Weaponizing Love

Journal entry date 11/15/2247. Dreary. Dust and ash still shrouds the sun. An ancient Rolls Royce sputtered past on my walk, striking a bitter chord within me. Fuel is already hard to come by but the Dons and their lackeys don’t give a shit so long as they’re asserting their power and dominance. The rest of us are left to walk or find some other mundane way of transport.

There are so many sounds, so many things I have to pretend I don’t see. Just today, as I passed an apartment building, I was witness to a purely gut-wrenching moment: a man and a woman torn from each other and shoved into the back of the car I had just seen drive by. Their baleful screams- I can’t imagine the kind of pain it would take to make that sound. My mind wandered to a heart shaped locket I kept around on my wrist as I thought, “That’s a lie. Maybe I can… No, Stop! Stop letting your emotions have control!”

Sad.

Honestly, they could have been targeted for any number of reasons, but as I passed by, I could feel the ether flow change in the atmosphere around them. They had it, what everyone secretly longed for, a soul connection. Hopeless.

I instinctively stole a glance at the photos I kept inside the locket, my parents who were guilty of nothing more than being perfect for one another. They had it, the soul connection, and the syndicate took them from me because of it. Rage. My sister was the other. Being a powerful product of perfect love, the syndicate came for her. Once she declined their offer to join them, I never saw her again.

When the earth broke centuries ago, it unleashed something in the remaining humans. Some called it a freak response to the radioactivity, some called it magic. Certain physical, mental, or creative abilities were heightened and people would only be able to unlock the extent of what that truly meant when they found the one person whose energy could synchronize with their own. However, even after the global catastrophe rooted in mankind’s lust for power, they still craved more. People began looking for their soul mates to grow more formidable rather than to live happily, wantlessly. Wretched.

Why do we have to live in a society that weaponizes love?! Give mankind something to share and enjoy and they will find a way to soil and destroy it. The only reason I’ve survived this long is because I’ve given up all desire to seek the poor soul bonded to mine. Out here, I have to be meticulous, careful. Out here, I’m not human. Detached.

Of the three manifest powers: the Mights, the Minds, and the Muses, I am a muse, a poet, cursed to feel empathy to a destructive degree. While out here, if I don’t limit my experience to a singular word, restrain my emotions, they will consume me. Suffering.

There is a place I allow myself to feel, though, a place where I organize my thoughts and expand my emotions even if only for a moment. Few buildings from before the collapse still stand, but this one is stubborn and strong. Jazzy Java: a coffee shop during the day and a jazz lounge at night. This place is my sanctuary and as the bells on the door clang at my arrival… Relief.

I set my battle weapons of choice out before me - pen and paper- tied my dreads up away from my face, and got to work.

A welcome voice interrupted my emotional torrent, “So am I surprising you again today, Elias? Or did you have a particular drink in mind?”

Why do I always imagine a song when he speaks? If this was my sanctuary, then he was an angel to guard me, a deity to give my silent prayers to. Dmitri was a vision with skin rich as the clays of the earth, eyes from the sea, and long tresses - bright and wild like the sun. We never exchanged more than banter and small talk, but his simple presence soothed me.

I replied, “I’m feeling a chai tea latte, today. Make it dirty. I could use the caffeine.”

His hand on my shoulder heated me through to my core as he called to Remy, the owner, “Grande chai, spank her and make her call you Daddy!”

“What?!” I croaked incredulously.

Mischief danced in his eyes, “You ordered a dirty chai. So I made it dirty.”

Catching on, I said, “Better make it two shots of espresso, then.”

“Hey Remy, spank that bitch twice!”

“Dmitri, no… You’re a menace to society, you know that?”

He removed his hand from my shoulder with a playful wink, “And yet you keep coming back for more.”

~~~

Dmitri stood, leaning over the counter, sneaking glances at the poet with longing dripping from his gaze. Elias had long dark dreads that were always well kept, skin like cafe au lait with a bit too much milk, and eyes an icy gray.

He thought to himself: both of us, the perfect example of race and nationality not meaning a damn thing anymore. Get enough diversity in the same closed off space and you get a beautiful stew of melanin and mixed culture.

He was pulled abruptly from his daydreaming by a teasing jab from Remy, “Christ, Dmitri. You ogle him every time he comes in, just ask him out already!”

He jumped at her presence. “I don’t know. He’s just so... mysterious? And stoic.”

She gave him a playful elbow nudge to the ribs. “So basically your polar opposite.”

“Oh shut up. But for real. Do you think I would even have a chance?”

“Invite him to your show tonight! I never see him in the evenings, but something tells me once he hears you sing,” she leaned her back against his in a melodramatic, wistful way, “he’ll make you his muse!”

~~~

Unsatisfied. The title of my new piece was “Stranger to Me.” While it had promise, it still didn’t read the way I wanted it to. The subject of the poem was any individual I pass on the street, what I see, the way I feel about them, the way I won’t let myself feel about them.

As I carelessly threw the loose sheet of paper into my notebook, his voice graced my ears again, “Of all the things we lost, I’m glad we didn’t lose coffee. At the end of the day, no matter the decrepit state of the world, we can always come together for a cup of java. Hey, you leaving already?”

I showed my impatient frustration, “It’s just not working today, Dmitri, thank you.”

I stood to leave, but before I reached the door, Dmitri called out, “Hey, you dropped this.”

In his hands was the scrapped poem and source of my dissatisfaction, “Just throw it away. It didn’t turn out as I’d hoped.”

He twisted his gaze before nervously producing a flyer, “Trade me, then. I’ll be singing tonight, if you want to come. You never know, there might be something for you there.”

I took it and nodded, “So you’re a Siren now, huh? Just maybe.” Little did I know, I wouldn’t be able to stay away. My stomach twisted in knots throughout the rest of the day until I conceded to my desire, crossing their threshold again as the sun set. Anxious.

~~~

Electronics were scarce and acoustic sound the norm, so if you didn’t have a voice that carried, you were going to struggle as a Muse. Luckily, Dmitri didn’t have that problem. The audience swooned at his charm as he blew kisses before stepping offstage for an intermission.

He settled backstage to fix his makeup when a harsh voice crept down his back, “How’s my special siren doin’?”

Dmitri’s golden tresses tumbled over his shoulders and prominent collarbones as he turned to face his guest with the best bedroom eyes he could conjure, “Why, if it isn’t Don Rossi.” He was only overseeing while the real Don was away, but he loved the attention the temporary title gave him.

The imposing man kissed him behind the ear, “Oh babe, you know you can call me Joey! Here, brought you somethin’.”

He had one of his henchmen reveal an old turntable and Dmitri’s eyes grew wide with praise.

“You really like your music, dontcha, toots?”

Dmitri pressed his hands up the Don’s arms as he hummed, “Well, Muses have their music just as Mights have their muscles.” The Don flexed under his touch with an arrogant grin as Dmitri gave him a light pat, ”Now go find your seat, handsome. Wouldn’t want you missing the second act.”

Remy quietly entered as Rossi left, whispering, “Dmitri! What the hell are you doing with a Don?! You know the awful things he’s capable of!”

“You know I can’t control who reacts to my song,” he released a visible shudder before wrapping his own arms around his body for comfort, “Besides, I couldn’t tell him no even if I wanted to. We are only as free as the powerful people allow us to be and that man... has too much power.”

There was a moment of grave solidarity between them before Remy pressed, “Fine, but on the bright side, I saw Elias walk in.”

Dmitri felt a surge in his chest as he clutched the discarded poem closer, “I know. I just hope he hears me… and understands.”

~~~

He was amazing-better than I could have imagined-and it made me wonder why I hadn’t ventured here sooner. My heart leapt into my throat upon Dmitri gracing the stage for his second act.

The crowd hushed as he held a paper in front of him, “Tonight I’m trying something a little different. A friend of mine tried throwing away a masterpiece,” His gaze ravished me. Is he? No…

“I’m adding music to his words to see if they… if they had the sound he was hoping for.”

I pray to what gods are left

I feel if I reach to touch your skin

You’ll crumble and blow away

Or I’ll only make things worse

I burn inside

I ache for change

But my feet obey

Following paths marked before them.

The longer I watch you

The more I long for you

The more you seem so much stranger to me,

This stranger to me.

Ache.

I had written this to be a cry of despair and mourning, but when he sang it… it was filled with such hope and longing. As his melody filled the room, his eyes never left mine. We held a gaze that could level even the most formidable of foes. It wasn’t until the music stopped that I realized what had truly happened.

The energy in the room had done more than just shift. In that moment, it was undeniable, indescribable! Our chests burst with the most magnificent, ethereal light, arcing above the crowd, connecting and filling the hall with a symphony, unmatched.

-BANG-

Gunshots, fury, chaos, envy. Such discord replaced such overwhelming purpose. My mind struggled to focus before I felt a hand gripping my wrist and pulling me from the madness.

As I stood, dazed in an abandoned alleyway, there he was… My soulmate.

He muttered, “Part of me knew… had hoped. But what is this going to mean for us now? Our future?”

In that moment, I realized. I knew I had the words to break our chains even as I was tormented by the truth of them. We are only slaves to the degree that we allow ourselves to be bound, but this man - this awe-inspiring being, he may not know the words, but he knows the power his song has over them. Maybe together-

I grazed the locket before nervously taking his hand, “Our future? Everything is about to change. It has to change.”

Beautiful, Curious, Bold, Bizarre, This Stranger To Me.