In 2005 A.D., IDRM were doing what they often did in mid-March, which was getting together in Ocala, FL, to hang out with the college babes for Spring Break. It was at this time that AKA? got seriously “lost”. As in, vanished without a trace. Being such an unpredictable sort, this was not uncommon for AKA? to wander off, especially with the amount of bodacious babes around for him to sample in all their tanned and toned glory. “The IDRM boys were at it again!” said a roadie. The problem here was that IDRM was about to embark on a world tour, and they couldn’t have their synth wizard not on that plane the next day by 7am. This was, in fact, an emergency and their first show was in Munich, and the Germans were an unforgiving crowd when it came to having shows rescheduled.
After what had happened at the previous year’s NME Awards, and their rejection of a Lifetime Achievement award, which was a calculated plan to show the music industry what they truly thought, it was a plan that had backfired in terms of PR, and IDRM could narry afford to miss a show on a world tour that promised to be their biggest yet. Even with the guys from Soft Cell backing them up, along with famed guitarist DeWayne McKnight (AKA Blackbyrd) in tow, IDRM could not be without AKA? and so a search for their missing member began and “fly honeys” were told to be on standby, with lube and condoms at the ready at a moments notice, clunky 2005 cellphones hanging out of their purses and all their bangles and bling clinking together with their nervous excitement.
IDRM had about 12 hours to find their missing friend AKA?, and rather than search, Young Coconut ended up doing what he so often does when he’s under pressure of this magnitude, which is to say, do a bunch of blow with his favourite backup dancers in the dressing room while others took to the streets for a search that involved every last member of their street team. “AKA? was last seen cavorting with a girl who was part Black, part Asian. This was in the chill out room at some club at about 4pm, when the club opened…” said their tour manager, John Demon, “and if the band wasn’t playing a big open air festival with Silverchair, Bjork, and Portishead, I’d say they should postpone that show by maybe a week. It could be done. But not this time.” No one in the crew (other than IDRM) seemed to trust John in regards to almost anything, saying that he probably was an actual demon because he lied so much and his eyes would sometimes turn fire red.
Delisle-Tron was a mess, but he was going to every tattoo parlour, cigar store, and liquor selling establishment in the city, asking “Have you seen him?” Of course, no one knew who “him” was and so it wasn’t working. He was not to be found. Until, through happenstance, Delisle-Tron ran into the one man who could help them – Mr. Vista.
It was about 11pm that night when Delisle-Tron ran into Skylark Plaza and was yelling “AKA?” so loud that he almost ruptured his diaphram. Tears streaming down his face, he zigged and zagged his way through mall corridors, at one point tripping over a sleeping security guard, who fired his taser at him and missed. As he sped past the bingo hall there, a man was just locking up and he stopped Delisle-Tron by simply standing in his path and waving his arms in his face, “Whoaaaa sonny, who you looking for at this hour, the mall is closed!” Was it a janitor? The man was wearing a grey type of bland work suit? He must be…but no, this was the famous Mr. Vista. Amidst his own screams, yelps, and hiccups, Delisle-Tron was so distraught he had no idea where he was or who he was talking to. Even though, technically, they had met before. He just didn’t remember.
At this point we – we meaning those of us compiling this dossier – should speak of the bigger picture here, for the scope of this tale is actually very large. Michael Hornyak, as many know, is a brilliant man. For one, he came up with Light Paint HiR.
That should be enough, but when it comes to sound manipulation, and computer coding, his skills are hard to match. Even if you took all of the hackers and coders in the world, there would still be some things that they couldn’t do compared to Hornyak. One time Michael made a computer more better at chess than even Deep Blue. But that computer went insane, and that’s another story, folks.
The one thing that Michael Hornyak did, in all his years of testing, probing, breaking government regulations, and experimenting with electricity, is messing with the art of AI and cloning (his secret passion). This is what resulted in Michael essentially building a robot replica of himself that was so sophisticated that it became, in effect, a real man that even a scientist could not distinguish from a robot. This was years before Sophia, who, we must tell you all, was directly based on Hornyak’s research. Her first word, when she was activated in 2016, was “Mike”.
And it was this man – not Michael Hornyak, but his “offspring” Terrence Vista AKA Mr. Vista, who managed escape the underground fortress where he was created and being held captive, and escape into the Americas where he made a new life for himself, eventually finding himself in the entertainment world making custom built laser light shows for huge rock acts like INXS and Moby.
Snap back to the present, or should we say the past – 2005, Spring Break, the Skylark Mall. And the story we wanted to share with you. Here was Mr. Vista with his hands clutching Delisle-Tron’s bony, emaciated frame, shaking him and staring into his eyes with his own gleaming green artificial ocular units. “Man, do you know where you are? You’re at the mall, man! This is the mall!”
“AKA?…Where?” is all Delisle-Tron could mutter, before he passed out in Vista’s arms. With a slightly resigned shrug, Vista simply slung the tired rock star over his shoulder, unlocked the bingo hall that he’d just closed up for the evening, and went back inside. Mr. Vista was and still is a man who is a robot but also a man and so he has the ability to reproduce, and his reproductive units are what allowed him to impregnate the famous Icelandic singer Bjork, creating one offspring – Aldo Pimptronic. But at some point, Pimptronic himself disappeared into a life of straight up thuggin’ out, and his dear daddy never heard from him after that, nor did he approve of when his son slapped ho’s. Vista was more courteous to women than his son – a true gentleman (as his programming told him to be). So, he was on the market for a new son, you could say. Setting Delisle-Tron down on a cafeteria style table next to some subs from Subway, Vista began to pace back and forth, trying to think of how he could actually help this obviously lost young man. A young man, in many ways, who reminded Vista of his son Aldo.
This had Mr. Vista ruminating, which is always dangerous, but this time he was just reflecting on his own past, not envisioning war machines that could knock a plane out of the sky. Instead, he thought back on all his years of setting up light shows for huge rock acts. He spoke then, more to himself than anyone else; ” I have created some of the most elaborate light shows audiences have ever seen. Bonnaroo, Burning Man, Leeds. I have been there and done that, ha ha ha.” His laughter nearly woke Delisle-Tron, but instead he rolled over and fell back into a deep slumber. Vista mused on, “People know me because I have made lasers from scratch. Noel Gallagher has purchased a few himself. The big ones. If it is big enough, I call it a Lah Zure. People don’t understand, but they don’t need to, do they? Bjork would have understood, my little flower. Ever since we met at that dam that powered that nuclear plant, it was a fire that could not be put out. Ha ha. Romance, such a lovely idea. Now, people have spoke of my fondness for lights of all kinds. I manipulate light. I control it. Some women get really turned on by this. One woman, another beauty from Iceland, called me her Sweet Merlin. Ha! She thought I really did magick. Hmm. But sometimes I feel I am too modest, but this is probably best. Some people change the world, but that’s just what they were born to do. Maybe that’s me… maybe…”
While Delisle-Tron slept, AKA? was out there, possibly kidnapped, possibly dead. But where ever he was, Delisle-Tron could do nothing at this time except sleep. While he slept, his previous memory of Mr. Vista began to seep back into his mind. There was…a lawsuit. Yes! A lawsuit in 2004 where IDRM played a show in Australia, and they’d used a device which they were told was experimental, and it ended up causing an “olfactory malfunction’. What was it? Who made it? Delisle-Tron stirred in his sleep. A name materialized like a neon sign seen through a thick fog. It was barely readable, but it could be made out. Mr. Vista, it said. Yes, it was Vista’s machine that went a little crazy that night.
But it was Sting, the former lead man of the Police, who ended up getting sued. It was his tour, and IDRM were opening. Although none of this information came out in the court case, Delisle-Tron could remember a few things. Sting was the one who ordered the machine be made, by Vista, specifically. But it wasn’t his fault, or ours, or even Sting’s. It should have worked, but some kids snuck backstage, and started messing with it. It was bad, man. Nicknamed the BumpNGryndr, it was a silly name for what was basically a fancy smoke machine, but instead of smoke, it was more like a vapour. This light mist was sprinkled with an added agent that was supposedly said to make only women horny. 7% hornier, to be exact. This was Vista’s estimate before the show – months before. It was supposed to line up with Sting’s release of a new scent for women, that was erotic in nature, but subtle. He said it was for lovers. Delisle-Tron had even used it, and it had worked some miracles for sure on several ladies. Vista said it would lead to a lot of ear-nibbling, and then laughed. Delisle-Tron could remember his laugh, it was gritty and sounded like a cassette tape that wouldn’t play.
Sting already had candles, purple satin curtains, totem poles, all sorts of weird pseudo-erotic imagery on stage, Delisle-Tron recalled feverishly. But these damn kids, they flipped all the levers and ran out of the stadium. Security caught them, but by then, it was too late. The smell, derived of musky panther sweat mixed with essence of polar bear and even bat’s wings, and the whole thing was later lampooned in the film Anchorman after Paul Rudd met IDRM at a Hollywood party. Vista was at that party, and set to work immediately capturing bats that were flying around by the pool. Paul Rudd stood watching Vista with a pool net trying to catch bats with it and Delisle-Tron remembered him distinctly saying, “This is so funny, I’m using this bit in my next movie. But where’s he gonna get panther sweat? HAHAHA!” Delisle-Tron found Paul Rudd’s over the top judgemental behaviour not befitting of a superstar, and from then on, he secretly disliked the actor.
At that show, 6 months later, the BumpNGryndr sent the audience – particularly the women – into a sexual frenzy. People sort of lost their minds. Mostly, it was women assaulting men, and men loving every minute of it. Except for a few, who took it to court later and won sexual assault settlements. Some women ripped off their man’s clothes, and then moved on like a pack of wild dogs to other men – strange men they didn’t even know – grabbing their butts and packages and groping and fondling and making groaning zombie sounds. Sting had to stop singing to survey the scene, pleased at first, but then getting increasingly panicked. From there, everyone sort of went crazy and started throwing chairs, and in some cases, just rolling around on the floor and snarling like pissed off jungle cats. Since the scent-distribution was going through the sprinkler system, which was mainly at the back of the venue, it took longer to reach the stage area, which gave Sting a chance to get a giant fire-hose up and running (the venue was an old firehall), and so Sting and a few backup dancers were blasting people with the hose from the stage. The security got involved, those that weren’t in the thrall of the aphrodisiac, and tried to restrain people from sexually assaulting each other any further, but it was all too late. The damage had been done. After this concert, Mr. Vista was effectively fired from Sting’s tour, but got off lucky, since Sting threatened to sue Mr. Vista to the effect of 300 million dollars.
At this point, Delisle-Tron sat bolt upright and looked at Mr. Vista, who was sitting beside him in a lawnchair, looking at him with his hands folded on his lap. “You know, we know each other, don’t you?” said Vista, looking Delisle-Tron unflinchingly in the eye. “IDRM toured with Sting last year. How quickly you forget your old friend!” Delisle-Tron was flabbergasted – it had all come back to him while he slept.
“We need to find AKA?!”
“Yes, we do. And we will…” and with that, Mr. Vista lead Delisle-Tron over to a loading bay that was at the back of the bingo hall. With a flip of his wrist, he threw open the bay door and the night air filled the cafeteria with a woosh. (To be continued…)