Gazing out of the limo Glass was silent, the dim interior lights reflecting off his shaved head. Absently he tapped the window in a rhythm known only to himself. Rock star, philosopher, self-proclaimed Messenger of the Great Beyond, failure and success story--he'd been all these things and more, and a sensitive, tortured, lonely artist besides. Sitting across from him was the tattooed, no-frills wonder Ruby, his manager for many years, and she wasn't pleased with the silence. "Zer--I mean, Glass, wouldya tell me what's eatin ya? You had a great show, sure it wasn't the biggest or best in a while, but that new shit you guys came up with, that was WOW. Please, just tell me what's on your mind."
"The Voice--it tells me I must act soon. I have so much work to do," he trailed off, still staring at seemingly nothing.
"You're really weirding me out, my friend."
"I saw her again," he spoke up, out of the blue.
"Her? You mean, this dream chick you keep goin' on about?," she pulled a bottle of chilled wine out of the minicooler and didn't bother with a glass but took a good solid pull off it.
The tall man turns to her at last, pale wide-set eyes focusing on her, and what she saw took her aback. Unwavering faith, a sense of destiny and the Otherworld. A feeling of peace lacking in all the other individuals she'd ever met, a peace derived from the security of his calling, his mission, his Destiny. "She was standing in the front row, engrossed, enraptured almost, but she never clapped or took her eyes off me. It was Her, I know it. My Mirror, the one I've been waiting for."
Ruby decided to go for the flippant tactic. "And I suppose she was the most beautiful, the most perfect, the most pure woman you'd ever seen." She took another draft of the wine.
His angular face softening with mirth he replied, "No, she wasn't. Not at all. But she's for me, I know it."
"Pfah," scoffed the manager, offering her bottle to Glass. "If she's your one-and-only, why didn't she find you backstage? Huh?"
"Maybe the time wasn't right," came the smooth answer as he refused the proffered wine. He wiped the stage makeup off his face, but was still smooth and pale, alasbaster even, very fine lines around the eyes to show after all the years as a musician.
Ruby found he was unshakable in his belief and adamant about going home alone. She felt it was a bad idea but nothing would do him but to firmly keep her out of his platform house on the hill, his house full of the Machines of God.
Breathing deep the cool night air he started to enter the lift which would take him to his place of habitation when he found Her there. Her from the audience, from his dreams. Tall and broad-shouldered she radiated strength, with dark hair and eyes and chiselled features. Glass's breath stopped for a good minute...then she smiled, and her whole face lit up, softening her overall look. It was infectious; Glass smiled back. "It's you..," he murmured.
"Zero. Or is it Glass?," she spoke, and her voice was rich and warm and motherly.
"Glass. The future is shattered glass."
"May I--?," meaning come up into his abode.
"Oh yes," he purred, for once completely direct and to the point. "I've been waiting for you."
Beeeeep. Beeeeep Beeeeeeep. Beeeeeeep.
"Holy popsicle," grumbled Glass at the insistant noise. It was the vidphone and he was just out of range of the controls, and then he discovered a tousled dark-haired head laying on his bare chest. Slowly the cobwebs cleared from his brain. June. That was her name. He didn't remember falling asleep, they talked and laughed and listened to music and..
Carefully he slid out from under the large woman's sleeping, fullslip-covered form and pressed the button on the control chair. Mmmm, it was red.
The slip was red. And lacy. An image resolved itself on the wall-sized vidscreen.
"Glass, about time you answered the damn phone," came the concerned voice and face of Thunderjack, the drummer. People mistook his quiet nature for indifference, but little got past his enigmatic self. "I was worried about you stayin' there all alone."
"I uhhh...I wasn't alone," Glass said, rubbing his bald pate.
"Ah, Ruby there? That mother hen."
Yawning, June stretched and flexed like a big panther, scratching her already-mussed hair. "Hi," she said, smacking her lips.
Thunder was silent for a full minute, then burst out laughing. "I never took you for the groupie type! After all this time Mr. Sensitive Rocker--"
"It's not like that, Thunderjack, and that's enough. Just be ready for practice later. Tell Nanci on time means 'on time' and not 'three hours later.'"
"Ok, ok, bigshot. And here I was all worried about you," the stout man snickered as the image shut off.