Dj Count Zero logs in - a page - part 2. [ steemit cyberpunk story ]

"My life is a fucking postcard" he thought and began pacing around the room again and again, like a dog caught in a cage.

He came back to it and stared at the view. It was stunning: the beach appeared a few steps away, the blue of the ocean was the color of innocence and there were absolutely 0 people to ruin the mood. It was perfect. A postcard indeed.

That's because you only see it caught at the right time, in the right light with the right actors. He felt getting himself getting angry thinking about, having had this discussion countless of times.

Look closer!! You'll see how the edges are yellow and moldy, how the water is slimy when you get in and the fucking island people. These people have no concept of civilization.

It was funny to him that he was so angry now because the exact same things thrilled him when he first moved here 3 years ago. The authenticity!! The real people!
"You got to be here to understand" he said to his friends back in the states.
He now realized he sounded like a douche but he meant it then.

That's how his downfall began, about a year ago. All that anger, all that frustration, channeled.
A young DJ on a rise moving to an exotic island to create and to bring crowds in a perpetual pelerinage to the DJ that was promised. Himself.

Well, that has been his dream, the reality was a never ending series of low paying gigs that wore him out until his sanity was shaky. He has giving up on his talent, his calling and nothing seemed to work out for too long.
The adventures were hollow and the girls were all the same to him.
He felt numb.
He felt over.

He did what he knew: he focused all his energy into the lyrics, the right beat, the impossibly complicated mix that was a match made in heaven with everything. It worked, he knew. It just worked.

"You envy my paradise
gonna show you what's behind
The curatain will fall
the secrets are out "

BOOM BOOM * BOOM *

He danced on his voice, he let himself be carried by the tune, he was alive again.

The high was followed by the deepest low.

The song was a hit. A huge hit, putting him back on the map and bringing him closer and closer to his ideal life. Yet, it was all wrong. He felt sick of everything.
Sick but rich.

After the hit he disappeared into himself, hating the world for rewarding him for spitting his hateful message. Hating the people for relating with such a vile sentiment. Hating himself for putting it out there.
Awaiting punishment.
Drugs, alcohol, sex, party looked like a fun punishment for most. Yet, he knew his soul was withering and felt himself diminishing to nothing.

He knew then that DJ Count Zero will never be on a stage again. He was done.

He now stood once again at the same window, looking once again at the same ocean, feeling, as he felt for the last months, serene.

"Honey, I think I packed your airport t-shirt by mistake, want me to find it?" he heard from her screaming from the other room.

"No. Don't worry!" he shouted back.

He returned to the table and opened his laptop. The screen was awaiting his password so it could come to life. He took a long breath.

He believed in karma. He felt that he had paid for all his sins, but he also felt he was so lucky. With her and theHive bringing so much abundence into his life, he expect it to end just like that.
Every day he stared at the passowrd, thinking it won't work.
Thinking if it didn't, he deserved it.

He typed it slowly and waited.

" Welcome. You have messages" it said and he clicked through them until he pushed reply to the one he was awaiting.

"I'm on my way" he typed.

He closed the laptop, put it in the bag and went outside where she had been waiting.

DJ_Count_Zero was on his way.

Page one is here.