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In the vast universe known as the Cosmic Wall, the Themision Federation has established a fragile peace. Every last citizen hurdled towards an unknown future with cautious optimism. Hopefully, this next decacycle will bring a truly united galaxy, fulfilling billions, if not trillions, of noble and ignoble dreams for a glorious tomorrow. Little did they know the cost of such desires, but that lesson is for an even further tomorrow. Today, the Federation has a different problem…No, problem is too strong a word…Nuisance, the Federation has a great nuisance today, or at least the core world of Barstilin does…Okay, rather a single street corner on the planet Barstilin suffers from a great nuisance…
The midday light of Barstilin’s nearby star reflected off the pearl white of its monumentally tall buildings. Sleek, stylish, and angular, Barstilin’s capital city was a beacon of progress, forward thinking, and the exponential wealth that can arise from it. Like a cradle of great technology, Barstilin is the center of all things revolutionary and the drama that comes with it. Thus, finding great and exceptional things on every street corner would not be a shocking occurrence. However, sometimes it’s hard to recognize it as such. Especially when they come with odd presentation and a controversial message.
“Free will is overrated!” The girl declared as she raised a sign that echoed her exact words. Her sleek cybernetics, angel-like wings, and youthful yet composed demeanor betrayed that she was no mere alien, but a miraculous creation. Perhaps a lab-grown super soldier from some mad scientist, or an ideal form of life handcrafted by ageless beings over the course of centuries. No one could really tell, and no one cared to because she was so busy screaming at them. “Lament not the weakness of your flesh, or flawed ideals of individuality. Join the Cyangel Hive today! Be part of something bigger than yourself!”
Despite her convincing sales pitch, not a soul took her up on her offer. She was nothing more than background noise to the denizens of the planet. It’s not like she was the first person to offer them freedom from one’s biological origins. And despite being the most passionate about it, it did little to separate her from the crowd. The metaphorical crowd, that is, the literal crowd of citizens was giving her and her band of a half dozen identical sisters a considerably wide berth.
“Gah, fine I’ll start over again,” the girl huffed. “Ahem. Greetings, citizens of Barstilin. I am Designate Galatea of the Primary Cyangel Hive. I bring you news from the outer rim. The Hive needs more recruits and resources to grow, and you can be the new perspective. Contribute yourself to our greater whole, see the whole galaxy, and handle the most advanced technology,” she began her sales pitch again. Alas, not a single head turned in her direction. Galatea grasped her long, silver hair in frustration and let out a very unpleasant noise that could only be heard by dogs, cats, and some species of crab.
“Big sis, I don’t think it’s working,” one of her sisters tugged at her sleeve. She was a head shorter than Galatea, appearing almost childlike in disposition. Her short red hair was a little ruffled and had mildly unkempt bangs, fitting a rambunctious child but not the advanced cyborg she supposedly was. Unlike Galatea’s majestic and angelic wings, her wings were small, appearing nearly vestigial. Her look was reflected in her five other sisters, who looked exactly the same as her, sporting only the slightest variations.
“It’s fine, Amelia-4008, we just have to find the right person to listen,” Galatea assured her younger sibling.
“Are you sure? Because we’re getting bored,” Amelia-4008 grumbled.
“Bored,” the other five repeated in perfect unison.
“Just one more hour, today is the day we find a willing convert, I know it,” Galatea proclaimed before turning back to the crowd. “Now, where was I? Oh yes. Free will is overrated!”
As she resumed her speech, a group
of office workers walked past, looking overworked and in dire need of food and
coffee. Seeing a more vulnerable group of victims future peers, Galatea
focused her spiel on them. Her wings folded to full length as she shouted in
their direction.
“Is work soul sucking and unrewarding? Join the Cyangel Hive today,” she exclaimed. “Share in the successes, meet with the like-minded, find real satisfaction in being part of the machine!” Despite her “inspiring” words, the office workers did not acknowledge her offer, but they did quicken their pace to escape her sight as fast as possible. “Hmm,” Galatea let out a frustrated whine.
Next came the waitress from a local restaurant. Galatea recognized her as she commuted past their little street corner every day. Galatea had heard that people working in such jobs were always looking for their big break or a sudden fortune. What could be more fortunate than joining a hivemind?
“Join the Cyangel Hive today,” Galatea shouted at the waitress, “why slave away for wages when you could slave away for galactic domination?” She never received an answer to this inquiry as the waitress took one look at her, turned on her heel, and ran back to her restaurant. ‘She acts as if I threatened her.’
Finally, a couple of university students came strolling by. While their body language was relaxed, they were weighed down by bags filled with textbooks (or rather the Themision Federation’s highly advanced textbook data slates, containing all the text and information of a textbook at half the weight and the exact same price). Galatea knew immediately she had found some young minds in need of molding for their true purpose in life. And she knew exactly how to speak their language.
“Looking for the most happening, hippest, and radical life to live? Join the Cyangel Hive today,” Galatea declared. “Why go through those heavy data slates one slide at a time when you could just upload all the information you want straight to your brain? Why waste all your time and money with the boring, overpriced, and underfunded school system when you can join the Hive and have a guaranteed job for a hundred lifetimes?”
The students did not even spare the cyangel a glance. Whether they didn’t hear her or deliberately ignored her, their only response was to maintain the exact same pace as they strolled past Galatea without a single acknowledgment. The silver-haired girl grit her teeth as yet another soul slipped through her fingers.
‘Wonderful, what else can go wrong today?’ Galatea wondered as a Legality Enforcement Officer’s patrol car pulled up in front of her demonstration.
‘I mean, you did ask,’ Amelia-4008 commented through their mental link.
‘It was a rhetorical question, sister,’ Galatea engaged her forced smile motors. The Legality Enforcement Officer, or LEO for short, stepped out of his vehicle, his large, rounded frame contrasting sharply with the thin, curvy Cyangel. His uniform was black, lit by neon blue lights that indicated the sophisticated technology directly integrated into his person. His sunglasses blocked all views of his eyes while reflecting sunlight right into Galatea’s optical sensors.
“There ain’t any problems here, I hope,” the officer declared in between chewing something. It might have been gum, chewing tobacco, or some mysterious substance he scraped off his back window, it was hard to say (probably not the last one, though).
“No problems at all, officer,” Galatea assured in a sing-song voice. “We’re just exercising our rights to demonstration and organization to spread our message.”
“There ain’t no right to cause a disturbance, lady,” the officer spat out a wad of something onto the ground. “Ya’ll best reign in your message spreading before I gotta respond to a noise complaint or worse.”
“We have done nothing wrong…” Galatea insisted. “…today,” she added quietly.
“Sure, you haven’t, but I gotta do what I gotta do, lady,” the LEO replied as he pulled out a PDA and punched in some info. A small ticket printed from the device’s side, which he quickly snatched up. “You best pipe down in the future or else I’ll have to give you more of these,” he slapped the ticket onto Galatea’s forehead like a sticky note. “Three strikes and you’re out,” he warned before sauntering off like a bow-legged cowboy with an awkward rash.
“Disturbing the peace,” Amelia-4008 read the ticket.
“If he thinks this little piece of paper will stop me, he’s delusional,” Galatea fumed as she ripped the note off her face and shredded it.
{~\____________/~}
After a long day with no results, no recruits, and no good news, Galatea and the Amelias returned to their abode. It was nothing more than a heavily converted abandoned warehouse deep in the city’s old industrial sector. Perhaps it was once a thriving gear in Barstilin’s economy, filled to the brim with workers or robots or robot workers. By the time the Cyangels found it, the building had been reduced to such a thoroughly unremarkable structure that even the looters hadn’t bothered to pick it clean. Once the Cyangels had moved in, it had been converted into the beating heart of their operation to spread their mighty hive across the universe (or at least Barstilin).
Mentally exhausted from her failures and the encounter with the LEO (not physically exhausted, obviously, such a thing is purely a weakness of organics according to Galatea), Galatea threw herself on the old couch they stole from behind a furniture store (or rather, they convinced the employees in charge of trashing the couch to give it to them for free). The cyangel clutched her silver locks with a mild fury. That LEO’s blatant disrespect to her would not go unpunished. But more importantly, she would no longer accept failure in her efforts to find new recruits. Tomorrow, they’d have the whole city eating out of the palm of their hand!
“Big sis, can we sit on the couc-” Amelia-4147 began to ask.
“I have an idea!” Galatea leapt to her feet and raced towards her “workshop.”
“My couch now!” Amelia-4147 hopped onto the sofa, followed by her five sisters, who all immediately fell asleep. Meanwhile, Galatea holed herself up in a dark corner of the warehouse, working on her (self-described) most ingenious plan yet.
To Be Continued…?
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While your message is in important, how you share it with the world is just as important. Misunderstandings breed difficult problems, so it's best to be clear and concise in your language and ensure everyone is on the same page.
Author's Note: I'll have more to say in part, consider this a funny little opening. Let's just say, the next part will go to unexpected places, viewer discretion is advised (I'm only partially joking).
Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy.
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