Book One of the Silvervale Series
Finally, a paid gig.
A whopping six paid gigs out of what felt like a bazillion. Aiden Bardwell was well on his way to becoming a superstar. Money, fame, fans, perks—the list went on.
Ah, who am I kidding? He shuddered and blew the hair strands away from his eyes. They floated up and plopped right back down to reality.
He could only fantasize about that life.
He stood, perched on an unstable beer crate, sweeping the crowd of mostly masculines but also some overly posh effeminates farther out. The old bar burned his nostrils with mildew and citrus bleach, but it probably didn’t smell as harsh to the drunken folks stumbling by.
Charlie, the owner who had presented the beer crate as a makeshift stage, now stood behind his bar counter, waiting for the right moment to get everyone’s attention. He inserted two pairs of fingers into his mouth and blew an ear-piercing sound.
Just a few people turned.
He whistled again.
Still noisy but a little more hushed. He shouted through them anyway, “Hey! We got a rare show tonight for the Memorial of the Great Disappearance!” He gestured toward Aiden. “Aiden Bardwell. Your local musician here in Fullerton. Ha,” he breathed a chuckle, “and maybe the only musician left in Southern Cali—no, the whole world. See that floating QR thing?” He waved a finger. “Help him out a little.”
A few people rolled their eyes as Aiden had expected.
“Don’t be a cheapskate,” Charlie continued in his gruff voice.
“But why, bro?” someone shouted Aiden’s way. “There’s like AI that can make music so much better than you.”
Not that he expected people to understand anymore. Just his five online musician friends.
“Yeah, AI’s so cheap it’s practically free,” someone else shouted. “No tips needed—”
“You some kind of geezer?—”
“Hey now!” Charlie interrupted them. “Just for today until I get my new speakers in. It’s the poor bastard’s birthday too, alright?”
“Today?”
A quick hush swept over, and it seemed like they were done bickering. Aiden didn’t need the pity but was thankful anyway.
“This will be a fine salute to the Memorial.” With that, Charlie gave a quick nod to Aiden, who was still awkwardly perched on the crate.
He took a deep breath. His phone with his mic app was clipped to his pink trench coat, and a mini yet mighty speaker sat on a rogue stool. He was confident in his craft. Even the disapproval from the crowd wasn’t enough to discourage him. And though he’d resigned himself to the state of music these days, he wasn’t going to surrender. Not yet.
He strummed his guitar.
The door of the bar swung open. In walked his roommate, Marcus, curly haired and in a floral shirt, with his ladyfriend, Colinda, in a snug red dress, just in time for Aiden’s fingers to fly across the guitar strings.
His skin tingled with anticipation. Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe tonight, they’d all change their minds and support raw human voices again.
A red spotlight trailed his body, from his boots to the embroidered human heart sewn on the breast pocket of his pink trench coat, then up his rough, stubbled face, flaws and all exposed under the glow.
His lips slowly parted, and a breath of song rose into the air. Calm yet charged, each note deliberate, each line perfectly harmonized. As his voice grew, the lyrics became bold and fiery. Then, with a flick of his wrist, his guitar solo exploded with fast tempos and bouncy strumming patterns, reminiscent of a playful rebellion.
Charlie’s weathered hands banged together with the rhythm of the power-pop song. Just three claps though, before he moved on to rummage through the vodka bottles.
Aiden held a high note, his voice brimming with passion and ending in a tremble. The crowd was still talking, most ignored him. But there was a moment when they hushed. Whether it was to appreciate him or because there was nothing else to talk about remained a mystery.
When the last tune of his final song settled into silence, Aiden opened his eyes to a handful of applause, some genuine, some not. Lukewarm at best. Marcus and Colinda offered an encouraging cheer. Still better than singing to the ghosts of those who’d vanished thirty years ago.
Wait, is she—? Aiden froze. An effem lifted her phone his way. Was she about to—oh… it’s just a selfie. He should have known better.
Of course, everyone’s eyes avoided the hologram QR code hovering near his guitar. He knew what they were thinking. If they really did enjoy it, they’d feel pressured to tip. And they most definitely would rather use their money on other things like tech and sports betting—any betting, really. There was no way he could make a living as a musician anymore. Not since concerts turned obsolete fifteen years ago—well, human concerts. Now AI hologram performances raged because they were low costing. Anyone could generate those. Not only did raves and parties no longer have to pay DJs and singers, they also didn’t need to raise drink prices or charge admission to cover those costs.
The dream was dead. But here he was. Still hopeful.
Not the finale Aiden wanted, but at least it ended with a big bang, his boots crushing the beer crate.
No one’s ears even twitched for that. He forced a half-smile and trotted over to the bar.
“My father would’ve liked those songs,” Charlie said.
“Did he—?”
“Yep, like many others since the Great Disappearance, he couldn’t deal with half the population gone and ended his life on his own terms.”
Aiden grimaced. He tried to imagine the mysterious loss of bio-females, but how could he miss a mass group of people he’d never met? Still, he remained curious.
“Ah, yes… tragic.” He adjusted his guitar strap. “Well, thanks. I really appreciate the opportunity. And all those other opportunities before too.”
“Yeah, no worries. It’s too bad it ain’t what it used to be, eh?” Charlie fiddled with his smartwatch’s screen. “It’s not much money, but that’ll do for tonight.”
Aiden took in the old, wet wood smell of the small bar and wondered if this would be the last time he’d perform here.
“Big thirty.” Marcus swaggered toward Aiden and gave him a generous pat on the back. “Still the youngest age on Earth.”
Aiden leaned back on the bar counter and forced a smile.
“You good?” Colinda asked, nudging him gently.
“Yeah. Just… birthdays. You know.”
She softened. “Your mom?”
He nodded. “She died giving birth to me, so it’s kind of a double whammy.”
Marcus gave a low whistle. “That’s rough, dude, but check it.” He gestured toward Colinda.
She reached out with both hands, one holding a small bag, the other, a shot of something clear. Aiden grabbed both, placing the bag on the bar counter. His fingers brushed the edges of the box inside, and his heart skipped a beat. He pulled it out, eyes widening at the sleek, shiny packaging. He nearly dropped his shot glass from excitement. He knew exactly what it was.
“Shot first,” Marcus chided playfully.
There was no room for argument. Aiden dumped the drink into this mouth, and the couple followed with their own.
Half swallowed, Aiden gargled up a piratey, “Arghhh!”
Then he tore open the box to reveal the latest version of the RingCast. Even some random bar patrons nearby saw and raised their brows.
Like a proud parent, Marcus beamed, his dark brown eyes—the same as Aiden’s—brightened, giving all the credit to Colinda, who wore a smug little smile. She’d hand-picked the smart, mind-reading assistant, designed to be worn on the ring finger.
Colinda, like Marcus, was “fabulously thirty-two” and was a tall and slender trans-lady who always had flashy nails, shoes that gave her height she didn’t need, and different-colored eyelashes. This was her first serious relationship since parting ways with her former sugar daddy. One could say she had downgraded, because, well, it was Marcus—immature, with no sense of boundaries, and unfortunately burdened with historically undesirable genes. But that was the beauty of love.
“We’re gonna go to another bar,” Marcus said as Charlie’s started emptying.
“This late?”
“We’re off work tomorrow in observance of the holiday,” Colinda answered.
Aiden smirked. “What if there’s a pressure washing emergency?”
“Urine stains and bodily fluids can wait a day.” Marcus grinned his usual grin. “Or someone will send a bot out. Plus, you know I’m on the mechanical side, so I don’t have to deal with all that crap.”
“What?” Aiden pulled back. “You’re the one peeing all over town.”
“False accusations.”
He laughed, though he really did think his roommate stained the streets of Fullerton. He recalled last week when Marcus tricked him into thinking he’d landed a paid gig only to drag him out to see a statue with a urine-stained crotch. For shits and giggles.
“What about you? Where’re you heading?” Marcus asked. “A fourth date with that effem of yours?”
Aiden stopped fiddling with his new RingCast and groaned as the message from his date of three times replayed in his head. “Nah, that’s over.”
“What? Why? Doesn’t she know how much of a pure, innocent stud you are?” Marcus said it in a way that Aiden couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.
“Something about being too jealous—too much. Seriously, asking about some other guy isn’t jealousy. It’s… common sense.” Aiden shrugged, stating the obvious.
Marcus and Colinda chuckled. Aiden gave a half-smile, but his mind was already drifting, tugged by the same quiet longing he rarely voiced.
One day, I’ll find the love of my life.
Hopefully, it would be easier than navigating a career in music. But with the smaller population, his options were limited. Fewer chances to experience something meaningful.
As the bar continued quieting down to just transactional voices with prostitutes, one argument, and a pair of jolly, slurring guys, Aiden started heading toward the exit with Marcus and Colinda.
When they stepped outside, the spring air was just below a breeze. Aiden let his mind wander as he gazed at the busy street ahead. Vine-wrapped buildings colored the night, while streetlights and restaurants lit up the sidewalks. One street vendor sold meat skewers and even beer. People shouted from balconies like volume control didn’t exist. A rugby game blared from another bar, mixed with cheers and groans. Self-driving cars zipped by in monochromatic colors. Even with it all, it wasn’t enough to stop the old question from resurfacing. The one that never really left him.
What if that mysterious disturbance hadn’t happened exactly thirty years ago today?
If it had never happened, would he have found love by now? Would he have been successful in music? Would he have had a large following of loving fans?
How was he ever going to bring non-AI music fandom back?
He parted with Marcus and Colinda, wondering if he should remain delusionally hopeful.
Swipe.
“—still no solution to our population decline—”
Swipe.
“Will bots outnumber humans in—”
Swipe.
“Out with Botox. In with—”
Swipe.
“—best dating app—”
Joana Blake sighed and folded her phone, as if that could magically mute the noise of a world she’d long since checked out of. The last of her solitary brunch felt rough going down her throat.
A bot rolled onto the patio and stopped in the shade of the umbrella pierced through her table. It presented her bill on its body. She waved her palm over it and then heard an airy voice call her.
Her eyes drifted up to a figure outlined by the blazing sun. Fringes of silver hair tucked beneath a cap. A familiar tight-lipped smile.
Brooks Heyward, otherwise known as Babylon in the media. An adorned pop star, born female, identified gentleman, and certifiably sexy.
And her former high school crush. Many of her classmates’ too. He was the only one who made her stumble over her words and sweat profusely, on top of those already uncomfortable teenage hormones, challenging her don’t-give-a-f MO.
She used to watch him sing in the quad during break, pretending not to stare. Even back then with different pronouns, Brooks was popular. That clear face, pointy chin, tasteful neck tattoos, and a masculine, toned body with just a touch of femininity. He fit the current standard of a sexy “Jenman” in the U.S.
Her grandma would’ve totally disagreed.
“Hot” men, according to her grandma, didn’t have an ounce of femininity. They were ultra-masculine and apparently irresistible back in her day. Even transitioned men, to her, didn’t quite match those muscle-bound guys of yesteryear. Not that she could compare anymore. No more maleborns left to judge. And no more grandma.
Joana missed her grandma’s quirks.
“Hey, Brooks. What’s happenin’?” she greeted with controlled excitement. “I haven’t seen you since graduation!”
“I know. I moved to Ojai and started working on my music and haven’t stopped since.” His voice was a cool, unruffled tone.
She noticed how his cap shadowed his face, how the collar of his jacket stood high, and how his back was turned to the café’s customers. She swept across the patio; two pairs of people sat further out.
She lowered her voice. “Yeah, you’re a busy rockstar now, living in the city of glitz and glam, while I'm still here in Silvervale, honing my snacking skills.” She laughed, mostly at herself.
Brooks let out a laugh too, tinged with a soft sigh. “I miss Silvervale… but can’t beat the commute to the studios in Ojai.”
His phone chimed a loud notification.
Joana, wanting to be attentive, scooted her chair back and stood up, ready to wish him well, but Brooks carried on as if he hadn’t heard anything.
“I visit your d-board every so often.” He hinted.
Stalking my social media, are ya? Joana entertained the idea.
He hesitated. “Y’know, I don’t manage my own socials and can’t have my own personal ones, so I barely can keep in touch with anyone.”
“Hey, you’re a big deal. I mean, I feel famous-adjacent just standing next to ya.”
He grinned bashfully, revealing a twinkle in his eye.
As Joana forced herself to blink away and back, she wondered why they ever lost touch. The way they were connecting now seemed like time had never passed. Or maybe his celebrity charm made her feel closer than they really were.
She cleared her throat, trying not to be distracted. “So, are you here for lunch?”
“I actually used to work here during high school. I came home to visit my mom and wanted to drop by to say hi to my old boss, but it’s so nice bumping into you here.”
“Oh, totes, same.”
As two people walked past the patio, Brooks pulled down the bill of his cap, his grayish-hazel eyes still striking deep into Joana’s brown ones.
“And the food here’s great. Especially the avocado toast.”
“That’s what I had! And a side of greasy fries.” She couldn’t help but grin at the mention of her favorite side dish.
“Gotta get the fries.” His brows jumped, then he thought for a second. “What are you up to these days? Married? Dating?”
“Oh, no, no. I don’t fuck with that. I just go to work, as a janitor at a robotics company.”
“That’s intriguing. What’s that like?”
“The lack of love in my life or the janitor part?” Joana deadpanned.
“Oh, you’re a hoot.” Brooks flashed an effortless smile, all straight white teeth.
She’d forgotten how much she liked seeing a great smile. “Work’s not too run down, but it’s nothing like bein’ a successful rockstar.”
They both chuckled.
Brooks cleared his throat, his lips fading into a soft smile. “I’m actually working on something right now.”
As the four patrons got up and left, Joana noticed a small dimple outside the corner of Brooks’s mouth that she’d never noticed before. Only visible up close. It wasn’t like the dimple had any special powers, but it felt like it had created a quiet, curious charm around him. She could see why all the ladies and lads loved Babylon. He was super charismatic, and who doesn’t like a crown full of thick locks? His cap could barely hide them. And his smile… his dazzling smile melted people’s hearts worldwide.
His current single status? Now that could cause a riot.
“But enough about work. Any upcoming plans?” he asked.
“Not really…”
She began to fidget, her hands now shoved into her pockets. There wasn’t anything interesting she could share. Most of Joana’s life lately had been uneventful, but she’d come to accept it. Now, talking to this celebrity, her mind worked overtime to mask her sense of inadequacy.
Suddenly, an itch on her butt transformed her thoughts into this new fixation of scratching it, but she fought the urge, determined to maintain a sense of refinement while standing next to such a presence. Oh, how she wanted to violently claw at it. Maybe if I subtly lean my ass on this table and give a small, discreet wiggle…
There was a pause.
Then Brooks poured his eyes somewhere—not quite her face.
Shit. Did he notice?
She straightened up immediately. “But, um, I keep myself busy listening to music or just playin’ games… or staying home scrolling through reels. Mostly the latter.”
“Sounds nice and relaxing.” His words, paired with his now calm expression, left no room for doubt. He really meant it. “And whose music are you listening to these days?”
Why do his eyes feel like they’re piercing straight through me?
“Well… ya know… pretty, silver-haired musicians who’ve forgotten their hometown of Silvervale.” She smirked at the surprising flirty words she’d managed to toss out.
“Oh yeah? I think I know this musician. What do you think about his new rib tattoo?”
Joana’s brows rose. Is he gonna—?
Brooks lifted one side of his shirt. Yup. A cluster of poppies were inked on his ribs. Forget the tattoo. Abs.
She blinked twice, trying, failing to stay cool. “Poppies?”
“Yeah.” He lowered his shirt, and Joana could swear she heard a quiet hint of disappointment in the air. “They’re… carefree, low maintenance… and they thrive, no matter the conditions.”
His eyes never wavered from hers, and all she could do was nod, a little too enthusiastically.
There was another pause, which felt like the right time to escape awkwardness… or embarrassment.
“Well—”
“Um, can I get your direct line?” Brooks quickly asked, waiting before pulling out his phone.
She was certain he just wanted to catch up—no hidden messages or secret meanings. How could a massive celebrity she hadn’t seen in sixteen years want anything more? So they exchanged contacts, while she forced a grin, pretending she hadn’t been caught mid-butt wiggle or staring at his abs earlier.
But as Brooks walked away, a flutter of something warmer, older, stirred in her chest.
Something she hadn’t felt since high school.
Something unfinished…