The Stars Have Eyes

It had been roughly two weeks since Maggie blobbed herself into Joe’s life, though it felt more like a month and a half because of how much time they spent in the time-accelerated virtual reality. The man had more or less gotten completely used to his new companion’s ‘eccentricities.’ The girl herself seemed to be adapting to human society quite well. Or, well, at least the society in mega-city Dave-156. Not all of civilization was like that, of course.

Butterpond-4 was a planet rich in rare minerals and metals that its automated workforce turned into immense profit. Thanks to that, the residents of its mega-cities were able to live free of worry when it came to things like food, water, clothing, safety, shelter, or medicine. It was a society many would deem a utopia if not for the densely-packed living conditions. The V-Life network mitigated most of the issues that arose from that downside. More notably, it also did wonders to satisfy the overwhelming need for entertainment that humanity tended to develop whenever its basic needs had been fulfilled.

Maggie was having an immense amount of fun sampling the creative and ingenious means of artistic expression that humanity had come up with. Analyzing and extracting the ideas and concepts embodied within paintings, books, stage plays, video games, sculptures, and other mediums was both enlightening and engaging. Even cuisine and fashion were viable forms of expression in her infinite eyes. Of course, while the variety was great, the volume was exceptionally encouraging as well. The sheer amount of media available through V-Life’s services could keep even Maggie’s overwhelming intellect busy for several centuries. Admittedly all of that content was digital, but that did not lessen its artistic merit in any way, shape, or form as far as she was concerned.

More recently, the girl from beyond had gotten interested in the concept of music. So far she had seen sound mostly as an inefficient means of communicating information between fleshlings. She had heard numerous scores and themes that video games and televised programs employed to set the tone and atmosphere, but those had mostly fallen on deaf ears. It was impossible for such a thoroughly alien entity to correctly interpret the emotions those notes and instruments were meant to evoke. However, as her comprehension of humanity grew, so did her ability to grasp the wonderfully quaint ideas they put into their audible artistry.

It was also worth noting that, unlike most of her other newly acquired hobbies, her interest in music had developed with very little input from Joe.

“I wish to attend a concert.”

“… Huh?”

Which was why her sudden demand had caught him completely off-guard. That and the two of them were currently hiking through some virtual mountains for a change of pace, which made her words even more puzzling.

“I wish to attend a concert.”

“No, I heard you the first time. Sorry, that just came out of nowhere, but yeah, can do. Been a while since I’ve been in a mosh-pit.”

Maggie’s eyes flashed rapidly.

“Mosh-pit. Noun. Informal,” she spoke in a soft monotone. “An area in front of the stage at a concert, where moshing occurs.”

She then looked up that other unfamiliar term in a similar fashion.

“Mosh. Verb. Informal. Dance in a violent manner involving jumping up and down and deliberately colliding with other dancers.”

“Ugh. I hate it when you do that,” Joe winced.

“Do my virtual queries upset you?” she looked up at him with concern.

“No, no, it’s fine. I just… I guess I miss having you rely on me for explanations and stuff.”

He somewhat regretted informing Maggie of the existence of online dictionaries and encyclopedias. Still, she was bound to discover those resources eventually. Not to mention it was probably for the best. Joe was hardly a bastion of knowledge and wisdom, after all.

“I comprehend,” her eyes flashed briefly yet again. “I shall endeavor to be more considerate, Joe.”

“Thanks, I guess? Anyway, let me see what shows are on soon.”

Joe stared off into the distance as upcoming performance listings flashed before his eyes. All the popular stuff naturally required a virtual ticket in order to attend. There were plenty of amateur performers trying to show off their stuff. Millions of them, in fact. Another side effect of the way his mostly virtual society worked was that people were free to pursue their passions and dreams without risk of financial failure. As such, the overwhelming majority of them were quite terrible, and the few hidden gems were instantly monetized.

Thankfully Joe had just gotten his monthly allowance of fifty poundingtons, so spending six on two virtual concert tickets was not an issue. The only problem was picking something from the overwhelming list of options. This choice was made all the more difficult by the fact that he had no idea what sort of show Maggie would enjoy. Actually no, that wasn’t quite true. He did have a hunch, and decided to roll with it rather than ask. He figured it was one of the few ways he could impress the lovely lady-shaped cosmic entity next to him.

“Oh, sweet! The band ‘Chronal Impact’ have a show in two days! I think you’ll like them quite a bit.”

“What type of music do they produce?”

“It’s called spazz-metal. Hard to describe with words, but it’s basically sensory overload in audible form.”

“Curious. I will approve of this selection.”

Maggie could have looked up the band name, the genre of music they were known for, and listened to a few of their most popular tracks, all within the span of less than a second. However, she decided not to out of ‘consideration’ for the man’s earlier statement. The human ego was a fragile thing, much like every other aspect of the species, and she found it best to treat Joe’s with particular care. The fact that he was trying to use big words to sound smart was a sign his self-confidence was shaken. Maggie preferred Joe when he was sure of himself, as he was far more prone to anomalous behavior at such times.

Roughly an hour after purchasing the tickets, Joe got a few unexpected notifications on his social network plugin.

“Huh. Seems a couple of old friends will be joining us.”

“For what purpose?” Maggie inquired.

“Apparently they noticed I was gonna attend the concert and wanted to hang out, maybe hit up the pub later. That alright with you?”

“Do you trust these individuals?”

“Oh, yeah. We’ve known each other since we were kids. You’ll love ‘em, especially Cullen. He’s a total ledge.”

“In what way is he a narrow horizontal surface projecting from a vertical one?”

“Figure of speech. He’s just a good guy that’s fun to have around.”

“I comprehend.”

“Also, please don’t get upset if they call you Maggie like I do, alright?”

The girl frowned.

“As I have stated previously, I will permit you and only you to refer to me as such.”

“Would you rather they butcher your actual name, then? Because they’re not gonna pronounce it right. Ever.”

Her face contorted in a troubled expression.

“Such onomastic transgressions are offensive.”

Names carried significant meaning to beings such as her, so she despised the idea of random strangers mishandling or shortening hers. She was, of course, fully aware that such things were considerably less important in human society, at least in casual conversation. She was a guest in this reality, so it was proper that she adapt to its customs, rather than the other way around. She could bear being referred to with a nickname, so long as it wasn’t that particular one.

It was a bit of a sore topic Joe had been mulling over for a while now, which was why he had a suggestion.

“Here’s an idea. If you don’t like strangers calling you ‘Maggie,’ then how about I introduce you as ‘Mags?’ That’s not too bad, yeah?”

“… This is an agreeable compromise,” she nodded after a moment’s consideration.

“That works. Oh, and could you be less, uh, you know… brain-blippy?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her not to harm his friends, but Maggie did have a habit of getting carried away at times.

“Your concerns are misplaced. I had every intention of ensuring that my actions do not result in the obliteration of their puny minds.”

“Yeah, that. Thanks.”

Roughly two days later, the two of them transferred their digital selves into the virtual arena where the concert was going to take place. It was a grandiose stage built atop what looked to be a barren wasteland with all kinds of flashy celestial bodies overhead. There were still about twenty minutes before the show was set to start and people were only just now starting to trickle in. Many of them had dressed up for the occasion, so to speak, and had shown up bearing sinister, terrifying, or otherwise shocking appearances. Joe had similarly discarded his usual macho avatar in favor of a digital facade that was best described as an alien cyberdemon.

As for Maggie, she had shown up as her usual virtual self. Which was to say she had her celebrity-like upper body poking out of a writhing mass of eye-adorned tendrils of solidified shadow, thinner versions of which had replaced her hair. It fit in perfectly with the crowd of supernatural and extraterrestrial monsters, just as Joe knew it would. Indeed, part of the reason he had chosen a Chronal Impact concert was because he was aware of the general sense of aesthetics their fans had.

“Yo, Joe! Been ages, man!”

What looked like a person-sized bipedal ball of ashen-gray hair approached from the crowd.

“Benny!” Joe exclaimed in response.

The alien cyberdemon and the fur-thing stretched their arms out to the side, slapped each other’s palms with a small swing, did the same with the back-hands, and then fist-bumped.

“Cullen still coming?”

“He’s just wrapping up some family dinner thing with his dad. He’ll be along in a minute.”

There was a ‘fwump’ noise and a burst of light as the man in question arrived. His avatar of choice was a two-meter-tall broad-shouldered steel skeleton. He was wearing a jacket, jeans, and boots, each of them dyed black and covered in bone-white spikes. He also had a bunch of accessories like rings and chains that fit the ‘dead metal’ theme he had going. His eye sockets were ablaze and an axe blade adorned his cranium as if it were a lethal mohawk.

“There he is,” he looked down at Joe. “Bustin’ out the ole A.C.D. I see!”

The two of them then performed a vertical version of the earlier greeting.

“So where’ve you been, man?” Benny asked. “Haven’t heard anything from you since you said you were going to some swanky matchmaking event or something.”

“Funny story, that. Turned out to be a ritual conducted by a bunch of loons in a cult.”

“Ha! Knew it,” Cullen smiled, probably. “Pay up, Benny.”

The furball grumbled and tossed him a five poundington coin.

“So, how was it?” Benny probed.

“Pretty sick, actually. Those blokes went all out with ominous chanting, spooky lights, and what have you. I even got strapped to this big stone altar thing. Then these soldier types barged in and shot the place up.”

“Sick,” the other two agreed in unison.

The two of them were, of course, concerned for their ditzy friend’s wellbeing, but they figured he made it out alright if he was well enough to attend a virtual concert.

“But, yeah, and this is the crazy part, I did actually meet someone there,” Joe revealed.

Benny’s eyes widened while Cullen’s narrowed, though it was impossible to tell.

“Are you taking the piss?” the latter exclaimed.

“No, man. I’m serious. She’s right there, see?” he pointed at the girl in question, then waved her over.

Maggie had given him some space to socialize with his friends while she focused on cataloguing the bizarre array of digital avatars on display. Since she had been called over, her semi-eldritch form drifted closer and assumed its usual spot by Joe’s side.

“This is Maggie, but please call her Mags,” he introduced her. “She’s a bit weird, but in a good way. Maggie, these are the friends I was telling you about.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Benny Vanson and Cullen Bigfellow,” she smiled widely.

“Uh, hi,” the furball awkwardly replied.

“‘Sup,” the skeleton jerked his head up. “Nice get up you have there, Mags. Really diggin’ the eye-tentacles.

“Your appearance is singularly unique as well.”

“Think so? The axe-hawk might’ve been a bit much, to be honest,” he pointed at his head ornament. “Had to turn off its collision ‘cuz it kept banging into door frames and whatnot.”

Cullen was something of an avatar aficionado. He sucked at more contemporary forms of art, but he had a thing for designing digital personas. It was his way of expressing himself. He was quite good at it, too. Other V-Life users sometimes commissioned him because they wanted to look a certain way but didn’t know how to make their vision a reality. In fact, Joe was using one of his creations at that very moment.

“Oy,” Benny elbowed the skeleton. “Talk shop later.”

“Haha. Right, sorry. But seriously, you gotta tell me how you got those tentacles to move independently like that.”

“So, Mags, where are you from? You sound more like a yank than a brit if you don’t mind my saying.”

Foreigners on Butterpond-4 were exceedingly rare, though hardly unheard of.

“I hail from a place far beyond your ken.”

“Oh-kay? And what’s it like over there?”

“You do not possess the seven lifetimes necessary for me to adequately relay my personal history.”

“Ah,” a realization hit Benny

“Noice,” Cullen had one as well.

Both of them had reached a certain conclusion regarding the true nature of the girl that Joe had described as ‘a little weird.’ They didn’t feel like it was a good idea to voice their deductions, but each of them was certain about it. It was the only thing they could think of to explain her strange mannerisms, lofty manner of speech, and extravagant appearance. Not to mention that Joe had supposedly met her at some cult’s ritual that had turned ugly, which only made the idea all the more plausible.

As far as Benny and Cullen were concerned, Mags was a dedicated roleplayer that was acting out some obscure occult character.

“See? Isn’t she great?” Joe beamed.

“Yeah, man. I’m happy for you,” Benny patted him on the shoulder. “Been a long time coming.”

“You take good care of ole Joe here, won’t ye?” his friend chimed in. “He’s a bit of a loon and gets himself in all kind of trouble.”

“I am well aware of Joe’s eccentricities. Observing them is the main reason I am by his side.”

It was a statement the two friends interpreted as ‘we’re both a bit weird, so we fit together.’

“Good for you. I mean it. Anyway, Mags, Joe said you’d be coming with us to the pub after,” Cullen changed the subject. “That means you live nearby in real, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. Whereabouts, exactly? I’m twenty two up from Joe’s place and Benny’s right below me, so the three of us can meet up easy, but we weren’t sure if we needed to swing by and pick you up.”

“My physical vessel is presently located at Joe’s side.”

“Like… in his pod?”

“Yes.”

Benny and Cullen turned to stare at the lucky bastard, who tried - and failed - to not seem too smug about it. To say they were envious was a woeful understatement. Neither of them had been in a relationship that had reached that level of intimacy. They weren’t quite as desperate for female companionship as their scatterbrained friend, though, nor were they actively looking for a partner. However, the fact that even someone as hopeless as Joe was able to find someone gave them hope for their own future romantic endeavors.

A brief pause later, the four of them resumed chatting in earnest, mostly about hobbies. Maggie learned that Joe’s friends shared many of his interests, especially when it came to games. They weren’t quite as appreciative of soaps, though. Cullen was into ancient superhero comics on top of his passion for avatar design, and Benny turned out to be a real gun nut with an unhealthy obsession for military technology. When asked about her own hobbies, Maggie revealed that her interests were science, history, biology, and other such intellectual pursuits. Or at least that was what Joe’s friends assumed she was talking about when she spoke of studying the secrets of their reality.

Eventually the digital arena began to fill up with thousands upon thousands of users that flooded in during the last few minutes. The virtual space had no difficulty adapting to the surge in visitors and expanded accordingly. That said, due to the nature of the gathering, the crowd were kept as tightly packed as reasonably possible. The monstrously disguised crowd buzzed with excitement and anticipation. They then exploded into an avalanche of cheers and shouting when the band took the center stage amidst a shower of lasers and flames.

Chronal Impact was made up of eight members, only two of whom were human in appearance. Even then their appearance was that of actual neanderthals, complete with primalistic fur clothing and an overwhelming amount of body hair. In keeping with the theme, five of the other six were various types of reptilian humanoids loosely based on dinosaurs. The only exception was the drummer, who had gone full mammoth with flexible robotic tusks capable of grasping drumsticks.

The performance kicked off with a loud scream from the T-rex vocalist accompanied by a burst of pyrotechnics. The rest of Chronal Impact joined in right after, filling the virtual space with their first song, Cyborg Caveman Rhapsody. To the uninitiated, the barrage of sounds unleashed by the band’s instruments would have been overwhelming and confusing. The discordant cacophony was not unlike a garbage truck filled with old pots and pans that was tumbling down an impossibly long cliff. It was, just as Joe had eloquently described it, sensory overload in audible form.

From the perspective of those familiar with spazz-metal, it still sounded like being trapped between two tornadoes made out of cutlery smashing into each other. However, rather than being baffled or disoriented, the audience used the music as an excuse to start thrashing violently. Limbs flailed about pointlessly and heads banged furiously to some mysterious rhythm hidden underneath countless layers of noise. At some point the moshing devolved into a series of small brawls, but that was the norm. Without anything to injure and the sensation of pain toned down to a minimum, the youngsters attending were allowed to let their aggression flow freely.

Maggie did not partake in any of these proceedings. Her tentacles passively shoved away any crowd members that tried to invade her personal space, but she otherwise stood perfectly still. She was trying to pick apart the discordant sounds in an effort to find some underlying pattern or formula. Alas, there were none. The song played out in such a chaotic and haphazard fashion that it almost seemed randomly generated. At some point she deduced that the whole thing had been specifically and meticulously crafted to lack any coherent harmony or structure, and there was something alluring about that. It was as if it was so utterly chaotic that it became weirdly orderly.

Maggie was, of course, reading too much into what was actually a random assortment of notes that had gained viral popularity through sheer luck.

Once the two-hour long concert was over, the gang gathered at Joe’s place as a sort of after-party.

“Shit, man! That was a blast!” Benny cheered. “I forgot how fun these were.”

“I know, right?” Joe readily agreed. “Why’d we ever stop going?”

“Because you disappeared after getting yourself a girlfriend, you sly dog.”

“Oh, yeah. That did happen. Blimey, I can still hardly believe it.”

“Speaking of, you sure Mags had a good time?”

Benny’s fur-obscured hand gestured towards the other end of the room, where Maggie and Cullen were discussing avatar design.

“Absolutely. I don’t remember seeing her this happy since, well, ever.”

“You sure?” Benny skeptically raised an eyebrow. “She still looks pretty bored.”

“Trust me, I can tell.”

He could, in fact, not. He liked to delude himself into thinking he did, but there was still much he didn’t understand about Maggie. In this particular instance the girl had indeed derived some enjoyment from the new experience, but the genre of spazz-metal was ultimately not to her liking. She would eventually discover that her favorite music, if it could be called that, was silence. Not the absence of sound itself, but recordings of silence.

After hanging out for a bit longer, the group decided to leave the virtual world and meet up in the real one for that pub visit. Benny was revealed to be a perfectly normal-looking guy aside from the fact that he had gone bald at the age of twelve due to an unfortunate event involving unfiltered solar radiation. Cullen, on the other hand, was remarkably short and somewhat pudgy. Much like Joe, both of them had styled their digital avatars in a way that was overcompensating for what they perceived as their physical flaws.

None of them particularly saw an issue with that, of course. It was common sense that there was no such thing as a V-Life user whose avatar actually looked like them. That was why Joe’s friends had assumed that his new girlfriend was dreadfully plain at best and horrendously disfigured at worst. It seemed logical that someone as terrible with women as Joe would have to settle for some unattractive weirdo with bizarre tastes. However, they wanted to be supportive like the good friends that they were, so they had decided to do their best to not appear judgemental.

Then Benny and Cullen discovered that Maggie was just as drop-dead gorgeous as her virtual self, if not moreso. This revelation shattered their worldview so thoroughly that they found themselves questioning the nature of reality and the meaning of life.