The Metropolis Series #3: Quinn and Cassandra
12. Opening Night

DECEMBER LOOMED over the Metropolis, making the atmosphere drier and colder, especially in big open spaces like St. John’s school grounds. It didn’t snow in the Metropolis—the fact that we just had a pool party in November should have given you a hint—but it was cool enough for more students to start wearing jackets in the classroom. The teachers would refuse to turn off the air conditioning, even if most of the class was shivering.

“It’s a part of your tuition,” they’d explain.

The cooling weather also meant that we could now sleep comfortably in the dorms without the fan or air conditioning on, so wearing long sleeve shirts indoors no longer seemed so strange. It made it easier and a lot less awkward to hide my scars from Harumi. In fact, she was yet to question my obsession with long sleeve shirts.

She did, however, ask why I still wore a jacket over my P.E. uniform. However, when we stepped into the gymnasium for class, we noticed that several students had a jacket on, too, even if they were running around and already dripping in sweat. Not that it mattered, anyway. I would still be asked to sit out during strenuous activities due to my underlying health conditions, so I could sit in a jacket for as long as I wished.

I knew that my lungs were weak, and I couldn’t run for the life of me, but even with numerous trips to the nurse’s office, none of the school’s medical staff had told me exactly what my condition was. Nevertheless, I was fine for the most part, and I only ever needed medical attention after gym class.

Slowly, however, that started to change.

Shortly after I left the art club, I regained my position as Deus Ex Machina’s manager, and it wasn’t long until the band booked another gig. It was for the opening night of a two-week art exhibit in the Metropolis’ business district. It was such an honor for St. John’s Academy that their very own student band was booked to play for such a prestigious event, so of course, no pressure, but it was a pretty big deal.

With just a week before the exhibit, practices lasted late into the evening, and Rachael (being Rachael) obsessed over every single minor mistake, making everyone stay later than they should. There wasn’t much to do as manager besides helping them set up, giving them feedback on their performance when they’d ask for it, and occasionally updating Deus Ex Machina’s social media accounts.

Most of the time, I would watch the band members fight and bicker, and I wouldn’t be able to catch on because they liked throwing musical stuff at each other.

So, after a few sessions, I asked Harumi to accompany me, and we would have dinner and do our homework together in the band room. Whenever Deus Ex Machina argued, Harumi wouldn’t understand any of the musical terms, and I’d no longer feel so alone.

Eventually, I decided to ask her if she wanted to come along on the day of the exhibit, and she willingly accepted my invitation. Curtis called up his driver and we climbed into his family’s SUV—the same vehicle that brought us to the party.

I probably should have seen that as a bad sign, but we were so busy with last-minute practices and getting dressed for the occasion that all sorts of negative thoughts went straight over my head. Besides, the ride from St. John’s to the business district was our only time to relax after a busy week of rehearsals.

Curtis, Rachael, and Philip sat in the second row, while Harumi sat between me and Bree at the back. Perhaps our seating arrangement turned out that way so that Bree and Harumi could get to know each other properly. And in a matter of minutes, I was the odd one out in the back seat. Perhaps it was my consequence for not speaking as much as I should have, but for some reason, I didn’t mind. I was satisfied with listening to everyone’s conversations as music played through my earphones. With the view of the city out the window, I felt like I was in a movie—like one of those cheesy, feel-good kinds with no Cassandra and Metropolis-related-existential dread to worry about.

We arrived at the venue after about an hour in the car. The exhibit’s organizers welcomed us at the lobby and led Deus Ex Machina to the stage so that they could set up and tune their instruments. Harumi offered to do my makeup in the female restroom as there wasn’t much time to do so before leaving. When the members of Deus Ex Machina were done setting up, she went on to do Bree’s and Rachael’s makeup. She jokingly offered to do Curtis’ and Philip’s, as well. They politely declined.

About an hour before the exhibit’s opening, we all decided to get some snacks at the food court on the ground floor. Food was a bit more expensive in the business district, but luckily, there was a convenience store at the corner—like it was purposely hidden away and isolated. I bought a large smoothie and a hotdog with ketchup that dripped and almost stained my cardigan.

Finally, it was time to open the exhibit. Deus Ex Machina was waiting backstage to perform while Harumi and I perused the art on display. Abstract, realism, illustration, photography, and sculpture depicted the ups and downs of the Metropolis, from lavish lifestyles to the romanticized struggles of the impoverished.

There was quite a crowd, so Harumi and I got separated for a while. I eventually found her carrying a small tray of nachos (reminding me that there was a snack bar by the entrance) as she stared intently at one particular artwork.

“Isn’t this interesting, Quinn?” she said when she noticed me.

I examined the artwork that had caught her interest. It was a painting of a girl with a lighter in hand, the flickering flame providing her only source of light in the dark. In her other hand was some sort of book, and I wondered why the artist had chosen to give their subject those two particular objects. I looked down to read the label.

The painting’s title was Last Hope, and the artist was anonymous.

“I dunno,” I shrugged. “It’s dramatic, and the use of light is incredible, but it’s a little too dark for my taste.”

“I think that’s what makes it interesting,” Harumi explained. “It makes you wonder what the artist had in mind. Why did they call it Last Hope? And why did they choose to remain anonymous?”

I didn’t respond. I looked at the painting again, tracing the paths of the brush strokes with my eyes.

Harumi then distracted me with her tray of nachos. “Want some?”

We were then interrupted by the sound of microphone feedback echoing across the venue. We turned around to see one of the hosts clearing his throat, welcoming everyone to the opening night of the exhibit. After some introductory remarks, another speaker got onstage and talked about the brief history of the Metropolitan Art Institute and how it established itself right in the heart of the business district. The speaker introduced the exhibit’s chosen theme, explain-ing that the institute aimed to represent as much of the Metropolis’ inhabitants as possible, so for the first time, they allowed artists from all sorts of backgrounds to display their art for many to see.

As the talk went on, Harumi and I munched on our nachos, and by the time they ran out, the host had gone back onstage.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, as we honor talents from all walks of Metropolitan life, I’d like to introduce you to a fresh, young talent that will serenade you for the rest of the program. Please give it up for Deus Ex Machina of St. John’s Academy!”

The curtains behind him went up as the audience clapped, and Deus Ex Machina sat in a line with their instruments on their laps—except for Curtis, though. He sat on a cajón.

As the host hopped off the stage, Deus Ex Machina began to play an acoustic rendition of a song that reached a hundred million streams online. I was captured by how soothing their version was; it was perfect for the semi-formal atmosphere the exhibit had. I pulled out my phone and started recording the performance.

And that was when the strangeness began.

First, slight dizziness kicked in, but I blinked, shook it off, and it was gone. However, a splitting headache took its place. My vision blurred, and my chest tightened. I was clutching my head and losing my footing, and for a moment, I noticed Harumi rush toward me, asking what was wrong. My lip quivered, and my hands went numb.

I had a split second of consciousness to ask myself what was going on. This isn’t gym class, I told myself, but I knew that it would only be a matter of time before I would slip into the void. I then dropped my phone and felt my body collide with the dusty carpet below. I closed my eyes and let the darkness consume me.

“We’re Deus Ex Machina, everyone,” I heard Rachael say. “Thank you and good evening…”

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