Constellation Starfish arrived later, during the course before 
dessert. Their beat up van rode into the parking lot, much to the 
confusion of the valet workers. The only reason the band wasn’t 
thrown out immediately was the lead guitarist, who carried himself 
like a patron despite his shabby clothes. The guitarist seemed a little 
uncomfortable as he settled into this demeanor, as if he hadn’t used 
it in some time. He was the one that explained the situation. 


The band didn’t need any help with setup, although according to 
many of the guests they certainly needed help with their fashion 
sense. 


callthat, doc. _, man, that thing was like... It was like 
you know when you're in a fun house? And they got all 
the mirrors around you? 


Dr. : Indeed. 


D-639-9: It was like someone took all the reflections from 
all the different mirrors and stacked them one on top of 
the other but... | don't know. | don't Know how to- 


Dr. : Please try. 


D-639-9: Alright. (Swallows nervously) Could | get some 
Aspirin or something? Gave me a killer headache. 


Dr. : Please. 


D-639-9: __, fine, whatever. Like if you stacked all the 
reflections, but you could see them all by themselves, 
like one by one, but you saw them all at the same time? 
That's the best | can do, doc. 


Dr. : | see. Was there anything else? Any sort of... 
emotional response you felt? Sudden compulsions? 
Anything like that? 


D-639-9: Uh, well, | guess so. | mean, he was looking at 
me, right? But he wasn't looking at me, because he was 
facing the other way, but both ways at once- | just felt 
paranoid as __, doc. | didn't know if he was coming or 
going, | didn't even know if he noticed me, or what he 
was looking at. And he hurt to see. Gave me a headache 
right? Please could | get a glass of water or something? 


Dr. : Certainly. | have everything | need. The 
guard will see you back to your cell. 


D-639-9: (Begins to leave, but pauses.) Uh, there was 
one other thing. 


Dr. : Yes? 


When the desserts were served, the band introduced themselves. 
The drummer was Brook, a girl in a dated hairstyle and an unironed 
shirt. The backup vocal was sung by Rosa, another girl with her 
unstyled hair and unflattering, vintage clothes. The lead singer, 
Morgan, sported a piercing gaze and socks that didn’t match his 
pants, which were fashionable last season. There was supposed to 
be a big burly man that helped with unpacking, but he had snuck 
away somewhere. The only one who acted with any kind of 
respectability was the lead guitarist, Clyde. He was the only one that 
acted like them. 


Expectations were low. A no name band. A shabby no name band, 
no less. 


Morgan tapped the mic once, tested it. “Good evening ladies, 
gentlemen. We’re Constellation Starfish. After the show we'll be 
selling some albums and t-shirts near the entrance if you want to 
pick up any. Our first song will be a nice upbeat tune to start the 
night...” 


As the music began, the air of disquiet stifled and acquiesced. The 
only person who played professionally was Clyde, but there was 
something about the music that rattled into the bones of the guests. 
The notes slid into the mind through the ears, squirming around 
one’s consciousness until it was all that could be thought of. It 
evoked memories before this human existence and the guests 
began to remember what they had forgotten they had forgotten. 
What they used to be. 


About halfway through the second song, one of the women grabbed 
a decorative candle. She held it into the relative darkness of the 
room, hot wax pouring down and over her tender skin. She didn’t let 
go and instead waved the candle back and forth. The candle was 
joined by others, creating a dance of shadow and light over the walls 
and the floor to the music of Constellation Starfish. Audience and 
performance became one entity, singing a collective memory and 
reminiscing times beyond their comprehension. 


When Morgan opened his eyes to gaze at the audience, he took in 
the sea of candles and saw instead stars against the darkness of a 
void. The shadows twisted into tendrils, curling around arms and 


clutching at the hands that clutched at warm wax. Flickering 
darkness drowned the crowd in unfelt caress. Ethereal arms 
wrapped around bodies like a possessive lover, around him and his 
band. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognized what he 
was doing. He tried to break the spell, to stutter his words, to sing off 
key. Anything. But his words were no longer his. His voice was no 
longer his tool of expression. 


He wasn't sure if he wanted to run away screaming or fall to his 
knees in worship. 


The unified collective remained well into the evening, until its voice 
was hoarse and the last candles had burned away in the now-singed 
hands that held them. The shadows stilled and returned to their 
usual lifeless mimicry. Morgan found himself capable of speaking at 
his own will again, though he didn’t want to anymore. “Thank you for 
being such a great audience, everybody. As | said before, we'll be 
selling t-shirts and aloums near the exit. Don’t forget to like us on 
facebook and twitter...” 


The paraphernalia stand was empty by the end of the night, with 
some further generous donations on top of it. Constellation Starfish 
made more money that evening than they had in their entire 
existence previously. 


« Track 4:You And Me | Hub | Siren's Song » 


Siren's Song 


Clyde and Umiko rode home in the darkness. For once, Clyde 
wasn't tuning a guitar. He was tuning the radio instead, dialing 
station to station. Umiko drove, headlights telling little in the 
darkness ahead. 


“Hey, Umiko, wasn’t Brook supposed to be coming with us?” 


The bigger man’s hands squeezed the wheel at the mention of 
Brook. She never felt at ease around him and he never figured a 
way to earn the drummer’s trust, not even after all this time. “No, she 
go with other friend. | think she don’t like me.” 


“Hey, don’t say that, big man. I’m sure she'll come around. Women 
and their intuition, you know? Hey, isn’t this our song?” He turned 
the radio to a familiar tune, a grin spreading to his features. Umiko 
joined in the display of pride despite himself. 


“Yes, our song. Even skits! Much good! We on radio now!” 


But Clyde wasn't listening to Umiko’s words. He had joined the 
collective in the music. He remembered. Umiko fell with Clyde 
shortly after and the two added their voices to the song. Shadows 
flickered across Umiko’s hands, urging them to turn the wheel and 
drive towards the ocean. The headlights of other cars joined them 
on their journey, all migrating to the same destination. 


The music lulled their minds to rest and guided them home. 
Rosa woke up fast, rising to a seat and pushing herself up. She 


could see the back of Morgan’s head in the driver's seat. He was 
very still. She scampered over, eyes wide in confusion. 


“Morgan? Hey, what’s up? Where are we?” 


His eyes remained closed as he began speaking. “We’re almost 
done.” 


Rosa couldn’t hear the motor running and it was pitch black outside. 
She went to open the driver's side window but the crank was 
missing. “Hey, what happened with the thing?” 


“We shouldn't open the windows. It’s really cold outside.” He said 
softly, opening his eyes and turning to Rosa. “Hell of a night, wasn’t 
it?” 


“Yeah. Hope everyone made it back safe.” She said, before a 
realization dawned on her. “Oh my god!” 


“..what is it, then?” 


“You're drunk, aren’t you? Seriously! Thats why we're idling here! | 
can’t believe you actually drank!” 


“I’m a bit hungover, not drunk. It’s not the most pleasant feeling.” 
Morgan said, a faint smile appearing on his face. Rosa rolled her 
eyes and turned to face him. A yellow light passed by the driver’s 
window. She thought she could see the silhouette of a head for a 
moment, before it faded into the murk. 


“lam so thirsty. Do we have any water?” 


“N-No...” said Morgan as Rosa rolled around to open the rear 
passenger door. “No!” He shouted, leaning over and snatching her 
wrist. “Don’t do that, we’re on a ferry right now. We’re not supposed 
to open the doors.” 


“What?” She noticed he was breathing heavily but his face was 
rested and calm as ever. They were so close. Was he nervous? 


He righted himself and sat back down. “Just sit tight. We'll be there 
soon.” 


She lay there flustered for a moment, looking on out the window. 
More strange glowing yellow lights, falling down slowly, drifting 
alongside them. 


“Be where? This some kind of surprise? We going to an off-shore 
resort thing? Oh | love those things. Is it Pipers Crossing? Pelican 
Landing?” 


“Not quite,” he felt the urge to laugh, but couldn’t bring himself to do 
it, “deep space. We’re headed off to deep space.” 


Rosa giggled to herself, just before being shot in the face by a jet of 
water. Morgan heard it, and closed his eyes again. “Well, looks like 
we're ahead of schedule.” 


Another jet of freezing water burst through the van ceiling. 


“Looks like we’re fucked.” Said Morgan, a faint quiver could be 
heard in the back of his throat. 


“What are you talking about?! Go get a patch! Why is the roof 
leaking! Why is the floor leaking up!?” 


Morgan pulled a small handgun from out of his coat. 


“I’m sorry, Rosa. | can’t expect you to understand any more than | 
did at first.” 


Rosa was hysterical. “What do you mean? What the fuck is going 
on, Morgan? What’s going on?” 


Morgan looked over the cold steel of the handgun with the cold steel 
of his eyes. “There was something else there with us tonight. You 
could feel it, right?” 


“I- | mean, | don’t know. Maybe. | thought it was just a good concert.” 


He looked at her, eyes full of sympathy but demeanor unbroken. 
“Rosa, it was a great concert. I'll never forget it as long as | exist. 1’ll 
never forget any of them, Brooke, Umiko, Clyde,” he paused, his 
throat catching, “and | certainly won't forget you.” 


Rosa’s eyes were full of fear as she gazed around them, but began 
to calm when he grabbed her hand. She sniffled back a tear, 
shaking slightly. “Morgan... are we going to die?” 


He smiled. “Yes. We're going to die, Rosa. But we’re going to do it 
together, right here, ok?” 


The water had gathered up to their knees as an additional crack 
started to form in the rear window. They were surrounded by lights, 
so many lights that Rosa couldn’t count them. Some far away, some 
so close she could just barely make them out. They all danced 
around her and Morgan, like fireflies when she was younger. In 
another life, she could’ve reached out and caught them and put 
them in a jar and fell asleep to lull of the tiny bursts of light. 


He cocked the firearm. “I brought this for you, in case you don’t want 
to... It's yours, Rosa.” His outstretched hand held it before her, and 

her eyes focused on it. She lifted a hand gingerly, picked it out of his 
hand and held it close to her. She looked up at him, eyes full of fear. 


“What about you? What are you going to do?” 


Morgan looked at the gathering of falling stars, his face illuminated 
by a billion points of light. In that moment, Rosa felt like she could 
see Morgan differently, like the boy with the black hair had been 
peeled away and left to float somewhere behind them, and in its 
place was a low burning fire, resilient and unwavering. She could 
see in him all of his hopes and aspirations and dreams, as well as 
her own, everything they had both desired their entire lives, and 
yet... 


The water was unrelenting. It had filed past their waists, and the 
back window was ready to burst. Rosa choked back tears and 
looked out of her window. Next to her, she could see one of the 
stars drawing close. Inside sat two familiar figures, and yet, she 
couldn’t make out their faces. One of them waved, the other threw a 
thumbs up. 


And then they were gone. Rosa’s tears flowed freely now, and she 
would've given anything, everything she ever had, to be sitting in her 
apartment, warm and dry and safe. In a moment, Rosa was terrified 
of death, and saw its gaping maw closing in around her. Panicking, 
she turned one last time to Morgan, to beg him to do something, 
anything, so they could go on, be together, live... 


But her voice caught. The dim flame was gone and replaced with a 
magnificent roaring fire, reds and yellows and whites, filling up the 
entire car, and in the middle of it sat Morgan. The thing he had been 
was stripped away, replaced with fervor and zeal, its eyes blazing 
like a million suns. It looked at her, and beyond everything, beyond 
his face and the fire and the water and the stars around them, she 
saw something else. She saw... 


CRACK! 


She threw the gun into the water at her feet as it rushed in from 
behind them. “No,” she shouted over the growing din of the torrent. 
“No Morgan, | want to be there with you.” 


The lead singer smiled. “To see it all within you.” 


Water circled their necks, passing their mouths, then their eyes, and 
filled the car completely. 


There was a moment while they floated in the weightlessness, 
where Rosa reached out and touched Morgan’s face. He opened his 
eyes and looked at her, and then towards where she was gesturing. 
Lights surrounded them, the lights of cars like theirs, floating in the 
depths of sea, hovering just above the edge of oblivion. They were 
all very still, yet pulsated like the night sky. Morgan glanced back at 
her, to share the moment with her, but she was already gone. 


He unbuckled his seatbelt, felt towards the back window. When he 
reached it, he pushed himself out. 


Around him he saw the lights flickering, and knew it would not be 
long. His mind reached out, looking for his friends among the stars, 
and felt them all around him. Clyde was to his right, guitar in hand, 
grinning while he tuned the damn thing for the fiftieth time. Next to 
him sat Brooke, crosslegged, spinning a drumstick and drinking a 
giant Mt. Dew. She laughed at some untold joke, and the rest of 
them guffawed along with her. Standing just outside of them was 
Umiko, calmly moving boxes back to the van. Morgan called out to 
him, and the big man turned and smiled at him. 


Finally, there was Rosa. She was quiet, peaceful. She approached 
Morgan, held him, and then pointed skyward. Morgan looked up, 
then at his friends, and together they left for the next gig. 


Morgan’s empty body floated in the water. 
The stars hung for a second more, and then went out. 


« Rain Leaking Through A Vendor's Roof | Hub 


On The Road Again 


Two stolen wheels and five days preparation (for good luck), and 
they're off. 


The five men in a beat up RV barrel down the road at fifty miles per 
hour, at the request of Father Anna. Brother Perkins sits at the 
wheel munching at a pretzel, trying to ignore the thumping echoing 
around the RV and the shaking in his hands. The "Holy Communion" 
behind him had to be locked behind a padlock, the enthused 
worshipers banging on the door in a frenzied state. 


Communion, within the First Southern Fifth Church of Texas 
involves significantly more drugs and alcohol than any communion 
rightfully should. The "Holy Cocaine" was split into five lines and 
distributed among the congregation, in an attempt to bring them 
closer to the Starfish. The "service" had dialed down, Brother Hines 
passed out on the floor, Brother Miller still bouncing around the 
small mobile home. Brother Jones had declined the offer to 
commune, and was sleeping in his designated corner. 


Louis Anna clumsily stands up, clutching onto a bottle of whiskey. 


"Congregation, congregation, settle down, its time for a sermon." 
Father Anna slurs his speech as some of his whiskey spills on the 
floor, "The hooooly spirits *hic* uhh, the Five, are really compelling 
me right now, so sit yer asses up.”