Story Hub: [link]
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Galatea and her sisters returned to the street corner bright and early the next morning. While their presence as nuisances preaching the wonders of sacrificing your body and soul to an ever-expanding machine with a single unified mind was tolerable (and somewhat familiar to anyone entrenched in the corporate world), that tolerance was about to be put to the test. When one’s message is not heard, the usual reaction is to analyze why it may not be reaching its intended audience, then tweak the pitch, and, if that fails, start over from scratch. Or you could take the straightforward approach and take the problem of people not hearing you literally.
“Free will is overrated! Join the Cyangel Hive today and become part of something bigger than yourself!” Galatea shouted through a modified megaphone. It was a simple adjustment: modern Barstilin megaphones had built-in inhibitor chips to regulate their volume, even at full power. Galatea removed those inhibitor chips and replaced them with as many amplification modules, widgets, and third-party add-ons that she could find. Henceforth her voice carried and carried and carried, until a lawyer three cities away was wondering why his coffee mug had shattered in his hands, why his ears didn’t work, and why he was being pelted by broken glass from all directions.
As for Galatea’s audience, they were too busy picking themselves off the street and wondering what this strange red liquid coming out of their ears was. At least, the ones who were still conscious were. The other Cyangels were largely unharmed by their sister’s auditory display, wisely muting their auditory processors beforehand. However, that did not protect them from the physical force of the sound, and now all the Amelias were firmly embedded in the wall of the building behind them. Galatea was, of course, completely unharmed. However, her megaphone probably had about another five seconds of use before it crumbled in her hands.
Naturally, the LEOs arrived in force under the assumption that the city was under attack by a sonic weapon. When they found Galatea instead, their fear and concern gave way to disappointment and frustration. Still, the heavily armored group of officers approached the cyangel with the same care one would a live bomb.
“Ma’am, please drop the dangerous device,” one of the LEOs requested with a voice of authority.
“It’s just a megaphone, are they illegal now?” Galatea huffed. “See, I’ll show you it’s just fine,” she moved it back to her mouth.
“That won’t be necessary,” the LEO panicked. Thankfully, his extreme reaction prevented the silver-haired girl from using her weapon of mass annoyance. “Please put the device down and present your permits for assembly,” he tried to regain control of the situation.
“Whatever happened to freedom of assembly? I don’t need a permit to stand on a street corner and preach the truth,” Galatea took offense to his request.
“Not when you’re making that much noise, Ma’am,” the LEO explained, his eyes still trained on the megaphone with absolute fear. He briefly wondered if he’d see his wife and children ever again.
“I’m not stupid, I have permits for that,” the cyangel assured, “I just left them at home.”
“Well then, disband your protest, er, preaching for today and return tomorrow with your permits,” the LEO offered, “and leave the megaphone behind. Actually, just give us the megaphone and we’ll put it somewhere safe.”
“Safe? How is my megaphone safe with you?” Galatea asked.
“I meant safe for everyone else,” the LEO revealed.
“Goddess above, you’re all so dramatic,” Galatea rolled her eyes. “Fine, I won’t use the megaphone anymore, but you’re not taking it.” The entire squad of LEOs tensed up, wondering if they’d have to wrestle the thing from her grasp. “I spent all night working on this, and you won’t-” the badly overworked device suddenly shattered into a dozen pieces, whatever tenuous threads that held it together had finally given up, “aww fiddlesticks.” All in unison, the LEOs breathed a sigh of relief, except for the one who heard she built that thing in a night. He contemplated resigning and moving to a different planet. The water planet Okeanos was supposed to be lovely this heliocycle.
“We’ll let you off with a warning for today,” the LEO quickly resumed control of the conversation. “Just return tomorrow with your permits in order and no more megaphones. Or else we’ll have to escalate our response to this,” he paused, “noise complaint. If you do not comply, we’ll be forced to issue a courtesy warning and restrictions on further amplification device purchases.”
“I have done nothing wrong (today at least), why am I the bad guy here?” Galatea said obliviously.
“Well, well, well, lady,” the LEO from the previous day lumbered onto the scene, “didn’t I warn you not to cause problems?” In a way, he seemed almost wider than yesterday, but that might have been a bias in Galatea’s optical sensors.
“Jorjen, we’ve got this handled,” the other LEO assured.
“I knew you would be trouble the moment I laid eyes on you, lady,” Jorjen ignored his comrade and leaned in a little too close for Galatea’s taste. “Ya should have listened, now I have to take this seriously,” he pulled out his ticketing machine, printed off another citation, licked the back, and stuck it to Galatea’s forehead like a stamp. “That’s two in a row, one more and you’re going down.”
“Jorjen, seriously, we’ve already-” the other LEO tried to get a word in, but Jorjen couldn’t care less about what he was saying.
“I don’t know how you ran things in the Outer Rim, but whatever it may have been, it won’t fly around here,” he spat another wad of gross nonsense onto the ground.
‘I feel talked down to and humiliated, and yet that feels like the least of my problems for some reason,’ Galatea thought. “That’s it, I’m going to lodge a complaint against you for your…everything!” Galatea threatened.
“Now,” Jorjen adjusted his shades, “as an officer of the law, you know I have to…” He continued his ramble, completely ignoring Galatea and the other LEOs. Perhaps in his mind, he was the hotshot cop doling out justice, like in his favorite holofilms. And well, it’s good to have a little imagination (which is about the best that could be said about him).
“Come on, girls, we’re leaving,” Galatea sighed and retreated with her sisters while Jorjen was still enraptured by the sound of his own voice. Most of the LEOs followed suit, but a few remained behind to see how long he’d keep it up. Alas, no more help was rendered for the many victims of Galatea’s megaphone as Jorjen’s self-congratulating speech finally did them in (in the metaphorical sense, except for Racherd Isoto, Age 41, who suffered an aneurysm while being crushed to death under the weight of Jorjen’s ego).
{~\____________/~}
Galatea and her sisters returned home more upset than ever before (at least Galatea was, the Amelias, per their less sophisticated programming, literally couldn’t care less if they tried). Her plan with the megaphone was an abject failure, not for any fault of her own (she continued to delude herself), but for the ridiculous and extreme reactions of everyone else. Thus, she decided there would be no more kid gloves, no more excuses, and no more setbacks. Tomorrow, she’d gain at least one new convert to the Cyangel Hive, by any means necessary. But first, she’d have to get everything in order.
{~\____________/~}
Galatea and the Amelias returned to their usual street corner to continue preaching their truth. Unfortunately, there were fewer people around today — almost none, in fact — and, to top it off, it was drizzling. They also had to cross these strange, yellow tape barricades haphazardly placed everywhere.
“Caw-Tee-On,” Amelia-4008 attempted to read the letters on the yellow tape. The black letters on the yellow tape interfered with her optical receptors (also, she was not very smart).
“Forgot their strange decorations, Amelia, we have a hive to expand,” Galatea told her sibling. “Ahem. Free will is overrated! Join the Cyangel Hive today and…oh, marmalade, it’s him again!” Galatea couldn’t even finish the first line of her script before Officer Jorjen came striding onto the scene.
“I knew you’d be back. I was right to clock you as the troublesome type, lady,” Jorjen went right up to Galatea’s face with an expression somewhere between a sneer and sneeze. “Third strike,” he held up a third ticket in his hand.
“You can’t ticket me, I have all my paperwork in order,” Galatea presented her permits.
“The first thing you have to understand is the sanctity of law enforcement and how much we work to uphold it,” Jorjen began, completely ignoring Galatea. “…disturbing the peace is a treacherous crime often unpunished, and ya’ll ain’t escaping the long arm of the law today…” He droned on and on with his speech that sounded rehearsed, yet laced with dozens of side tangents.
“Are you not hearing me? I have my permits in order,” Galatea insisted while trying to protect the fragile pieces of paper from the rain.
“Since you failed to do your part as a law-abiding citizen, I guess it falls to me to haul all y’all to the station,” Jorjen threatened in a condescending yet nonchalant way. It was hard to tell whether he actually cared about arresting them or just liked hearing himself talk.
“But I did, just look,” the cyangel shoved the permits in his face. Jorjen took one brief glance at them before shaking his head.
“That ain’t all of them, lady, you still need a digital pass, fiber ID, tracker bracelet, and…” The LEO rattled off a list of increasingly ridiculous requirements.
“But I…” Galatea paused before smiling softly, “But officer, I do have those as well, they’re all at home, you see. I didn’t think I’d…”
“Hmm?” Jorjen got right in her face, “Sure, let’s go to your home and you show me.” This prompted a wider smile from Galatea, who nodded at the request.
{~\____________/~}
The seven cyangels returned to their little corner of the world, the LEO following closely behind. As they reached the warehouse, the rain intensified, and the Amelias quickly shuffled inside. At the same time, Galatea stood at the door, considering something briefly. She turned back to Jorjen, her forced smile motors at full power.
“Just wait right here, I’ll bring out all the required forms and identification in a microcycle,” Galatea assured.
“I think not,” the LEO barged right into her makeshift home. “This don’t look like any normal residence, more like a hideout if you ask me. I don’t want to make any sudden accusations, but it doesn’t look good for you and your little friends, lady.”
“Officer, what are you implying?” The silver-haired girl followed him inside and engaged her ‘faux offended’ subroutine.
“This is an open and shut case for misconduct, lady, and I am a keeper of the law, I can’t look the other way,” Jorjen declared, not even looking at her. He was too busy staring up into the nonexistent sunlight. The rain outside grew heavier, bordering on a full-blown storm.
“Officer Jorjen, we are doing nothing wrong, we are just humble cyangels trying to spread the word of our hive,” Galatea assured.
“Squatting in a warehouse, disturbing the peace, incomplete permits, lying about your permits,” the officer counted off with his fingers, “sounds like misconduct to me, lady. And that level of misconduct means a trip to the station with the lot of you.” He declared, completely ignoring her multiple counts of property damage and assault caused by her modified megaphone, and his own count of manslaughter by ego.
“Officer, I urge you to reconsider,” Galatea’s tone shifted to being eerily calm.
“You should have thought of that before you broke the law and made a nuisance of yourself,” Jorjen spat, “I got a job to keep trouble in the city at a low. Especially if you get three tickets in three days. That’s a trip to the station plus a fine, and that’s just for starters. I hope you got deep pockets, because you’re going to need them, lady.”
“But officer, my family won’t survive a hefty fine,” the cyangel pleaded, yet remained in dissonant serenity.
“I guess if you can’t pay, y’all can live off the slop in the facility,” Jorjen declared.
“Have it your way,” Galatea shook her head and snapped her finger, ordering the Amelia who had been sneaking up behind Jorjen to strike.
“What are you going on about-?” Jorjen asked before he was clocked in the back of the head with a metal pole.
*WARNING: I Know It Might Be Obvious At This Point But: Tonal Whiplash Incoming*
{~\____________/~}
Jorjen awoke with the second-worst headache of his life and a sickening feeling of absolute doom. It took him a moment to remember what had happened, and when he noticed his surroundings, he realized he had no idea. The stark, sterile laboratory he found himself in was a disturbingly clean shade of white. Not in the sense it was new or unused, but regularly and vigorously cleaned, the faint smell of a strong cleaning solution confirmed this. The dim lighting heightened his concerns, as did the light dry-ice fog rolling across the ground.
Jorjen couldn’t do much more than observe his surroundings as he was strapped to a cold, steel table. He was stripped of all his standard-issue LEO gear and everything else short of his boxers. The officer was shivering, confused, distraught, and above all else, furious.
“Who is responsible for this? Y’all swing for sure!” He shouted.
“Save your breath, officer,” Galatea appeared from his blind spot, wearing his sunglasses. “Your gear is sending a false all clear, and it’s on its way to a permanent resting place at the bottom of a river. After filing a false report on chasing some hooligans nearby. And well, you know what they say about running near bodies of water?”
“You’re behind this, lady? Y’all better free me or there will be-!” Jorjen threatened.
“Weren’t you listening to me? Oh, wait, that’s your problem, you don’t listen to anyone,” Galatea rolled her eyes. “No one is coming to help you.”
“I knew y’all were trouble, but kidnapping an officer? Assault, false report, and now torture? I knew Outer Rim folk were different, but I didn’t know y’all were psychotic,” Jorjen spat.
“Who said anything about torture?” Galatea shook her head. “No, I have something different in mind. But to be completely honest, this is nothing personal. My emotional core isn’t advanced enough to hold serious grudges. You were just doing your job (poorly), and I have to do mine. You see, recruitment rates for the hive have been terrible recently. In fact, we’ve gotten next to none since we first landed on this planet. So, I’ve taken matters to the next level, as it were.”
“What are you blabbering about? Your stupid protests, or speeches, or whatever were terrible. No one wants what you’re selling,” Jorjen mocked her.
“Yes, that’s my point, no one wants the amazing things we offer them,” Galatea suppressed the annoyance function in her emotional core. “If people won’t come to me willingly, then I’ll just have to trick them. And then I realized, I don’t even need to work that hard. There’s someone who might follow us home at the slightest provocation. Like I said, officer, it’s nothing personal, you just happened to be the one person who’d come crawling into our trap without thinking.”
“What kind of trap? Y’all trying to kill me, not even for revenge but because it’s your job?” Jorjen started to realize what he had gotten himself into.
“Kill you? No, I mean, as long as every part of you is still functioning, it’s not killing you, right?” The cyangel asked.
“What are y’all getting at?” Jorjen was terrified and confused in equal measure. They weren’t going to kill him, and they weren’t going to torture him, so why was she tiptoeing around the point?
“Didn’t I make it obvious?” Galatea laughed. “We need to expand our hive, and we need more parts to do it. Living, active parts.”
“Wha, wha?” Jorjen finally began to understand what fate awaited him. He didn’t want it to be true, but then Galatea pulled out a frightening piece of surgical equipment. The kind you would use to hack things apart or remove limbs.
“Amelia-4008, sedate our subject,” Galatea ordered as one of the Amelias emerged from Jorjen’s other blind spot. The officer felt a prick on his neck and quickly began to lose all control of his body, while a murky fog consumed his perception.
“S-s-s-tooo…” Jorjen’s speech slurred as he tried to plead for mercy, while the rest of the cyangels emerged from the ether and swarmed him like insects.
“This will only hurt for a moment,” Galatea activated her device, which spun up like a chainsaw. The officer screamed as a series of tools dug into his skin, and he dissociated from his body. He watched himself in third person, whether through his eyes or some other means, as the girls picked through him with machine-like precision and terrifying efficiency. Before one came for his head and the whole world went dark, much to his relief.
{~\____________/~}
The next morning was bright and sunny, worlds away from the downpour of the previous day. Yet, the usual street corner was absent a familiar face. The six Amelias were out and about, raising their signs and miming the usual “Free will is overrated speech,” however, Galatea was nowhere to be seen. She was far away from the corner, and in fact, never left home that morning. Why would she? She had already completed her goal.
Back in the warehouse, Galatea sat on their old couch with her latest creation, Amelia-5087, on her lap. The older cyangel cuddled her new little sister, who in turn stared out into space with a blank smile. Her processors were still warming up, and she wasn’t quite ready to interact with outsiders yet. In fact, she wasn’t prepared to interact with anyone at all. Her emotional core was still running its first diagnostic, and her mental processor hadn’t even scanned for updates. At this point, she was nothing more than a life-sized doll (that happened to be stuffed with custom cybernetics and stolen organs).
“Galatea,” a voice cut through the older sister’s bliss. Standing near the opposite wall was a cyangel with medium-length blue hair, thick glasses, and an ill-fitting lab coat.
“Oh, Celeste. How is this morning treating you?” Galatea chirped as she squeezed the Amelia again.
“Didn’t you bring in a captive last night? Where are they?” Celeste asked curtly.
“Oh, you know, here and there,” Galatea glanced at a box labeled “spare parts.” The fact that the box smelled a little ripe and was stained with a mysterious, yet familiar, red liquid was totally not suspicious and entirely above board for a box of its caliber.
“And since when do we have a new Amelia unit?” Celeste raised an eyebrow.
“Since last night,” Galatea admitted, “or rather this morning. It was a long night.”
“So, this is all that’s left?” Celeste opened the box. “Hey, you took all the good parts,” she protested, “what am I supposed to do with this?” She held up an unidentifiable body part and pieces of bone that looked suspiciously like the segments of a spine and the middle of a femur.
“Sis, you know that, ahem, “organic repurposing,” is more of an art than a science,” Galatea assured.
“According to my analogy index, you’re confusing that with baking,” Celeste narrowed her eyes, “and second, according to the Amelia logs from last night, you-”
“Okay, fine, I messed up here and there and had to sacrifice some body mass,” Galatea admitted. “It’s hard work when they’re screaming and struggling.”
“But the log said he was sedated?” Celeste pointed out a hole in her reasoning.
“Um,” Galatea was caught in a lie, “isn’t she cute?” She returned to cuddling her new little sister.
“Goddess above,” Celeste face-palmed. “I guess it falls to me to do this properly. This whole recruitment drive nonsense has been a failed venture all around. Besides, there’s no need for such violent surgery to make new sisters. I can do it faster and more efficiently.” Celeste marched off to enact her own plans. But Galatea didn’t care. She already got what she wanted.
To Be Continued…?
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If you're struggling to resolve your current project, the best solution may be a change in tactics. For example, your greatest problem can be turned into your best asset.
Author's Note: I warned you, I mean it's not the most grisly thing ever, and probably not even the most horrific thing I've written, but tonal whiplash tends to elevate things. I even debated on including the warning because I've never done a warning for any of my horror stuff before, but considering the rest of the story was very comedic and practically cartoonish at points, I felt it was warranted. I mean I don't normally care if a story would do this (I guess that says a lot about me huh?) but I feel most people would need a warning when the silly sci-fi comedy descends into horror segment about organ harvesting (and not in a funny way like say Futurama might do).
As for the story itself, I've been meaning to write more stories set in the Cosmic Wall, especially ones about the Cyangels. I've been trying to find a balance between my sillier Cyangel stories and the more horror-centric ones. The idea is to turn this into an ongoing series, but a bit of a looser one than Maid in Fantasy. Less serialized, more episodic with some continuity (like most of my favorite comedies).
Hopefully, we'll check back in with these girls soon. As for next time, I have another Maid in Fantasy short. I'm working on a few things at the moment so I'm not 100% sure what will follow that, but it won't be anything big as I'm going to be very busy in the near future. Right now I'm aiming to get the next Maid in Fantasy chapter out before the end of the year.
Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy.
