"Me and mom, we only ever had each other, you know? Mom never let it show how much it hurt. She took care of us... She gave up on everything else. She wanted to do so much more, but she had to support us all by herself. My mom... she always took care of us."
-Dallas Brysong
Dallas had just picked up the morning paper; he was surprised to see a review of his show... he was more surprised to see it was a negative one; written by Anna Culpepper.
Those looking for a pleasant distraction at Fort Frolic found themselves highly disappointed by the trivial schlock that has become the status quo for a Sander Cohen production.
He was upset by it... a little, but it was no comparison to Cohen; who stormed around the room ripping the paper into pieces.
"I've had just about enough of that woman!"
Dallas decided to try to calm him down. "Mr. Cohen, it's okay! Who cares what she says? The show was a success! One bad review can't change that, right?"
Cohen stopped, and then looked at Dallas. After a moment of considering his words Cohen seemed to regain his composure. "You're right. I merely find it... infuriating that... woman... is taken at all seriously down here."
Dallas breathed a sigh of relief, it always made him nervous when Cohen became... agitated. Cohen tossed the newspaper into the trash, a little too hard. The trashcan tipped over and its contents spilled out... including a few empty eve syringes.
Plasmids hadn't been released that long ago and people were already going crazy for it. Dallas had considered trying it out himself... until he realized he'd have to inject himself with those needles.
It may have made him seem like a wimp, but he'd never been a huge fan of needles... He'd had to get a couple shots when he was a kid, and it wasn't a pretty sight. He remembered screaming and crying and the doctors practically had to hold him down. He couldn't imagine jabbing himself deliberately.
Another thing he'd noticed, after a person had been using it for a while, ADAM and EVE, Plasmids. People got... irritable, even violent. Cohen was a good example. He was always a little off; but these days almost anything could set him off. But Dallas was learning how to act around Cohen.
Cohen stepped forward and placed his hands on Dallas' shoulders. "I'm afraid there will always be doubters... but you will rise above it."
Dallas forced a smile. "Of course, sir, thank you..."
Dallas was finding it harder and harder to find time to himself, more and more Cohen seemed to try to incorporate himself into Dallas' life... it was starting to suffocate him.
After another day Dallas was finally heading home, when he saw Anna Culpepper.
He found it a little ironic that she and Cohen lived so close to one another, considering the obvious animosity between them. Dallas couldn't help but glare at her.
It was then that she turned and spotted him, Dallas immediately headed in the other direction, but she followed him.
"Hey now! Is that anyway to act? And I thought we'd really hit if off the other night." She teased.
"Yeah, until you decided my show was 'trivial'." He muttered, not stopping.
"It wasn't your show; as a matter of fact I didn't mention you at all in my review."
Dallas stopped. "What?"
"It was Cohen's show. His songs, his money, his show." Culpepper shrugged. "You do realize that, don't you?"
Dallas looked down, he knew it but he didn't like to admit it.
"I could use an escort for the evening."
"What?"
"Come with me." She smirked. "Or do you have to ask Cohen for permission?" She teased.
Dallas felt his face flush. "I don't need permission from anyone!"
She took his hand. "Come on then."
They headed to Arcadia, the living, breathing heart of Rapture. All the oxygen in Rapture was created and pumped out from the forests in Arcadia.
The two of them wandered through the green haven, spotting families strolling together, sometimes a couple basking in the synthetic sunlight generated for the trees. The place smelled like freshly cut grass, wild flowers, and fertilizer. They were smells Dallas had almost forgotten.
Dallas had never been there before. He'd never had the money to spare. It felt so surreal to be standing under trees again after so long. Sometimes he forgot he didn't used to live at the bottom of the ocean.
The place was large, it almost seemed like a giant maze.
"It's quite a sight isn't it?" Culpepper was standing on the bridge over a small creak.
Dallas stood beside her, staring down at the running water. "Sure is."
"Does it make you homesick?"
He looked over to her; she was staring off into space. "No." He lied. "How about you?" He asked.
She smiled. "No."
"This is my first time in Arcadia." He admitted.
"Really? Then this must be a real treat for you."
"I guess so."
It was a beautiful sight, but it felt a little... hollow. Out beyond the vines and trees he could still see the ocean and the dim lights of the city. There was no wind and the synthetic sun was nothing compared to the real thing. Arcadia looked a bit like a forest but had no signs of life. No animals, no birds. There were some bees buzzing around, they were needed to help the flowers grow, but other then that...
Dallas noticed Culpepper moving again and followed her. There was a table set with a few bottles of Arcadia Merlot.
"Someone must have been in a hurry!" Culpepper examined the bottles, grabbing one. "This one's not even open!" She opened the bottle and poured herself a glass. "How about you?"
Dallas smirked. "Sure." He took a glass.
They drank the wine and wandered through the rolling hills.
The two eventually found themselves in the Waterfall Grotto, several large wheels poured water down into a small pool. The sides overrun with vines and small pink flowers. In the center of the grotto were a few red roses that weren't quite blooming yet.
Culpepper took off her shoes and stepped into the pool. Dallas laughed as she stumbled, almost falling.
"Why did you invite me out?" He asked, a little woozy.
She laughed. "I suppose I just enjoyed the idea of stealing you away from Cohen for an hour or two."
"You really don't like him do you?"
"Not in the slightest. Though, to be fair, it's his policies.. well Ryan's policies. Ryan goes on and on about free market and industry... and to hell with the people who don't make it... the poor get poorer and the rich get richer. There are a lot of slums in Rapture but if you ask Andrew Ryan; he'll say they just aren't working hard enough." She sat down on a step, feet still in the water. "And Cohen hangs on Ryan's every word, pushing his propaganda and singing his praises."
"Oh..."
Culpepper laughed dryly. "Utopia... we just traded one set of hypocrisies for another..."
Dallas was silent, sure he'd heard all these things before... here and there. But it was a sort of unwritten rule that you keep your mouth shut. Talking like that... well... there were rumors of people... disappearing.
"Why did you come to Rapture?" He asked.
She frowned. "A friend of mine received an invitation. She let me in on the secret. The thought of escape... it seemed like the obvious choice. How about you?"
"I got lucky... I worked in this fishing fleet. We were recruited by some of Ryan's people early on, feeding the worker, stuff like that. Of course, as soon as I got to Rapture I quit it. I wasn't gonna catch fish for the rest of my life..."
"So you decided to be a singer instead?"
Dallas frowned. "Yeah... that's right..."
For the first time in a long time, Dallas thought about his mother... The last time he saw her, lying in a casket. She hadn't looked real...
Cold water was splashed on him, he jumped up and shrieked, a little too shrilly. Culpepper laughed as he glared at her. He kicked the water, splashing her, but she just continued laughing. He tried to kick more water on her, but slipped and fell into the pool, Culpepper laughing all the while.
He stood back up and walked over to her, grabbing the bottle from her hand. "Gimme that!" He drank from the bottle.
The two sat their for a while, he couldn't be sure how long.
"Well, it's getting late." Culpepper stood up and slipped her shoes back on. "Thank you for the diversion Dallas, we'll have to do it again sometime."
He nodded, feeling a little let down. "Oh... yeah, sure."
As Dallas made his way home he realized he couldn't tell anyone about Culpepper.
If Cohen heard that I was hanging around with her...
He shook his head, deciding not to think about it.
Dallas followed Cohen through the crowd. Cohen would slink through the throngs of well dressed people. Every once in a while he would stop and chat with someone who would lavish him with compliments. Dallas found it all very boring, but Cohen had insisted...
"You're not just an obscure talent anymore! You're an artist! You must go and shine your light upon the masses!"
Dallas pulled on his new tie, and glanced down at his new clothes. They were the same style that Cobb and the other guys wore. More and more, Dallas felt like a dog on a leash. He felt embarrassed to be wearing it, but he didn't fight Cohen about it.
Despite Dallas' discomfort, he was stopped every once in a while and complimented for his performance the other day.
"Mr. Cohen, the first time I saw Patrick and Moira, I was just brought to tears! Such a moving love story!"
Cohen smiled at the woman who was arm in arm with a man, her husband maybe.
"Thank you my dear."
Everywhere they went people praised Cohen... but to Dallas' surprise, he didn't seem to be enjoying it all that much...
"Are you alright, sir?" He asked.
Cohen blinked a few times and looked over at him, rubbing his eyes he replied. "Yes, of course, I'm just a bit fatigued..."
"Maybe you should head home?" He asked, hopefully. If he left, that meant Dallas could leave.
"Leave now? Nonsense! This is simply the duty of the artist, one must reap the benefits of hard work."
Cohen was about to continue, when a familiar voice rang out. "And you do try so hard, don't you Cohen?" It was Anna Culpepper.
Cohen frowned. "I don't remember inviting you."
She shrugged. "Last I checked, Rapture was still a free city. I can go anywhere I please. Unless your dear friend Andrew Ryan has decided to take away more of the peoples freedom."
Cohen merely shrugged. "You obviously have no grasp on the politics of Rapture. Anything the council does is to suppress the influence of the parasites and doubters."
Culpepper just smiled. "Spoken like a true plutocrat. If I didn't know any better, I might think you were a parrot; trained to squawk the same tired rhetoric over and over again."
Cohen looked like he was going to smack her, but regained his composure. "In these troubled times, one should think carefully about what they say, and whether or not they'll be able to regret in the future."
Cohen stormed off and Dallas followed, he saw Culpepper wink at him before disappearing into the crowd.
"Uh... Mr. Cohen, what did you mean by that?" He asked, feeling uneasy.
But Cohen just smiled at him. "Nothing you need to worry about."
Ryan Amusements was a new theme park that Ryan Industries had spent the past many months building. Ryan had apparently asked Cohen to consult on it, and now Dallas was going to see it... with Anna Culpepper.
"I am Andrew Ryan. Welcome to Ryan Amusements. Please, enjoy the park."
Dallas stared at the mannequin that seemed to usher them inside. He'd never seen anything like it... but that was probably a good thing.
To his left he saw a few dioramas. The first one featured a man pointing dramatically at the sea.
"Andrew Ryan wakes one night, while cruising the Atlantic in his steamliner "The Olympian." His sleep interrupted with a singular purpose: "Here!" he shouts to his crewmen, as he wipes sleep from his eyes. "Full stop! We begin building here!""
The next diorama was a man in a diver suit, with a large platform sinking into the ocean.
"Refitted for heavy construction, The Olympian returns with a new cargo: A State-of-the-Art Submersible Platform, nicknamed "The Sinker," ferries supplies and workers to the sea floor, fathoms below."
The third diorama showed Rapture and it's foundation.
"After initial supplies had been brought to the sea floor, the platform is permanently moored in the sediment. Massive iron girders are sunk hundreds of feet into the rock and silt. Below the platform, engineers work to overcome obstacles, such as diamond-hard rock, obstinate sea life, and unexpected caverns."
The final diorama showed two men in suits working in the ocean.
"After the platform is secured, work progresses at an astounding rate. Designed to be the foundation of Rapture, workers toil around the clock to create the metropolis you see today."
Culpepper let out a mocking laugh, but Dallas remained silent.
They headed for the main attraction of the park, known as Journey To The Surface. The ride was mostly for kids, but anyone could get on the ride.
As they entered the ride and were greeted by a mannequin of Andrew Ryan...
"Why, hello there, my name is Andrew Ryan. I built the city of Rapture for children just like you, because the world above had become unfit for us. But here, beneath the ocean, it is natural to wonder if the danger has passed, if those we left behind will ever come to their senses. So, let us imagine, you and I, what might befall us ... on the surface."
The mannequin twitched and lurched, moving on it's own as the per-recorded message played. The two of them went down the stairs and onto one of the cars, shaped like a bathysphere.
Slowly, it took off, and up a hill. At the top he saw fake trees, the ceiling and walls were painted like green hills and pale blue skys. As they made the first turn, the ride came to a stop at a small house. A mannequin dressed as a farmer was plowing while his 'wife' and 'son' stood on the front porch.
The voice of Andrew Ryan continued.
"On the surface, the farmer tills the soil, trading the strength of his arm for a home and lands of his own."
Suddenly two giant hands descended from above! Ripping the roof from the home.
"But the parasites say "NO! What is yours is ours! We are the state, we are God, we demand our share!"
Dallas cursed as the ride continued, he looked over at Culpepper... who had a very harsh look on her face, but said nothing.
The next set up had three mannequins in lab coats standing at desks.
"On the surface, the scientist invests the power of his mind in a single miraculous idea and naturally begins to rise above his fellows."
Dallas knew it was coming this time... as one of the scientist mannequins raised up, a large hand came down from above, forcing him back down.
But the parasites say "NO! Discovery must be regulated! It must be controlled and finally surrendered..."
To their immediate left was another display, this time an mannequin stood in front of a canvas in a gallery. Ryan's message started once more.
"On the surface, an artist strives to frame his ideals in an image, to challenge his audience and make his vision immortal."
The mannequin moved from his painting, hands in the air, revealing it to the world as a hand came down once again, blocking the image.
But the parasites say "NO! Your art must serve the cause! Your ideals endanger the people!"
Dallas thought of Cohen, he could only imagine what the artist would say if he knew Dallas was here with Culpepper... Dallas knew he should probably be avoiding her, but he didn't want to. She wasn't afraid or Cohen, she wasn't afraid of Ryan, or anybody else.
The ride took off again. Looking around, the setting looked like the back allies of some town or city. Above he could see thousands of little painted dots, like stars. They found themselves, once again, in front of the desk of Andrew Ryan...
"Lacking its own ingenuity, the Parasite fears the visionary. What it cannot plagiarize, it seeks to censor; what it cannot regulate, it seeks to ban. Rapture was founded on an idea, and here they are held inviolate."
They went forward, and another scene unfolded. A small boy lay out in front of a TV, his mom and dad sitting on a couch in their home.
"On the surface, your parents sought a private life, using their great talents to provide for you. They learned to twist the lies of church and government, believing themselves masters of the system."
"Oh boy..."
"But the parasites said "NO!"
A hand came out of the darkness, the mannequin child kicked and flailed as he was pulled into the darkness, with the hand.
"The child has a duty! He'll go to war and die for the nation."
They left the scene behind, ending once more at the desk of Andrew Ryan...
"Unable to provide for itself, the need of the Parasite grows until war is made to justify it. Your parents brought you to Rapture, where you need never fear the Parasites again. So you see, there is no place for you on the surface, but you may bring the world to you! If you know someone who belongs in Rapture, write a letter to the Ryan Industries mailroom. And you never know! The next new face... might be familiar."
The ride finally ended as they approached a replica of the lighthouse entrance to Rapture as the anthem 'Rise Rapture Rise' played over the speakers.
The two stepped off the ride in silence, heading back to the lobby.
She lit a cigarette. "That was about what I had expected."
"Y-yeah." He murmured.
"Brainwashing at its finest."
Dallas was silent for a moment. "Look... I don't like it either- I mean, if I had kids I wouldn't bring them here... but it's necessary, right?"
Culpepper stared at Dallas, face unchanging. "Really? Why is that?"
"Things aren't perfect down here, but it's a hell of a lot better then up there, right? With that goddamn Atom bomb hanging over our heads..."
Her eyes narrowed. "I hope so..." She took a long drag of her cigarette, then threw it in the ash tray. "Come on, this place is depressing."
Dallas hadn't been to The Kashmir restaurant since he'd first come down to Rapture. It was a fairly fancy joint that newcomers could enjoy the finer things the city had to offer. Though connection with the surface had been completely cut off, the place was still a hot spot for the ritziest people in the city.
"Cohen seems quite irritable these days."
Dallas was surprised she brought him up, but nodded. "Yeah, he has been. You being on his case certainly doesn't help. It's hard enough to be around most days..."
"Then why do you stay?"
Dallas frowned. "...he helps me..."
"Helps you?"
"Without him, I wouldn't have made it this far."
Culpepper took another sip of her drink. "Why did you decide you wanted to become a singer?"
"Why..?"
"Was it just for the fame? If so, bravo."
He shook his head. "No! ...No. It's not that..." He got another drink, if he was going to tell the truth, he wasn't going to be sober. After another drink he finally managed to speak. "My dad left us, when I was just a kid. My mom... she gave up everything, just so she could take care of me... she tried to sing, at first, but she had to give it up. It wasn't getting food on the table, y'know? She gave piano lessons... but that didn't pay the bills..." He swallowed hard, he couldn't say it. Even as a kid he'd known about the men his mother would see... but he couldn't say it. "My mom, all she wanted to do was sing..."
He'd almost forgotten Culpepper was there before she placed a hand on his back. She didn't say a thing, but leaned against him, her head lying on his shoulder...
"You don't need Cohen to be a great singer."
Dallas looked over to Culpepper. "What?"
"You've got talent Dallas; you don't need Cohen to be successful. You can do it on your own."
Dallas said nothing at that, but the idea stuck in his mind…
Ryan's Songbird
That was the name of Anna Culpepper's new song. A song dedicated to criticize Ryan's biggest supporter in the art world… Sander Cohen.
Cohen was angry again, but this time it was a silent rage that bubbled just below the surface as it festered. It had been growing for a while now and Cohen was about to burst. Right now, he was painting, curbing his frustration through his work, which Dallas and the other 'Disciples' were all too thankful for…
"He's really losing it… more than usual." Finnegan muttered under his breath.
"What does he expect?" Cobb was scanning the music selection in the Juke box. "No one's gonna come out to Fort Frolic, not while Atlas and Ryan and their goons are going at it."
"Hey, birdie, why don't you go talk to him?"
Dallas frowned at his new nickname Hector had come up with, but it seemed to be sticking… He shook his head. "No way, I don't have a death wish."
"DALLAS!" Cohen's voice rang out and he flinched.
The others chuckled. "You heard him birdie!"
Dallas reluctantly stood up and went to Cohen.
Inside Cohen's collection, Cohen stood in front of a canvas… that was currently on fire. Dallas noticed the heat that seemed to radiate from Cohen's hands…
He was splicing again, Incinerate apparently…
"Did you need something sir?" He asked.
"Yes… we have something that needs to be discussed." Cohen walked past the painting and stood by the window. "Anna Culpepper."
Dallas felt his stomach flip. "What about her?"
"You've been seeing her." His voice was very quiet but it didn't hide the anger.
"Yes sir…"
"So, you don't deny it."
"N-no sir. She invited me out and I…"
Suddenly Cohen turned and grabbed him by his collar. "And you ran after that little trollop!" Dallas was frozen; fear paralyzed him as Cohen shook him. "Don't you SEE boy! She's using you to get to me! She's trying to poison your mind with doubt!"
Turn it around; you've got to turn this around! "It wasn't like that sir, I-I was just- checking out the competition! I wanted to see what people saw in her, I'm sorry!"
Cohen stared at him; he seemed to be looking for the truth. "Is that so…" Dallas could see he wasn't convinced. "And what did you learn while you were 'checking out the competition'?"
Dallas swallowed. "She's nothing special, the people like her now because she's different, edgy. They see her as a rebel, but it's just a fad."
Cohen stared at him for a while, and then let him go, a satisfied smile crossing his face. "I see." Cohen seemed satisfied with his answer. "A fad." Cohen walked back to the canvas that, by now was almost entirely ashes on the floor. "Forgive me Dallas if I was a little… rough with you. These days it's harder to tell who your friends and enemies are…"
"That's alright sir, I didn't mean to worry you."
Cohen motioned for Dallas to come closer; as he did Cohen wrapped and arm around his shoulders. "I see great things ahead for you my boy. All you need do; is follow instruction. It won't be long before this city is freed from the parasites that infest it… the time will come when you will carry the torch that will draw the masses. Like a moth to the flame…"
Dallas frowned, but hid it from Cohen.
He didn't want to be a moth; he didn't want to be a torch…
It was then that he made his decision.
Dallas had finally scraped up the nerve he'd been looking for as he stood outside Cohen's apartment. He could hear the piano playing inside, stepping in; he saw Cohen with a young man.
"No no! That's not right! Once again."
"Yes sir, sorry sir."
The kid started playing again, as Cohen spotted him. "Dallas? What are you doing here?"
Dallas felt a lump in his throat. "Uh, sir, if you're not too busy… I wanted to tell you something…"
Cohen frowned. "I'm afraid I am a little pre-occupied. Young Fitzpatrick and I were about to leave for Fort Frolic, after practice. Perhaps it can wait?"
Dallas hadn't seen Cohen is such a good mood in ages, it reminded him of when he'd first met him… he nodded. "Yeah, sure."
Cohen smiled, placing a hand on Dallas' shoulder. "Go, enjoy yourself! It's a brand new year! 1959!"
Dallas nodded. "Right, you take care of yourself sir."
Cohen went back to Fitzpatrick and Dallas left the apartment. After about thirty minutes Cohen and the boy left his apartment. Dallas walked up to the door. He held an Accu-Vox he'd just bought, and after a few false starts he recorded a message for Cohen.
"Mr. Cohen… sir… I wanted to tell you about this in person but… but I didn't have the nerve. I want to thank you, first of all. You've done a lot for me, I wouldn't be where I am if not for you… but that's the problem. I don't want to be successful in Rapture because of what you can do. I want to be successful on my own merits. I'm sorry Mr. Cohen, I hope you'll understand."
Dallas placed the recorder by the door, as well as a box; inside was the suit Cohen had bought for his for his first performance. He felt uneasy leaving the tape behind for Cohen to find, but he convinced himself it was what he needed to do.
He didn't want to be Cohen's disciple or protégé; he wanted to be his equal. He would never forget Cohen, and he would always be grateful for his guidance. Dallas hoped that one day; he could look Cohen in the eye again…
It was that very night that a group at Atlas' rebels bombed the Kashmir restaurant. Most of Rapture was put into lockdown and Ryan made a call to action. Anyone who did not fight Atlas and his 'bandits' would be considered traitors to Rapture and thrown into Apollo Square, a newly formed, for lack of a better word, concentration camp.
Over the next few weeks; Rapture became a battle ground. The civil war that had been brewing for years had now boiled over. Rapture was reduced from a flawed paradise; to a hell.
Dallas had been trying to reach Culpepper for some time, but when she did not answer he went to check on her in person…
Dallas moved quickly through the streets, he was doing his best to stay out of sight. He passed Cohen's apartment... pausing for a moment before running to Culpepper's apartment. To his surprise, the door slid open… Dallas went inside scanning the room- when he heard a scream!
He ran into the bathroom and saw a man; he was standing over the bathtub holding Culpepper down under the water!
"NO!"
Dallas ran for him, he was going to rip the man away from her-
Suddenly, Dallas was blinded by a cloud of red smoke and is his moment of confusion; someone hit him…
When Dallas opened his eyes, he could barely see a thing. The light shining in from the windows was barely illuminating his surroundings… slowly his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he recognized where he was.
He tried to move, but he found he was tied to a chair, he tried to call for help, but he was gagged.
A flash of light and a red haze, from it Cohen materialized. "Welcome home."
Dallas struggled against the ropes as Cohen shook his head. "Forgive the mess; I've been very busy, too busy to keep the place tidy. I was preparing for your return…" Cohen stepped forward. "I had such high hopes for you… I had thought you were the man I had been searching for, the one who would rise above the others; my one true disciple…"
Cohen kneeled down, placing his hands on Dallas' face. "I wanted it to be you! You had much promise, such potential!"
Cohen let him go and started to circle him. "I don't blame you Dallas, I blame myself. I failed to protect you, to warn you of that woman and her lies. Therefore, I must share my half of the blame."
Cohen stopped walking; he was directly behind Dallas now. "You could have been great… but I'm afraid… you're just one more disappointment."
Suddenly Dallas felt something wrap around his neck, he tried to pull away but Cohen held onto him.
He jerked and twisted but he couldn't get free!
Cohen could feel the boy's body struggle as he squeezed the life from him, but it was inevitable. Slowly the boy began to give; a horrible sound came from the boy's throat.
"Shh…" He whispered. "Shhhh, it's almost over…"
And then it was done. The boy was dead.
Cohen released his throat, and then kneeled in front of him; he couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. It was such a shame; the boy had such a handsome face…
Suddenly, he was hit by inspiration!
Cohen untied the body, laying it on the bed for now.
He needed to gather supplies…
When the job was done, Cohen paused to admire his work.
Dallas Byrdsong sat posed, wearing the suit Cohen had bought for his first performance. His body was covered from head to toe in plaster.
Cohen smiled, his fingers tracing the boys serene face.
Now he would never have to forget it.