Why else would anyone have selected and edited all these bits of Lo and Rez, the Chinese guitarist and the half-Irish singer, saying stupid things in dozens of different television spots, most of them probably intended for translation? Greetings seemed to be a theme. Were happy to be here in Vladivostok, We hear youve got a great new aquarium! We congratulate you on your free elections and your successful dengue-abatement campaign! Weve always loved London! New York, youre pragmatic!
Laney explored the remains of his breakfast, finding a half-eaten slice of cold brown toast under a steel plate cover. There was an inch of coffee left in the pot. He didnt want to think about the call from Rydell or what it might mean. Hed thought he was done with Slitscan, done with the lawyers .
Singapore, youre beautiful! Rez said, Lo chiming in with Hell-o, Lion City!
He picked up the remote and hopefully tried the fast-forward, No. Mute? No. Yamazaki was having this stuff piped in for his benefit. He considered unplugging the console, but he was afraid theyd be able to tell.
It was speeding up now, the cuts more frequent, the whole more content-free, a numbing blur. Rezs grin was starting to look sinister, something with an agenda of its own that jumped unchanged from one cut to the next,
Suddenly it all slid away, into handheld shadow, highlights on rococo gilt. There was a clatter of glassware. The image had a peculiar flattened quality that he knew from Slitscan: the smallest lapel-cameras did that, the ones disguised as flecks of lint.
A restaurant? Club? Someone seated opposite the camera, beyond a phalanx of green bottles. The darkness and the bandwidth of the tiny camera making the features impossible to read. Then Rez leaned forward, recognizable in the new depth of focus. He gestured toward the camera with a glass of red wine.
If we could ever once stop talking about the music, and the industry, and all the politics of that, I think Id probably tell you that its easier to desire and pursue the attention of tens of millions of total strangers than it is to accept the love and loyalty of the people closest to us.
Someone, a woman, said something in French. Laney guessed that she was the one wearing the camera.
Ease up, Rozzer. She doesnt understand half youre saying. Laney sat forward. The voice had been Blackwells.
Doesnt she? Rez receded, out of focus. Because if she did, I think Id tell her about the loneliness of being misunderstood. Or is it the loneliness of being afraid to allow ourselves to be understood?
And the frame froze on the singers blurred face. A date and time-stamp. Two years earlier. The word Misunderstood appeared.
The phone rang.
Yeah?
Blackwell says there is a window of opportunity. The schedule has been moved up. You can access now. It was Yamazaki.
Good, Laney said. I dont think Im getting very far with this first video.
Rezs quest for renewed artistic meaning? Dont worry; we will screen it for you again, later.
Im relieved, Laney said. Is the second one as good?
Second documentary is more conventionally structured. In-depth interviews, biographical detail, BBC, three years ago.
Wonderful.
Blackwell is on his way to the hotel. Goodbye.
14. Tokyo Chapter
The site Mitsukos chapter had erected for the meeting reminded Chia of Japanese prints shed seen on a school trip to the museum in Seattle; there was a brownish light that seemed to arrive through layers of ancient varnish. There were hills in the distance with twisted trees, their branches like quick black squiggles of ink. She came vectoring in, beside Mitsuko, toward a wooden house with deep overhanging eaves, its shape familiar from anime. It was the sort of house that ninjas crept into in the dark, to wake a sleeping heroine and tell her that all was not as she thought, that her uncle was in league with the evil warlord. She checked how she was presenting in a small peripheral window; put a nudge more depth into her lips.
Nearing the house, she saw that everything had been worked up out of club archives, so that the whole environment was actually made of Lo/Rez material. You noticed it first in the wood-and-paper panels of the walls, where faint image-fragments, larger than life, came and went with the organic randomness of leaf-dappled sun and shadow: Rezs cheekbone and half a pair of black glasses, Los hand chording the neck of his guitar. But these changed, were replaced with a mothlike flicker, and there would be more, all the way down into the sites finest resolution, its digital fabric. She wasnt sure if you could do that with enough of the right kind of fractal packets, or if you needed some kind of special computer. Her Sandbenders managed a few effects like that, but mainly in its presentation of Sandbenders software.
Screens slid aside as she and Mitsuko, seated crosslegged, entered the house. Coming to a neat halt side by side, still seated, floating about three inches off the tatami (which Chia avoided focusing on after shed seen that it was woven from concert-footage; too distracting). It was a nice way to make an entrance. Mitsuko was wearing the kimono and the wide belt-thing, the whole traditional outfit, except there was some low-key animation going on in the weave of the fabric. Chia herself had downloaded this black Silke-Marie Kolb blouson-and-tights set, even though she hated paying for virtual designer stuff that they wouldnt even let you keep or copy. Shed used Kelseys cashcard number for that, though, which had made her feel better about it.
There were seven girls waiting there, all in kimonos, all floating just off the tatami. Except the one sitting by herself, at the head of the imaginary table, was a robot. Not like any real robot, but a slender, chrome-skinned thing like mercury constrained within the form of a girl. The face was smooth, only partially featured, eyeless, with twin straight rows of small holes where a mouth should have been. That would be Hiromi Ogawa, and Chia immediately decided to believe that she was overweight.
Hiromis kimono was crawling with animated sepia-tone footage from band interviews.
The introductions took a while, and everyone there definitely had a title, but Chia had stopped paying attention after Hiromis introduction, except to bow when she thought she was supposed to. She didnt like it that Hiromi would turn up that way for a first meeting. It was rude, she thought, and it had to be deliberate, and the trouble theyd gone to with the space just seemed to make it more deliberate.
We are honored to welcome you, Chia McKenzie. Our chapter looks forward to affording you every assistance. We are proud to be a part of the ongoing global appreciation of Lo/Rez, their music and their art.
Thank you, Chia said, and sat there as a silence lengthened. Mitsuko quietly cleared her throat. Uh-oh, Chia thought. Speech time. Thank you for offering to help, Chia said. Thanks for your hospitality. If any of you ever comes to Seattle, well find a way to put you up. But mainly thanks for your help, because my chapters been really worried about this story that Rez claims he wants to marry some kind of software agent, and since hes supposed to have said it when he was over here, we thought Chia had had the feeling that she was moving along a little too abruptly, and this was confirmed by another tiny throat-clearing signal from Mitsuko.
Yes, Hiromi Ogawa said, you are welcome, and now Tomo Oshima, our chapters historian, will favor us with a detailed and accurate account of our chapters story, how we came, from simple but sincere beginnings, to be the most active, the most respectful chapter in Japan today.
Chia couldnt believe it.
The girl nearest Hiromi, on Chias right, bowed and began to recite the chapters history in what Chia immediately understood would be the most excruciatingly boring detail. The two boarding-school roommates, best friends and the most loyal of buddies, who discovered a copy of the Dog Soup album in a bin in Akihabara. How they returned to school with it, played it, were immediate converts. How their schoolmates mocked them, at one point even stealing and hiding the precious recording And on, and on, and Chia already felt like screaming, but there was nothing for it but to sit there. She pulled up a clock and stuck it on the mirrored robots face, where the eyes should have been. Nobody else could see it, but it made her feel a little better.