The Irrelevancy of Logic - Mai Fiori (Golden City Archives #2)
I found myself at a somewhat upscale piano lounge on the corner of Sutter and Jones Street on top of Nob Hill one foggy evening. Golden-orange paper lanterns were scattered across the ceiling of the lounge, illuminating the dim room. I casually sat at the end of a booth in the middle of the lounge that was set against the wall of the narrow room.This seating arrangement allowed me to have out my notebook out as I observed and documented my surroundings. Adults of all ages, genders, and cultures congregated beneath the luminous lanterns. Their faces glowed as they drank and talked, joked and flirted. While it was clear that they were there to enjoy one another’s company, there was an air of anticipation in the air. They had packed themselves into the bar for the same reason I had.
Photo by Gerrie van der Walt on Unsplash
Through the grapevine of the new acquaintances I’d acquired over the past month, I had heard that the astoundingly famous Golden City popstar, Mai Fiori, would be performing at the all-night San Francisco piano lounge, Melody Past Midnight. While I was interested in her music, the real reason I wanted to see Fiori perform was because she happened to be a key player in the supernatural war. Rumor had it that she used her gift of song and dance to rally her allies and cripple her foes. The same rumor mill had also told me that she’d grown up in San Francisco's Japantown neighborhood as a shrine maiden and learned the art of kendo from her grandfather. I couldn't believe it. She sounded like the main character of an anime. I knew I had to investigate and see her perform for myself.
As I took a long sip from a cool Long Island iced tea and took notes, all of the paper lanterns went out. Moments later, a young woman walked onto the stage against the wall in the back of the lounge, directly across from the entrance. It was like there was nothing else in the room but her.
She seemed like she was too young to even be there - somewhere between seventeen and eighteen if I had to put my money on it. She had charcoal black hair with smokey white highlights running through it that went past her shoulders. She was probably about 5'7” and wore a black leather choker with a matching black leather jacket, a white blouse underneath, blue jeans, and sneakers. She grabbed the mic at the center of the stage and the crowd grew silent. She closed her eyes. Everyone's attention was on her. As she opened her eyes, she snapped her fingers with her free hand. Three ghostly figures appeared out of thin air and took form the previously vacant space behind her. All three figures were holding instruments. There was an old, thin black man with a gray beard wearing a tweed flat cap and holding a saxophone. To the right of him and directly behind Mai was a white man in a tank top with vibrant sleeve tattoos on each arm. He was gripping a pair of drumsticks, ready to play. Next to him was a middle-aged blonde woman in a bright yellow shirt and white pants holding a bass. As Mai's eyes opened, her ensemble knew to start playing. The sounds of smooth jazz mixed with the sauciness of 2050s pop sailed through the lounge. I knew I was about to see the performance of a lifetime.
"You know you've got that thing that makes the girls all swing. You know exactly what you do," she sang as her words wafted throughout the lounge, resonating with the audience. As the pleasant sounds of her slightly raspy but delightfully soft voice flowed into my ears, I felt as if my body was relaxed and enchanted. One thing I found really interesting was her song of choice. It was a beautiful song from 2016 by an artist named Marian Hill called “One Time.” I highly recommend listening to One Time by Marian Hill once you finish reading to get the full effect of the brilliant performance I experienced. Why she chose a hit from thirty-four years previous instead of something more modern or original, I may never know. Maybe she's the perfect mood-setter, or maybe it was her favorite song. (I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. It happens to be my favorite song.)
As she continued to serenade the crowd, the paper lanterns flickered back on one by one across the room, suffusing the lounge and all of its patrons with a warm glow. It was as if she had lit them with the sound of her voice. The whole room was spellbound. Everyone in the crowd was clapping in unison to the beat of the song. I realized that I had joined their clapping without realizing it. "One time, one time, one time. Boy I'm not the kind of drum you play one time," she sang as the sweet melody of her voice filled the room, causing people to sway and dance with joy. As the saxophonist blew out the sounds of smooth jazz, the tattooed drummer methodically played the snares, and the bassist gracefully strummed the strings of her guitar, Mai softly sang the last lines of the song: "One time....." What happened moments later, at the end of her performance is something I'll never forget.
Her ensemble was playing her out as she - I kid you not - put back the microphone and walked directly off the center of the stage and into the middle of the room - on thin air.. She continued to walk throughout the room as if nothing but her confidence and the simple fact that she wanted to walk on air was supporting her. Tiny ripples of air formed around her feet as she walked. As she was making her way to the exit across the room, the sounds of music faded away and the crowd watched in awe as the musicians that had played for her vanished in a puff of smoke. Once she made to where I was sitting, our eyes met. Something in that shared look caused her to jump right out of the air and gracefully float onto the ground in front of me. The entire crowd, including myself, erupted in applause and cheers as soon as she landed. She looked at the crowd with a cheerful smile as she waved at them and blew kisses before casually taking a seat across from me in the booth I was sitting at.
She introduced herself and I did the same. I told her how much I had enjoyed her performance and how impressed I was at her ability to entrance an entire crowd. She thanked me and seemed really happy to hear it, her grin stretching from ear to ear. She said she didn't have much time to chat as she had to get back to the dorms at her school, but something had told her to stop and talk with me for a moment.
Curious as to why she was performing in a lounge when she was still so young, I asked her to clarify what she meant about the dorms. She told me that she was in her junior year at Golden City Academy, the school floating on its own island off the coast of San Francisco in the bay. I mentioned this school in my last post; apparently a lot of the youths involved in the war have special gifts and attend this school not only for a standard education but also to learn how to use their powers to protect themselves and their loved ones. She explained that has to make appearances to maintain her career, so the headmistress of the Academy allows her to perform with the conditions that she stays safe and is back by her curfew. Knowing it was late and she didn't have much time left, I asked her for her backstory and how she became "Mai Fiori."
Mai confirmed the rumors I’d heard about her being born and raised in San Francisco's Japantown neighborhood and growing up as a shrine maiden and learning kendo. She said Mai Fiori is her real name. Fiori is the last name of her Irish-Italian father. Her Japanese mother wanted her to have a nice Japanese first name to honor her Japanese heritage, so they named her Mai, meaning “dance,” or, alternatively, “love and affection.”
Captivated by her story and eager to know more, I asked how she’d become a popstar. She explained that she went to live with her grandparents in Japan when she was younger and ended up getting scouted to join an idol group. She was a natural and became famous almost as soon as they debuted, but as time went on she noticed a lot of shadiness in the industry and grew uncomfortable with how poorly the performers were treated. She said it was a very negative culture that she didn't want to be a part of.
Around the time she was trying to decide whether or not to come back home to San Francisco, she said that her parents contacted her and said that the headmistress at Golden City Academy was a big fan and wanted to offer her a full scholarship, including room and board. She explained that the Academy is a world-renowned private school and that you only get in with an invitation from the Headmistress herself. It was an enormous honor and opportunity for her. So she said it was a no-brainer to go back home and join the Academy. She was back in the Golden City by that weekend.
Before I could ask anymore questions, she jumped up, bowed, and started to run off with a wave and smile as she apologized for her sudden departure. Based on how late it was, I figured she was close to breaking her curfew, so I didn't take it to heart.
Before she made it out the door, I asked Mai what her album was called.he turned around, stared at me with a knowing smile, and replied, "The Irrelevancy of Logic."
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Featured image by Alice Moore on Unsplash
