An Octave convened immediately following the reappearance of living scions of the burnt Symbias trees. This included a leading singer-artist-speaker-sound-architect from each Aquariid planetary community, including the Sendsingers. A rare convening, this was a Multiplied Octave: besides the lead speakers, many others were also present, loosely affiliated from every corner. They were called by relevance – witnesses, outreach communicators, event interpreters, influencer-listeners. Voices that could make lots of waves.
They found a bench at the edge of a small neighborhood park, where they wouldn’t look suspicious. Derringer used his cheap disposable communicator, the same one that had been riding in his pocket while on a planet still uncharted. There was a mysterious and short conversation, where he specified that he had a new investigative partner who was intrinsic to his operation, and he obtained a meeting point.
“Well, we’re not going in there,” said Derringer, indicating the towering eight-sided skystabber looming over the scenery, “so it’s good that we didn’t try. The location’s nearby, though. Just a tram hop and skip away. In a dramatically-contrasting neighborhood, if you know what I mean.”
“I do know what you mean, and I’m guessing which one. I have actually visited every neighborhood in this city.” Chip Soleil’s voice was mild and even.
“Good, so you’re not afraid to go.”
I’m going to Sh’Bang Fest, and will be amongst the audience in the Saloon Chapel tomorrow 9/7 Saturday night from 9pm-close. I’m bringing a limited edition Poetry Popper – with a hand-lettered fabric patch, a signed copier broadsheet of my ribbon-winner poem Stars Framed in Adobe Clay (lettered in my handwriting), and small piece of beach glass picked by me. Compensate or romance me appropriately.
My poetry is signed: e.l.elasigue