Chapter 5: Chapter 5. Milu

Milu paced from side to side, wobbling, humming along to an old song playing on her audio box. She couldn’t recall where she heard it first, as many years of her long, long life seemed to have blended together. Most of it gone and lost. Even the memories of her home world were but a faint glimmer of what they used to be.

The oven beeped in the kitchen, and it put a smile on her face. She was baking cookies. Oatmeal and raisin – her favorite. Then she sighed, as she often did when she remembered that she couldn’t share it with any of her co-workers. They were all dead. Only she remained. Alone, alone all these years.

It’s okay, she thought with a toothy smile, more for me. And she had quite the voracious appetite, that’s for sure. Cookies weren’t exactly the sort of a diet for someone like her, but … who would tell her otherwise? Her masters have long vanished too, or at least they hadn’t ventured down to her level to prove otherwise. What went on at the top was anyone’s guess, and she didn’t care, she had her own problems to deal with.

These endless days, she preoccupied herself with bio-engineering, and knitting. It was an odd hobby for her, and you would agree if you saw her. She didn’t have any arms, a neck … or well, a body that was suited for scarfs, cardigans, socks, mittens, or many other garments she had made by the hundreds. She had an entire chamber devoted to it. No, the only item she ever wore when she was in her fanciful mood was her favorite shawl. It reminded her of home, or at least that’s what she told herself. It was the size of a blanket – it had to be.

An alarm blared in the monitor room. Milu groaned. She was already in a sour mood. Another perfekt experiment had gone to crap. Dead on arrival. She had dumped it out the chute with the trash. It was a perfect combination of races too. Maybe even her best one yet. Just the sort to reach the highest rank of zero, a key she desperately sought to finally leave this miserable world. Fortunately, she had time to keep trying.

She flew up to see what all the noise was about. In the cluttered room, she was greeted by mechanical hum of dozens of monitors. They hovered, fanned out across the room showing various parts of her home and the perimeter outside. The one with the alarm showed a swarm of grublings. They were heading out to feed before the long night, but oddly much earlier than usual.

She wriggled her two front tentacles in frustration. This was the third time in … she couldn’t remember. Was it a decade, or a year? No matter. The meddlesome bipeds would take care of those bugs for her. They were a constant thorn in her side, clogging up the works, destroying her brainless minions.

Before flying down to munch on the cookies, she checked the maroon monitor – as she always did. It confirmed that the horror it showed was still slumbering. Gods knew how much it cost her to keep it that way. And if the bipeds knew where it was, they’d step lighter.

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