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10. INT. MAGNASEUM – BASKETBALL COURT – THAT NIGHT

Luis sits beside his Amboy buddy JAKE MALABAR, who is the star forward of the Antarctica Orcas.

They are on a bench at courtside, excitedly watching a barefoot MAHI-MAHI SHAMAN[1] with a bone through his lower lip and clad in a skirt made of fronds from a coconut tree, shuffle his feet in some complex pattern across the court, Luis cheering him on, going, “Sige! Go!! Shoot that ball!” and occasionally, standing up with his arms raised in the air and making noises, like Godzilla readying himself for a leisurely stroll through downtown Tokyo.

Jake needs to commit this pattern to memory, so that in tomorrow afternoon’s game, he will be doing the exact same thing: lulling all who watch him move into a state of riveted excitement, with a lingering after-effect of being highly suggestible.[2]

The Mahi-Mahi finishes his shuffling dance, then sharply barks a single syllable, which snaps both Luis and Jake out of their adrenalized reverie, negating the ill effects of the trance. The shaman then, quite suddenly, shrieks at the top of his lungs, then runs off the court.

Watching the retreating back of the Mahi-Mahi, Luis remarks, “Okay. That was weird.”

“Yeah,” Jake smirks, “but it’s my job.” He grins suddenly, holds up an invisible tin can, and says, in his Amboy accent, “Antarctica condensada, ang matamis na lamig. Brrr.”

Luis shakes his head. “That’s awful.”

“Hey, you’re the one that almost ended up with the Viva Hot Men,” Jake retorts.

“Hindi naman natuloy, a,” Luis replies sulkily.

“What?”

Luis sighs. “`Almost.’ It didn’t happen, right?[3]

“Anyway,” he says, steering the conversation towards his agenda, “you’ve seen Lil, right?”

“Who?!”

Luis blushes, hoping Jake doesn’t notice. “Lilith. Montemayor.”

Jake’s brow furrows, Cro-Magnon man trying to fathom quantum mechanics.

Luis sighs. “Lillian Lopez.”

Jake’s eyes light up with animated recognition, Cro-Magnon discovering he can make fire from flint, “Your high school sweetheart!”

“Habagat’s high school sweetheart,” Luis corrects.

“She’s hot, bro. Like an Asian Natalie Portman. Why?”

Luis shrugs, trying to act casual. “Wala lang.”

Jake scoffs, “`Wala lang,’ my half-Caucasian ass! You’ve got a jones for her, huh? Luis and Lillian. Cute. Double L.” Jake makes a face, sticks his tongue out.

“Lilith.”

“Still an L. So, asked her out yet?”

Luis looks at his friend, aghast. “Of course not! I just met her.”

“But she’s your co-star, man. And you’re doing that movie together. Don’t call it a date. Call it `bonding,’ or `research for the role,’ or something hokey like that.”

“I don’t know, I think I should take this one slow.”

“You Pinoys are such snails. You want a chick, bro, you just go for her. Tell her, so if she shoots you down, then you crash and burn early, and you get to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and get on with it. No long, drawn-out Tabing Ilog crap.”

“Which we just ripped off from Dawson’s Creek, anyway.”

“Yeah, see, that Dawson geek? Probably got some Pinoy in him, can’t make up his friggin’ mind. Jeez! Katie Holmes, dude! Now, look. Tom Cruise has got her knocked up and all, couch-jumping loon.”

Luis decides to steer clear of the whole Tom-Kat issue, knowing Jake is a big Katie Holmes fan.

“Tara,” Luis says, standing, “let’s get something to eat. Your treat.”

Jake gets to his feet as well. “My treat? You showed up here, bro.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got your first big endorsement, pushing overpriced condensed milk on poor, unsuspecting housewives who daydream about you while doing the ironing. You can afford to buy dinner.”

And, as Jake walks, he says, “Antarctica condensada, ang matamis na lamig.”

Then, in unison, Jake and Luis go, “Brrr,” then burst into jovial, back-slapping laughter, their voices echoing off the high, domed ceiling of the Magnaseum.

Far off in the distance, in a small, secret room somewhere in the bowels of the vast structure, a shrill scream sounds, young, female.

Sounds, then is suddenly, brutally, cut off.

The Mahi-Mahi shaman has just been paid.

----- * 0 * -----

1 The Mahi-Mahi are a tribe of natives who reside on one of the smaller islands in the Sulu Archipelago, an island that purportedly is not to be found where it ought to be on specific times of the year.

Though they appear to belong to the same racial stock common to the area, their language is unlike any known language; not merely those of the Asian region, but throughout the world. (It has been suggested by linguists more inclined to fringe thinking, that the Mahi-Mahi tongue is the ur-language of magick.)

Those who think the Mahi-Mahi is just a fish to be dined on, are sorely mistaken, and are well advised not to make that joke, should they meet a real live Mahi-Mahi. [back]

2 All the basketball players do this, which explains the rabid fixation Filipinos have with basketball, and why corporations continue to have their own teams in the leagues; specific players on each team are there solely to weave back and forth across the court in the very specific pattern of the corporate logo, and the audience, repeatedly exposed to the singular power of the particular glyph, will then feel compelled to purchase the various products of the corporations in question.*

The Orcas are lucky; the Antarctica logo is basically an upward-pointing arrow, except the head of the arrow is halved, only the right side appearing; the Lagu rune.

A great number of players who have either quit or changed teams have done so solely because of the ridiculously arcane complexity of their sponsor company’s logo.

* “The logo or brand, like any sigil, is a condensation, a compressed symbolic summing up of the world of desire the corporation intends to represent,” said the Scottish Memetic Business Consultant at the well-attended seminar held in the very exclusive, very secret underwater complex in Boracay.

The presidents and CEOs of all the major corporations in the country listened, hanging on the Scot’s every word. He had to know what he was talking about. He was a comic book writer as well, after all, and look how monstrously popular those were these days. [back]

3 Though, if the truth were told, Luis would have wanted to be a Viva Hot Man, but he could not sing to save his life. Luis breaking into song was akin to a yowling cat in heat, and he believed too deeply in the Karmic nature of things to subject poor innocents to his “singing.”

He could dance though, and believed this was a surefire way to catch a girl’s attention. Look at Patrick Swayze. Look at certain Latin singing heartthrobs; girls shrieked and screamed for them, and some of them weren’t even interested in girls at all.

Luis, however, is most definitely interested in girls, thus his impromptu visit during Jake’s practice time. [back]

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