illphated

I Just Need You to Take Me Out Tonight
for illphated.com

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The Martian wind howled low and steady across the crimson plains, whispering through the canyons like a song sung for no one. Above, the twin moons of Mars glimmered coldly, casting violet shadows on the rusty surface. Neon spires from the colony of New Houston shimmered in the distance, their lights flickering like ghosts in the toxic dusk.

She stood on the ridge, silhouetted against the sky—hat low, boots dusted, and a glowing lasso coiled at her hip like a lazy serpent. Deputy Cassia “Cass” Marlowe. A cowgirl born not in Texas, but in Terraform Sector 19—though you’d never guess by the way she moved, confident and worn-down all at once.

Cass stared at the horizon. Another evening alone in a city that never looked up.

Back in the day, Earth girls used to dream of cowboys and sunset rides. But up here on Mars, girls like Cass dreamed in ultraviolet.

Her job was done for the week. Another smuggler ring broken up in the ammonia mines. Another warrant served in an outpost where no one remembers your name after you leave. All that remained tonight was the silence—the kind that clawed at your soul in the off-hours between adrenaline and sleep.

And the neon buzz of a message screen lighting up the dust near her boot.

“Got your note. You sure? It’s a rough night for rides.”
— Cal.

She smiled. He always knew how to answer a cryptic line like hers. He ran the solar stagecoach circuit from the capital dome to the edge of the settlements—half smuggler, half poet, full outlaw. The kind of guy that made a girl like her feel like maybe, just maybe, someone else understood what it meant to feel alive under artificial stars.

She tapped back on her holo-glove:

“Yeah, I’m sure. I just need you to take me out tonight.”

Within minutes, the low hum of a repulsor engine crept over the rocks. A floating speeder carved out of chrome and dreams eased to a stop beside her. Cal leaned out, Martian dust clinging to his coat and a mischievous grin under his sun-scorched hat.

“You riding shotgun or ghosting the wind?” he asked, knowing full well she didn’t ghost anything.

Cass vaulted in without a word. The engine kicked, the ground fell away, and the whole red world stretched out before them like a forgotten promise.

They didn’t speak for a while—just rode through the purple dust, past the derelict statues of Earth presidents built for Martian morale, now forgotten and graffiti-tagged. In the distance, the Blade Runner-style towers pulsed pink and cyan like veins in the night. Below, the neon billboard they passed flashed a vintage slogan: “Hope Is a Frontier.”

Cass leaned her head back, her hat tilting just enough to let the artificial stars shine in.

“Don’t need forever,” she murmured. “Just need tonight.”

Cal didn’t answer. He just hit the throttle and let the silence be a love letter written across Martian sky.

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© illphated.com
Filed under: Retro-Future Romance, Blade Runner Mars, Vaporwave Americana

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