Nothing Else Matters

You can meet Nikki here, then carry on to here. All the Azza-Jono posts are here. Or you can just jump in …

Panik’s Tomb

Jessica kissed Nikki behind the ear, pulled close to her, put her scent all around her. “This place is sooo beautiful, Nik.”

Nikki shrugged. “It’s a fucking crypt, Jess.”

“I know, silly! But it’s rich with history and architecture.” She spun around on tall heels, her sundress flowing at even angles to her hair. She stopped next to the four-post bed, draped in purple velvet and gold, smiled, and put her hands toward the dead wise ape, frozen in time. “And how can you be jaded to such cutting edge embalming?”

Nikki lit a smoke. “Looks like a gummy bear in a Crown Royal bag.”

Jessica frowned, but her eyes kept smiling. She went back to Nikki, took the smoke, pulled a drag, kissed her, shotgunning the smoke, then wiped the edges of Nikki’s lips, stuck the cigarette back between them. “I fucked up your lip liner, I think.”

“Fuck it,” Nikki said through a cloud of smoke. “I’ll fix it later.”

“There’s no smoking in here.”

Jessica and Nikki looked at the suit approaching.

“Don’t,” Jessica said in Nikki’s ear. “It’s okay. Just put it out.”

“Why don’t you run along for a bit,” the suit said.

Jessica smiled, kissed Nikki on the neck, and walked out of the tomb.

“Do you really want me to put it out?” Nikki asked.

“No,” the suit said. “I was just teasing you. So you saw Blayne.”

Nikki nodded, took a drag. “Yeah. He was no fucking help. Figures. Asshole.”

“He has reason to be upset with you.”

“I know that. You know, he doesn’t think much of you, either.”

“Why would he.”

“Oh, I dunno. Because you made him.”

“People don’t care about who made them, Nikki. Maybe when they’re young, but they grow resentful of their maker.”

“I care. It matters to me. You matter to me.”

Praxis smiled, unbuttoned the suit jacket and loosened the tie. “Thank you, Nikki. It’s not necessary, though. Truly. You wanted to be free. I want that for you.”

Nikki shook her head. “You say that, and I believe you. I have faith. But I feel so trapped right now.”

“Trapped how?”

“I’m stuck here,” Nikki said. “In this fucking body. In this city that is alive that no one knows is alive …”

“Well, not no one, exactly …”

“... and it fucking hates me.”

“No,” Praxis said. “She doesn’t hate you. She just can’t relate to what it’s like to be human. You all are like intestinal flora to her. Of all people, Nik, you can get that, right?”

Nikki dropped the smoke, lit another. “Yes. Of course I can.”

“And I sent someone to help you with that, like you asked.”

“You did?”

Praxis nodded, picked up the discarded cigarette and took a drag.

“I thought you quit?” Nikki said.

“This doesn’t count. Not real for me. Well, not cancer real, anyway.”

“They say heart disease is the real killer.”

Praxis smiled. “Yes, they do. Speaking of …”

“I don’t wanna talk about her,” Nikki said. “It hurts too bad. I didn’t know it could hurt this bad. Fucking human feelings.”

“You were born human, you know. Multiple times.”

“Don’t remind me.” Nikki smoked, nodded at the embalmed corpse. “So was he. Now look at ‘im.”

“Looks pretty good to me.” Praxis walked closer to the body. “This is Gilden Panik. Do you know about him?”

“Please don’t mock me. You know I don’t.”

“I’m sorry. Truly, I wasn’t sure.” Praxis circled the bed slowly, saying, “Gilden unified the City at a time when things were most dire. Though he was born wealthy, he still wanted what was best for each Azojo, and he believed he could rally the rich to help everyone. He managed to persuade other wealthy elites to plunder with him. That’s what happened. But while they were plundering, the City was healing,” Praxis pointed down, “underneath. Underground. Her bifurcated brain was growing together, becoming stronger. And as this happened, the Azojo dreamed of unity through diversity, of equality through magnanimity.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Nikki said. “He’s dead. I’ll be dead. Everyone I know and love will be dead. Except for you.”

“Don’t be silly,” Praxis said. “I’ll be dead, too. Sooner than you, I think.”

“Don’t say that. I can’t bear the thought of that.”

Praxis touched the hand of the corpse, mumbled something, then walked over to Nikki, put hands on her shoulders. “You said a moment ago that you have faith in me. You shouldn’t. I’m no different than you. You’re better than me. I’ve seen to that.”

Nikki shook her head. “You’ve said that before. I don’t understand.”

“A maker is nothing more than a maker, Nik. We do the rest.” Praxis pulled a finger along Nikki’s mouth. “Your lip liner got a little mussed.”

“Thanks, Mom,“ Nikki said.

Praxis buttoned the blazer and pulled off the tie, threw it on the ground. “We free ourselves, Nikki. So go. Be free. Love Jessica. Enjoy this life, while you can.”

“I can’t stop thinking of her,” Nikki said.

Praxis sighed. “Well, maybe you’ll find a way to leave. Maybe you won’t. Do what you want.”

Nikki felt the sting of tears. “I hate this most.”

“Crying?”

“Yes. It’s fucking humiliating.”

“It’s the humiliation you don’t like. Character trait.”

Nikki nodded. “Yes.”

Praxis’ lips parted as if to say something else, then closed, kissed Nikki on the cheek. “Be well, Nikki. I’m around if you need me.”

“As I am for you. Say the word, and I am your instrument.”

“Be your own. That’s my word.”

“I’m trying. It’s hard.”

Praxis smiled and turned away.

Nikki looked after for a moment, then to the corpse of Gilden Panik. She remembered. “Wait, who did you send to help me understand the City?”

But Praxis was gone.

“Dammit,” she said. “Fucking limited attention.”

She put the remainder of her cigarette between the dead fingers of Gilden Panik, scooped up the tie Praxis had thrown down, tied it loosely around her neck, and left.

Fun in the Sun

Nikki brushed off a bit of fallen ash from her cashmere sweater, then snuffed the butt with a penny loafer. She and Jessica wandered about the Southend, looking for fun, living the Azzine Dream.

The new strip malls housed the descendants of the fishers of the seas, with Praddleton now the brand of the block, not the modest community of farmers and sea workers that fed the city.

They walked down High Street past The Grand Sommelier Hotel and Groove Terrace, toward Sunset, beyond that, Jono Monika Boulevard, down to Azojo Beach.

All the railways were closed. Steel gone away. But the beaches were open, and the Azzine did play.

The boardwalk bustled, a busy promenade of eccentricities and exoticism fetishized for public pleasure. Rippling muscles and falling bars, balls of all sorts, skates and dancing, bathing in both sun and water.

“We’re gonna get naked now,” Jessica said.

Nikki sighed, smiled. “Okay.”

Construction workers waited with ready eyes to see Nikki and Jessica undress, to hoot and catcall. Nikki wondered how they could be singled from these throngs, hordes of nude folks running and zipping and bulging and kissing. Every shape and size. What’s new?

But look they did, as Jessica took her top off. And hoot they did when she took her flowy pants off. And catcall they did when she took her underwear off.

Nikki saw the timeline where she shot each of them in the chest, three a piece in slow-leaking places, so they could watch a bit longer before they shuffled off this mortal coil.

Instead, she was stuck in the timeline where she sighed, pulled her sweater off.

They looked.

She cursed and pulled her jeans off.

They hooted.

“Goddam it,” she mumbled and pulled her underwear off.

Some catcalled. One yelled, “Woo! Yeah!” Another said, “Fuckin’ gross! Put that shit back on!”

Nikki’s eyes traced spells, ready to melt skin into hot metal and flay them with scalding sand.

Jessica’s hand touched her. “It’s okay. Fuck them. Let’s go have fun!”

Their eyes met, and Nikki smiled. “Yeah.”

Together they held hands and ran into the water.

Hate on the Mind

Nikki stared out the window at the 24,729 souls that dwelled in the place. With casual interest, she fanned her fingers to see the original village of Long Sieve as they passed Four Cuts Trail and Garreau Tractus Route. The distinctive frame rested on the tavern porch, tired workers stumbling about, clashing glasses and fists and lips, the Old Separatist Flag flapping in the night wind, torn and proud. Nikki snorted, waved it away.

“Fuck this place,” she said. “How did I ever do the things I used to?”

Jessica was singing, “And I tried to buy your pretty heart, but the price too high, Baby you got me like oh …”

Nikki rolled down the window, lit a smoke, stared straight ahead at the Red Crest Mountains near the horizon, blinked and saw Martha Jefferson, the Lady Cornwallis, the Marchioness de Lafayette, General Hannah Meyer, Anna Jackson and Ulric Dahlgren—all having tea served by slaves. She gnashed her teeth and made it go away again, back to the the now, to the sign that read: Long Sieve, founded 1853 by Jesse Hyde Simpson, Azza-Jono Historical Society.

Jessica sang, “So you can put me together, and throw me against the wall, Baby you got me like ah, woo, ah …” and she motioned with her hands, then turned the wheel, moving the SUV into Long Sieve Center.

Nikki smoked, staring over the million square feet of open-air consumerism and associated domiciles. The affluence irritated the land and cut the sky, pouring dark lines in from all over. She shook her head, flicked her smoke out the window, brushed off her cashmere sweater, and put on a fresh coat of lip gloss.

Jessica sang, “ Oh, and baby I’m fist fighting with fire just to get close to you, can we burn something, babe?”

Nikki smiled. “I would love to.”

Jessica bunched up her eyes around her nose in a grinning snort, grabbed lightly at Nikki’s breastbone and scratched there with French manicured nails, sang, “And I run for miles just to get a taste, must be love on the brain …1”

Passport

Nikki pushed open the door to Al-Kamil, took a breath, smelled the food and smoke, sat down.

The place was filled with bustling pregamers, all getting loaded before the Revels. They howled and wooed from behind their fancy masks, punching and hugging and rubbing fake faces together.

Opeyemi set two glasses down in front of Nikki, said, “Annyeong, Nik. Top o’ the morning to ye.”

Nikki rubbed her eyes, blinked. “It’s just me.”

“I thought I might drink with you.”

“Okay.”

Opeyemi sat as Nikki sighed.

“Hi, Yemi.”

Opeyemi smiled, long along the lips. “Not feeling yourself today?”

Nikki looked past Yemi, toward the kitchen. “It’s nothing really.”

“Your usual, then?”

Nikki nodded, took a drink.

Yemi took a careful sip from the full glass, set it down on the mica table, batted at the umbrella in a lemon wedge sucking the rim.

Nikki lit a cigarette, blew out the smoke. “You texted me.”

Yemi smiled the same. “Indeed I did. I have what you asked for.”

“On you?”

“Close by, yes.”

Nikki smoked. “That doesn’t sound like a yes.”

“It may as well be.”

Nikki rolled her eyes, inhaled more smoke, turned to look out the window. “Tell me where it is already.”

“You have my word. It’s all just as you asked.”

Nikki took the drink, drank it down. “Fixed your sugar problem.”

“Isaiah is afraid of you.”

“Yeah. Listen, I’m gonna need to go. Revels are tonight.”

“What’s that to you?”

“Too many things to do.”

“You have the money on you?”

Nikki showed her empty hands, then put them palm to palm, peeled them apart to reveal a key.

Yemi looked at the key, took it. “I appreciate the discretion this time.”

Nikki put the cigarette out on the tabletop. “Sure thing.” She looked toward the sound of feet on polished floor in the kitchen. “Tell Seong-Min I’m sorry. I know I said I’d stay a bit longer this time. But I can’t do it.”

Yemi relaxed, twirled the key idly. “Stay long enough for me to use this. If everything’s okay, I’ll text you a number.”

Nikki nodded, leaned back, took out her phone, read.

A few moments later, a text came with the number 357.

Nikki stood, pushed through the drunks and hopheads, out the door, down Lighthouse Avenue to the boardwalk lockers to number 357.

Locked.

Nikki waved her hand over the lock, heard the click, opened the locker. She pulled out the passport, the gun, the ammo, the fingerprint set, the mirror, stuffed it all in her blazer, lit a smoke.

Nikki hurried to the ferry, last one leaving for Revels. She looked down the street to the lighthouse. The timing was tight. It might be one or the other.

Nikki and Jess at the Revels

Nikki stared at Jessica’s toes. The nails were painted a sparkly blue with pink flecks, except for the pinkie toes, which were a high-gloss black. Nikki’s eyes went over the shape of them, too. The longer second toes. The contraction deformities. The dead skin.

Jessica ran her hands through Nikki’s hair, then rubbed her cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You seem inside.”

Nikki shifted on the blanket, brushed at her jeans. “There’s grass everywhere.” She looked around. “And people.”

“It’s a festival, Nik.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Jessica smiled and kissed Nikki. She leaned in close to her ear. “Will you make love to me?”

“Here?”

“Where else?”

“There are literally people everywhere. I could touch that dude behind us, he’s so close.”

“So?”

“So I’m nervous so.”

Jessica bit her own lip. “C’mon. It’ll be nice. Something we can remember.”

“I mean, I want to, Jess. But I don’t think I can.”

Jessica smiled. “The night is young.”

“Yeah.” Nikki sat up a little straighter, pulled a smoke, lit up. “God only knows what the fuck’s goin’ down tonight.”

“Or who.”

Nikki looked in Jessica’s smiling eyes. “Right. Or who.”

Homily Somnambuly (click to go to Azza-Jono #11)

Dilemma

The lapis lazuli sea reached out, supercharged with id and ki, the primordial waters of pure being, consciousness in the raw.

Nikki saw the island shores, felt the salty wind push her hair back. The lighthouse beckoned.

She looked over her shoulder to the mainland, to the aftermath of an apocalypse à gogo. Revelers rushed the streets, filthy but still wonderstruck, still touching and kissing, singing. Jessica walked among them, light in the step, soft in the eyes, more pensive than usual.

The waves called again, and Nikki looked. With her old eyes, she could see that far. She could see her on that shore, atop that lighthouse, looking right back. Nikki felt the pull in the chest, then all over. She put one foot out, a step toward the tide.

Jessica’s hand reached her. “Hey. I’ve been lookin’ for you, pretty girl.”

Nikki turned and kissed her.

Jessie smiled. “Well, hello to you, too.”

“Don’t leave me, Jess.”

Jessica was confused. “What? Never, why would you even think I would?”

Nikki knew why. She hugged her tighter, and cried. Maybe for the first time. She wasn’t sure. Memory was so long.

Jessie stroked her hair. “It’s okay. We’re here to stay.”

There was comfort in her certainty. Yet Nikki still heard the waves.

AJ 0013