Hello friend.
I’m using a voice to text assistant so forgive strange formatting you will come across in this post.
I’m going through a decomposing phase— some momentous life transitions— You will see more of me.
I have All That’s Left on the brain , and I’m working on finishing chapter three, Suli’s introduction (at last) for print debut at the Philly zine fest this November 1st. As I’m finally transcribing from my notebook to computer and looking over all the drafts in my Scrivener files, I thought rather than sitting on another one, that I would share an excerpt from the rough transcription. We meet Suli, the only fully prosthetic’d baddie thus far, coming back from a work survey and ready to head home here and get extremely comfortable. Later he goes out to the club with his friends, but this excerpt doesn’t go that far. I’ll leave it at that. Plz enjoy. Feedback welcome.
(would y’all appreciate any refreshers on the All that’s Left world or where I’m at with it or why I always talk about it like you already know what it is…? Leave a comment or reply thanks.)
I was about to say that sharing a rough draft like this is not very Virgo rising of me, and then I realize it’s …virgo season and I’m writing this while Mercury is in Virgo. Yes baby there’s work to get in O R D R. Anyway, about the rough part— When I write my drafts I often Move in and out of the present and past tense. When I’m editing I’m often reluctant to morph them into one or the other tense, because I feel like the tense/temporal shifts are part of the experience of being in the character or with the character. Which can still be edited for clarity. So. you’ll see some of what I’m talking about here bc I tend to edit to one tense for publication.
OK before I start lecturing and shit let me stop there. I hope you’re able to feel a lust for life These days. I know I’m trying.
yours truly,
Monk
atl chapter 3: suli (excerpt)
—
“ Doctor Orne? ”
“ Yes, dear? “
“Thank you. You always take care of me. “
“Well you’ve been integral to my research, i’ve got to take care of you, my dear .without your involvement there would be no surveyor pilot. “
Suli’s sedate eyes opened. “you got approved??”His tone ready for gossip. But Orne said nothing, put a finger over pursed lips, forming the pleased expression of a predator faced with its favorite prey, helpless. Then she smiled with those closed lips. He felt her hand again, coming down over his chest and onto his belly.
“ It’s exciting, isn’t it. Are you excited? You won’t be the only one anymore. ”
“ who are the others? ” no reply. She kept that hand on his belly, the other busy with the bedside interface, manipulating rotor dials until a Dome like mantle unfolded above his head. Collection was about to begin. He felt his heart speed up in a tightening chest — the mist, the mist, the misters were on — and Dr Orne’s voice losing edge amidst the TSSSS hissing.
“Tell you when you’re off the table. ”
Then you wake up in the recovery room chair — His first conscious thought. His eyes aren’t ready to open yet. The taste of decontam is off his tongue, replaced with a thirst that keeps his lips stuck to themselves. This is the part of return where he had to search for his fingers and toes, his body weight, the form of the chair holding him up. He did exist. He had a body . The same one he came in with… yes? Footsteps . Here comes Dr Orne’s Intern of the Month.
“ I have your licuado, Mr Almeida.”
It was then his eyes popped the dew glaze tack keeping them closed. He smacked his mouth open tongue hanging out , hand already reaching out into Blurry space. Suli puts the thick rubbery straw in his mouth and sucks up a creamy mouthful of this aloe dense nutrient smoothie —it always coated his throat and he felt like he could immediately breathe again afterwards. He sucked it down in long , until his gullet could bear no more and he let the straw go.
“ it’s good? ” The intern with the smoky voice. Suli breathed deeply and exhaled long and then nodded . He took a few more deep exhales and looked this intern in the half lidded eyes for a beat .
“ are you also doing my skin barrier replenishment? ” Suli responded . The intern brought the line up of moisturizers serums demolitions rehydrators into view — A one-time-use paper tray With wax paper / palm leaf bowls. Emulsifiers, XYZ, and a full body deep hydration conditioner —all worked in by hand. The intern had hard forearms and thick squared off fingertips that felt like hot stones gliding… At the end, Suli’s sedate body jiggled with each pneumatic press ratchet of the chair down; the recline gently righted, and the intern bowing out graciously, leaving him in a fresh set of towels and dozing. After a long moment, he opened his eyes , relieved to finally be left to himself .Decontam was complete. His personal clothes were freshly pressed and waiting on the cart with all his other stray materials —personal belongings, the usual goody bag of nutrient rich snacks and samples, his credit box all plumped up, his message box with messages since he was out, and a hefty pouch full of the requested recreational supplements all packed in a cute little duffel bag. This was the part he almost always forgot about until he was back in this velvet recovery room, with the full body mirror across from the chair, once again facing the specimen who looked back. Just the debrief with the doctor left. He took his time getting dressed. Suli’s skin was slathered and luminous, and he went through a slow pose repertoire in front of the trifold trefoil mirror until it all soaked in. No marks, no patches, no rashes, and no bites. No hickeys. Incredible .
the recovery room air is good, it makes you feel like —the world is delicious again. ’cause at first, it really doesn’t feel like that, and then by the time you’re up and getting dressed, you feel basically great —refreshed responsive fertile —and ready to go out and make the day. In his mind Suli called it getting juiced, ’cause by the time he’s home he’s ready to fill up on the fun again. And, they do juice him, in the decontam. Asshole feels warm and puckered. His jaw loose, relaxed, his little pointed titties jutting out, still throbbing from the lymph massage. They’ll be collecting his piss one more time before he’s allowed to go home.
—
He sits down in Orne’s private consultation room, right as she walks in — No, stay seated, she hushes. Wriggles to her seat across the table from him and sits back in the chair. Voracious face .
“ You look great, kiddo. Do you have plans for the night?”Suli can’t help but glance down at themself And the deep V plunge neckline showing off those moisturized pectoral titties.
“ I was thinking, you know, taking it easy and having some friends over, or going out with my boys — they always got—they’re always up to something. “ And though Suli said that, he looked unsure and preoccupied. “ Dr Orne, will you tell me? Who the others are in the program? You said you would.”
“I did, I did say that. To be clear, Suli sweetheart, it’s too early to say. But the search is on, we have some good candidates we’re looking into, and then it’s just… the acclamation process and will have a team. We can move into the pilot campus /We can finally allocate /commandeer X hall for our pilot campus . ”
That’s all he really remembers by the time he’s on the outside of the offices and waiting for his carriage home on the private platform. Finally, some more people like him, taking up the same duty… the boys wouldn’t believe him until he was like, gone off on mission probably , but that was OK by him. The carriage rolls itself up —a little 2-wheel foot wagon on a gyro, stand or sit optional, fit for yourself and a guest. Suli puts his duffel bag in the storage hutch under the bench, and steps onto the little chariot looking platform. It pulls off with its familiar sway-lurch and Suli takes a seat with the shake of his freshly set curls.
It feels good to be in thr fresh homestead air. The indoor misting and climate control gets out of hand, you know? He wouldn’t be anywhere else than homestead, but it had its quirks, for sure. Compared to what he’s been seeing on his transport jobs outside? Oh my God,, a miracle how anyone gets by out there…
His thoughts peter out under the muffled rubber thumps of the chariot wheels cycling over its segmented path . A weird feeling lingers . today he saw something frightening, infrastructure collapsed shit on his job . And it would be scarier if Homestead wasn’t so well established. Growing up here and all this time never had to worry about anything pretty much , so why worry now? He’s standing, with both hands on the carriage lip when he shakes off the dissociation and notices that they’re pulling up to his building. It’s the bird song and water sounds and dewy tropical air that greets him —his buildings Immaculate transit Bay —you could only experience this inside the private resident’s entrance , the lush plantings that climbed up the wall, the filtered canopy of choice architecturally kept trees, the pedestrian bridge that crossed what seemed like a natural, babbling stream, and all the vines and waterside plants that cascaded down towards it. Sulli hopped off the resting chariot with his bag in hand and strolled through the open double arched entryway into a dramatic high ceilinged , narrow elevator Bay and waited for one of them to call his name .
The transition from the entry to the hallways was rough, like they didn’t bother to continue with the verdant rainforest motif at all, and so you suffered the stale air down these cool concrete-look Corridors. Finally, his door. The hall light above it brightens on, and he walks in without having to adjust his stride —his things are on the entryway bench, the lights are breathing to life, and as he takes off his shoes and sets them in their cubby, the home misters kick on . Rainforest setting with a dewy scent of effervesced nectar, Mood set to accomplish and ready to reset. And they’re really kicking —the air quality conditioners rush it around the house / condo like it’s the breeze of a midday storm picking up. He takes a deep breath. Thank God for air conditioning.
The scenes of today’s work tugging at his consciousness Lose their definition . You won’t be the only one anymore , He enters the bedroom with Dr Orne’s voice echoing . You won’t be the only one, he mouths into a large circle-shaped mirror. It rests mounted above a long dresser in the center of the room. And now that Suli’s back, it seems to angle itself towards him as he moves around. Suli undresses across from it, stopping to catch glimpses of themself in the accent lighting. He goes and closes the door, sits on the edge of his 3 1/2 foot high bed and calls out:
“Vanityyyy I’d like to watch my favorite shows, and you know what that means . ” His sing song request is met with TSSSS of misters, his light morphing from warm white to a Moody dark pink, and the circular mirror illuminates with the transfixing image/animation of bodies in motion with one another. An ambient cocoon of sound rears up around him
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