Page 64 of Hunter's Hidden Camera
Oscar lifts up his chin. “¿Qué bola, asere?”
Twyla asks the man, “How’s the crowd in there tonight?”
“I believe you’ll be quite pleased,” he says, “but I do suppose it depends on what it is exactly that you’re looking for.”
“True.” Twyla nods.
The man says, “I kindly ask for you to give me tonight’s password.”
Twyla smiles. “The password is ‘Venus 1-8-7.’”
“Excellent,” he says.
Next to him is a shallow woven basket, sitting on top of what looks like a small antique table. Inside the basket are a stack of white masks, the kind that covers the top half of your face and that is secured with an elastic band around the back of your head.
The man reaches for three masks and hands them to us.
“As you know,” he says, “the first request, as always, is that you keep your mask on at all times.”
Oscar looks at me like, “WTF?!”
Twyla excitedly puts her mask on.
I shrug at Oscar. We put our masks on too.
The man unhooks one end of the velvet rope from a stanchion, creating a path for us to enter.
Now that we’re this close to the door, the fog begins to envelop us, and the rainbow of flashing lights bounces off of our bodies. The rhythmic, hypnotic music grows louder and gives us all goosebumps. It smells like flowers, like gardens, like nature.
The man clears his throat and holds his arm out, gesturing for us to walk through the door.
He then says, with perfect diction, “Welcome to Perpetual Sunset.”
28
Perpetual Sunset
We step out of the hallway of the rundown office building and into whatever the hell Perpetual Sunset is. Twyla spreads her arms like she’s a bird mid-flight or an angel displaying its glory. She lets the pulsing rainbow of lights, the chill electronic dance music, and the artificial fog wash over her body. It’s as if she’s attempting to heighten her ability to feel myriad sensations, desiring to squeeze out the maximum pleasure from all her physical senses.
Oscar observes Twyla, impressed with how into all of this she is. He shoots me a look and gestures at her with his head, as if to say, “Check out this girl!”
We’re standing in an old-fashioned-looking but clean lobby area, lit only by a portable lighting system that pulses those colors on and off, to the rhythm of a slow heartbeat. Whenever the lights pulse off, we’re completely in the dark for a second. It’s kind of cool, but also a little bit creepy, especially since I don’t know what’s going on and what we’re doing here, really.
In front of us is a reception desk with a high counter. It’s obvious now that this used to be the office of some company in the distant past.
Behind the counter is a middle-aged woman with long blond hair that snakes down her back. She’s wearing a tight black dress and dark red lipstick. She doesn’t smile.
“Hello!” Twyla exclaims.
“Good evening,” says the woman in what sounds like a Russian accent. “Have you all been to Perpetual Sunset before?”
“A few times for me,” says Twyla. She waves a thumb at me. “But this guy has been coming to this forever. He’s practically an ambassador.”
“Excellent. So I assume I don’t have to review all the rules with you again. I hate having to do that speech over and over.”
Twyla nods. “We know the rules.”
“Good. And do you all agree to follow the rules and comply with all requests made by the experience architects?”
