✴

“Oh...amazingly good. Our first date, and um, first duel, our first kiss, it’s...really good,” you say.

“Aww that’s great,” Trisha says.

“It was so good I narrowly escaped critical injury,” Zeta says.

“That’s when a date gets fun isn’t it?” Trisha says. “Right?”

“For EvoSpecs like us maybe,” Synthesis-03 says. “Anyway, I’ve got everything set up now, ready to hit play.”

“Oh. Ready here,” you say.

“Ready!” Trisha says.

“I am ready,” ÆON says.

“Ready,” Zeta says.

You feel Synth execute the group command. Suddenly the æther goes dark--even the distant ætherglow vanishes. Only sound remains. It starts with a low pulse, below what your surface ears could detect. Your avatar vibrates in sync with the æther around it, with a harsh, sharp texture--it feels cold.

A new wave builds up on top of it, and more after it, layer upon layer. Then, above you, light. A bright star appears--it expands into a shockwave encircling the most distant untouchable horizon, and in its wake, the chaos of the ætherglow shines. The layers of sound and color and texture dance around each other, slipping through the spaces each leaves open for the next, forming together a persistent rhythm. It has to be the stimmiest thing you’ve ever felt.

You float in the middle of it all, feeling it permeate you. Vibration waves dance upon your nerves like gears turning in a vast, complex machine. It feels like an eternity lost in the glow of the song. As it abruptly ends in a bright flash, you realize it was only a short intro piece.

“Wow that Pulse is good!” Trisha says. “Can’t believe you just have her as a classmate.”

“Thank you, thank you,” a voice echoes through the æther. In its wake, a sphere opens up from a distant star--suddenly right in between you all. A shadow forms on its surface. Its edges dissolve away until the shape of a girl remains. With a high resonant note, features take shape on her surface--a girl with light brown skin, short black hair on top of her head, ending in bright neon purple tips, and shaved on the sides. A silver mirror-visor covers her eyes. A black sleeveless coat wraps around her body, reaching down past her knees on the sides, open in the front and back. Wires spread out from under it, down from her torso, floating around her legs and vibrating with the pulse of the song that starts to take shape. Her arms, uncovered, light up with glyphs and numbers, raised textures standing on her skin. The ends of her fingertips glow as she touches the thin panels of light floating in front of her, directing the droning synth tone that comes to dominate the lead of the song.

You shield yourself, summon your weapon, prepare for anything.

“Hold on, Aydan,” Synth holds their arm out to block your path. “Look closer.”

With a deeper look, it’s obvious--she isn’t a person. “A construct. It’s so real,” you say.

“Glad you like it,” the spectre of Pulse responds.

“An adaptive construct, too,” Synth says. “Very impressive.”

”Welcome!” she says, her voice cascading between the layer of the waves. “...to the Soundscape!”

The æther grows solid, forming ground beneath you, walls around you, above you, a labyrinth of curved passageways twisting and turning into each other, a non-euclidean ætherscape.

“Dare you step forward into a synæsthetic, cybernetic, narcosynthetic realm, generated from a seed that is you?”