:: I think what's really appealing about a post-apocalyptic scenario is that the worst is over ::

Saturday, January 03, 2004

Sometimes I fantasize about finding myself at an 80s retro bar in some futuristic dystopia, some high-tech universe with a film noir attitude. Think Blade Runner meets Adventures in Babysitting. I have to track down a killer, but all the patrons look the same: smooth and androgynous, mod hair and thin ties. Lots of black. It's dimly lit, but not so dim that you can't be seen; after all, these people are here to strut, dressed to the eights. I'm not prepared for the level of bass pumping through the speakers. Most of the kids have their eyes half-open, whites clearly visible because of some new designer drug plaguing the clubs. It's called dellusium or fantasticore or something cheesy like that, but I'm the straight detective, I don't dabble in vice, save for over-acting and dames. I've got a real soft spot for dames, and for some atavistic reason, that's what women are called a hundred years from now.

I'm forced to canvas all these night spots to get inside the mind of this dellusicore killer, but I slip up. I become attached to this weird regressive scene. Something about the care-free rebellion of these kids is so haunting and reminiscent of a lost innocence that I become addicted to fantasium and slip off the case slowly. In the end I find out the killer is a Robert Smith impersonator, and I'm forced to kill him with a laser butterfly knife. I didn't do it because it was my duty as a cop, but because he offed the bass player in my Joy Division undercover-hover-cover-band. Anti-grav or no anti-grav, I've crossed over the thin blue line into vigilante justice.

Posted by morland @ 05:10 AM

:: Comments ::

I enjoyed this. It makes me think of a Robert Palmer video i saw years ago and I don't know why.

Posted by: rob on January 5, 2004 06:41 PM

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