Chapter 220: Side Fifty-Three – Cracks Starting To Show – End Of Arc 5

First Crack - Choe Museon Private Boarding Academy – Somewhere in South Korea

“Jun-Seo, what do we do? Your sister has control of the kitchens and supply rooms. If we don’t do something, she’ll starve us out.”

Jun-Seo frowned, running a hand through his messy dark-brown hair. Biting at his lip, he tried to project an image of strength and confidence, but it was hard for him, always being stuck in the shadow of his twin sister. Even now, his sister was blocking him at every turn, ruining his life, his new chance for glory and success!

“The internet is down too, right? And there’s never been any mobile signal here. Go to a boarding school and build character, separated from the distractions and temptations of modern life, my parents said. I bet yours were similar, right?”

The boy that was speaking to him turned away, grimacing, and Jun-Seo got the urge to berserk him to ruin, but quickly pushed down that desire, knowing it would be too wasteful. After all, he didn’t have as many followers as his damn sister, her gift was the opposite of his, constructive rather than destructive. Still, after having seen his Berserker Blood in action, Jun-Seo was convinced that for once he could outshine her.

“Well yeah.” The boy said at last. “Choe Museon prides itself on ascetic discipline and self-reflection, as well as high achievements. None of us are here because we volunteered. Anyway, Cho-Hee noona… err… your sister…” as Jun-Seo glared at the boy, he changed his term of respect towards his sister. “… must have used her Obedience on one of the teachers who knew where the junction boxes were. Pretty smart, just what you’d expect from noona… err, your sister.”

It was smart, unfortunately, as the internet was the only way to connect to the outside and call for help to end this madness. Still, for once both he and Cho-Hee were in agreement. This school was now their playground, and only one of them could rule. Still, while Berserker Blood was more powerful, it wouldn’t help secure them food. It was impossible to stop them getting water, there were too many toilets and bathrooms scattered around the school and the dormitories, but with only what food they could scrouge up from the dorms, they would grow weaker quickly.

“Obedience has the advantage in that she can use it to conquer the drivers who deliver supplies regularly. It’s the perfect power for a slut like my sister…”

“Cho-Hee noona isn’t like tha… err, never mind.” The boy protested, trying to defend her before realising it was just provoking Jun-Seo further. Pushing down the urge to berserk the annoying little Ssi-Bal-Nom, Jun-Seo had to admit that while his sister was popular and all the boys and most of the girls all dreamed of her as a partner, a lover, his sister was always scrupulous in avoiding relationships, probably because she was too damn stuck-up and viewed everyone as beneath her. Especially him. They were twins, how could she constantly disrespect him so?

“The neutral groups will need to pick a side soon.” Jun-Seo started pacing restlessly. His blood was boiling, ever since the first time he had used Berserker Blood on a person, watching as they lost all reason, their eyes and ears bleeding as they raged and rampaged until their body failed, bones breaking and muscles tearing. At first he had been sick, spending several days curled up into a ball and crying at what he had done, but… his sister had forced him to act! It was her fault, all her fault! And after the first death… it was easier. Now dozens of students and staff members were dead, used up in berserk rages. Still, that meant that his own forces were dwindling.

“If they don’t side with us, we’ll have to… appropriate their resources.” He finished coldly. After all, if he didn’t, his sister would. Her ever-growing army of mindless slaves was an annoyance, but unless Cho-Hee controlled them directly, they were little more than zombies.

“Yeah, I get we need more allies, but… if we make a move, your sister will know.” The boy complained.

“OF course she will. My amkae of a sister probably has sympathisers in our own camp. Still, she’s too smart, so she doesn’t understand actions that seem to make no sense…” There was another way, one only he could take. Him and his damned sister. “Tonight, I’ll use berserker blood on a couple of the prisoners we have. When they are distracting her, forcing her to respond, you lead our people to take over the dormitory where the girls who didn’t want to fight are holed up… feel free to make examples of a few if you need to.”

“All right…” the boy looked equal parts excited and fearful of the actions to come. “But what about you? Where will you be?”

Jun-Seo merely smiled enigmatically, revelling in his superiority. While my sister is fighting fires here, I shall fight in the otherworld, and finally dislodge her entirely. When she loses that, it’ll only be a matter of time before I have her kneeling at my feet, repenting for all the torment she has put me through over the years…

Before the outside world noticed the hell Choe Museon had become, Jun-Seo needed to completely consolidate his control, and extract every ounce of profit available here. After all, had not the Dokkaebi told him he would be the ruler of Korea, no, the world? Not realising he was rubbing his hands together in glee, an expression of creepy delight on his face, Jun-Seo imagined the future he would have, when everyone would have to finally respect him.

Cho-Hee, I won’t kill you of course. You are my… beloved… sister. I’ll let you watch as I finally take my place as the sibling everyone loves and respects! Our parents… I can hardly wait to see their faces, as they regret treating me so much worse than you!

 

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Second Crack – Luisenstadt, Berlin, Germany

“Hey mister, can you spare me some change? I’m soooooooooo hungry.” Adelheid took advantage of her childish features to make her look even younger than she was, her pale blue eyes watering convincingly, as if she was on the verge of tears.

The man she had approached, an older man wearing a long, not particularly clean trench coat over denim, scratched at his untidy brown beard idly, eyeing Adelheid. His gaze ran up and down her short, slender form, which was wearing a white summer dress that had seen better days, a small backpack over her exposed shoulders.

His gaze was unpleasant, but Adelheid merely continued to smile pitifully, waiting. After a long moment the man pulled out his tatty wallet and produced a few low-value euro notes. Even so, Adelheid was unable to stop herself licking her lips at the thought of getting some money. It’s getting harder to steal from the shops around here. They are becoming wise to me.

On seeing her avid expression the man smiled invitingly. Handing her one of the notes, a measly five euros, he spoke. “Poor girl, are you out on the streets?”

At her nod, he continued, wheedling. “Why don’t you come back with me, and I can give you a few more euros, and I’ll even cook you a hot meal. You could even stay the night…” at that it was the man licking his own lips reflexively, and Adelheid held in a sigh. Looks like this again. Why don’t I ever run into anyone nice? Oh well, I’ve always had rotten luck, why would it change now?

“I’d like that mister.” She said in a young, sing-song voice. “I’m tired of being hungry and cold.”

Following the man through the run-down suburbs of Luisenstadt, Adelheid answered his questions politely, plotting her next move.

“Yes, I’m afraid my mom brought in a new man, and… well, I didn’t like the way he was looking at me.” She said, cocking her head in imitation of an innocent child. “… and when he did, mom got mad and used to beat me. I don’t understand…” she whimpered, forcing tears from her eyes. “… what did I do? So I ran away from home. But I don’t have any money so I’m always hungry.”

“Oh that’s just awful.” The man said, shaking his head, but she didn’t miss the gleam in his eyes, predatory and reptilian. “Well, I’m sure life can only get better. So, your new father… did he ever… no, never mind.”

Ugh, disgusting. Is that all he’s thinking about? This is going to be bad. Again…

They walked past several rundown houses with people, mostly worn and tired old men, resting outside, drinking or smoking strange-smelling cigarettes. This district was even more run-down than the one she came from. Worse, they were all looking at her. The least threatening gazes were fogged with alcohol and illicit substances, while the worst… disgusting perverts, the lot of them. Still, if they think they can toy with me… those days are over. I may have been born under an unlucky star, but even I can catch a break now and again…

Seeing her steps faltering under the gazes of his neighbours, the man put his arm around her bare shoulder, pulling her close, as if to shield her from view. Her skin broke out in goosebumps at his touch, and she resisted the urge to pull away, or worse, but he seemed not to notice. That or he just doesn’t care. His breathing had sped up, and he was walking in a strange manner.

“Just over here. don’t mind them, they are just surprised at how pretty you are.” He said jovially, and she held in a frown. Stepping up to a run-down set of stairs he escorted her up, his free hand opening and closing as if it was grabbing something.

Five euros. That won’t even last me a day… ugh. upon reaching the door the man produced a key and opened the shabby portal up, revealing an untidy and barely cleaned inside.

“Don’t mind the mess…” he apologised. “I didn’t have time to clean, but… better than sleeping outside right? It can get cold during September nights.”

True, especially when all I have is this dress and a few other bits and pieces in my bag. But if I was prepared to be abused, would I have run away from home? Why is everyone else such an idiot?

“Yes, it can be, mister!” she said nothing of what she was thinking. He guided her to the living area, where an old, stained sofa was. Sitting her down, he smiled at her, barely hiding his ill intentions. “I’ll get you some soup to warm you up, but first… how about showing mister a little affection, hey? I’ll make it worth your while. Nothing too bad, just…”

I don’t even look a teenager, pervert. Adelheid was a bit older than she looked, so she was aware of the evil things perverts could want from her, having always been pretty. Though I’ve seen better days. I hate being this dirty and unkempt. Once more she cursed herself for being born to such shitty parents. Still, she had learned at a young age to be careful and avoid bad situations, and that had kept her safe and pure. I’m not used to this…

“How about a hug and a kiss? Won’t it be nice to feel like you have a father, at least for a bit?” the man wheedled, his hand on her shoulder again, the other reaching for the straps of her dress. “I’ll stop there, I promise, and you can have the money and a place to slee…. Argh, you bitch, what the… owww!”

How stupid do you think I am? Adelheid spat in his face as he reeled back, his fingers mangled and broken. Why do you need to take off my clothes for a hug? This wasn’t the first time she had run into trouble in the three months she had run away from home. For the first month and a half it was hell, and she had barely got away from being molested more times than she cared to count. But then, one night, cold and shivering under a bridge, the only company the pigeons and sparrows that were roosting under the structure, she drifted off to sleep and her world changed.

Opening her eyes in the dream she was surprised to find she knew she was dreaming. Still, unlike the rare other times that had happened to her, she was unable to fly or do any of the other things children did in dreams. It was then she realised she was not alone, and a beautiful woman wearing a strange, silky white garment was there, with three female figures she could not make out hiding in the inky shadows behind her. Immediately on guard despite it being a dream, after a month and a half of danger she instinctively moved to protect herself, only for the woman to speak to her in a language she didn’t know. A few moments later she found she could understand the words, and they shocked her.

Apparently she had the opportunity to embrace her anger, and be chosen by Alecto, whoever that was. Thinking it merely a strange dream, and not concerned by the consequences anyway, she accepted. Then she knew pain, as though her very bones were shattering into magma. Once the pain faded, she looked up to find the three shadowy women gone, only the other remaining.

Snapping out of her memories she slammed shut the chin of the screaming man, hard enough to shatter several of his teeth. Holding his jaw closed with one hand she glared at him with her blue eyes, the anger fuelling her blessing from Alecto. “Quiet, the walls are thin here. if it was me screaming, no doubt they would just laugh…” But if it was a grown man, someone might investigate. And I don’t want to run again, not for a few days at least. I didn’t let the filthy man touch my shoulder for nothing. The mysterious herald of Alecto had told her she needed to find a place to claim for her own, blending the world of dreams with Earth, but… where can I find that’s worth living? Not here, that’s for sure…

Still, as she tied up the man, bending knives and forks with her bare hands to make handcuffs and something to seal shut his mouth, she eyed his wallet. Oh well, at least I can manage a week or two after this… I can look for a place to belong when I’m full and warm for once… maybe I should even buy some warm clothes. He doesn’t have much, but maybe if I scour the markets… Autumn is coming, after all…

 

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Third Crack – Far Haven, a small village somewhere in Utah

“Reverend, can you heal her? She’s always been scarred, ever since she was a child. She pulled a pot of boiling water off the stove, and she … well, you can see it. You are our last hope, Reverend!”

Joseph Young, a Reverend once, but now, in his own mind, the true leader of the faithful, eyed the small girl in front of him. “Indeed, she does seem to have suffered so.” The girl was shirtless, displaying the hideous scars that ran down her face, along her neck and shoulder and down one side of her torso. The shiny skin was taut and painful, and several cracks had formed as she moved, trickles of blood running down her body.

“It isn’t fair, she was a good girl. Why… why does God punish her so?” the modestly-dressed woman asked, tears in her eyes.

A good question, one scholars have pondered for as long as man has been able to think. Still, now I know the answer. They suffer because they were worshipping falsely. “Poor child. Your pain is over. The end of days are here, and those that believe will be saved. Will you believe… believe in me, and the true God I serve?” he asked the little girl, meeting her eyes.

“She will, she will, Reverend!” the woman promised frantically, but he held up his hand, stopping her.

“I’m asking you, child. What’s your name?”

“Lacey…” she muttered weakly.

“Ah, Lacey. A pretty name for a pretty girl. Now, can you exalt God and his true prophet in your heart? If so you can be saved, and paradise awaits.”

The little girl didn’t look as if she entirely understood, but she nodded shyly.

“Excellent. In that case…” he paid his hands upon her scarred skin. She flinched under his touch, but his warm, fatherly smile reassured her. “… God, let her be healed!”

Healing hands. And the ability to recover from all injuries. God is immaculate and perfect, so the ability to maintain my own perfection and return it to others is clearly the worthiest gift for me, the last Prophet, the voice of God. Metatron is old news. Now I speak for God!

As he felt the energy he pulled from that other place, the very foothills of Heaven, he had to struggle not to clench his fists and hurt the girl, who was shivering at his touch. There are always going to be those who betray the chosen. Judas after Judas. The Army had come for him, and they had ill-intent, it was clear. Still, his followers had resisted, fighting back, the sounds of gunfire echoing through the compound he lived in.

“Uhh, ahh…” the girl moaned, her burned skin flaking off, revealing new, healthy pink skin beneath.

“Reverend, is she hurting, will she be…” the mother began, but he interrupted her.

“Hush, believe and she shall be saved.” If only all of my followers were so lucky. Still, they are on their way to Heaven, surely God will favour them since they died defending the true Prophet. Only fourteen had survived and fled with him to this small, isolated village. Still, the vile soldiers that would no doubt find their immortal souls burning in endless torment suffered too. As he was fleeing, his body wounded, a bullet lodged in his gut, he saw his followers fighting like berserkers, making sure to kill their enemies even as they died themselves.

“There. God’s grace bless you child.” Joseph sighed, feeling drained, his reserves gone. In front of him was a young girl now bereft of scars, her body restored to the perfect beauty a human should have, since they were reflections of God, made in his immaculate image.

“Oh my darling!” the woman was crying, holding her daughter close, and as she protested weakly, asking her mother to put her down, Joseph let out a dry chuckle.

“Be calm. Little Lacey is confused. Now, take her away and celebrate. I trust I will see you at mass?”

“Of course. We’ll be there, and I’ll stand in front of the whole village and tell them you truly are the hand of God!” the woman promised, and as Lacey waved at him he returned the gesture. When they were gone he slumped onto his seat, lamenting the feeling of the pure divine energy he had been graced with diminishing.

I was forced to abandon the Stairway to Heaven, the domain I had painstakingly carved out in the foothills of that mysterious land. He could still feel it, many miles distant, but returning was too dangerous. The army was no doubt still looking for him. Still, they would never expect him to be in a small village like this, with no cell phone reception or internet.

I need to rebuild my followers, and slowly work my control over the foothills in this land. Eventually I can re-join my Stairway, and then… then… Those who would besmirch him, or God… well, Hell had ample room for more misguided souls. Only those who believed and followed his words would see the light…

You are reading story On Astral Tides: From Humble Freelancer To Astral Emperor at novel35.com

 

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Fourth Crack – The suburbs, Adelaide, Australia

“Hey man, are you sure we should be doing this?” the young man asked, and his friend smiled, grinning at the camera rig they had set up in the expansive back yard. “I mean, what you can do is totally blowing my mind and all, but… don’t you think it’s strange?”

“You worry too much, my guy. You want to watch that, or you’ll become an old fart long before your time.” The blonde, tanned and athletic man who was smirking into the camera said in reply, dismissing his concerns. “Haven’t you always dreamed of a world of excitement and fun, where anything is possible? Do you want to waste your life working in that stupid canning plant? Well I bloody well don’t mate!”

“Yeah, I get that, but… don’t you worry about people coming after you? Like… scientists? This isn’t natural. If I was you I wouldn’t want to end up a lab-rat in some cage somewhere.”

“Hey mate, give me some bloody credit. Of course I’m not going to end up that way! That’s why we are putting some videos on YouTube, we’ll make a ton of money and get famous that way. Think of the sheilas mate. Chicks love a good Internet sensation. I’m being bloody generous letting you in on this, so just shut up and get filming mate!”

The man sighed and walked behind the camera, checking it was streaming properly to the laptop set up in the bright Australian sun. Once everything was in order, he tried one last time to persuade his friend to stop, but to no avail.

“Look, this plan is genius mate, nothing can go wrong!” he boasted. “Everyone will think it’s fake since it’s on YouTube, but we’ll maintain its all real, though in a way that sounds like we are lying. That way we’ll get millions of views and subscribers, and coin in the advertising dollars. Money and sheilas all around, no wakkas! And none of the danger of going public... or having to fight against strange monsters…” the last few words were barely audible, so he wasn’t sure he had heard them correctly.

“Anyway, start filming, mate!” his friend finished, upbeat again.

As the man bit down on a sigh and adjusted the cameras, his friend began to narrate. “So, G’day mates! I am the amazing, the spectacular…”

As the long spiel concluded, it was time for the miracle. “And here we go. Water Arts!” his friend gestured, and the large basin of water that was slowly evaporating under the hot sun began to churn, the water shaping itself into dolphins and birds, swimming across the surface and even leaping into the sky, droplets of shimmering water falling down, seeming to have a strange orange glow, perhaps the reflection of the sun above.

It's certainly amazing, but I can’t help but feel this is all a mistake. Did he mention monsters, nah, no way, I must be going troppo, losing the plot. Still, if I was showing strange abilities, I don’t think I’d be using it to score sheilas… nah, I probably would. Pushing down his misgivings, he continued to film the wonderful, artistic water shapes his friend was manipulating, making sure to catch his antics and witty banter squarely in frame…

 

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Fifth Crack – Unknown location, People’s Republic Of China

“Stop, this is the Department for Managing Divine Mysteries! You are in violation of the People’s order. Cease all resistance and lie down, with your hands behind your head!”

The lead man, resplendent in full military uniform with an unusual set of rank markings and insignias, barked an order at the running man, his squad behind him all aiming with their automatic rifles.

You think I’m going to stop just because you tell me to? Do you think I’m stupid, huh? The man darted down a side alley, trusting that they wouldn’t be stupid enough to open fire in public. The streets weren’t particularly crowded, but there were still innocent people everywhere.

Unfortunately he had overestimated the compassion of his pursuers, as the sound of gunfire greeted his ears. Luckily the bullets all missed, though a ricochet off a wall bounded into his calf, causing him to stagger, the flesh bruising. Fighting his way past bins overflowing with rubbish and dangled washing lines airing clothing in the late summer sun, the man continued to flee.

Just how did they find me? I’m sure I left no traces. They are swarming over me like ants gnawing on a bone. Indeed, looking back he could see the soldiers rounding the corner to the alley, and their faces were set angrily, clearly incensed he had the temerity to run. Not even bothering to demand his compliance, they opened fire again, and only the flapping of clothing and sheets obscuring their view prevented a fatal hit. Even so…

Honourless dogs! The sons of bitches have me cornered. Blood was leaking from his left hip and shoulder, where a pair of bullets had pierced him. The pain was quite intense, only his trained and blessed constitution allowing him to endure the pain and loss of blood without collapsing. I have no choice. I have to ditch my pursuers, by any means necessary…

Drawing on the blessing given by the strange faceless being that appeared in his dreams many weeks ago, the man felt energy gush forth from his lower body. “Hundun, faceless one. I call forth your maze of chaos!” he intoned. The words were unnecessary, but he felt that without them, the act had no gravitas.

Immediately he could sense the air almost quivering, and the gunfire stopped, his pursuers going glassy-eyed and vacant, as though they had been smoking opium. One even dropped his gun, before walking into a wall, drooling like an idiot.

You see that? I am favoured by the Heavens and the Earth! You soldiers with your guns are nothing compared to me now! His boastful thoughts were interrupted by the wet, squelching feeling in his left shoe, and he realised it was his blood pooling there after it ran down his leg. Well, perhaps guns are still an issue… he graciously allowed.

Even so, he continued to stagger away. His mental maze would not hold long against so many targets, especially when their emotions were so heightened. He would have to disappear before…

“This is why I said we shouldn’t rely on these Party men and their modern weapons.” A beautiful sing-song voice interrupted his thought processes, and despite himself he was forced to look up, seeing the speaker. She was a very pretty young girl, slender and willowy, with pale skin and a mop of dark-brown, silky hair. She was wearing an old-fashioned green robe, of the sort he imagined Cultivators in stories would wear, if one believed in such things. The man hadn’t, up until he received his own blessing, and then everything seemed possible.

He froze for a moment, captivated by her, not seeing the handsome older man beside her, also in green, his dark eyes piercing, like a raptors. “Yes, I quite agree, Lihua. Still, that is why they make sure to always bring some of us with each squad. Anyway, we have our orders.”

Orders, what orders? They must be with the Department. I should go… he turned to run, struggling to look away from the pretty girl. It was as if her voice had somehow cast a spell on him. In fact, that was exactly correct, even now, unbeknownst to him some ki was circulating through his meridians, slowing his thoughts and fogging his reaction speed. Moments later he was staring up at the sky, wondering why he was lying on his back. As warmth drained out of him and his vision started to go dark, he heard a beautiful voice say “Kill the chicken to scare the monkey… we should spread the news so that any other fools don’t decide to flee when…”

So… pretty…

 

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Sixth Crack – Church Of The Bloodied Thorn, Cluj-Napoca, Romania

“I must meditate to enter the immaterial realm, below the only true Ninth Heaven.“ Alexandru Ardelean, a Judge of Revelation, said sharply, his dark, close cropped hair and hazel eyes and olive skin giving him a Mediterranean cast, contrasting with the pure white of his surcoat which was draped pristinely over his chainmail vestments. In one hand he carried a ceremonial mace, and in the other a shield forged in the shape of the fabled Wheel of Judgement, Rota Iudicii, which was carried by the legendary and revered Judgement-Cardinal, Luca Aloisio.

“Are you sure it should be here?” One of the squires asked, looking around at the poor interior of the humble church on the outskirts of the city. “If you are planning to open a Hallowed Ground, surely the Theotokos Cathedral would be a better place to start…”

Judge Alexandru conceded the point, but quickly disabused his squires of their incorrect notions. “Peace, my acolytes. The will of the Lord is absolute, and the omens have been interpreted. To cleanse an ancient evil, we must root it out, and dark shadows lurk in Cluj-Napoca, long forgotten. I was told to seek out the ancient places and wipe away the filth.” His intense gaze grew distant. “I was born here in this city. I was a man of scant faith, little more than a rat running through the streets, content to live in squalor and steal what I could to survive. Until the great Judgement-Cardinal came across me, and saw my potential. And now… now I have been validated, blessed by one of the Principalities of God, a Heavenly Angel.”

At those words they all made the sign of the cross, bowing their heads in piety. “Alas, the Metatron has spoken, and the Heavenly Choirs cannot yet manifest in this barren world devoid of faith, full of evils that must be cleansed. And there is such an evil hidden here.” His gaze hardened once more as he gripped his ceremonial weaponry. “I remember this church, I often hid here as a child when I was avoiding trouble, or fleeing the scene of my pilfering. It was said to be the oldest Church in the whole province. Yet there was never any priest here, or any mass held. And now, when we have an ancient wrong to right, where better to start, I thought? It surely is the whispers of the Ninth Heaven, inspiring me.”

Everyone once more bowed in prayer, before Judge Alexandru closed his eyes and started praying, running through the Lord’s Prayer, Hail Mary, and other less common, more… esoteric… utterances. His breathing started to slow, and a few minutes later, he appeared to be asleep, an expression of joy and faith across his still features.

Turning to his fellow squire, one spoke, asking a question. “How long do you think we have to wait? Judge Alexandru was unclear.”

“As long as it takes.” The other squire answered. “We should pray, brother. This is a church, is it not?”

He nodded. “Yes, it is. Still, what an ill-omened name. Church of the Bloody Thorn. I expect it is a reference to the Longinus that pierced the side of Christ, but even so…” he shivered, a chill running down his spine.

“The older churches often had bloody and unpleasant histories and relics. You should study your theology more, brother.”

As the two priests prayed and chatted, waiting for their master to return, they failed to hear a faint whimpering coming from below the dark, mysteriously stained, oaken floor, nor the scratching of what sounded like nails on wood…

 

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Seventh Crack – Fyodor Technological Institute, Moscow, Russia

The small laboratory was filled wall-to-wall with monitors, each displaying either masses of complicated code, or images of various schematics for some sort of device. The flickering light-strips overhead were barely needed to light the space, as the illumination from all the monitors drowned the room in electronic colours.

In the centre of the room, sitting in a comfortable chair, was a small girl, her pale white hair and skin having barely ever seen the sun. Her moist pink eyes were focused and sharp, gazing at one of the monitors, while her fingers dashed over the wireless keyboard she was holding in her lap, typing away at a furious speed.

After several minutes of this, the young girl hammered the enter key, and the code on the screen compiled rapidly. Turning her pale gaze to another monitor, she watched as a simulated neural network ran, a series of bright, glittering stars connected by nebulous strands representing the data program visually. A dull rumbling sounded, and one wall slid to the side, revealing a series of metallic limbs, arms, legs and more, all of which were attached to various servos and monitoring equipment.

One hand began to move chess pieces on a board, while a pair of legs attempted to walk. Other limbs and devices also whirred and clunked, electric motors working them. Still, the girl clicked her tongue, unsatisfied. As everything ground to a halt, she let out a long sigh, the wall sliding back into position.

“Pizdets!” she swore, a word unbecoming for a girl so young. “Nothing I calculate gets the results I’m seeking. It’s like I’m missing something. It should work, the human mind is merely an organic computer with advanced sensory inputs.” She started to pout, pulling her legs up to her chest, sitting like an angry child, which in a way she was.

After a while, the door to her laboratory opened, and an older woman came in, her expression soft and kind. Still, behind her the girl saw several very powerful-looking men in dark suits, carrying guns, clearly on high-alert. As the door slid shut again, the old woman spoke.

“Ah, Gospozha Kuznetsova, you shouldn’t pout so. After all, you can’t have two deaths, dear, but you can’t avoid one, now can you?” she spouted a platitude, but that just made the girl pout harder, looking away.

“Oh, come now, dear. Don’t be so sad. It must be hard for you, running your own laboratory at your age. But chin up, you can’t avoid what is meant to happen, so why not smile a little? You have such a beautiful little smile. You’ll make a beautiful bride one day.”

“Hardly.” The girl sighed bitterly. “I am cursed from birth with this frail body, this… this albinism. I’m small, frail and pale. No man shall want me as a bride, I wouldn’t survive childbirth, and who would desire to have sex with me?”

“Ilya!” the woman scolded, scandalised at her crude complaints. “That is not something a young devushka should say. Besides, your beauty stands out, like a pale royal azalea. Now cheer up, my dear. Would you like me to bring you a warm milk and cinnamon? That always cheers you up!”

The young girl Ilya tried to resist, looking endearingly youthful, until with a nod she caved in. “Yes, and maybe some sweets too?” she muttered. “Oh, and are mama and papa here today?”

The older woman shook her head, sadly. “I’m afraid not, dear. They had a meeting with the head of the institute as well as… well, you know.”

Ilya’s face fell again, but she nodded. “Yes, I know. It’s just…” she sighed.

“Don’t despair, Ilya dear. You know they love you dearly, they just have many other commitments, and they trust you enjoy your work so aren’t lonely. Besides, you remember, right? Those brutes that tried to kidnap you?”

At that, Ilya nodded again, this time with tears welling up in her eyes, as she remembered cowering in her room under the bed as the sounds of gunfire and screams of the dying rang outside.

“Well, that’s why your parents have to make sure you are safe. There are lots of brave, loyal Russian men out there, just dying to keep Russia’s greatest little genius safe. Now, don’t be sad, I’ll go get that warm milk for you. If you need anything else, just call, all right?”

As her secretary, or more appropriately, her maid, left, Ilya turned her attention back to the screens, picking up her keyboard once more. “There’s something missing. My AI routines should work better than this. If I can’t create life as a woman, I can create it as a scientist…” with those words her concentration sharpened, and once more the only audible sounds in the room were the gentle humming of electrics, and the click-clack of her fingers on the keys…

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