Bubbling Over

Days had passed since the teaser stream. The tour crept ever closer. 

Lena and Elise had not talked it out yet. Unacceptable.

Maya played the part of stalker well. Now, it was Lena's turn to act. They couldn't go on tour with a rift as big as the one between them at the moment. Not like this.

She finally found Elise, staring into a DeepSpace of rolling hills and mountains reminiscent of farmland you'd see in Switzerland. Her place was near Maya's farm, one that Lena hadn't been to before. She was a private girl, elusive even at the best of times. 

It was the younger girl who spoke first.

“You could have waited before dropping that,” Elise’s voice cut through the air like a shard of glass, sharp and cold. She stood at the edge of the room, arms folded, her posture defensive but unmistakably defiant.

Lena raised an eyebrow, playing at casual indifference. “Waited for what, exactly?”

Elise’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You didn’t have to take over the stream like that.”

I was following the plan. The one Maya and I discussed. The one you were in the room for, or did I imagine that?”

“Planning, huh? That there’s the problem. There was no need to have a plan for what was supposed to be a chill stream at Maya’s in the first place!” Elise’s glare deepened. “Also, I just didn’t realize said plan was for you to sideline everyone else.”

Lena sighed, running a hand through her hair. “If this is about me taking the lead—”

“It’s not about you taking the lead,” Elise snapped. “It’s about you taking everything. Every time I try to step forward, you’re already ten steps ahead, making it impossible for anyone to do anything. It is the Maya and Astra show.”

The barb hit home, but Lena masked it with a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Right. Because the cicada farm stream was the epitome of glamour. Trust me, Elise, I’m not exactly stealing the spotlight in a barn.”

Elise’s cheeks flushed, the red creeping up her neck. “It’s not just about the stream. It’s about everything. The tour, the branding, even the way you talk to Maya—”

“Maya’s an adult. She’s capable of making her own decisions. Or are you implying she’s just some naïve kid I’m manipulating?”

Elise hesitated, the accusation hanging between them like a loose thread. “I’m saying,” she began carefully, her tone softer but no less pointed, “that you have a way of making everything about you. Whether you mean to or not.”

"Let's be objective, here." Lena felt the words twist in her gut. “I make it about me because it is about me. About the big two. Do you think this tour is happening because of some group effort? No, it'd dilute our image. It'd make it too confusing. The consumer wouldn't know what to do with so many different personalities on a tour without any prior collaborations.”

“And the rest of us are just your props?”

Lena opened her mouth to respond but stopped herself. Her gaze flicked to the empty chairs where Maya and the others had been moments ago, their absence suddenly palpable. “Look,” she said, her tone softer now, “I get it. You want more space. But if this tour doesn’t work, none of us will have any space. Maya, you, me—we’re all in the same boat.”

Elise didn’t move, her expression unreadable. Then she sighed, her shoulders sagging. “You don’t get it, Lena. You’ve always had everything—talent, success, connections. Some of us have to fight just to get noticed.”

She straightened, her voice measured. “You think I haven’t fought? That it’s all been handed to me? You have no idea what I’ve been through, Elise.”

“Maybe not,” Elise admitted, her voice quiet now. “But you don’t make it easy for people to stand beside you. You take up all the oxygen in the room.”

Lena looked away, the weight of the conversation pressing down on her chest. “I didn’t mean to,” she said finally, almost to herself.

Elise scoffed softly. “Maybe you didn’t. But intentions don’t mean much when the result’s the same.”

A silence stretched between them for a while. Elise glared daggers, perhaps imagining those same daggers were lodged in Lena's back. Finally, Elise turned toward the door. “Tell Maya I’ll see her tomorrow. Or don’t. I’m sure she’ll hear it from you first.”

Lena caught up with Elise just as the lift doors were sliding open. “Wait,” she said, a little breathless, stepping in front of the doorway. Elise hesitated, her hand hovering over the control panel.

“What do you want?” Elise asked, her tone sharp but weary.

“To talk,” Lena said. “Not as Astra. Just… Lena.”

Elise let out a short, humorless laugh.

Lena flinched but held her ground. “I just want to understand. If I’m the problem, I need to know how and now.”

Elise studied her for a moment, her expression a careful mask. “Fine. I’m tired of feeling like I’m just here to make up the numbers. Dunno, maybe I am being childish. Maybe it might not be best for business. But anyone not you or Maya has barely any input in any of this. At best, we can modify whatever you suggest, or just that, suggest. Like we are supporting acts.”

“That’s not how I see you,” Lena said, her voice quieter. “I thought we are working toward something. Together.”

“Not to me."

Lena pressed her lips together, forcing herself not to jump to a defense. “Maybe I’ve been too focused on the big picture to see how that’s affecting you. That’s on me. It's just very stressful right now. Too many moving parts.”

Elise didn’t respond, her arms still crossed tightly.

Lena took a step closer, lowering her voice. “You’re right, though. I’ve been doing this for so long, I forget what it’s like to feel… overlooked. Like you have to shout just to be seen. But that’s not what I want for you. Or anyone.”

Elise’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“So let me make this clear. I’m not promising to be perfect. I’m not even promising that I won’t mess up again. But I’ll make space. For you, for everyone. If I’m getting in the way, tell me, and I’ll fix it. No ego getting in the way, no excuses. But I need you to understand my strategy here.”

“And what happens when you forget?”

Lena smiled faintly, the expression tinged with self-awareness. “Then you remind me. Loudly, if you have to.”

Elise snorted, but her shoulders relaxed slightly. After a long while she sighed, finally meeting Lena’s gaze. For some reason, she could tell Elise was still weighing her up. “Alright.”

HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!

Lena tapped her wristband, watching the glowing text of Maya’s message flicker into her view. "All good with Elise. No more drama—for now."

Seconds later, Maya’s projection flickered to life in the room, shimmering in high-resolution detail. Her avatar mirrored her real-world form with small but deliberate imperfections—freckles, a slightly loose braid, and a vibrant jacket patched with old Earth festival logos.

“You’re looking smug,” Maya said with a grin, her holographic hand propped under her chin. “Tell me Elise didn’t storm off again.”

“Not this time,” Lena replied, leaning back in her chair. The Orbital Room, with its sleek white walls and faint hum of energy, seemed oddly tranquil. “We cleared the air. Or enough of it, anyway.”

Maya sighed in relief. “Good. I thought I’d have to play mediator again. Elise can be... passionate.”

Lena smirked. “Passionate’s one word for it. I’ve been accused of worse.”

Maya chuckled, the sound warm and unpolished, a rarity in a world where even laughter could be digitally engineered. “True. But I wouldn’t say you’re exactly like her. You’re more... calculated.”

“Calculated?” Lena arched an eyebrow, half-amused.

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Maya said, holding up her hands. “You’ve been in this game so long, you’ve got it down to a science.”

Lena tilted her head, watching Maya carefully.

"I just mean you’ve mastered your image. But I want to know what’s underneath. Who is Lena, before Astra?”

Lena hesitated, her fingers drumming against the armrest. “Not much to tell,” she said with a shrug. “I grew up in southern China, near the Vietnam border. Quiet place—rice paddies, rolling hills, the works.”

“Really?” Maya’s eyes lit up. “That sounds... peaceful. Not exactly where I’d picture a future idol growing up.”

“Wasn’t exactly ideal for it,” Lena said dryly. “My parents wanted me to do something respectable—you know the drill. Move to somewhere like New Tokyo. Make my million credits. Then retire and live out the rest of my two hundred or so years in peace, before I uploaded. Music wasn’t on the table.”

“What changed?” Maya asked, leaning closer.

Lena smiled faintly, her gaze distant. “I used to sneak into the city to watch performers. Musicians, street artists, dancers. That’s what drew me in. And there was this act that were so absurdly bad at songwriting it may as well have been parody. But the people weren’t there for the songs, they were there for them. The idea that you could move people—make them feel something—just by being up there.”

“Sounds like you ran away to the big city,” Maya teased.

“Shanghai first,” Lena said, a flicker of pride in her voice. “Then Hong Kong. Eventually, I got onto the Net circuits when they started. One thing led to another, and... here we are.”

Maya leaned back, taking it in. “And now you’re worried about the tour.”

“Worried might be putting it lightly.”

“Exactly why it’s going to work,” Maya said with a grin.

“Easy for you to say,” Lena muttered, though there was no bite in her tone. “You’re the wildcard. Everyone loves the fresh face.”

“And everyone trusts the anchor,” Maya countered. “That’s what you are. You’re what makes this more than just another show. Without you, it’s just hype.”

Lena paused, the words settling over her. The Orbital Room’s hum seemed louder in the silence, a low-frequency reminder of the tech-driven world they inhabited.

“Anyway,” Maya continued, her tone brightening, “we’ll figure it out. You’ve survived worse, right?”

Lena smirked, shaking her head. “Dangerously optimistic, you know that?”

“Someone has to be,” Maya said with a laugh. “Otherwise, how are we going to survive Alpha Centauri politics, crowds bigger than anything Earth ever saw, and Elise?”

HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!

The hovercar idled in the checkpoint queue, a low hum vibrating through the cabin. Outside, security drones zipped between lanes, their beams scanning for any anomaly. Inside, Lena sat rigid at first, staring blankly at the display panel, the words blurring together. 

The bass outside was blaring. It crept under her heart, which pounded like a jackhammer. 

She exhaled sharply, setting the datapad aside. Her eyes flicked to Caden, who sat still and composed beside her, his faintly glowing optics fixed on the horizon. Legions upon legions of humans, unsurprisingly. Not often does an Idol get out of her Net cocoon. 

Without a word, she leaned into Caden's shoulder. It was more instinct than thought. Caden shifted just enough to accommodate her weight, his presence steady, unwavering. The faint hum of his internal systems was oddly soothing, a counterpoint to the chaos outside.

Her breathing slowed, but the tension lingered. It all pressed against her temples. She closed her eyes, but rest didn’t come easily. Her fingers twitched on her lap, restless even in her exhaustion.

Caden remained still, a quiet sentinel. His gaze flickered briefly to her face before returning to the window. The silence between them was thick, not uncomfortable but charged—like a pause before something inevitable.

Margot sat in the hovercar beside Lena, her eyes flicking between the clipboard in her lap and the chaos unfolding outside.

A paparazzi drone buzzed close to the vehicle, its tiny lens tilting as it scanned the scene. Margot glanced up from her clipboard, her expression unreadable. She nudged the car’s privacy panel with her finger, ensuring the glass remained opaque.

“Event Coordinator,” the drone chirped, tagging her with a blasé disinterest before whirring off to chase more obvious targets.

Margot snorted softly, leaning back in her seat.

Lena, slouched against the opposite door, cracked one eye open. “What’s that?” she mumbled, her voice thick with exhaustion.

“Nothing,” Margot replied smoothly, flipping her clipboard closed. “Just keeping the vultures busy.”

Lena exhaled, her head lolling against the seat. “Thanks, Marj. You are the best.”

Margot tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Save your voice, superstar. And your hormonal regulator Meds are still on you, correct?”

“I…” Her eyes opened wide. “Oh sh—”

“Relax,” Caden chimed. He dangled the pills and injectors in front of her like a jangle of keys. “You think I didn’t know you’d forget? Your behavior has indicated as such.”

“For God’s sake, Lena. Perfection will be a hard sell if you keep acting this way.”

“S-sorry.”

A soft chime signaled that their clearance was complete. The hovercar glided forward. Lena didn’t move, her body too heavy with fatigue and something else—something harder to name. Her grip tightened faintly on his arm, a silent acknowledgment, a need she couldn’t quite articulate.

Soon, the rest of Maya’s entourage will be here. And in exactly three hours, the world will either come crashing down, or catapult Earth’s entertainment industry into greatness.