Syren and I embarked on our journey towards Cyberia, The City of Ladies. It was a bright, sun-soaked day. We left the main road from Duwamish Bay and headed across the Uncharted Lands of Western Lemuria.

We followed only our intuition and sped across miles of desert and grasslands. We knew we would arrive without getting lost.

Then, towards mid-afternoon, we came over a rise and saw a river, calm and slow moving. We followed it for a while until we rounded a bend and stopped in astonishment. Before us lay an island city—white washed buildings easing up a mountain side in the center of the island. A large domed structure glittered in the sunlight, and an enormous obelisk pulsed with a beckoning light.

Cyberia! I didn’t need to goad Syren forward. She knew and was already splashing across the river.

When we reached the island, Syren and I found a main road that led to the gates of the city. I asked another traveler for the name of the highway we were on and I discovered to my surprise that this thoroughfare was none other than the famous Silk Road.

The Road passed through a double gate of polished gold that was embellished with reliefs depicting famous writers and artists from history. A watchtower of white stone stood adjacent to the gate. I glanced to the top of the tower and saw a stately woman looking me over. With a brief nod of her head, she motioned me to continue through the gate.

Throngs of people moved up and down the boulevard going about their daily business. I called to a young woman pushing a cart of bread. The warm smell of the loaves made my mouth water and my stomach rumble. I knew that Syren was as tired and hungry as me. I asked the woman for directions to a good livery and a short time later I had Syren cooled down and munching on a bag of oats. The livery manager informed me that the city’s center of activity was the Piazza del Pizan and I would be able to find lodging and food there. I thanked him, and a few minute’s walk found me at the Piazza.

Arched colonnades of peach and gray-colored marble surrounded the large open square. The obelisk that I had seen from across the river towered over the Piazza and I could see the golden dome of the Mouseion sparkling in the waning light. Night was beginning to fall and vendors in the square were busy closing up their stalls and storefronts. A distinguished looking man in a flowing green cloak moved from lightpole to lightpole lighting the lamps that would illuminate the Piazza.

My attention was drawn to a side street that jutted off from the Piazza. I heard muffled music coming from an establishment on the corner. Light emanated through a colorful stained-glass window. The image in the glass was that of a dancing woman holding a round lyre.

Above the image were the words “Il Taverna di Muse”. Next to the door was a small placard that read “Studios for Rent” and “Help Wanted.”

 

I pushed open the door and entered.

I stood for a moment in the dim light of the taverna, lit only by some purple Chinese lanterns and strings of tiny white Christmas lights. The sound of chimes, gongs, and drums pulsed through the air. I saw a Gamelan orchestra on a small stage and a beautiful Balinese girl in a sparkling sarong dancing to the music.I moved among the tables filled with patrons intently watching the dancer until I reached the bar.

The bartender leaned forward. “What can I get you, darling?”

“L’Enchanteur?”

“Nah, she’s my cousin. She’s always passing herself off as me. You look a might thirsty and tired.”

“Yes, may I have a bottle of Senorial? “

“Mexican Sangria? Of course. And you’ll need some chips and salsa to cut the sweetness, I should think.”

“Absolutely. Say, can you tell me the rent for a studio?”

“How much you got?”

I felt the ever lightening bag of Lemurian shekels in my cloak. “Well, not a lot.”

“Hmmm….” The bartender eyed me up and down. “You ever tended bar?”

“No.”

“Ever been in the hospitality or restaurant business?”

“No to that one too.”

The bartender squinted her blue eyes at me. “How well can you listen?”

“That I do very well.”

“Good. You’re hired.”

“For what? As a bartender?”

“Yep, pulling pints. Can’t handle all the night shift by myself. And, I’ll throw in one of the small studios upstairs  for half off the rent.”

I didn’t know a mojito from a martini. How could I be a bartender? I paused for a minute and looked around. I did come to Cyberia to be around the artsy types and to work on my own projects. I couldn’t do much better than this at the moment.

The patrons erupted in applause as the Balinese Gamelan players took their bows.

“Oh–I’m up now to announce the start of the poetry readings. Be a dear and watch the bar for me, will you?”

She handed me a towel before she slid over countertop and headed towards the stage.

A patron hollered to me from a table. “You there, could you bring me another Shandy, please? Thank you, dear.”

Shandy? Oh dear.

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Per our agreement, the Proprietess rented to me a tiny loft on the top floor of the Taverna overlooking the Piazza. A number of artists, writers, and performers lived there as well, and I was very grateful to secure this space among them. I was equally glad that my loft was ABOVE the flamenco dancer’s studio and not under it.

My space had a skylight and many windows, and sunlight flooded the space. Though small, the space served my purposes– I needed only a place to read, write and sleep. I could eat and entertain downstairs in the Taverna, and with the entire city of Cyberia waiting to be explored, I knew I often would not be home.

I could not bear to keep Syren locked up in a livery all day so I arranged boarding at horse farm outside the city for a small fee. She was close enough for me to visit regularly and I planned to go exploring with her on my days off.

Cyberia! I took a big breath of fresh air as I stepped onto my balcony. I felt aloft upon a breeze of hope and opportunity.
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TO BE CONTINUED………………

 

Images and text: Lori Gloyd © 2006; originally published in August 2006 at Cyberia, City of Ladies; Revised December 2006.