I got what I needed to know.”

Without so much as saying goodbye, the two hung up the phone.

Na Na was indeed correct; the whole thing was set up in order to create more viewers. Even for a closed off network circuit, they had advertisers they had to answer to, advertisers who wanted nothing more than to see high profile Random House residents wearing their clothes or using their shampoo. That little interview had accomplished just that. Even in an extraordinary place such as this where the rent was free and food was provided, Kira slowly began to realize, there would always be a price.