Very Telling Stories

“If it’s jotting down notes that won’t get noticed, it’s easier to hide them where they won’t get noticed.  What I’ve found is that oftentimes, if you’re trying to reveal forbidden knowledge that the censors would prefer remain hidden, it’s easier to pass it off as a background detail inside a story instead.”

 

‘J’ scrutinized me, reading between the lines of my spoken words.  “If I’m understanding your suggestion right, there’s subliminal messages hidden in your stories.”

 

“I didn’t say anything of the sort, I was only making suggestions.”

 

“Just one little snag.  I’m not very good at creating stories.”

 

“Aren’t you a Jor - ”

 

“There’s a difference between creating metaphors out of whole cloth and making things up.  I don’t have enough imagination to produce such outlandish scenarios.”

 

“You know, the ironic thing is, growing up, I absolutely hated writing stories.  I couldn’t see how to create such formless things out of the aether.  Now, I spend my spare time doing nothing but creating stories.”

 

“Well, maybe you could help me out, give some tips on how to structure a story that hides a deeper meaning.”

 

“Whenever I write a story, I think to myself, is this the furthest I can take this concept?  Sometimes I’m inspired by a quote, and try to think of the right place to put it. Another thing that helps is knowing how it ends, and working backwards from there.  The hard part is filling in the middle narrative with meaningful fluff as I have a tendency to get to the point.”

 

“Couldn’t I just write my notes in invisible ink?”

 

“You could, but where’s the fun in that?  And there’s no guarantee that they wouldn’t censor whole blocks of nothingness leaving your blank reams of unconsciousness filled with pages of black rectangles instead.  How about telling how you happened to get in here?”

“It’s not anything terribly complicated.  I used to come around here, looking for breaches in the defences where I’d slip by, and have random interviews with whoever was present.  They were all too eager to talk to someone who wasn’t authoritative and wouldn’t judge them, and hopefully get word of their stories out.  But I got too confident.  One day while talking to someone, somebody on the outside noticed the previously unguarded hole in the wall was open, and slammed it shut, trapping me inside.”

“There!  Was that so hard?”

“How am I supposed to hide such a pathetic story like that that won’t get noticed?  I work so hard to try to get ahead and get punished for my efforts.  Not unlike this story of yours:”

 

---

A Fable

There were two Bians who found themselves in a hole filled with water.

 

At first glance, it looked quite inviting, but upon investigating too closely, they found they were unable to leave.

 

One Bian looked at the surroundings.  The walls were too tall and slippery to get out from.  The bottom too deep to find a footing. 

 

“Welp, might as well up and die then.”

 

“Not on my watch!” the other Bian said.  “We just need to hold out a little longer!”

 

Spurred by the other Bian’s words, the two Bians started pumping their legs furiously against the deep pool of water.

 

After several minutes of strenuous exercise, one Bian said to the other Bian, “I’m not sure what we’re doing here.”

 

“We’re holding ourselves aloft until a chance comes.”

 

Nothing more was said for an hour, at which point, one Bian said to the other Bian, “Aren’t you finding it rather uncomfortable here?”

 

“That’s just the wall you’re pushing against.  Work your way through the pain.”

 

The Bian remained silent for another hour, at which point, it became too painful to ignore.  “What exactly are you hoping to achieve?”

 

“We’re going to create so much pressure that we’re going to turn this liquid into butter, and leap our way out of here.”

 

“Thing is, this is water, not cream that we’re churning against.”

 

At that moment, the water the two Bians had been pumping had now reached peak ignition, and was now starting to boil, cooking them alive.

 

“I don’t see that our situation is especially improved.”

 

MORAL: - When you’re caught in a precarious situation, just calmly accept your fate.  Resisting only leads to harsher punishment further down the line.

 

---

“How’d you get your hands on this story?   I didn’t have it available for wider publication, and the Director has a stranglehold on his scripts.”

 

“He may keep his scripts under heavy guard, but the people he chooses for actors aren’t as cautious.  A little flattery their way, and they’d fall apart, revealing so many secrets that weren’t their own.  It’s always easier for them to share rumours they’d heard about others than what happened to them.  I’d ask what they’d gone through, but they had reservations.  There were some memories that were better left forgotten.”

 

“Thing is, I never intended for my stories to be acted out.  My writings were supposed to be private, never shared with the outside world.  It’s a little disconcerting having stories I considered to be disposable be so revered.  They should’ve been lost to time, disposed in a sea of literature.”

 

“You didn’t want any readers?”

 

“It’s not that I didn’t want anybody to read my stuff, it’s that they enjoy what I consider my weak stuff.  So when they say they like it, I feel like a fraud.  I’m always baffled when people say they like me when I’ve never met them.  I don’t feel like I’m worthy of their praise.  It’s like taking credit for things that anybody could do in my position.  I’d much more prefer to be appreciated for my accomplishments than the things I take no pride in.

 

“Then the readers wanted to be included, so I spiced things up with all kinds of juicy dialogue. But the Director still finds fault, saying I borrow too liberally, quoting people from inside here.  He insisted that I not include them in my stories, which was counterproductive, since they were such a fount of potential inspiration.  I don’t see why, since he rewrites my narrative to the point that my stories barely resembles the original anymore.  That’s the single saving grace I have.”

 

“Do you manage to slip some hidden characters behind his back?”

 

“Oh no no no!  I once tried to pass off a passing remark to an inmate who shall remain unnamed, but then he noticed the similarity instantly and launched a verbal barrage against me that lasted several hours with violent gestured motions and thrown furniture until I agreed not to do it anymore.  He can be very persuasive when he wants to be.”

 

“Sounds like he was re-enacting one of his famous monologue plays, something he does to break in newbies who think they’re better than him.  If the prisoners aren’t your source, then where...?”

 

‘J’ skirted around asking the question that every writer hates to hear, leaving it lingering unanswered, as if completing the sentence would bring it into form.

 

“I take my inspiration from an author whose modus operandi was, ‘I just wanted to make something that would make people laugh.’  And he wound up creating one of the most depressing soul-crushing pieces of work ever penned.  Misery porn deliberately sprinkled over every page.  And the readers loved it!  They couldn’t get enough!  What helped its selling point was that to counter the author’s depressive world view, there was a lot of direct honesty and surrealism within the text that made the unspoken truths more bearable.

 

“That’s why I include these seemingly trivial mundane incidents about my stay within the Prison.  It makes the stories I tell more bearable.  I asked the Monkey/Doggie and Dodo duo if they could possibly condense my written works into a catchy theme, and they came up with;”

 

Filled with ostriches,

Filled with quay,

No more than all of this,

This is They.

 

“Filled with ostriches?”

 

“I think it’s a placeholder until they think of something better.  But I find the later stories involving the Girl and the Alien Woman to be a better jumping-on point.  I had to figure out the intricacies of the world first.”

 

“Ostriches.”

 

“There were so many things that sounded familiar, yet were also dissimilar in some way that required intense rewiring my brain to undergo new pathways I wasn’t even aware of.”

 

“Filled.  With.  Ostriches,” ‘J’ repeated.

 

“Am I boring you?”

 

“No, I’m just distracted.  When there’s something I can’t figure out, my mind keeps running it over and over until it makes sense.  Such as this story of yours which seems particularly motivated.”

 

---

Whither the Weather

The Sun and the Wind were having an argument over which one of them was more powerful, even though they didn’t even occupy the same atmosphere.  The Wind was on the planet while the Sun was way out in the vast reaches of space.  Finally, they decided to settle the matter over a wager.

 

“Whoever makes that person down there remove their coat is the winner!”

 

“You’re on.”

 

So the Wind blew and blew gales of wind down on the unsuspecting victim, who clenched around the coat ever tighter.  In the face of such turbulent winds, the Coat-Wearer didn’t take the coat off.

 

“You’ve had your fun.  It’s my turn now - ”

 

“I’m not done yet!”

 

And the Wind called up tornadoes and hurricanes to pummel down on the target of their wager.  Still the Coat-Wearer refused to remove the coat.

 

“If you’re finished - ”

 

“I’ve still got one more gambit!”

 

And the Wind cast a strong force that blew the Coat-Wearer all the way to the Gravity Zone, where the numerous bursts from multiple directions compounded the gusts.  Still the Coat-Wearer’s coat wasn’t removed.

 

Finally, the Wind was all winded out.

 

“My turn now,” the Sun smugly said.

 

And the Sun shown down on the Coat-Wearer, beams of heat radiating off the numerous angles from the Gravity Zone.

 

The Coat-Wearer refused to remove the coat.

 

Perplexed, the Sun increased the intensity of the heat.  Rivets of sweat poured down the Coat-Wearer’s face, puddling down to the ground.  Blisters and cracked dried skin began to fester.

 

Still the Coat-Wearer wouldn’t remove the coat.

 

The Sun raised the temperature ever higher.  Eggs were boiled inside their shells.  Plants shriveled away due to the overwhelming heat.  Nearby trees caught fire.  Rivers evaporated, oceans boiled.

 

The Coat-Wearer’s coat remained put.

 

All flamed out, the Sun conceded defeat.  

 

“I don’t understand it.  What drives the Coat-Wearer to keep wearing the coat through unendurable conditions, no matter what?”

 

“Sheer stubbornness, I imagine.”

 

Just then, a Government Official came across the Coat-Wearer, and told, “Hey you, no overcoats allowed on these premises!”

 

“Oh, sorry,” the Coat-Wearer said, and took the coat off.

 

The Sun and the Wind could only stare in perpetuity.

 

MORAL: The Government is more powerful than the Weather.

 

---

“Okay, now I know that one was thrown in the reject pile for being too conformist.”

 

“Should’ve done a better job protecting the waste bin.”

 

“I’m amazed you were able to find it underneath all that.”

 

“It’s easy when you know where to look.  There aren’t very many scriptwriters who do screenplays that don’t look like screenplays.”

 

“I can’t get used to how they’re structured!  I need to make indentations to differentiate between all the cast members, otherwise I get all mixed up.”

 

“Yours was also one of the few remaining that was still largely intact, due to the unique way the scripts are disposed...”

 

“The ones the Director doesn’t like, he just rips up.  The ones he detests, he burns and buries.  The ones he despises, he chews to bits, and the ones he really despises, he eats with a fine wine and 4-course meal, then collects the excrement in a giftwrapped box to be splattered on the screenwriter’s face.  It’s considered an honour to produce a piece of work that causes such a visceral reaction, though I suspect the Director intentionally subjects himself to depravity just so he can indulge in outlandish dinners.”

 

“Sounds like the kind of thing he’d do.”

 

“If you know what he’s capable of, you should be more wary.  Who knows what he’d do if you’re seen in my presence.  Aren’t you worried about talking to me?”

 

“I’ve been observing you for some time, and you don’t strike me as a violent man.  Eccentric maybe, but violent, no.”

 

“I could hurt you if I wanted to.”

 

“Easy there, sport.  Save that vitriol for the written page.  What do I do to get more eyes on me?”

 

“I couldn’t begin to tell you what attracts my audience.  For some reason, they seem to resonate with the people here.  I suppose they identify with the subject material, even though they prefer my shorter stories to my longer ones.  There’s not much attention span there.  And even though my shorter stories seem to be more popular, I take greater enjoyment in my longer works.  Go figure.”

 

“You’re saying I should write my dissertative under a long story that would hardly get noticed by the censors because of how much material there is?”

 

“Not really.  They’re just as likely to junk the whole thing out as they are to obsessively pore over short stories.  One of my shorter tales dealing with artificial replacements, also happens to be one of my favorites.”

 

---

Destiny

There was a legend that a newborn baby would be a future threat to the King.  The King, not wanting to risk his life to someone else’s incompetence decided to take care of the matter himself.  First, he shook the baby violently so he would suffer from sudden death syndrome.  Next, he chopped off the baby’s limbs and had them for lunch.  Then a poisoned knife was stabbed into his chest.  Finally, just to be extra sure, he threw the baby’s remains into a Boiling Volcano.

 

Miraculously, the baby survived.

 

He was raised by the volcanic hermits there and grew up with artificial body parts. And when he came of age, his parents’ house burned down.  With their dying breath, they revealed his true heritage.  Climbing his way out, he vowed to kill the man who so violently tried to end his life.

 

Never knowing... that the King had already died of an infant leg bone lodged in his throat.

 

---

“Is this based on anyone you know?”

 

“Have you seen any people with missing body parts roundabouts?”

 

“I haven’t noticed - ”

 

“Let me save you some time.  If you haven’t seen any, it’s not by accident.  There are some things that can’t be outright told about living here.”

 

“Are you that scared of the conditions in this Prison?”

 

“I can’t complain.”

 

‘J’‘s eyes narrowed, skepticism etched on his face.  “Your stories are filled with colourful characters, doubtless from being surrounded by a bevy of prisoners making for fine fodder.”

 

“Oh, I don’t use them for inspiration, not without permission - that would be exploitation.”

 

“You’re telling me you’re not inspired by the people around you?”

 

“Any quotes I attribute to them are filtered through my perceptions.  Their thought processes are so diverse that it’s impossible for me to collate all these viewpoints into a cohesive vision.  I simply can’t do their voices justice.”

 

“Do you think you could fit me in as well?”

 

“Wait... did you interview me just to ask for a cameo part in my stories?”

 

“It’s not an unreasonable request.  A Journalist can’t insert themselves in the stories they’re writing.”

 

“Are you sure?  I may cast you in an unflattering light.”

 

“I’m used to being despised by the media.  What’s one more platform?”

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

“If you do, be sure to play up that I’m a handsome-looking man who gets into all kinds of madcap adventures.”

 

“Just be glad if you’re in any stories at all.”

 

“And mention that I’m very popular and my books are best-sellers.”

 

“I can’t promise anything.”

 

“And I have a satisfying sex life that’d make all my rivals and exes jealous.”

 

“You know, I’m reminded of another author famed for putting caricatures based on annoying people from real life.  These wound up being the the most memorable unflattering worst characters ever penned in literature.  One day, this author was trying to concentrate on the latest draft, but was disturbed by the playful screams of children.  After an indeterminate amount of time staring at the blank page without progress, the author brought up the question,”

 

Do you want to be remembered as the devoted faithful servant or the evil bastard child?

 

‘J’ was about to say something, then paused, pursing his lips, the message sinking in and halting the formation of half-formed words before sauntering off, muttering the occasional questionable ‘Ostrich?’ along the way.  I’d be amazed if anybody could possibly find the original inspiration for any of my characters.

The Black Woman

“You failed to collect enough energy yet again?!”

 

“I’m sorry, my Queen.  We were in the midst of euphoria, and was just about to claim victory when - ”

 

“I’m not interested in your excuses.  These repeat failures are getting to be a nuisance!  I’ve decreed to seek outside counsel via a consultant.  I’m bringing in somebody who’ll actually understand and meet my requests!  It’ll make a change to get advice from someone who actually knows how to improve things around here.”

 

“Is that wise, to bring in somebody who may not be sympathetic to our cause?”

 

“The decision’s already made.  If the specialist doesn’t bring in favorable results, you can dispose of the advisor however you deem fit.”

 

From within the shadows came a Black Woman, a figure of sleek blackness with striking beautiful features that instantly drew ire from the General.  Who was this outsider who dared to infringe on their way of life and everything they’d worked so hard for?  The General was going to voice her distaste, but held her professionalism in. 

 

“What seems to be the problem?”

 

“Every time we try to collect enough energy, we’re always interrupted.  We’ve been constantly thwarted by a team of colourful fighters who stop us just as we’re making progress!”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“I need large amount of life energy!  Emotional life energy.  The last influx we got didn’t even count as a snack!”

 

“Show me the plans.”

 

“This is everything we’ve attempted so far.  They start out promising, but there’s always a snag when these Fighters show up.”

 

The Black Woman listened attentively, surveying the strategies with an uncritical eye, then asked, “And you want energy gathered from humans, specifically?”

 

“It HAS to be humans.  Their emotions are strongest.”

 

“If you could take care of those annoying Fighters too, that would be a bonus.”

 

The Black Woman made a thinking gesture, giving the illusion of being deep in thought, figuring out how to handle this request when she’d already worked these calculations out aeons ago.

 

“I can help with your problem.  I can easily match and exceed the quota you're asking for.  But I have three requests.”

 

“What’s the catch?”

 

“Firstly, that I have control over your energy-gathering organization.  Secondly, that everything I order is followed specifically, no questions asked.  Thirdly, when I’ve collected the vast amounts of energies required, that I’m allowed to take a portion for personal use.”

 

“That first request is reasonable in a limited capacity, the second isn’t a problem, but the third is unacceptable!  You could just take all the energy you’ve made!”

 

“All I ask in return is that I have the option of taking whatever extra bit of excess energy I want.  You have my assurance that I won’t take more than half of the accumulated total.  I think you’ll find that more than fair.  Those are my terms.  Take it or leave it.”

 

“Allow me to make a suggestion regarding the first request.  We’ll set aside a small team under your control.  Only after we see results will we allow you to grow your ranks accordingly.”

 

“Considering my success rate, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

 

The General was still reluctant and suspicious, and decided to ramp the difficulty up by sending one of her lowliest flunkies, someone who always screwed things up despite clear instructions.  No point using their best if it’d just go to waste.

 

---

“Is this everybody?”

 

“I’ve been assigned to help you out!”

 

Fewer than she expected.  Even so, she’d still managed to accomplish more with less.

 

“Let’s set some ground rules first.  In the eventuality that the Fighters show up to disturb your energy collection, what do you do?”

 

“Attack them!”

 

“No, you abandon your post with what energy you’ve collected so far, and return to base.”

 

“But the General says there’s nothing better than dying for a cause, and always looks disappointed when I come back alive.”

 

“The General isn’t issuing orders here, I am.  What’s more, you’ll survive to collect more energy for another day.  Now then, how often do you execute your plans?”

 

“Once a week.”

 

“That’s not good enough.  To impress your superiors, we need to collect such a swelling mass of energy that it’ll convince them to lease more power to us.  Now, what would the General do in such a situation?”

 

“She would build a casino to drain the entire country.”

 

“Have you seen our budget?  We have none of the resources needed for a plan that ambitious, let alone a single vending machine.  There are more efficient ways to collect energy that doesn’t require such elaborate means.  For now, just collect the energy it takes for people to step on that square piece of sidewalk.”

 

“That’s it?  Just a single tile?  What about the others?”

 

“Let’s keep a low profile for now, okay?”

 

The Flunky didn’t think much of the request and infected the square without question, and left the trap to check back later.  When she returned after just an hour, she was surprised to find the amount of energy collected was larger than expected.

 

“How did you know??”

 

“This tile is one of the most populous areas people travel through.  This is only one spot out of hundreds.  What’s our total?”

 

“We’ve made enough to fuel at least a dozen members.”

 

“Bring them over.  Add them to our ranks.”

 

“Shouldn’t we notify the Queen?”

 

“What for?  Rather than have every operation be under the supervision of our superiors, they should be handled by our underlings.”

 

“But our grunts don’t have the capabilities for that!”

 

“Then train them.  It shouldn’t be very difficult.  If they can follow basic instructions, they can follow your orders.”

 

“Which plan are you going to use?”

 

“All of them.  We’re going to implement ALL our energy-gathering plans at once.  This way, we can take tiny bits from everyone with no one being the wiser.”

 

“Isn’t that risky?”

 

“We don’t have to steal a whole bunch of energy all at once.  We’re only going to focus on garnering a small amount of energy at a time.  We just take a tiny portion from the humans that they’ll never notice.  And they’ll regain the energy they’ve lost very quickly.  Previous plots got distrubed because you were too greedy.  A severe depletion is bound to attract attention.”

 

“There aren’t enough sidewalks on this street for that.”

 

“You’re thinking too small.  We’re not going to limit ourselves to this country - we’re going worldwide.  We’re going to operate far away from where the Fighting Trio are located.  And if the Fighters happen to show up, what should we do?”

 

“Fight them!”

 

“No, close up the base of operations and slink away.  Better to run and live another day.”

 

“Are you saying we should retreat?!”

 

“Track records show your troops have a 100% failure rate, even when they have the upper hand.”

 

“But - that’s cowardice!”

 

“How many times have you won?”

 

“We’ve tied them up 90% of the time!”

 

“How many times?”

 

“We’ve had them on the ropes 95% of the time!”

 

“How many times?”

 

“They were floundering 98% of the time!”

 

“How many times?”

 

“We were on the brink of victory 99% of the time!”

 

“How many times?”

 

“And we’ve won... 0% of the time... but winning is only a matter of time!”

 

“There’s no need to sacrifice so many lives.  Just run away if they appear.  You’ve tried it your way hundreds of times.  Try it my way once.  What do you have to lose?”

 

The Black Woman concluded with one final flourish.

 

“Once again, if the Fighters appears, Do NOT confront them.  Go through the escape routes I’ve mapped out here.  And have them escape to these marked safe houses so they can’t be followed in without the Fighting Trio risking invading private property.”

 

---

It was unorthodox, but the minions couldn’t argue with the degree of success, and it was surprising just how effective the simplicity of the design was.  Especially when the Fighting Trio found one of the energy-gathering stations the Queen had stubbornly insisted be operated in the home base by sheer coincidence.

 

“For preying on the hopes and dreams of - hey.  HEY!  Come back here!”

 

As the Ditzy Girl tried to catch the minions who’d broken up and scattered, the Genius Girl expressed caution, saying they might be lured into a trap.  It was a reasonable guess given the unusual circumstances.  The Bitchy Girl was left guarding the energy they’d left behind, and was waiting for the rest of the Fighting Team when they came back.

 

“Did you catch them?”

 

“No, they were too fast.”

 

“Maybe if I’d been in charge, I would’ve had more success.”

 

“Excuse me?!”

 

“This is a level of sophistication far beyond anything they’ve shown before”, the Genius Girl observed, ignoring their back-and-forth bantering.

 

Indeed it was.  Before, they’d always taken energy from young irrepressible children who couldn’t defend themselves from the latest wild fads.  But now they were leeching small insignificant amounts from typically mundane acts, such as stubbing a toe, or uttering a swear word or formal greetings.  Individually, these minor actions weren’t terribly significant.  But when added up, they became overwhelming.

 

And the energy siphoned were rerouted through numerous shells into multiple safety caches that would make tracking down the vast amounts of minor charges a literal impossibility.

 

---

The Queen had expressed skepticism of the Black Woman’s plans at first, becoming annoyed when she failed to inform her of her progress, but quickly grew into admiration and appreciation.

 

“Just look at how much energy she’s managed to get so far!  If we’d given her all our troops from the start, we could’ve had far more than before!”

 

The General saw her position under threat.  If the Queen saw the Black Woman was more capable than her, her position would become redundant.

 

“She could have used her knowledge and charisma to usurp your throne”, the General cautioned.  “It was better to see what she was capable of before putting all our eggs in one basket.”

 

The Queen nodded in contemplation, then asked for an audience with the Black Woman, who sent a messenger saying she was too busy.  The Queen sent another message saying it was NOT a suggestion.  Getting the message, the Black Woman appeared before her.

 

“This had better be important.  I’m at a critical phase at the moment.”

 

“You were supposed to report to us about your trial period, not go galvanizing all over the place sucking up energy and foisting it off on our troops!”

 

“Understood.  I’ll send the energy back then.”

 

“I didn’t say that.  Just tell us what you're planning next time.  It shows utter disrespect of your position.”

 

“I was doing the best to my ability as I hadn’t been getting any feedback.”

 

“Did you now,” the Queen cast a glance at the General, who remained impassive. “I’ve been hearing disturbing rumours that you’re planning to usurp my role.”

 

“Perish the thought.  I’ve been where you’ve been, and have no desire to ever take on that role again.  It can’t be easy, having so many daunting tasks ruling a kingdom lording over your head.”

 

“Yes, quite right,” the Queen agreed, utterly ignorant of such responsibilities, having long delegated such mindnumbing tasks to others who took care of such trivialities.

 

“But that’s not why you called me.  You’re clearly curious about the state of the energy collection.”

 

Very devious, the General noticed.  The Black Woman deftly deflected attention away from herself, sympathizing with the Queen on a superficial level, while redirecting attention towards the project she was more interested in.

 

“My Queen, I must request - ”

 

The Queen made a gesture saying that lower ranks shouldn’t speak until spoken to.

 

“Yes, of course.  How does it progress?”

 

“Very favorably, but there’s room for improvement.  Not that you’d be able to use any of it for yourself anyways, as all of it is going to be used to awaken your comatose Great Master.”

 

“How... how could you know?”

 

“It wasn’t that difficult.  There’s the noticeable rumbling of distaste emanating behind a thin veneer of illusion, just barely perceptible for those who know where to look.  Something I’m very familiar with.  But there’s the problem of distribution.  The amount we’ve collected is still negligible.  If all this energy goes towards fueling your Great Master, your troops are going to be upset.  We need to generate more energy.”

 

“More?!  How could we possibly create more?”

 

“We’ve barely begun to scratch the surface of exploiting possible energy reserves.”

 

“Explain.”

 

“You don’t cultivate them long enough.  By not letting them grow fertile, you’re squandering their future growth.”

 

“How would you increase the energy thus far?”

 

“By putting them back.”

 

“We went to all this trouble to take their energy away, and you want to give the energy back?!”

 

“It’s a slight modification of a technique you already use.  Instead of corrupting humans with your energy, we’ll corrupt them with their own energy, which is more compatible.  There are still other sources of untapped potential energy.  But that could be life-threatening to your troops - ”

 

“I don’t care what it takes, do whatever it takes.”

 

“If you say so,” the Black Woman gestured, and backed away to resume her role.  In her absence, the Queen allowed the General to speak.

 

“Can we really trust an outsider to succeed where we’ve failed?  Who’s to say she won’t backstab us and take all the energy for herself?”

 

“We won’t tolerate any badmouthing going on.”

 

“Maybe you don’t know, but after this is over, a delegation is planning to leave with the Black Woman.”

 

“That’s fine.”

 

“Did you mishear me?  I said - ”

 

“You still have soldiers loyal to you, right?”

 

“Yes I do, but - ”

 

“On the day the Black Woman departs, take your troops and strike down all the traitors who’d dare betray us.”

 

“Understood.”

 

“Let her think she’s in control.”

 

---

“There.  It’s more concentrated now.”

 

“What are you doing?”, The Flunky asked.

 

“Implanting seeds where they will remain dormant until the next micro-aggression.  It’s the stolen energy expelled due to minor injuries such as banging your nail or stubbing your small toe.  I simply take the suffering and resentment they’d feel and implant it elsewhere.  They don’t even notice anything’s gone.”

 

“What does that do?”

 

“By removing the problems when they’re small, we take these seemingly insignificant events, then pile them up all at once at a more vulnerable point in one unrelenting mass.  What once seemed unremarkable becomes unbearable, resulting in greater energy output.  And when the number of frustrations increases, the higher the energy output.  And that spreads exponentially as well, affecting those nearby, further expanding the energy.  All those repressed annoyances come rushing in at once, creating an explosion of concentrated energy.”

 

“We’ve done that before!”

 

“You’ve been content to drain all the energy at once.  You’ve never actually allowed the energy to remain.  Give them time to recuperate, then when they’ve regained their strength, activate the negative energy and watch the results explode.  If that seeded energy doesn’t bother them, these subjects will have newfound energy that’ll send their enthusiasm into super turbo-over-hyperdrive.  But it’s not good to leave them in for too long - it’ll grow toxic otherwise...”

 

The Black Woman’s attention wandered off as she noticed something happening she’d expected, a mook covertly consuming the excess energy they’d accumulated.

 

“Who said you could sample the wares?”

 

“There was so much, I thought - ”

 

“You think the Queen wouldn’t notice someone stealing her valued energy?  That is not yours to be absorbed without permission.  As punishment, the stolen portion shall be returned along with half your life force.”

 

The Black Woman drained the excess energy and more, putting it back in the reserves.

 

“Don’t look so disgraceful - you can afford to go hungry a little longer.  The reward shall be sweeter when the interest is compounded tenfold.”

 

The mook was left with a dispirited expression that was somehow grateful.  The Black Woman’s methods were harsh, but understandable.

 

---

The General fumed in frustration.  Her tactic of smearing the Black Woman’s reputation had failed.  As much as the Black Woman’s plans were succeeding, she couldn’t adapt to all these new changes, and couldn’t stand not being part of the action.  These back-handed techniques were not suitable for her way of living.

 

“I don’t want to be benched!  I want to see the pained expressions of the Fighting Trio!”

 

“Take my word for it.  They’re suffering without our interference.”

 

And they were suffering.  The Ditzy Girl and the Bitchy Girl had exchanged harsh words between the two of them, and stormed off.  Their exchanges becoming more heated than usual.  Even the Genius Girl’s feeble attempts at reconciling them had failed.

 

But knowing that the Fighting Trio were in emotional turmoil wasn’t enough for the General.  She needed to see the results for herself.  She wasn’t content to just let things run along as they had before.  The Fighting Trio could’ve been amassing their forces without their knowledge.  Without getting her weekly allotment from loyal soldiers who bravely sacrificed their lives to deliver reports about the Fighting Trio’s fighting patterns, she was undergoing information withdrawal.

 

Finally, she could stand it no longer.  Without asking the Queen’s permission, the General gathered her personal squad of trained troops and went on an energy-gathering mission, wanting to go back to the reliable time-honoured techniques of old.

 

Shortly after setting out, the General and her team were wiped out, due in no small part from the Ditzy Girl  and the Bitchy Girl finally having a common foe to unite against, causing a cathartic reconciliation between the two of them that was long overdue.  But this intervention happened far too late, their fallout having gone beyond acceptable norms, and bitter resentments still stewed between the two of them.  The Ditzy Girl and the Bitchy Girl were uncomfortable with even looking at each other, having said unforgivable things that couldn’t be fully salvaged.  Even after this long overdue victory, there was no sense of comradence.  The delayed catharsis took too long for them to reconcile.

 

When the General returned in defeat, the Black Woman confronted her.

 

“What did I tell you?  I told you not to go after them, and what did you do?”

 

“I went after them.”, the General admitted.

 

“And as expected, you lost.  I thought I made it clear we were not to engage against the enemy otherwise told.  Were my instructions unclear?”

 

“Your ways undermine our very nature of being!  Why shouldn’t we exploit our power to the uttermost?”

 

“Just because you can use every tool in the box doesn’t mean you should - just the ones that’ll work best.  We’re still gathering plenty of energy with minimal risk.”

 

“I’m not alone in this!  There are plenty who aren’t happy with how you’re running things!”

 

“They are free to voice their complaints to me instead of behind my back.”

 

“If we’re not allowed to use our abilities, they’ll become stagnant!”

 

“And how did that work out for you?”

 

“Failure is an acceptable result!  We’ll learn better next time!”

 

“You clearly haven’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have tried.  For disobeying orders, you deserve to be punished.”

 

The General braced herself, awaiting a severe blow that would reduce her to atoms, but what came next was worse than expected.

 

“You are free to pursue your failed strategies how you deem fit.  Just know that if you continue along your preferred path, you and your team will no longer be subject to my collected energies.”  She made a sweeping gesture.  “Just look at all this energy that’s been collected thus far.  And you’re not going to get any of it.  Not even if you ask nicely.”

 

The General tensed her already tense body.

 

“Don’t worry.  Your soldiers aren’t exempt.  If there are any faithful members of your team who wish to follow your preferred strategies, let me know.  I’m sure they’d be willing to part with their energy portions and give you some.”

 

The remaining surviving members of the General’s troops all looked at each other, silently came to an understanding, and the soldiers who’d been on the General’s side gravitated over to the Black Woman’s side.

 

The Black Woman didn’t even have to bother with any snide comebacks.  The actions clearly spoke for themselves.  The General left, hiding the obvious pain on her face.

 

“You don’t mince words, do you”, the voice of the Queen resonated from the background where she’d been hiding, eavesdropping on the drama unfolding before her.

 

“She’d never learn otherwise.”

 

---

As the days grew into weeks and months without fighting, the Fighting Trio began to grow more restless.  Not having new issues to confront on a regular basis, their friendship was in danger of stagnating.  Other than fighting, they had practically nothing in common, and they were growing apart.  Another consequence of not getting into fights was that they never found other Fighting partners who could’ve joined their ranks.  Instead, these unremarkable individuals lived their lives out contentedly, never realizing their full potential.

 

When the Brainy Girl wasn’t trying to mend relations with her friends, she was also mediating their strained frustrations.  It’d been months since the last attack, and between the bouts of homework and school drama, there was the underlying threat that refused to engage them.  Knowing that there was an impending attack, but never engaging them driving them to distraction.  In her spare time, she started looking up traces of energy spikes that could pinpoint where these drains were coming from, but hardly any emerged.

 

The ensuing results were so nebulous as to be undetectable, but there were large swathes of energies condensed into influential authority figures, then extracted before they could become monsters, leaving them a husk trying to reclaim a high they could never reach.  These noticeable energy spikes concentrated in a sector far removed from here in an undisclosed area of space.

 

“Guys?  I think I’ve found something.”

 

---

The Black Woman had reconfigured the energy network of the base, and the output was increasing at an incremental rate that far surpassed their calculations.  This was equivalent to having hundreds of suns in the same room, and the overall effect was dazzling.  The Black Woman looked unfazed at the spectacle.

 

“I’ll be taking my share now.”

 

The troops looked on with ravenous glee, starving from being drained of their energy due to being foolish enough to get caught, and were looking forward to replenishing their reserves.  The Queen looked upon them with trepidation.

 

The General looked on with seething hatred with what would surely be a great loss.  Even the thought of losing half of the accumulated energy would be too much to bear.  But that rage turned into confusion as the Black Woman extended a solitary finger, reached inside the swirling vortex, and brought out a tiny condensed ball not much bigger than the tip of her fingernail, and stuffed it inside her front vest pocket.

 

“Is that all you want?”

 

“This is more than enough energy to sustain me for the rest of my life.”

 

While the Queen was pleased with the vast amounts of energy left, the General saw the mechanics in play before anyone else did, and realized that they had all been played.  The Queen only asked for collecting a large source of human energy.  If she’d worded her request carefully, the Black Woman could’ve assembled a way to convert energy to be more efficient, so that they could’ve resurrected their Grand Master with a fraction of the power they had, and still have more than enough to share.

 

Furthermore, the Black Woman’s preservation tactics prevented winnowing the troop numbers down to an acceptable level, leaving more of them around to devour the remaining energy reserves reserved for more deserving parties, even though there was more than enough energy for all.  It occurred to her that the Queen would’ve preferred that more of her soldiers died, so she wouldn’t have to share.

 

But knowing the trick, and convincing others who’d been hoodwinked by the same trick was something else entirely.  With the Black Woman’s absence, there was now a power vacuum that wasn’t there before, even though the previous power structure hadn’t changed, save for the presence of a vast reserve of energy.

 

“Feel free to use the remaining energy as you deem fit.”  And she left the room.  

 

All her previous followers who would’ve followed her to ends of the world were torn between the desire to follow her, and wanting some of that sweet energy they’d accumulated.  But that loyalty was only contingent with the promise of easy access to energy.  And the presence of large energy already available was too tempting to resist.  In the end, instinct took over, and the splintered troops stayed behind.

 

The General knew what was coming, and even though leaving would be the wisest choice, chose to remain.  It was all she knew, and couldn’t trade all that for something else.

 

The Queen used a tenth of the vast power reserves to awaken their slumbering Great Master, who looked down upon them not with appreciation, but with utmost loathing at having to rely on these lower-life forms.

 

“Welcome back!  It was a long struggle, but we finally managed to amass enough energy to - ”

 

“THERE’S A BIT MISSING.”

 

The Queen was momentarily taken aback, but retained her composure.  “What does a tiny bit of missing energy matter?  There’s still all this energy left - ”

 

“THERE’S A BIT MISSING”, the Great Master repeated.

 

The portion the Black Woman took wasn’t anything important - it was the same as all the remaining energy.  Even the prospect of having a tiny amount of energy missing was too much to comprehend.  The Great Master couldn’t stand the idea of not having everything available for disposal.

 

“I WANT ALL THE ENERGY AND I WANT IT NOW.”

 

“There’s still plenty for - ”

 

“WHAT DO I CARE FOR YOUR MINIONS?

I’M ALL-POWERFUL AND THEY’RE NOT.”

 

At this, the troops who’d been patiently waiting for their turn suddenly rebelled, driven more out of hunger and outrage than outright betrayal.  The Queen could hardly stop their movements, even as they were mowed under from the Great Master’s volcanic outbursts.  The lucky few who managed to siphon some remaining power for themselves didn’t last too long, but rather than discouraging them, it just spurred them further on, giving faint hopes where there had previously been none.

 

The General tried to control the chaotic scenario as best as she could.  She could’ve left alongside the Black Woman, but personal devotion to duty and a strict adherence to loyalty had her remaining at the Queen’s side as she tried to keep casualties to an absolute minimum.  Even while facing the Fighting Trio, they had never encountered losses this bad.

 

Meanwhile, outside their base, the Fighting Trio were rushing towards the spike of visible energy that had just announced its presence out of seemingly nowhere.  The Genius Girl was the first to notice, having vigilantly looking for traces of energies in the spare patterns that popped up and brought attention to the others, who were happy to have something distract them from the uncomfortable silence surrounding them.

 

They were instantly transferred in front of one of five possible entrances that the Genius Girl had narrowed down thanks to her thankless searching.  The interior posed no resistance, and there were no guards inside, all present company being gathered where the dense mass of energy lay.  The Fighting Trio made they way down the unstretching way towards the source of rumbling destruction that threatened the structural stability of the base.  Along the constantly shaking and exploding lengthy path, they came across the calm demeanor of the Black Woman walking towards their direction, and readied themselves to fight.

 

The Black Woman held up a solitary palm and said, “I have no quarrel with you.  The threat you’re looking for is over there”, she said, thumbing behind her.  “Though, you may have trouble, being so out of practice.  Good luck.”  And she calmly walked past them without incidence.

 

They all looked at the strange woman they’d never see again before resuming their marathon sprint.  As the Ditzy Girl raced down the endless hallway towards what would be the first of many final battles, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d dodged a bullet somehow.

Re-Education 6

That night, the Devoted Faithful Servant paraded in front of a roaring bonfire where numerous tireless dancers gyrated around in a unceasing circle.

 

“Friends, we are gathered here to witness the grand act of the immolation of an oblation that has been the symbol of repression tying us down!  Before you, one of your own is bravely gathering her courage to separate with a part of herself dear to herself and would appreciate your presence in following through.”

 

The Mouthy Woman held the beautiful flaming red lingerie that’d been a close confidante in her travels, the garmet making her feel more attractive than she could possibly imagine.  She delicately ran her fingers over the invisible seams of the silky fabric, tracing the contours of familiar patterns she’d worn dozens of times.  Having felt the material one last time, she took a picture of it in its full glory.  Then she solemnly cast her favorite flimsy revealing underwear into the fire.

 

The ritual completed, the Mouthy Woman was embraced by the surrounding crowd, giving condolences for her bravery and reassurances that she would never again be alone, accepting all this welcoming appreciation with a broad smile plastered across her face.

 

Once she was laid to rest surrounded in a heap of sleeping bodies, the Mouthy Woman dislodged herself from the entangled limbs thanks to practice from earlier events, deftly walked across the spent bodies and silently made her way to the Numb Woman who didn’t have her nose buried in a book for a change.

 

“Dere’s sumtin’ sheevy ‘bout dhis playsh.”

There’s something skeevy about this place.

 

“What changed your mind?”

 

“Dere wuz sum kurensee teckid un eh puck en muh uld closhd eh wuz shayving fir uh renny dhay.  Wen eh gut dhem beck, eht wuz nir lingir dhere.”

There was some kurrency tucked in a pack in my old clothes I was saving for a rainy day.  When I got them back, it was no longer there.

 

Having somebody on her side revitalized the Numb Woman.  “While you were gone, I did some research of my own.  They’ve been taking generous charitable donations from powerfully affluent high-profile backers.  But that can’t be their only source of income.  Do you know where the majority of the money we’re supposed to get goes?”

 

“Eh hid un enklung.”

I had an inkling.

 

“The money that’s brought in goes into buying off the men who guard us, the large vehicles that ferry the Living Martyr around, bribing political officers in gaining good favor, lavish mansions scattered about the world, and discount berries at a good price.”

 

“What surprises me is that all this information is right out there in the open for all to see.  Mixed amidst the falsified papers are accurate documents of their doings.  They’re stacked on the same shelves as the fertility books, quick-eating cookbooks and fashion advice.  They don’t even bother to hide it.  They’re so confident they leave their monetary records out in the open for anyone to see.  I’m guessing they weren’t counting on someone smart enough to figure this out, having weakened most of us through hunger.”

 

“What escapes me is they’re not dictating what we learn.  Most communities like these have a singular unifying vision for how we should think.  But they’re letting us make our own choices without telling us whether we're on the right track or not, allowing us to draw our own conclusions.”

 

Another announcement from the Living Martyr came unprompted, making them jump.

 

WHEN MAKING CONVERSATION, ALWAYS STRIVE TO REACH THE HIGHEST ECHELON OF COMMUNICATION.  EVERY SENTENCED UTTERED MUST BE OF SIGNIFICANT IMPORTANCE WITH LASTING IMPARTING WISDOM THAT’D PERSIST THROUGHOUT THE AGES.  INSIGNIFICANT FOIBLES OF DAILY ROTE ARE MONUMENTAL TIME-WASTERS NOT WORTH QUIBBLING, SQUANDERING THE VERY AIR WE BREATHE.  MAKE YOUR WORDS COUNT.

 

Even though these random announcements came with enough frequency to be considered background noise, it was still alarming, compared to how quiet it was upon their arrival.

 

“Dere’sh sumtin’ elsh,” the Mouthy Woman breathed, bringing out her photos of the portions they’d been served since they arrived.

“U’f bin kumperin’ playsh sinsh deh sekund kersh, und ish’ umpirceptible, baht dhey’re gredially grawin’ smullir en deh sentir, mukin’ ur pirshins smullir.”

I’ve been comparing plates since the second course, and it’s imperceptible, but they’re gradually growing smaller in the center, making our portions smaller.

 

“They’ve been cutting back?”

 

“Ihsh nut yer emijinayshon.  Hyerz deh fotoz eh tuk urlier.  Weer duffinitly been sirved lesh.”

It’s not your imagination.  Here’s the photos I took earlier.  We’re definitely being served less.

 

The pictures were a study in contrasts.  Compared to the portions on the plates, there was more than half missing.  In other instances, the plates were smaller while the food portions remained the same, giving the illusion that there was more than there actually was.

 

“How many photos have you taken?”

 

“Uh lawt.”

A lot.

 

The two of them pored through the dizzying array of photographs, arranging them into spreads, trying to discern a pattern they could understand, trying to make sense of this strange place they’d been drawn to, when they were interrupted by an unexpected visitor.

 

“Hey, what’re you nasty biznatches up to?”

 

The jovial sociable voice was a reprieve coming completely out of nowhere, once again catching them by surprise.  In the short time interval the Young Woman had gone, she had changed considerably in more ways than one.  There was a look of intensity on her face that wasn’t there before, a fishy smell emanating from her pores that wasn’t there before, and a noticeable bulge in her stomach that wasn’t there before.

 

“What’re you doing here?  What happened to you?!”

 

“They called everybody back to witness her humiliation, and that included me.”

 

“I’m not talking about that.”

 

“Hau dhih yew wend uhp en sech uh pruhdicumint?”

How did you wind up in such a predicament?

 

“Let’s just say a certain Guide wasn’t paying as much attention as she should’ve.”

 

“You only left yesterday!  How’d you get so pregnant so fast?”

 

“What do you mean?  I’ve been gone for weeks.”

 

“Oh come now, you can’t possibly have been gone that long!”

 

“Being down here, you kind of lose your sense of time.  When’s the last time you slept?”

 

“It was - ” the Numb Woman started off then stalled.  “It was...”  When was the last time she went to bed?  The beds were made every day, but she never saw anybody in them.  It was disconcerting that she prided herself in recalling minutiae in exacting detail, but when it came to keeping track of personal records, her memory was a blank slate.  She couldn’t have been that busy!

 

“When was the last time you took a bath?”

 

Not since... they’d arrived.  In fact, a majority of the members present hadn’t cleaned themselves in years, claiming that accumulating filth was good for their bodies.  For that matter, she never saw anybody go to the bathroom.

 

“Dhat duzzen’t enshir eny kweshuns.”

That still doesn’t answer any questions.

 

“It’s easy if you have the knowhow.  And I had the knowhow.”

 

“Then wouldn’t you have wanted to avoid - ” then it dawned on the Numb Woman.  “You wanted to get pregnant??”

 

“U’ve neffer knuwn yew tuh be wrecklesh.  Yer oozily smurter den dat.  Dhis ish uh dengiresh path yer goying daown.”

I’ve never known you to be reckless.  You’re usually smarter than that.  This is a dangerous path you’re going down.

 

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

 

“Beshidesh, yer’r nut efin rilly prignant.”

Besides, you’re not even really pregnant.

 

“How... how can you say that?”

 

“Ah kin tehhl.  Ah kin uhhlwhys tehhl.”

I can tell.  I can always tell.

 

“It doesn’t matter what you believe!  What matters is what *I* believe.  What’ve you been up to?”

 

“I’ve been making a rudimentary map of our surroundings.  Here’s the entrance/exit, over there is the library, in that direction is the kitchen, the greenhouse is over there, these are the sleeping quarters and this is the faculties.”

 

“What’s this empty space here?”

 

“Ah’v bin drying tuh tayke kivirt pikshursh dere wit’haut enybuddy nohtikshing.”

I’ve been trying to take covert pictures there without anybody noticing. 

 

“Your body’s blocking all these shots.”

 

“Tirnsh haut kepturing fotosh frum behin ish herdir den ih luuksh.”

Turns out capturing photos from behind is harder than it looks.

 

“I’ve seen women go through a door there, though no one ever returns.  But nobody ever bothered me when I looked their way.  What could be the common...”

 

The Numb Woman swivelled between the Young Woman and the Mouthy Woman, looking for a connection and found it.  Acting on a hunch, she perused through the spread photographs until she came across the irate woman who made the outburst regarding the ‘Mirdir Misheriesh’.  Taking a closer look at the barely imperceptible image, there was an anklet near her foot.

 

“The jewelry.  That’s how they’ve been keeping tabs on us.”

 

They started tugging at their trinkets trying to take them off without success, and the Numb Woman stopped their actions.

 

“We can’t remove them.  Not without letting them know that we know.  We don’t know the full extent of these accessories.  They could be recording everything that happens within their vicinity.”

 

And... she just blurted it out for all to hear.

 

“You know the worst part?  I should be surprised, but I’m no longer surprised.  The sheer nakedness of their arrogance doesn’t surprise me anymore.  I’ve tried telling anyone who’ll listen to me, but they refuse to believe me.  They can’t think of the Living Martyr acting on these terms.  It goes against everything they believe in.  At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before I’m targeted and silenced.”

 

Upon speaking these words, as if signaling fate, two burly men came sauntering over.

 

“They’ve come.”

 

“The Living Martyr requests your presence.”

 

The Numb Woman sighed resignedly, and was about to get up, when the burly men said, “Not you”, and the Young Woman was accosted instead.  As always, the Numb Woman was constantly surprised.

 

“My time has come.”

 

The Young Woman was ferried by the burly men who treated her with courtesy through the door that no one else returned from, down lavishly furnished hallways decorated with gaudy paintings from a long-forgotten artist that cost a fortune.  The burly men never broke their stride as they kept her pace evenly kept and led her into an empty nondescript room.

 

Her eyes traversed the sparse gatherings.  This wasn’t like the outside designs at all.

 

“What is this??”

 

The only response was a treatment of hostility from the burly men who treated her in ways that were not gentle.  They punched her in the stomach, loosening the layer of false skin, carrying the bound fish she’d stuffed up there.

 

“We gave you every opportunity, and you still chose to return.”

“You only have yourself to blame.”

“You knew the Living Martyr likes young girls like you.”

“You were too smart for your own good.”

 

After several minutes of inflicted abuse, the Faithful Devoted Servant decided enough time had passed and picked up the offending dead animal used as malodorous bait.

 

“You used the funds raised to selfishly purchase a fish for your own means.  Funds that could’ve gone towards building a better world.”

 

The Young Woman looked up from her disadvantaged situation through swollen eyes.  “You’re doing quite well here for a recluse.”

 

“Lying is a sin, unless it brings people closer to the Living Martyr.  Therefore, sinning is fine if it’s for a good cause.  And as long as I’m sinning, I might as well get some offerings that would just go to waste on those unwashed masses who wouldn’t appreciate finer things.”

 

The burly men resumed their beatings, further reducing the Young Woman’s endurance, taking care to never deliver a fatal blow.  The Living Martyr gave clear instructions: torture this agent of the Masters for as long as humanely possible.  Don’t even let the chance of death be a possibility of escape.

 

The Living Martyr had a feeling that there were informants inside the bunches of Comfort Women bandied her way, vying to oust her.  By deliberately selecting the most outrageous choice of unusual fetishes available in a controlled setting, she was able to narrow down who these spies were.

 

And now she had someone to vent her frustrations on.

Re-Education 5

No sooner did the Young Women leaf through more mislabeled cookbooks did the bell ring for another mealtime.  Though infrequent, these mealtimes were getting sparse despite their alarming familiarity.  As usual, everybody was seated, the portions were doled out, a blessing was said, and the long-time members stood behind them, whispering confidential thoughts into their ears.

 

“Remember what we told you.”

“You can think properly on an empty stomach.”

“You can learn on an empty stomach.”

 

All this was truncated by the inspiring words of the Living Martyr,

 

YOU COULD EAT THIS MEASLY PORTION YOURSELF, BUT YOU COULD DONATE THIS FOOD TO STARVING CHILDREN WORLDWIDE.  I LIKES THOSE WHO DON’T ONLY THINK OF THEMSELVES.  YOUR SEATED NEIGHBOR HAS ALREADY GENEROUSLY AGREED TO SHARE.  GO AS FAR AS YOU CAN, PUSHING YOURSELF TO THE BRINK OF EXHAUSTION, THEN GO EVEN FURTHER.  IT IS ONLY AFTER PUSHING OUR LIMITS THAT WE FIND OUT HOW FAR WE CAN GO.

 

After mealtime ended, the Faithful Devoted Servant cast her attention on the Mouthy Woman who appeared lost in thought.  “Might I speak with you?”

 

“Ah wuzzn’t sleepin’!  Ah wuz medicating!”

I wasn’t sleeping!  I was meditating!

 

“I’ve heard disturbing word that you’ve been making unreasonable requests.  Sacrifices have to be made.  We are constantly striving to be better than our best selves.  There is no greater honor than to act as the hands and feet of someone unable to convey the simplest of actions, doing those movements in their stead.”

 

“Dahn’t yah git tyred?”

Don’t you get tired?

 

“With so much to do, how could we ever get tired?  Your days will be filled with so much stimulating activity you won't want to sleep.”

 

“Eh fend dhat herd tuh belif.”

I find that hard to believe.

 

“It seems insurmountable at first, but after the first three days, it becomes remarkably easy once you get used to it.  After then, you begin to wonder how you ever managed to waste so much time every day just lying down doing nothing.  Our bodies are changing incrementally every day.  We have surpassed beyond the need to eat.  If you want to reach our heights, you should refrain from depraved activity.”

 

“Fen wi’h meh.  Eh niffer lecked eht enyweysh.”

Fine with me.  I never liked it anyways.

 

“No, that won't do.  You can’t deprive yourself of pleasure if you’re going to enjoy it!  That’s not what sacrifice means.”

 

“Spikin’ ov, uf’v bin wunderin’ ef eh culd git muh uld closhd beck?”

Speaking of, I’ve been wondering if I could get my old clothes back?

 

“You don’t need to concern yourself with garments concerning your past.  You should free yourself from such shackles.”

 

“Uh stull laiked wirrin’ dem.”

I still liked wearing them.

 

“What could you have possibly liked about wearing them?  Aren’t they reminders of the reprehensible things you lived through just to survive?

 

“Dzey wir kumfirtible.”

They were comfortable.

 

“Aren’t the replacement clothes we’ve given you good enough?”

 

“Dhey’r fyne, bit E’hd stull laik tuh she muh clowsh ugin.”

They’re fine, but I’d still like to see my clothes again.

 

“Why do you need to see your old clothes anyways?”

 

“Yew sed Eh needid tuh maek sekrifaicish.  Eh went tuh she eht wun lesh tyme.”

You said I needed to make sacrifices.  I want to see it one last time.

 

The Devoted Faithful Servant took a moment to collect her thoughts.  “That can be the offering of your sacrifice, burning away possessions tying you down.”

 

---

The Young Woman was backtracking the reading history based on the last cover used.  The makeup pedicure cover had recipes for crepes and seafood bisques inside, and the book cover for culinary deserts had maps of mining forecasts inside, and the mapbook for mining forecasts had a detailed history of the Black Tower Empire inside.

 

She was rapidly flipping through the pages of these tomes, despairing of every finding the information she sought until she came across a passage that appealed to her.

 

“AHA!”

 

“Aha what?”

 

“Nothing,” she said, ripping out the page and stuffing it her mouth.  “Nothing you’d be interested in,” she mumbled between bites and swallows.

 

“You’ve got something planned, haven’t you?”

 

“The rest of you may be content stuffing your heads with knowledge, but I have higher aspirations!  I’m gonna latch onto the closest powerful authority figure and never let go!”

 

“What was she reading?”

“Something about fertility, looking up ONEs who cause rapid pregnancy.”

 

They took a look inside, and although the cover showed an expectant mother, the interior talked about perfumed scents and oils producing certain aromas.  The torn page covered an area concerning oceanic animals.

 

The Young Woman stood on a table, took a deep breath, then ranted and raved about unfair censorship, attracting unwanted stares from surrounding people until she caught the welcome attention of the Devoted Faithful Servant who was just passing by after dealing with some business involving the Mouthy Woman.

 

“Something wrong?”

 

“The book I was reading was vandalized by some unscrupulous censurer who cut off the essential ingredient for the love potion recipe I wanted.  Where’s the rest of it?”

 

“For that, you need to give us the book and page number.”

 

“I... forgot where I saw it.  But I know it exists.”

 

“It wouldn’t do to share all our little secrets all at once.  We need to keep some in stock.”

 

“Fine, fine, I’ll find more people for you!”

 

“Nonfiction works have a different requirement.”

 

“How do I get it then?”

 

“For that, you need to earn our secrets.  If you want the blanks filled in, you need someone to speak on your behalf.”

 

“I vouch for me!”

 

“Somebody else needs to speak for you.”

 

“I’m very enthusiastic!  I can do whatever you want!”

 

Someone came running up, who the Young Woman recognized as the Guide she met earlier.

 

“Sorry for the disruption,” she panted.  “She slipped past my defenses.”  She glared at the young rebel.  “You shouldn’t have done that.  Orthodox men are not permitted to look at strange women.”

 

“I’m not that strange.”

 

“You’ve very likely diminished your chances of seeing the Living Martyr.”

 

“What’s your impression of her?”

 

“She’s - ” she started, then paused, deciding which descriptive word would best fit while also not being insulting in present company, “...very highly spirited.”

 

“There you go!  Somebody spoke for me!  I can go and find some more willing volunteers for our cause,” the Young Woman offered.

 

“That’s very generous of you, but it’s a dangerous world out there.  We couldn’t allow you to go out without protection.”

 

“Am I not allowed to leave?”

 

“Too often, those who say they’ll come back, don’t, being too allured by the temptations of their previous lives.”

 

“I don’t want to go back to my previous life!  This place is better than what I had before!”

 

“It’s a little premature, but you seem enthusiastic for a special project of ours.”

 

“Are you - ” the Guide started, then paused after a look from the Devoted Faithful Servant.  An understanding was reached there and then.

 

“We’ve been trying to gain funding for years, but need to compensate for our ever-growing number.  Every time we get new charitable donors, more sufferers are found, and our wages are split even further.”

 

“What do I need to do?”

 

The Devoted Faithful Servant led the Young Woman to an expectant group already waiting, then moved them towards a patch of land that looked otherwise barren, until a door appeared in the distance.  Opening it revealed a vast Greenhouse filled with abundant nature that wasn’t there before.

 

“The Garden you see before you filled with all manner of plants ready for harvesting.”

 

Their eyes boggled at the sight of flora and fauna that any biologist would give up their left arm for the chance to study, with the possibility of visitation on weekends.  Many of them had never seen so many species of plants gathered together in one place, having only heard rumours of The Forest of _______, a place of nightmares only suited for the voluntary, captivity or foolhardy.

 

“There’s a variety of plants here that can be sold off at the Farmer’s Market.  Perishables need to move fast.  And there’s a bevy of flowers that can be packaged to sell.  Be sure to put on a presentable appearance and smile heavily.  The friendlier you are, the more likely they’ll buy one off you.”

 

“Only one?”

 

“We’re not selling these quality merchandise all at once.  We’ll soak the public for all they’re worth.  For repeat customers, sell them at 1 then 10 then 100 kurrants.”

 

“Bit of a steep price increase there.”

 

“Each flower comes with a free sample of Bliss.”

 

“Ah, that would justify it.”  They weren’t exactly selling Bliss, which would be illegal, just flowers, which was borderline acceptable with a free sample of a chemical compound which was technically legal, as long as you didn’t get caught.  If you got caught, just confess that you had no idea what the free sample was made of.

 

---

The Numb Woman took a walk around the compound to take a breather and take the sights in.  The surroundings were filled with activity everywhere she looked.  There were women doing activities of all kind with no chance to breathe, as if every moment was the most essential part of their life, and chose to enhance it with putting their utmost best into every task, no matter how mundane. She saw a section where various women were guided into a door surrounded by burly men.  At first, she thought it was a medical center, considering how several visitors arrived with life-threatening conditions, but changed her mind.  The Medical center was further away from here.  What was this place for?  And then she saw something that caught her eye.  In the distance near the entrance where they’d been ferried in were a band of women grouped together, a familiar face among them.

 

The Numb Woman moved closer, trying to catch word of what was going on, and was barred back by women guards who impeded her progress.  She could make out the Devoted Faithful Servant giving instructions to the group.

 

“Only sleep when you need to, only eat when you need to, keep rest to an absolute minimum, working to the utmost of your ability at all times, never let your guard down, even for an instant.  Rest is how the Masters get in and usurp your control.  Oh, and you’re not allowed to take any Bliss.”

 

“I can’t???”

 

“We can’t afford to eat our profits.”

 

“I’ll keep a close eye on this one”, the Guide said, clamping a firm hand on the Young Woman’s shoulder.

 

“Be always alert.  The Masters has spies everywhere.  You never know where they might be hiding.  If you’re going out, at least wear this,” the Devoted Faithful Servant demurred, wrapping a collar around the Young Woman’s neck.  “This will inform us of your location and body rhythms, letting us know if you’re safe, and alert us if anything happens to you.  Our nearby faithful on close watch will spring up to help.”

 

“I want one too!” one of the devotees exclaimed.

“Me too!”

 

“Show that you’ve studied and understood your craft.  Then you’ll be ready.”

 

Even barricaded, the Numb Woman still managed to call out to the Young Woman.  “What have you gotten yourself involved in?”

 

“Just so you know, if you want to know, you need to be in the know.  And I’m in the know.”

 

“What do you think you know??”

 

“As you know, you’ll never know!”

 

She watched helplessly as the Young Woman left outside for destinations unknown, the gates slamming with a metallic Klang.  She wandered back despondent from the sudden disappearance of one of her closest acquaintances who’d always been there from the start, even though she drove her nuts.  Before she could even process the sudden loss, an announcement from the Living Martyr blared;

 

AN INNITATION PROCESSION OF A SELECTED ARRIVAL INTO OUR GROUP WILL TAKE PLACE SHORTLY.  ADMITTANCE INTO OUR RANKS IS A HONOR ONLY ALLOWED TO A SELECT FEW.  ALL MEMBERS OF OUR ORGANIZATION ARE EXPECTED TO ATTEND AND TO WITNESS THIS RITUAL OF WILLFUL SACRIFICE.

Re-Education 4

That was the simmering tension as everyone was seated for the next meal, where the usual blessing was given, but unlike before, everybody was placed in different seats apart from faces they were familiar with, as the whispers from behind went ‘You ‘an’t learn on an empty stomach’, and the Faithful Devoted Servant made an announcement:

 

“Brace yourselves, the Living Martyr has just returned from a successful pilgrimage!”  Then from all sides, an amplified voice laced with pain rang out,

 

THANKS TO THE CONTRIBUTION OF AN OUTSIDE SOURCE WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS, WE HAVE CONJOINED FORCES WITH A RESTAURANT WITH POWERFUL CONNECTIONS.  A LITTLE SOMETHING HAS BEEN ADDED TO YOUR SOUP TODAY.  ENJOY! 

 

If there were any lingering doubts about the existence of the Living Martyr before, this squashed them entirely.  The effect was utterly electric, the aftereffects of the speech still tingling throughout their bodies.  The Mouthy Woman had a spontaneous moment of inspiration and took a picture of the flat bowl before her.  She looked around and captured an image at the far end of the table of elderly members being spoonfed soup via helping hands for those too weak to lift their utensils.

 

THIS IS JUST ONE MORE STEP ON THE ROAD TO ENLIGHTENMENT.  NEVER FORGET, GOD IS ALWAYS WATCHING.

 

Shrugging internally, she brought a spoonful of the concoction to her lips.  It tasted just as uninspiring and bland as before.  But there must have been something of note in it, as the formerly near-comatose elderly members moved around with a particularly noticeable pep in their walk.  They even praised the meal for its improved taste.  Was it just her?  Was there something they were getting out of it she wasn't?

 

“Did you find today’s meal particularly scrumptious?”

 

“Ah, nuh, ah dudn’t.”

Uh, no I didn’t.

 

“Oh that's a relief,” the Numb Woman exhaled.  “I was afraid I was losing my mind.  All around me, people were saying how unappetizing it was, and being demeaned for not allowing themselves to expand their tastes.  They were excommunicated until they agreed, and others who secretly harbored such thoughts changed their minds, saying it tasted wonderful when it didn’t.  What shocks me is how quickly everybody just comforted to the new social norm.”

 

“Ah denno, deh taysh myght be wermin’ yup tuh me.  Ah may niid aw foo mir bullfillsh jesh tuh be sir.”

I dunno, the taste might be warming up to me.  I may need a few more bowlfulls just to be sure.

 

The Numb Woman threw her hands up in exasperation.  “How are you so fiercely advocative of others, but so permissive of your own?”

 

“Ah jest tink whe shid gif dem uh chense.”

I just think we should give them a chance.

 

“The woman I know would never just calmly accept everything without asking questions. Where has that woman gone?”

 

“Mebbe sie wensh tuh dishofir aw pirt uf hirshelf dhat’sh bin lung niglicted.  Cen’t yuh be heppy fir meh?”

Maybe she wants to discover a part of herself that’s been long neglected.  Can’t you be happy for me?

 

“Not if we’re at risk.  I’ve been reading interesting and disturbing things they’ve got on their shelves.  They’re trying to make us something we’re not.”

 

“Will, mebbe Ah WENT tuh win-infensh mushelf.”

Well, maybe I WANT to reinvent myself.

 

“For your sake, I hope you don’t wind up unrecognizable.”

 

Splintering over irrevocable differences, the Numb Woman sauntered off to continue her private research as the Mouth Woman went to photography class to submit her assignment.

 

---

“What was your thought behind choosing this photo?”, the Photography Teacher asked.

 

The Mouthy Woman had submitted her first photo of herself being caught unaware, with half closed eyes and a surprised expression.

 

“Ah tryid meny temesh tuh kepsure muhshelf, bah nun kem cloze tuh deh reel ting.  Tirns haut reel hauthenticity ish herd tuh fayke.”

I tried many times to capture myself, but none came close to the real thing.  Turns out real authenticity is hard to fake.

 

The Photography Teacher had an expression on her face veering on sourness.

 

“...end Ah wuz ulzo tinkin’ ov deh Liffin’ Murtir.”

...and I was also thinking of the Living Martyr.

 

“Good answer.  You know what would liven your landscape scenes up?  Having a woman in the distance for scale.  Every memorable shot of nature has a woman in them.”

 

The Mouthy Woman could relate, having had posed in numerous dangerous locations for the art, ranging from sub-zero temperatures to volcanic lairs to hazardous work environments to war-torn beaches, usually sans clothing.

 

“Here's a little something to spur you on”, the Photography Teacher rewarded, wrapping a shiny bangle around the Mouthy Woman's wrist.  “If you continue to improve your photography, more jewelry will be added to your bracelet.  You may have a request given to you within reason.”

 

“Ah widdin’t mend whering muh uld clowsh fir muh fotos.”

I wouldn’t mind wearing my old clothes for my photos.

 

“Those are clothes of a past life not worth recalling.”

 

“Dey’re ulzo clowsh Uh’m femilir wish.”

They’re also clothes I’m familiar with.

 

“You shouldn’t pine for old maternal objects keeping you down from embracing a new life.”

 

“U’ff hird uddersh sey dhey mish dheir uld clowsh too und wuddin’t mend haffin’ dhem beck.”

I’ve heard others say they miss their old clothes too and wouldn’t mind having them back.

 

“Who are these people you speak of?”

 

“U’m jest seyin’ whut Uh’f hird eround.”

I’m just saying what I’ve heard around.

 

“I’ll bring it up with my superior.”

 

“Dhat’s ull eh esk.”

That’s all I ask.

 

Leaving the lesson, she explored the surroundings with a pep in her step, taking snapshots of faraway objects in the distance.  When she started out, controlling the camera was trickier than she thought, and she needed the expertise of outsiders to take pictures.  She’d started out timid, but grew more confident in her endeavors.  That was until a group banded against her incensed.

 

“Have you been taking pictures of us unawares?”

 

“Whut?”

 

“Look!” she accused, snatching a random photo.  “You’ve caught a snapshot of us in the background here!  What’re you up to?”

 

“Nuthin!  Um jest doon eht fir fawn!”

Nothing!  I’m just doing it for fun!

 

“And stop trying to sound so sultry.  There’s no one around to seduce.  You’re not fooling anyone.”

 

“Uh’m nut drying.  Dis ish muh eckshul voish.”

I’m not trying.  This is my actual voice.

 

It was so strange.  She’d taken photos of them before, and they’d never had this strong a reaction.  These were some of her closest contemporaries.  How had they changed so much?  What could be the reason for their sudden animosity?

 

For a supposedly enlightened community, there was an undercurrent of paranoia running through.  The slightest unintended provocation could be taken as a personal affront.  Even still, there was the promise of a universal truth that required deep faith and focus within a group mentality to come into being.  A deep-seated secret that would upend everything that was known.  The promise of a revelation yet unrevealed was too alluring to ignore.

 

---

The Numb Woman was having trouble concentrating.  The whole place was illuminated via an overhead undetermined light source.  And finding an appropriate reading location was an ongoing struggle.  Wherever she went, there was always the danger of an overcast shadow from a nearby object threatening to cover half of her book, causing immense distraction in her immersion, forcing her to move around and find a better spot.  And every time she was interrupted, upon rereading a passage, she would recall the moment she was distracted rather than recall the contents of the book.  Right now, she was being pressured by members to convince her to wear jewelry.

 

“Look at the neat decorations they’ve given us!”

“Don’t you want any?”

 

“I’m allergic.”

 

“I’m sure they have some metals that won’t corrode your skin.”

“Look at how pretty it is!”

“See how it shines?”

 

“I could use less refracted light, thank you very much.”

 

“You’re not going to get very far with that kind of attitude.”

“Women who don’t don themselves with jewelry won’t get ahead!”

 

“Thanks for the recommendation.  I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“I seriously recommend you wear something of note.”

“You’ll regret not doing it sooner.”

 

“Do you know the number of times I’ve been told to do something on the pretense that I might like it?  Don’t pressure me into doing something I don’t want.  If I change my mind later, it’ll be my choice.”

 

“It’s hardly a momentous task.”

“You’ll look so much prettier with jewelry on you!”

“You’ll hardly even notice!”

 

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear,” she bristled, brandishing her copy of Wearable Jewelry around, “I don’t want to wear any ornament around my person!”

 

The banded women tapered off from the rude behavior, not wanting to let negativity infect them, leaving the Numb Woman to her devices.  Her words might’ve been harsh, but she found that tiptoeing around the topic just to be polite dragged on the conversation beyond the breaking point.  She had seen passionate philosophical arguments stemming from disagreements over interpretations of incomplete texts grow heated to the point of exchanging blows that only stopped when both parties passed out from exhaustion.  Better to cut to the chase and get it over with, even if it’d ostracize you in the process.

 

“I suppose you think you’re clever!”

 

“Did you enjoy your book?”, she asked with the offhanded query of someone who knew exactly what the book entailed.

 

“Don’t you bandy pleasantries at me!”  The Young Woman waved her “borrowed” pedicure book about.  “What kind of tutorial is this?  There’s no helpful hints within, just itemized numbers arrayed in a deliberate pattern!”  For all her continued research on beauty, the Numb Woman seemed to be neglecting her looks.

 

“The covers are removable,” the Numb Woman peeled back.

 

Indeed they were.  The “borrowed” pedicure book the Young Woman picked up had the cover replaced with a near-exact copy.  And since the books were organized by size, finding a tome fitting the correct size wasn’t a big hurdle.

 

“That would’ve been helpful to know thirty pages ago!”

 

“At least that book’s more accurate in it’s details.  I’ve just been reading about a guide for displaying your jewelry via periodic chart order.”

 

“Sounds ambitious.”

 

“It is, except for the part where there’s certain elements that are toxic to the touch.  And good luck trying to showcase your noble gases, unless you capture them via glass, which defeats the purpose of showing them off, don’t you think?  And there’s a section devoted to uranium, which unless your dress is all decked out in lead, would be hazardous to wear, and would run the risk of contracting lead poisoning.  Coincidentally, the makeup book also suggests rubbing lead metals over your face and using radiation to cover up your wrinkles.”

 

“Okay, so there’s more beauty tips to avoid.  What else is new?”

 

“It’s not just that.  For every falsehood written, there’s at least a truth that manages to get through unmolested.  That’s the most devious part of this whole operation.  There’s additional pages padded out to stories with ambiguous endings, sequels to stand-alone books in the writer’s style, and every other page has a glowing reference to the Living Martyr.  Did you know that according to this, the Living Martyr recited Pi to a million places and discovered all the elements?”

 

“So?”

 

“Don’t you see?  If the records are this easily manipulated, then we can’t take anything they tell us at face value as fact.”

 

“I’d believe the Living Martyr was made of green cheese and hung the moon if it meant I’d get ahead in the game.”

 

“Are you aware of what the outburst lady from yesterday is doing?”

 

“Don’t change the subject.”

 

“This is relevant.  She’s been given the task of finding new members to add to our growing ranks, all so they can be integrated into our community with the promise of getting closure.  She gets a page of the ending for every new person she brings in.  Have you ever wondered how they keep an organization like this running?”

 

“It never crossed my mind.”

 

“It seems to be largely voluntary, doing odd jobs for long hours without rest, all to gain a fraction of information that could be gleamed anywhere else.  Once someone is indoctrinated enough, most of their labour is outsourced from here to go into the outer world.”

 

“Wait, the outburst lady is outside?”

 

“It seems that once they string someone long enough for them to sink their hooks into you, you’re willing to do anything they want to the point of - where’re you going?”

 

“I’ve heard enough.”

 

“I haven’t finished!”

 

“I’ve heard all I need to know.  You’ll be jealous when you find out what I already know.”

 

“What do you think you know?”

 

“That’s for me to know, and for you to never find out!” she smugly replied.

 

On her way back to the library, the Young Woman was mentally kicking herself.  She could’ve checked those books with boring financial covers all along.  Well, she knew where to look now.  She opened the book of finances with the same dimensions as the pedicure book, and saw the interiors had been replaced with recipes for maximal cooking, harnessing the surface of the sun as an insulator, saving time baking crepes at 15,000,000 degrees in a fraction of a second.  Clearly, finding the information she sought wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought.