Page 11 of The Cut
‘Five, four, three, two … welcome to RetroFX. Your time starts: now.’
A green light flicked on in the corner of the screen. He was live. He dipped a large kabuki brush into a palette, then slowly and ceremoniously placed it on the centre of his forehead and struck down. A gash of vivid red severed his face, cleaving it in two between a river of painted blood. The brush hit the right side,46then the left, the scarlet streaks of war paint lying on top of his skin as he leant forward into the lens. Just for a second, his eyes flicked to the screen below him, deep auburn hair scraped back, his eyes lowered like a hellish geisha. He watched as the instant messages dropped. Bursting hearts and emoji party poppers exploded over his screen as a festival of likes flooded his DMs. Now his energy changed, and he began to move faster. Fingers dipped into the paint as deep reds and blacks found the structure of his face, hollowed out his eye sockets and cheekbones, a broad swipe across the line of his jaw in the sharp angles of that iconic V shape. The transformation was remarkable.
‘Is it Darth Maul?’ A DM appeared at the bottom of the screen and travelled upwards as comment after comment, abused and ridiculed, celebrated and fawned over this performance.
Nate’s hand suddenly covered the lens, plunging the frame into darkness. He only had thirty seconds, so he had to move fast. Stripping off his T-shirt and slipping into a black hoodie, he dug his hand into the cardboard box and found a small plastic container. He shook the liquid inside and carefully opened it. Without using a mirror, his fingertips found one of the contact lenses, which went quickly to the moist surface of his eyeball, and then the other. Nate blinked them in, allowing the blurred vision to settle before glancing at the timer. He pulled the hood over his head and replaced his palm over the lens. As he slowly withdrew his hand, an unearthly, angular red face stared out from inside the hood, through stone-cold black eyes.
The show was over.
There was silence in the room but a plethora of clapping emojis lit up his DMs. Fist bumps, fanfares and disco dancing gifs dropped in a muted ovation.
One by one, the followers logged off as Nate leant into the47screen and watched the number of attendees dwindle to just a few bots and hangers-on. He sat still in the darkness of his bedroom.
‘Darth Maul? What a dick!’ he muttered to himself as he checked the number of Amazon orders that had been placed. A few had searched for the contact lenses and someone had ordered the Uniqlo hoodie, but that was it. His numbers were lower than last time. He needed a new trick.
‘You are very talented. You could be a professional.’ A DM dropped into his feed. The Bitmoji graphic of a red-haired girl with glasses and freckles made him smile.
‘Hi.’ His own Bitmoji character, with its red-haired quiff and backwards baseball cap, gave a thumbs-up. He was met with a crying laughing face. Instant friends. Two lonely redheads in a world of mouse brown.
‘Cute …’ Nate typed.
‘Thanks. U2.’ Freckles replied. ‘It’s Red Skull from Captain America, isn’t it?’
Nate beamed and hit the thumbs-up emoji. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Freckles. I get teased a lot because of them.’
Nate’s fingers tickled the keyboard. ‘Me too …’ He hesitated for a second then tapped the middle finger emoji. ‘To the haters not you.’
Freckles beamed and hearts popped from her ears. ‘You home alone?’
‘Always.’ Nate’s emoji cried floods of dramatic tears.
‘Lonely?’ Freckles had two red embarrassed cheeks.
Nate typed ‘No way’ then deleted it. He was about to style it out when Freckles sent another message.
‘Stand up and turn around …’
‘What?’ Nate’s surprised face with a questioning hand to the chin.
‘I want to check you out.’ Three love hearts.48
He noticed the camera was still running; he’d forgotten to turn it off. As he leant into the frame, his finger poised to stop the feed, he glanced at the followers online. Were they all still watching? Nate’s emoji-head exploded.
‘Uh … OK.’ He stood and turned as instructed.
‘Take your hoodie off.’ A little monkey emoji covering their eyes, all shy.
Nate’s stomach dropped, just for a second. He glanced at the viewer count, the numbers had started to grow again, something was happening. Followers were gathering for the ‘torso show’ and maybe something more? Nate’s mouth grew dry. Who wanted to see his pale spotty skin and xylophone ribcage? Go on. Sell yourself, Nate. Dani’s voice echoed in his head. The numbers were climbing at speed now as his fingers slowly reached for the zip of his hoodie.
‘Off … off … off.’ Just like the chants at school in the play-ground but in silent clap graphics.
‘Nate?’ Dani was knocking on the bedroom door. ‘Lights out, love.’
Nate jumped in shock and smacked the camera to the side, knocking it off the cradle. He exhaled. What was he thinking? As he sat for a second, he could see the shadow of a pair of feet breaking the light under the door.
‘Thanks, Dani, see you in the morning.’ The feet moved away. Slowly, Nate packed up his gear with an empty feeling in his tummy. He kicked his dirty clothes under the bed, doused his armpits and crotch with a spray of Lynx and slid under the duvet. The groan in his gut made him wonder if he was hungry, but this hollow feeling and his thumping heart were something else. He lay on his side, facing the wall, choking back tears with his eyes wide open, thinking about the lonely little red-haired girl with glasses and freckles who was just like him.
