textfiles/magazines/UXU/uxu-604.txt

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                         Underground eXperts United

                                 Presents...

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         [  Majik  ]                            [  By Lisa Guliani  ]


    ____________________________________________________________________
    ____________________________________________________________________



Majik
by Lisa Guliani


Late August ushered in the first stirrings of Autumn in Northwestern
Wisconsin. Ren Whitehorse drew her arms up into the overlong sleeves of a
well-worn Packers sweatshirt, feeling the new chill in the afternoon breeze.
Summer had indeed brushed by her like a swift wind across a burning green
field. Now, as she strolled absently along the blacktop road skirting her
diminutive Northwoods cabin, a wave of melancholy washed over her. Her mind
switched reflexively to previous months even before the warmth of summer, to
the frozen heart of February past. It was then that He had entered first her
computer, and then her life.

Seven months had flown by since that first encounter with the stranger, and
so much had happened in between. She had later dubbed him her "Man-In-The-
Box," preferring to refer to him as such unless in direct communication with
him. His screen name was intriguing, she had to admit. It lured her into a
world of fantasy and illusion despite its simplicity and uncommon spelling.
His name had become branded onto her heart, and into her imagination. It was
He who would lead her into and beyond the glass screen of her monitor,
through the doorway of a dream... She felt the familiar tingle as the word
escaped her lips in a whisper: "Majik..."

Instantly, a shiver ran through her body, up and down her spine. She felt
the familiar rush as her pulse quickened and her heart began to beat faster
in her chest. Looking around, she cast her brown eyes out over the wide
field adjacent to her tiny home. Nothing to see but dried wild grasses and
an occasional haybale. Reminding herself that He was not here, she shook her
head a little, as if to clear it of the image of Him, once and for all. In a
daze, her feet  continued walking woodenly southward along the empty road
toward a distant stop sign.

A year earlier, Ren had suffered a fall down the basement steps, breaking a
bone in her right foot. The injury had never healed properly; consequently
she had sustained a rare and aggressive form of nerve damage, called RSD.
RSD was the acronym for Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, and involved the
nervous system of the body. The nervous system was sending incorrect
information throughout her body and extremities, thereby causing pain. This
had been going on for a year and had consumed Ren's thoughts until He had
come into her life. Ren's mind was far from RSD as she walked though;
instead, she imagined the four winds whispering his name, "Majik"... and a
single tear rolled silently down a tanned cheek.

Ren walked on, oblivious to the clouds that had formed overhead in the midst
of the brief reverie. She was too busy looking back, remembering the events
that had led to her current reclusive living situation in the Northwoods.
His name again... and the fantasy awakened within. She thought of Him at the
edge of the Sun, and eagerly those wooden feet carried her, as if nothing
bad had ever happened. The sound of a pickup truck heading toward her on the
road snapped her back into the moment. She recognized the driver, a neighbor
who only nodded in passing from time to time. The truck kicked up several
small rocks as he rushed past. Ren could feel the heat left in its wake.

Sighing, she wrapped her arms about her middle, making her way along the
edge of Dawn Road, toward the bright red of the stop sign. Focusing squarely
on its one word command, she willed her mind to obey and stop thinking of
Him. The Man-In-The-Box had vanished weeks ago, suddenly and without
warning. He had not said a word, nor given any indication that he was
leaving; rather, one day he simply went *PooF*, thereby ending their
relationship in the same way he had ended their emails and late-night
rendezvous. Ren was left to wonder and taste the saltiness of her own tears.
It was loss she felt, an emptiness in her soul.

Fittingly, with the exit of Majik, summer had begun to fade, until all stood
in readiness for the arrival of Fall. A few maples had already started
turning color, and bright deep flashes of crimson began to appear here and
there along the fringe of the woods. She noticed these, and a small smile
traced her lips. It was a smile of sadness and longing; for though the winds
were blowing, she knew the Majik was gone.

Sighing deeply, she turned around at the stop sign and headed back the way
she had come. Another tear slid silently down her cheek and her heart ached.
All around, maples, aspens, oaks, and birch rustled as the wind came in from
the northwest. Overhead, a couple of blue jays perched on a wire, observing
the lone woman walking aimlessly below. Instinctively, the jays huddled
closer to one another and watched with unblinking eyes as she passed.


3 February 2001

Winter seemed to be getting longer with each passing year in northwestern
Wisconsin. In Ren's mind, it stretched on interminably. Though the season
had not been especially brutal as far as subzero temperatures or blizzards
as in previous years, snow flew almost daily and accumulations of the white
stuff were significant. The cold was still bone-chilling and the days were
painted a dull gray - one after another.
 
At night, she could look out of a north facing bedroom window to watch the
moon's light reflect off pristine snow-covered fields. In the distance,
coyotes howled in unison, long into the darkness. They only seemed to gather
when the moon hung full in the clear sky. What a moon it was, bejeweled with
a dizzying array of stars, all aglitter in their perfection. Ren and her
dog Shadow lived a solitary existence, spending their days and nights in a
cozy split-log cabin sandwiched between an L-shaped field and a fragrant
stand of hardwoods. Inevitably, long wintry days made her restless and
lonely for human conversation.

It had been more than a month since she'd spoken to anyone in her family,
all of whom lived in Florida. There really wasn't anything much to tell them
anyway, since she had more or less holed up in the cabin for most of the
winter, nursing a broken and slow-healing foot. She'd gone into town for
supplies only; however, those trips were infrequent and not meant for
socializing. Every paperback on her bookshelf had been read and reread, and
the library shelves had been scoured and devoured weeks before. More and
more, Ren found herself switching off the television and turning on her
computer.

The Gateway system had been a Christmas gift from her parents in Daytona,
and she figured if they had paid not only the cost of the system itself, but
also the price of shipping it all the way to her little cabin, the least she
could do was to learn how to use the darn thing. Her previous education was
comprised mainly of academic coursework, without any computer courses. This
was all to her dismay. So, the February evenings took on new purpose, as Ren
set out to explore a new world of technological wonder.

It didn't take long for her to realize what a wonderful gift the computer
truly was. No longer did she feel alone and divided from fellow humanity.
The computer allowed her to go wherever her imagination wanted to go. She
explored other cities and countries across the ocean. As her cybertravels
expanded, she found herself visiting chatrooms as diverse as her many
interests. Poetry chatrooms fascinated her for a while and in them, Ren grew
to feel something of a kinship with her fellow poets. One morning, sipping
on a steaming cup of Joe, waiting for the computer to boot up, she laughed
suddenly out loud. In wonder, she considered the computer, realizing how
much fun it had infused into each day and night.
 
It wasn't long afterward that she began looking for other new and
interesting rooms to join. Ultimately, she found the adult chats. She had
heard of these rooms, where men and women "hung out", in cyber-bars or
cyber-clubs; rooms devoted mainly to the hunt. The folks in these rooms were
mostly looking for one thing: cybersex. She became fascinated with watching
the screen roll as one after another introduced themselves, stating an age,
location, and gender. Men often volunteered personal information about their
genitalia; and most, the women flirted brazenly, surpassing the vixens of
primetime television through words alone.

And so it went, day and night, as Ren became obsessed with watching the
sexroom occupants engage in capturing one another for a roll in the
cyberhay. Anonymously, they detailed on the screen sexual acts, sensual
motions, and erotic foreplay. They celebrated with cyber-drinks and settled
themselves in front of roaring, unseen cyberfires, leaning back to smoke
invisible cigarettes against comfy cybercouches. It was a whole other world
within the box.

Slowly, Ren was drawn into this world, drawn into the vibrations of complete
strangers, all doing what they needed to do to endure the unendurable:
loneliness. Ren chose Blackfeatherzz as her screen name, adopting a
sarcastic, witty persona which became very popular with the "regulars" in
the room. In addition to the attendees, the room was monitored and moderated
by operators, or "Ops". These people enforced the rules, making sure all who
entered the sexroom were of legal age and noone hassled anyone else.

Ren as Blackfeatherzz became very friendly with many of the Ops. In time,
they asked her to join their ranks and become an Op herself. She took some
time to consider this, and it was during this timeframe that she met Him.
Majik was an Op, one with whom she had flirted playfully and consistently,
enchanted by his charms, his name, and his sense of humor. She also loved
the cyberflowers he spread across the screen in her honor. These public
displays made her feel special and brought seldom seen smiles to her face.

February turned into March, March turned into April, and Ren barely noticed.
Her world was centered within the box on her writing table, as she continued
to withdraw from reality and became enmeshed in the lives portrayed before
her eyes on the screen. The world-within-the-box assumed a central
importance, and she found herself canceling appointments, putting off
errands, and neglecting housework in order to maintain her post in the
leather office chair in front of the screen. As spring came, her realtime
friends emerged from their individual hibernations and complained about the
fact that her phone was forever busy, and noone could get through. Ren just
smiled, apologizing weakly, offering up feeble excuses noone believed.
Everyone knew by now that Ren Whitehorse was addicted to the Internet.

What they didn't know, was that one man alone was the object of her
obsession, her desire, and her dreams. It was this man, this man-in-the-box,
who controlled the woman named Blackfeatherzz, unbeknownst to her realtime
buddies. It was He, Majik, who pulled the strings of his puppet at will,
tugging and twisting them, drawing Ren closer and closer to Himself. Through
His words alone, the Majik-man enchanted her as no other had ever done
before, Ren found Him completely irresistible.

He diluted her tough-girl fasade, spinning a spell which would be hard to
break. Cyber-love was altogether unfamiliar territory, but Ren had heard
plenty of horror stories. However, when it came to Majik, she refused to see
any parallels or manipulations. He was her Fantasy man, a self-proclaimed
warlock, a poet, and a techno-geek. Happily, she shed the garments of
reality and stepped bare and new into an unknown world, holding Majik's
outstretched hand. She never looked back once, and the door closed softly
and swiftly behind her.


Summer

Ren let the screen door slam as she returned from her daily walk, aka
physical therapy. Her eyes went beyond the kitchen straight into the living
room where the computer stood, waiting. The computer was now her new best
friend. The small house was strangely silent, with Shadow curled up in a
corner of the kitchen on his fleece doggy bed. He was, not unlike his
mistress, oblivious to the rest of the world.

Ren slipped out of her walking shoes, a modified version of what had once
been leopard print slippers, and headed for the refrigerator. Opening the
door, she stooped to grab an icy can of Mountain Dew off the shelf, then
walked into the living room.

Lighting a cigarette, and taking large gulps of the Dew, she reached for the
mouse and left-clicked once. The machine came to life with a corresponding
click and whir. Lights appeared flashing green on the monitor and modem, and
all systems were "go". Within minutes, Ren was online and signed in as
Blackfeatherzz, one of many screen names she now had.

Checking her email, she looked anxiously at the seven new messages listed.
Her heart fell yet again as she saw Majik's name was not among them.
Sighing, she clicked on "Folders", where a carefully maintained folder
bearing His name existed, containing almost every email he had ever sent, at
least to that account. There were over 200 on this single server alone, she
figured. Sadly, she browsed them at random, her heart weeping soundlessly,
missing desperately this stranger who had become such an important part of
her life. She knew there would be no more emails from Majik. It was just a
strong feeling, but it rang true. All she could do was linger over snippets
of conversations they'd shared over time... savoring each morsel of
innuendo, each smiling emoticon, every red flower he'd electronically
bestowed upon her.

Her mind began to drift lazily back to a time when she and Majik were at the
beginning of their time together, when he had Ren Whitehorse completely
mesmerized by the pulse. It was back to a Thursday in February, late in the
wee hours of the night, and Ren and Majik had been doing their flirty,
electronic dance around each other across the screen. Words flew as they
tried to outwit each other with sexual references and humorous one-liners.
Ren remembered how the chemistry surged through the glass screen, causing
the hairs on both arms to stand straight up. It was a tangible chemical
sensation he exuded through words and symbols, affecting the very core of
her being.

She had never felt such a strong, clear connection with anyone before, and
Majik reciprocated that He experienced similar sensations. The conversation
flowed easily, veering toward black magic, witchcraft, spirituality and
mysticism. He had her intrigued with his admission of being a practicing
warlock; and his discussions on any chosen topics were intelligent,
articulate, and thought-provoking. Through the glass, she sensed the depths
of His soul. It was through the cold glass they spoke, of politics,
religion, society, poetry, and careers. He confided to her his anxieties and
shared with her His good and bad days in long, late-night emails which he
typed as she slept. Their mutual passion for poetry served to deepen the
connection between them.
 
That night, the moon a mere sliver dangling from the blackest of skies, He
invited her to his private chatroom, the Monolyth, to talk further, away
from the trolling masses of the sexroom. Ren said hasty good-byes to her
chatbuddies and followed Majik online to his private rooms.


Monolyth

A cryptic message greeted Ren as she appeared at the entrance to Monolyth.
It served also as a warning to those with intentions of being disrespectful
or acting crudely, that such vile behavior would not be permitted. Almost at
once, someone named Tabytha appeared and addressed Ren by name.

"Good Evening, Blackfeatherzz!" the words appeared across Ren's screen.

Confused, she stopped typing to consider who this Tabytha person was. She
had assumed that Majik had invited her here so they could talk more
privately. But here was this Tabytha, whom Majik was calling "Tab", acting
like the hostess, or... something. Majik watched the interaction of his
guest with the other presences in the room delightedly. Ren had stopped
typing after Tabytha had asked if she owned all her own teeth. Suddenly,
another presence made itself known in the room. Majik interceded on Ren's
behalf just as Machine Gunn, another entity, began to bully the now hesitant
Blackfeatherzz. She imagined Machine Gunn to be a militant fanatic.

"What's going on here?" Ren typed to Majik, leery of the warrior-like
persona of Machine Gunn and uncertain of the bubble-headed Tabytha.

"Tabytha and Machine Gunn are bots of my own creation and design. I have
others, whom you will meet shortly. They protect me and guard Monolyth."

Ren sat transfixed, watching as Majik demonstrated the interplay between
himself and his Bot Army; it was an affectionate, yet commanding banter, yet
shaded by sexual overtones whenever He addressed Tabytha. Ren imagined "Tab"
to be platinum blonde with a full set of choppers, all gleaming and pearly
white. For a minute or two, she felt a small pang of jealousy toward the
affable bot, sex slave of her Master, Majik. Ironic, that "she" stood in the
very place where Ren imagined herself to be. Already, Majik had taken hold
of her in a jolting way, arousing possessive feelings about Him. The
uncertain knowledge of this caused a conflict within her. After all, who was
He, really?

He was extremely guarded when responding to any kind of personal question.
She couldn't discover anything about him by subtle probing either. He had
protected himself well. Searches of His online identities yielded nothing
but dead ends. His profiles were nonexistent, or inaccessible. He would not
reveal His real name. He did confess to her that His own mother called Him
Majik. With intrusion protection programs Ren could only imagine, albeit
unclearly, as well as the mysterious bot militia, Majik remained an anomaly,
a secret.

Yet, with all of this protection at His command, He seemed very paranoid of
hackers, of unnamed individuals who might be "out to get him". He was
constantly upgrading, updating, repairing, improving and replacing that
which did not serve him maximally and completely. He was never fully at
ease. It was this perceived discomfort that increased Ren's curiosity and
excitement.

Ren soon became a "regular" at Monolyth, appearing nightly. She found Majik
waiting there in shadowy corners her mind  contrived, surrounded by adoring,
obedient bots. They had been commanded to admit Blackfeatherzz entry into
the sacred rooms. He would step out from the shadows, greeting her warmly,
offering fields of flowers, spreading sprays of blooms across the stark
whiteness of the screen. He would transform the backdrop to a rainbow of
coloration, switching font colors with impressive speed. Ren was dazzled and
delighted by His antics.

Little by little, word by word, petal by petal, she fell in love with this
creature, Majik, with his mystical spookiness, exquisite poetry, even the
mysterious vault of secrets. She wondered what was happening to her,
watching herself withdraw from former interests, preferring to stay off the
phone and on the pc. She didn't want to miss a single moment with the
man-in-the-box. Monolyth soon became "their" room, or so she thought. Every
night, there they would sit, each at his or her computer, weaving together
an uncommon tapestry, words strung on silken threads of thought that bound
themselves, wound themselves, round and round.

On those late nights, Majik often slept a mere 3 or 4 hours, rising again at
6 am to get ready for work. Yet, he seemed to thrive on the contact with Ren
as much as she did. Energy flowed between the two with amazing intensity and
neither found it easy to shutdown their pc. Majik rarely used the word
"good-bye". Instead, as per his eerie style, one word would appear on the
screen or in an email: PooF -- and then he was gone. Somehow, it was better
than "good night", and usually preceded by "See ya in a dream"... Ren
fantasized Majik in a cloak of billowy black cloth which swirled about his
legs, his long curly hair framing the noblest of faces. She longed for him.
He began to invade not only her thoughts, but her dreams as well.

These "majikal" interludes revolved around the words, indeed. Back and
forth, they emailed verse, one to the other, each spinning the web a bit
tighter. Those gossamer threads crossed snd recrossed, until the two humans
behind the glass became as one soul. Months had ticked by and still, Ren
knew little about the warlock poet, this Majik. Finally, unable to contain
her secret any longer, she confided in her closest friend, Ann. Upon hearing
the strange tale, Ann asked Ren what she knew personally about Majik.
Sheepishly, Ren admitted she knew little, if next to nothing, about his real
identity.

This disturbed Ann, who had suffered greatly at the hands of a former
internet lover of her own. She cautioned Ren to be careful of online
romance, reminding her not to divulge any personal information of her own.
Ann knew all too well how quickly these affairs could turn into ugly stalker
situations. Ren read Ann's warnings with a distracted eye. Her mind was
centered upon Majik and the dreams that came in the night. They were
enchanting captures within shadowy courtyards, where lovers spoke in
whispers, laughed with abandon, and danced intimately as melodic harmonies
drifted along caressing breezes.

He described his dreams to her in long letters, which she read countless
times. Ren absorbed every word, every line as though it were the last. It
was a tantalizing time. By August, she was spending 18 to 20 hours a day
online. Unable to sleep until Majik offered her a dream, forgetting to eat,
she resented any real-world intrusions that divided her from Him.

The world was spinning out of control, she knew, but this realization hardly
bothered her. Ren was content to explore the psyche of this Majikal
creature, this fantasy come true. He sent her two pictures of Himself. He
possessed a handsome face, stong jawline, a regal nose. His eyes seemed to
be painted from the darkness that spawned Him, but she knew it was just a
trick of black- and white photography. He admitted they were actually hazel,
changing color with the light. His hair was a wild, untamed mane of dark
tresses.

He symbolized to her a man of the Renaissance, this dreamy warlock with eyes
that pierced her very soul. Ren couldn't remove her own eyes from his face.
"We even resemble each other," she whispered to the beta, swimming silently
in the tiny aquarium on the bookshelf.

It was true - they looked as though they were brother and sister, and Ren
began to feel they were fated to meet, face to face. The thought swirled
round and round in her brain, until feverish with the image of His face
burning into her mind, she called Ann and broached the subject of a visit to
her dear chum - a trip to New York. Ann thought for a few minutes, then
assured Ren she would book the ticket online and mail an e-ticket with
itinerary for her poet friend to review. Soon, the plans were made, and Ren
buzzed with happiness at the thought of telling Majik she was coming to see
him. She had her opportunity later that night.


New York

"Boink!" Ren laughed aloud. It was ten pm central time, eleven pm in New
York. Majik had signed on and began the conversation with his usual
greeting. Quickly, she clicked the mouse on his name and began instant
messaging him, telling him excitedly of her plans to fly to New York. He was
unbelieving at first, quizzing her on every detail of her trip. She answered
swiftly, almost defiantly. Then asking, doubt creeping into her mind, if he
was happy she was making the trip.

"Ecstatic!, Ecstatic!" he cried in response.

Ren breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at the beta, who refused to smile
back. They talked long into the night, until worn and weary, they cyber-
kissed good night. He gave to her a dream, whispering "I'll see ya there, my
sweet Featherzzz"... and then, *PooF*... and he was gone.

It was a warm, breezy day when the DC-10 touched down lightly at JFK
airport. Ren could hardly contain her excitement. She had envisioned this
day for months. Now, the moment was almost upon her. She could feel the
adrenaline coursing through her system with the force of a fire hydrant. She
had come this far, she was determined to see it through all the way.

They had made hazy plans; hazy because Majik had not solidified them.
Fingers of doubt and fear had begun to creep upon her, warning. Ren uneasily
brushed them aside. Nothing was going to ruin this moment for her. Nothing.
Ann was waiting in the Arrival Hall, looking a bit flustered after roaming
the endless corridors of JFK to find her old friend. They embraced and
laughed, setting out to locate Ren's one leather suitcase. After retrieving
it from the baggage carousel, they made haste for Ann's brand new silver
Honda civic, not even minding the bottleneck of afternoon traffic in the Big
Apple.

On the way to Ann's place, they spoke of childhood and the years that had
come and gone. They talked excitedly, interrupting one another just as in
the old days. The subject finally turned to Majik, and Ren could not keep
the grin from her face. Ann glanced at her old pal, smiling and shaking her
head. Ren was sickeningly in love. She hoped, for Ren's sake, this love
would not make her just another statistic in the record halls of online
romance.

When they finally arrived at Ann's bungalow in Rockaway Park, Ren jumped at
the offer to use the laptop computer to check her email. There they were,
two emails from Him. Opening the first, she read the first of perhaps a
hundred lines, all asking the same question: "Are ya there yet?"... Over and
over, scrolling down the length of the page, He had written the question an
uncountable number of times... Ren's heart soared. Ann giggled, watching her
friend dance with joy. They talked and laughed well into the night, catching
up on old times, sharing dreams both old and new, speaking of ex-husbands
and careers and new-found spirituality.

The next day dawned, full of promise and light and hope. This day was THE
day. She had emailed Majik a phone number to call, so they could cement
their plans as to when and where to meet. At about ten am, the phone rang,
cutting through the edgy tones of Melissa Etheridge blasting through the
basement where Ren had set up "camp". Suddenly, she felt nervous. It was
Him, she knew. In a daze, she made her way to the phone, Ann nudging her to
"Hurry! Hurry!"

The receiver was weightless in her hand as she barely breathed.

"Hello", managed to escape her lips.

"Hi." The voice replied.

"May I speak to Ren?"

"This is she", Ren answered.

"Majik?"

"Featherzzz!!!"

His voice was as she had heard it a thousand times in her dreams, deep and
commanding, with a solid New York accent. They both laughed with the rush of
this first phone call, savoring the sounds of unfamiliar voices, those
resonant tones each had only imagined for so long. Hastily, they agreed to
meet at a steakhouse on Long Island later that evening. It was decided they
would spend the next two days together. Ren 's heart skipped a beat and
every nerve tingled. Ann helped her pack an overnight bag, attempting to
soothe the nerves of her close friend. Ann had misgivings, especially since
Ren still did not know Majik's real name.

By this time, Ren had begun answering Ann's pointed questions with, "I don't
even care what His real name is, Ann. He will always be Majik to me."
Sighing, Ann turned away from the woman standing beside her. They had long
since past adolescence. She could only pray that Majik turned out to be all
that Ren wanted Him to be. If not, the results would be devastating, leaving
her to pick up the pieces of a shredded heart.

Still, Ann would make good on her promise to drive Ren to the designated
meeting place. If it was in the cards for Ren to know disappointment, it
would be through no fault of her own... Ren was acting like a bumbling
idiot, wandering around aimlessly, tossing aside one shirt, then another,
scrambling for her earrings, swiping at the cat hair stuck to the black
overnight bag. The walls vibrated to the scorching rhythms of Melissa
Etheridge, hinting of the chase, and of passions that burn hot as the August
sun.


PooF

The Riverfront Steakhouse was a popular hangout for the thirty-something
crowd. As Ren and Ann walked in, the sounds of laughter and muted
conversations filled the lounge. In the dimly lit room, Ren could barely
make out a face. She knew they were early, and Majik had phoned just minutes
earlier to announce he was on his way.

The two friends decided to sit at a cozy table affording a good vantage
point of the entrance and have a cocktail. Ann knew Ren was a bundle of
nerves. Suddenly, her friend was full of doubt: about her looks, the $80.00
Guess jeans she HAD to buy the day before, and most of all, whether He would
really appear. Ann bought her a whiskey and coke, ordering Ren to drink it -
fast.

Ren complied and Ann proceeded to order her friend another.

"You need to calm down and relax," she advised.

"I can't, I can't", came the response. "I'm freaking out", Ren admitted.

She downed drink number two, followed it with drinks number three and four,
and then decided they should wait outside and smoke a cigarette. He was
late. Ann glanced surreptitiously at her watch. 9:00pm. Suddenly, the cell
phone made its peculiar screeching sounds. Ann spoke into it and nodded to
Ren. It was Him. He was on His way into the parking lot. They watched in
silence as a red Eldorado cruised slowly to a stop in front of the
steakhouse. Someone else was driving, another guy. But there He was, in the
passenger seat, beaming His beautiful smile upon her.

As the two men parked the car, Ann turned to her friend, remarking, "Oh
yeah, he's do-able." He was even better than Ren had imagined. His hair was
shorter, but still a mane of tousled brown silk. He had perfect white teeth,
and wore jeans and a faded green t-shirt. He was a feast for her eyes. Their
eyes met and they embraced. He breathed deep of her cologne, the cologne she
had bought just for Him.

Majik introduced his friend, Vintucci, to the women. Ren had the feeling she
had met Vintucci before. Then, she realized, that indeed, she HAD met him.
It had been online some months ago, at Monolyth. She hadn't liked this
person. His words on the screen had left her feeling chilled and violated.
She was puzzled at his presence now, but figured Majik had probably brought
him along for moral support.

The drinks began to pour, and beers passed over the bar; Majik held onto His
Corona, a lime protruding from the lip of the slender bottle. He and Ren
embraced again, whispering to one another beneath the din of the
smoke-filled lounge. The four spoke easily and laughed for hours, until the
bartender called "last call".

At this point, Ann had cornered Majik , drilling Him with questions, wanting
to know His real name. He handed her a business card, and Ren looked at the
name printed there: Billy Kapps. "Billy, Billy..". The name tumbled around
her mouth like a cold, unfamiliar piece of ice. She couldn't think of
calling him Billy. He was, after all, Majik. He would always be Majik. The
bartender was becoming more assertive about asking people to leave, so Majik
stood up to pay the tab. Ren and Ann agreed to wait out in front of the
restaurant while the two men went to the mensroom.
 
Fifteen minutes later, Majik and Vintucci had not returned. Ann remarked to
Ren that it seemed strange for two guys to go to the mensroom together, like
women often did. Ren hardly heard her. Her mind was somewhere in a fog of
whiskey/coke and warlocks and wild sexual adventure. It was a place of music
and poetry and billowing black cloaks and whispering winds.

Suddenly, she was jerked out of the reverie by Ann, who was now talking like
something was very wrong.

"Where are they?" she was demanding.

"Huh?" Ren managed to say.

"It's been thirty minutes, they haven't come out yet, and everyone's
leaving."

Ren began to push her way through the heavy glass door, and reentered the
lounge. No Majik, no Vintucci. Just the bartender wiping the sticky bartop.
The room reeked sourly of beer and wet money and stale smoke. She continued
back toward the restrooms. Approaching a small corridor, she looked up,
noticing for the first time, an exit sign. This was the way to a side door
of the restaurant. Her heart now felt like a lead weight in her chest. A
strong sensation had crept up behind her, an altogether unpleasant one. It
was Fear.

Reaching the mensroom, she waited for a young woman with dirty blond hair to
pass her in the hall. Then, pressing forward, one hand on the wooden door,
she boldly entered the lavatory. She stood for a minute, unsure and frozen
in the glare of fluorescent lighting. There were three stalls. All were
empty.The mensroom was devoid of any men. No Majik. No Vintucci. Turning on
her heel, she let the heavy door slam behind her.

"Well?" Ann searched her friend's face for clues, but already knew the
answer.

"They aren't in there."came the dull reply.

"They're not?"

"It was completely empty."

Cursing under her breath, Ann ran out to scan the enormous parking lot the
restaurant shared with Roosevelt Field Mall. Ren followed behind her,
stumbling blindly in a daze of alcohol and misery. She wandered the rows of
parked vehicles, searching in vain for a red Eldorado. It was gone. Majik
and Vintucci were nowhere to be seen. Ann began punching numbers into her
cellphone, swearing violently into the mouthpiece.

"You better hope I never run into you, you little maggot. I'll feed you your
balls one at a time and laugh while you choke on them. How could you do this
to her?"

He never answered; his cellphone had been switched to the voicemail setting.

Ann unlocked the Civic and guided Ren into the passenger seat. She looked
worriedly at Ren's face, at the quiet tears that had replaced the joy of
just a short time ago...

"I don't understand what happened here." Ren whispered.

"I know, sweetie, I know."

They drove along in the darkness, each wrapped up in their own dark
speculations... There was much to be said, but it would have to wait. Now
was a time for facing that which had been avoided for months. Reality
pounced and landed dead center. Ren reeled from its impact. There was no
getting around it, no justification. He had left her standing there out on
the street. Her mind fumbled feebly for some reason, but she killed the
thought before it became a statement she would regret.

That was a long night. The black overnight bag lay forlornly in a corner,
still packed and collecting cat hair. Ren and Ann hugged and cried, trying
to make sense out of nonsense... Ren's mind kicked viciously at the thoughts
assaulting it. It was unthinkable that He had done this to her. Thrust from
her world of Illusion, she now sat drunk, dejected, and in shock.

For two days, she retreated into the safety and relative darkness of the
basement den in Ann's bungalow. She ate nothing, emerging only to use the
bathroom and refill the coffee cup. Downstairs, Ann's stereo rendered one
haunting tune after another, intent on breaking her heart again and again.
Fat, unforgiving tears rolled down her face, and she lay there alone on the
couch, unable to face Ann who had warned her, Ann who had taken care of her
in the hysterical state that followed, Ann who had the class NOT to tell
her, "I told you so."

Two days she lay there, mulling everything over and over. Finally, Ann
descended the spiral stairs and sat quietly across from her.

"I guess it's time I re-entered the real world, huh?" Ren looked soberly at
her friend.

"Yeah, I think it's time," was all Ann said for the moment.

"He didn't break his promise altogether," Ren added. Ann looked at her
expectantly.

"What do you mean?"

"He promised to appear before me in the Sun, and this he did. " Then, as he
had done so many nights before, whilst they sat at their computers, he had
simply gone **PooF**, without warning, without a word.

In an instant, he was no longer He. The atmosphere felt empty, the air fell
flat. Now, she realized, he was just Billy Kapps. Not Majik. Just a guy
named Billy Kapps who lacked the courage to be honest, to be a man, to be
anyone's reality. His brand of honesty was offered guardedly, behind the
protective glass of his computer.
 
She had fallen under his spell, enchanted for a time she knew she would
always remember. His smile would stay with her for a long time to come. She
felt no anger toward him, surprisingly. Just a sense of magnificent loss, of
exquisite pain, of reality. Later, Ren walked alone on nearby Rockaway
Beach. Closing her eyes, she strained to listen beyond the honking horns at
an intersection, past the barking of a neighborhood dog. Longing for some
sign that he wasn't truly gone, her yearning was interrupted by the shriek
of an ambulance as it sped past on the boulevard.

Fantasy had ellipsed Reality, and for a time, the Warlock Poet had taken her
hand. Together, they had wandered through Illusion, crossing a Bridge of
Dreams with eyes wide open. For what seemed the briefest moment, they had
shared a connection. They had shared the same dreams. She had looked upon
him, radiant and alive, in the sun... His words were entwined with hers;
now, she felt for him in her mind. But, he wasn't there. She sensed this
keenly, and pain shot through her heart, hot as a glowing poker.

Sighing, her eyes swept out across the expanse of beach. High tide was
rolling in. Waves pounded the shore, erupting upon the sand foamy and free.
She watched them crash and break and spill their tears. Over and over, they
ran toward her, barely touching - only to dance away again. Glassy-eyed, Ren
stood captive, held within the arms of the hypnotic rhythms.

"Majik, Majik.." she whispered .

The current carried his name far, far out toward the horizon, but he never
answered. All she heard was what was left, what was real. Her soul filled
with the simple songs of wind and water, derived from so many uncounted
wishes... All the while, seagulls circled the gray-tinged sky, their cries
lost in the wind. Ren aimed a paper airplane into the breeze, and watched as
it was dashed upon the rocks, to be claimed by the sea.


                                                 **PooF**

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 uXu #604              Underground eXperts United 2002              uXu #604
                Send your submissions to: submission@uxu.org
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