“You drive, Z,” Aech said. “The Little Red Corvette won’t start for you unless you’re wearing the Raspberry Beret.”
I jumped behind the wheel. Aech took shotgun, forcing Shoto to hop into the back. The Corvette’s engine roared to life, and I pulled away from the curb and out into traffic. Nearly all of the other vehicles on the road were either a sports car or a limousine.
“Take that freeway on-ramp,” Aech said, pointing up ahead. “Onto I-394 West. Follow it all the way out of town. Drive as fast as you can.”
I did as she instructed and took the on-ramp, then I put the hammer down, pushing the engine up over a hundred miles an hour. As we rocketed west, Aech switched on the car’s radio, and it began to play “Little Red Corvette.” When the song ended, it started over again—apparently it was the only song the radio would pick up. After a few repetitions, we all started singing along with the chorus—until Aech suddenly snapped off the radio in disgust.
“Hold up a second,” she said, turning around in her seat to address Shoto. “Did my ears just deceive me, or were you just singing ‘Living correct’?”
Shoto nodded.
“Yeah, so?” he said. “Those are the lyrics, aren’t they?”
“No,” she replied. “No, those are not the lyrics, Shoto. The title of the song is ‘Little Red Corvette.’ It always has been.”
Shoto furrowed his brow.
“Seriously?” he said. Then he shrugged. “Wow. That really changes the whole meaning of the song for me.”
“Shoto?” Aech asked. “Buddy? Did you happen to notice that we are sitting in a little red Corvette right now? And that no other song will play on its radio?”
“Listen to it again,” Shoto said. “ ‘Living correct’ works too. I’m telling you!”
Aech looked up at the sky expectantly.
“I can’t believe that shit didn’t warrant a lightning bolt, but OK,” she muttered.
Aech continued to give me driving directions until we reached the Seven Corners area, located near the neon-lit intersection of three streets—Washington, Cedar, and Nineteenth Avenues, all of which were paved with red bricks instead of asphalt.
Despite the name, I only counted four corners. There was a different music club located on each one, each with its own giant stylized neon sign bearing the venue’s name. On one corner was a club called Clinton’s House. Directly across the street was a venue with an ice-blue neon sign that said MELODY COOL, located in a gray stone building with stained-glass windows that made it look more like a church than a dance club. Across the street from it, on yet another corner, was a club called Glam Slam, which had a giant neon Mars symbol encircling its front entrance.
When we reached another little club with a big neon sign—this one called the Baby Doe Bar—Aech told me to pull over. I parked the car and we all jumped out.
“OK, here’s the deal,” Aech said. “Avatars can come down here and audition for any of the local bands playing in one of these clubs. If we pass and they let us join their band, they’ll fight beside us later on when we have to enter the arena. Got it?”
Shoto pointed to a flyer stapled to a nearby utility pole, announcing open auditions for a band called Dez Dickerson and the Modernaires. The picture on the flyer featured the band’s lead singer (Dez, I presumed) wearing a Japanese flag bandanna.
“How about these guys?” Shoto asked. “They look totally wicked.”
Aech rolled her eyes.
“Oh, that’s a fantastic idea, Shoto,” she replied. “Who better equipped to do sonic battle against the greatest musician in history than Dez Dickerson and the Modernaires! That would really have Prince quaking in his six-inch heels!” Aech pointed down the street. “Better yet, why don’t we just stroll down that way a few blocks and audition for Apollonia 6!”
“OK!” Shoto replied cheerfully. “If they have six members and the three of us join forces with them, there will be nine of us total! We’ll have the Seven Princes outnumbered!”
I pulled up an Apollonia 6 album cover in a browser window and turned it toward Shoto. It showed three young women in lingerie, surrounded by mist, posing in front of a bunch of obelisks. One of them had a large teddy bear wrapped around her fishnet stocking–covered leg.
“I think Apollonia 6 only has three members,” I said. “Unless you count the teddy bear.”
We both turned to Aech for confirmation, but she was already walking away from us, shaking her head at our ignorance. Shoto and I ran after her….
Then we ran into her. Aech had come to a sudden halt just ahead of us, after only taking a few steps. And once we recovered from our collision with her, we saw why. Nolan Sorrento’s black-armored avatar was standing directly in front of us, blocking our path.
The guy who murdered my aunt and a bunch of my neighbors in an attempt to kill me. Back on the street. Free as a bird.
“Boo!” he shouted, making all three of us flinch. This, in turn, made him cackle with delight. He looked extremely happy to see us, and I found that extremely unsettling.
“Wow!” Sorrento said, once he regained his composure. “Look at you guys! The A-Team is back in action. Just like old times….”
He took a menacing step toward us, but we all held our ground.
“Don’t you kids ever get tired of picking through the wreckage of a past generation’s nostalgia?” He stretched his arms out wide. “I mean, look around. The entire OASIS is like one giant graveyard, haunted by the undead pop-culture icons of a bygone era. A crazy old man’s shrine to a bunch of pointless crap.”
“Why are you here, Sorrento?” I asked. “We’re kinda busy at the moment.”
“Anorak sent me to check in on you,” he replied. “You’re burning an awful lot of time on this planet. And your friend Art3mis appears to have abandoned you.” He smiled. “I suspected that might happen. After all, if the three of you fail, you die, and that would leave her in control of your company….”
I did my best to act as though he’d really gotten under my skin. If he and Anorak believed that Samantha had bailed on us, they wouldn’t be concerned with what she was really up to.
“Anyway,” Sorrento said. “Anorak is preoccupied at the moment, so he sent me to remind you that every move you make is being watched. Time is running out. And your deadline is nonnegotiable.” He smiled and then added, “So keep your eyes on the prize or meet your demise.”
And with that, Sorrento teleported away, and his avatar vanished.
We all stared at the spot where he’d just been for a moment. Then, without a word, we kept on moving.
As Aech led us toward the next intersection, we passed a copy of the Moulin Rouge, which was right next to a place called Ambulance Bar. Up ahead of us, mixed in with all of the music venues, I also spotted a video arcade called the Coin Castle. From what little I could see through its front windows, it was packed with nothing but purple pinball machines and videogame cabinets. I was hoping Aech was headed for it, but she ran right past the Coin Castle’s front entrance, and continued running until we reached a large nightclub located on the next corner. It had a neon sign over its entrance that spelled out the word PANDEMONIUM in fiery orange letters. There was a large clock mounted up above, with THE TIME printed directly above it in all-capital letters. This struck me as odd, like printing THE DATE above a calendar.
Aech led us up to the club’s front entrance. It was guarded by the same bearded six-foot-tall bleach-blond muscle-bound zebra-vested gentleman we’d seen earlier, guarding Purple Rain Prince at Mann’s Chinese Theatre. He stepped in front of the door to block our way, then folded his giant arms across his tree trunk of a chest.
“Wassup, Big Chick?” Aech asked, addressing the NPC like an old friend.