LUX

A conversation overheard at the Crescent Bar, a nightclub (n. a classical word ironically still in use, synonymizing the night with the rebellion of youth, popular socialites, hopeful singles, and anyone looking to step away briefly from the sunlight of permanent perception). Perpetually open, the space takes on a timeless nature: as one steps down into the subterranean bar, starry patterns on the walls catch the eye; otherworldly images like this can only be seen in the confines of enclosed spaces like this. Descending at an uncharacteristically quiet time, I took a seat at the bar and soon overheard this conversation between two strangers; a plainly-clothed gentleman in his mid-twenties approaches a sharp-looking woman in her early thirties, clad in all black.

A: It’s been a while since I’ve seen a shirt like that, you blend right in here. Not flashy like those sunny gals always trying to catch the eye. Can I get you a drink?

B: If you insist. You don’t blend in much yourself–I don’t see hair that sun-bleached too often.

A: (addressing the bartender) Two cactus on the rocks. (to person B) That okay with you? Thought so. 

B: So what sun did you grow up under?

A: (holding up his right forearm and mapping out the region as is customary; with his left ring finger, points towards a spot just shy of his outer wrist bone) Right here, and you? 

B: (gestures upward, and points to a spot in the center of her palm) Around here, do you know it?

A: Ah, of course, should have known. I heard over there kids grow up with artificial cycles and everything. (traces a circle on the table) Not where I’m from — we used to blindfold ourselves with whatever scraps we could find (covers his eyes with his palm), and lead each other around, just to feel the shift. (he pauses) Kinda like coming down here after too long in the sun… (he reaches for her hand)

B: (pulls her hand away) You must’ve gotten sunstroke if you think that’s going to work on me.

A: Hey, relax. You asked for it… people don’t come down here just to make friends.

B: Maybe you should try that sometime instead. Why should things be so different when the shades go down?

A: Alright, alright, I’ve heard that a million times. Easy for you to keep your bearings when you’ve stayed out of the glare (mimics shading his eyes) half your life. 

B: (hands waving him away dismissively) Spend some more time down here, for all I care. As soon as your eyes adjust, the blindfold will come off. 

NOX

I overheard this encounter at the Big Dipper (n. a proper noun from a constellation which was significant pre-Reversal, but now, it’s impossible to pick out specific stars from among the mass revealed in the absence of light pollution). The Big Dipper, naturally, is a great place for little dippers. Small fish in an ever-growing pond, all young hopefuls wanting to make it big and rise up to the upper echelons of a more civilized society. Of course, none of those in attendance here will make it out: they’ll all stay meandering about this massive fishbowl of a bar, adjusting to the darkness until they can no longer even dream of joining the ranks of those with fully-lit homes. When I say fishbowl of a bar, I mean it, by the way – the bar features an all-glass ceiling and glass walls that bow outwards, all to capture starlight and distant electric street lamps better for some shred of sight to be possible. If it weren’t for the cloak of thick darkness masking mistakes and granting comfort, everyone present would likely be far more bashful — but I digress. On one occasion, I took my own place as a fixture at the counter, and heard this exchange between two strangers. An older fellow with a shuffle in his step and a husky voice approaches a woman with an almost painfully piercing laugh.

A: Man, am I glad to hear you here. If I had to listen to one more of those air-headed socialites giggle inanely like her life depended on it I’d be out of here.

B: (her piercing laugh echoes outwards again — this time a sharp edge of awkward discomfort. Before she can even say anything A goes on)

A: Anyway. (whistles to bartender) Two whiskey on the rocks for me and the lady. (turns loudly back toward her)

B: (lowering her voice and elongating the final syllable, a half-attempt at formality) Oh, I’m alright with the one I have, but thank you. 

A: (sighs heavily, and assumes an overdone air of boredom) Alright, suit yourself. Where are you coming here from?

B: (trails off, seemingly concerned) Oh, around Weston falls. And yourself?

A: (raises voice in surprise) So what is someone like you doing lurking here? You could easily be enjoying a nice “day” right now.

B: (exhales loudly) Light can be harsh, you know. It’s nice being here in the night.

A: (scoffs, turns head so he is speaking while turned away from her) That sure is easy to say. Me, I’d kill to turn a light on when I wake up. It’s so easy to lose track of time anywhere except your fancy fantasy world.

B: (hesitant, seemingly looking for eye contact or body language) Well, I guess. Anyway, I really should get going.

A: Eh? (now moving closer to her) Not good enough for you, huh? Come on, scared you can’t trust me without seeing my pretty face?

B: (he grazes her arm) Watch yourself!

A: (sputtering) Ok! I didn’t mean to, alright? God, how are you supposed to get to know someone these days? (hisses through gritted teeth) I don’t even know what you look like, how are we supposed to understand each other?

B: Maybe I’m better off not seeing you, if that’s how you’ll act.

A: (turns away suddenly) Well whatever. Your loss anyway. (spits on the floor, walks away)

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