ReliaRobot

Previously

I stood in the bathroom staring at the mirror, still covered in steam from Lilith's shower. I'd been standing there for several minutes. I could vaguely make out the shape of my new face, greenish and strange. I half-reached towards the mirror to wipe it clean so I could really see it, then let my hand fall to my side for the fifth time. I was trembling, staring at the softly glowing eyes of my reflection through the mist as it slowly cleared away. I just couldn't...

I just couldn't. I needed to, and I couldn't. Would the real me, the real Kathrine, have been braver, in my place?

"Hey," said a voice from my right, and I jumped. Kathrine stood before me, her hand half-extended to touch me. She let it fall. "It's all right. I think you look kind of cute, actually."

I looked at her, seeing her face - my old face - like it was a mirror, but really looking for the first time. Brown, curly hair, soft cheeks, full lips. Stunning blue eyes that looked both kind and worried about me. I knew that other people had found me cute, before, but I'd never quite believed it. Not really. But... Kathrine was cute. Like, cute cute. I got lost in her eyes for a moment.

She glanced towards the mirror, looking guilty. "Here, we can do it together, okay?" Her hand reached for mine, and without thinking I reached back. Hand in hand, we reached forward and wiped off the mirror.

My new face was green, dark green, circuitboard green, an image solidified by the golden wiring running its way all around my features. It was segmented into smaller plates, and I could see servos and pistons in the cracks between when I moved. My nose wasn't the skeletal hole I'd been dreading, but instead a kind of peak in the central plate with two narrow holes leading inside. Without the cartilage and fat, my new face looked smaller, things reduced in detail, like a sketch instead of a full drawing. The exceptions were my eyes - golden, with wide black irises, lit from within by some kind of status LED - and my lips. They were some kind of translucent grey silicone cushion which stretched and moved as the underlying plates shifted beneath it. In various places on the plating, more status LEDs shone in a variety of colors, blues and yellows and reds. I reached up my hand to touch my face, and could feel the ridges of the circuitry and the bumps of the LEDs just as my cheek felt the artificial softness of my fingers.

"You're beautiful," Kathrine said, looking at me through the mirror. She turned to face me, our hands still linked, and when I twisted around to face her, she placed her hand just under my chin, very gently. I gasped softly at the touch, and she carefully moved her thumb up to touch my lips. I parted them without thinking, barely daring to breathe as she rubbed her thumb along them. "They're so soft," she murmured to herself. Her face was very close. I tilted my head slightly, and she did too. My other hand went to her waist, and we drew closer together-

And then the doorbell rang. Both of us sprang away from each other, cheeks glowing in different but very similar ways. "I, uh, I better go- that's probably- I mean, it might be- uh, I'll be back," she said, looking down and away.

She spun around to go, and on impulse I grabbed her arm. She glanced back at me, and somehow I managed to stammer out, "I- I think you're really pretty, too!" She blushed harder, and made as if she was going to say something dismissive, but I cut her off. "I know! I know you don't believe it. I didn't. But you are!" I wasn't sure exactly what I looked like when I was blushing, but it felt like the room was practically on fire with how my cheeks felt. "You are."

She was left speechless. I glanced up to try to look her in the eyes, and I saw that they were wet with almost-tears. The doorbell rang again, and I let her hand go so she could wipe her eyes before answering.

I decided to sit at the top of the stairs and listen in on the conversation below.

"Agent Franklin, hello. Another round of questions?" Kathrine sounded tired, and her voice was still a little wobbly.

There was a brief electronic noise, and then a reserved, feminine voice said, "No, ma'am, just checking in on you after last night's assault concern. I got your message that you were safe, but you know I had to come and verify that in person."

"Well, as you can see, I'm as human as the next woman," said Kathrine. I snorted quietly.

"So you are, ma'am. As long as I'm here, can I ask you a few more questions? There's some things I want to clear up."

A sigh. "Sure, Agent Franklin. Come on in, meet my wife."

The conversation drifted into the living room where it was harder to hear. I strained my ears, but didn't dare go downstairs myself. I don't know what this mysterious agent's view of me would be, but I really didn't want to risk getting shot at again.

"Mrowp?"

I looked down and saw Drake, our orange cat (their orange cat, I was an intruder and didn't deserve him) staring at me. Hesitantly, I put out my knuckles towards him. How would he react now that I was...

He immediately bumped his tiny head into my knuckles and rubbed past them to get onto my lap. He rose up, paws landing on my shoulder, and he sniffed at my face. I held still. For a long moment, I wasn't sure what he would do; then, with a happy "Brrrowt!", he headbutted me on the cheek and curled right up in my lap, purring like a motorboat.

"Ohhhh! Tiny boy! Tiny baby boy," I crooned at him, scratching underneath his chin. I could have cried, if my tear ducts were still working. "Oh, buddy, you don't even know how much that means to me. You don't even know! Do you? Do you baby boy?" I got my other hand in behind his ears. "Ohhhhh, baby boy!"

There was a shout, and I looked up right into the bright green eyes of a woman with dark skin wearing a black suit and holding a gun in her hands. I froze, causing Drake to mrowl in protest. Kathrine was right behind her, also frozen, uncertain what to do.

"Um," I said, as the barrel of the gun held steady at the floor. "Agent Franklin, I presume?"

"It's vital evidence in our case!"

"She is a person and she deserves rights just as much as any of us. I won't let you take her away!"

We'd reconvened in the living room. The conversation between Agent Franklin and Kathrine had become a shouting match, but at least the gun was holstered again. I sat on the couch, making myself as small as possible. I didn't dare raise my voice - what if she saw me as just another aggressive evil robot?

"It isn't a person. That was the whole point of them," said Agent Franklin, exasperated. "You're being fooled by a trick you already know is fake. Look at it! It's not human!"

I burrowed further into myself, but Lilith snaked her hand into mine and squeezed it. Despite myself, I looked up to see her smiling at me. She turned back towards the conversation without letting go. "Agent, it doesn't matter if she's human or not. She's a part of our family now," my eyes widened as the words sank in, and I nearly missed the next part, "so if you want to claim her, you'd better come back with a warrant." I stared at her, open-mouthed, then glanced at Agent Franklin. Her face was knotted in a mix of anger and concern.

After a moment, she sighed. "Fifth one today. I keep trying to tell you people these things are dangerous, but nobody listens to me."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Kathrine sat back down, looking smug. "Ah, yes, the dangerous robotgirl, petter of cats and holder of hands."

Franklin's resigned look turned sour. "I mean it, ma'am. They may not have weapons, but they can kill just as easily as any person with the flip of a switch. It may look docile now, but what happens if its creators return?"

Kathrine's smile turned brittle. "I've told you before, Agent. We've isolated their control pathways and found ways to disable them. I turned off her receiver myself this morning. She's safe." she stood, walking to the door. "It's been nice to see you, Agent Franklin. If you have any more questions, I'm happy to answer them over the phone." She opened the door, and Agent Franklin took the hint. She nodded to Lilith and Kathrine before she left, leaving me with just a piercing look.

Kathrine closed the door behind her, stood there for a moment, then collapsed onto the floor. "Holy shit," she breathed. "I thought for sure I was gonna get myself arrested. Fuck."

I drew further back into the couch and let out a shuddering breath. "I thought I was going to get scrapped."

I felt Lilith's hand leave mine and I folded my arms over my knees. Of course she'd want to comfort her real wife. It made sense. My breathing hastened, beginning to shudder, until I felt the couch jerk as someone dropped onto it, leaning against me. A moment later, a blanket was draped over the two of us, and I opened my eyes to see Lilith leaning down to hug Kathrine and I together. She squeezed us tightly and said, "You both did great. Stay there and be cozy for a minute. I'll make us some tea."

Still shivering from nerves, our hands found each other and squeezed tight under the blanket.

"I- I don't understand," I stammered. It was like looking in a mirror. I backed away from my duplicate, edging ever closer to the roof's edge. "Where did you come from? Why are you here? What did I ever do to you?!"

The other me laughed, a slightly manic tone to it as she pointed the knife at me, blade shining in the moonlight. "You stole my whole life! My job, my house, my friends, my wife! What, are you going to pretend you did it by accident?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about!" I backed away again, but tripped, falling backwards, my back now to a sheer three-story drop. "I've lived here for fifteen years! I met Lilith on our first date five years ago! I remember, I- I thought-"

"You LIAR!" My clone shouted, and dove at me, knife in hand. I screamed in pain as the blade sliced open my cheek, and again as it plunged into my shoulder. I struggled to get control, but I could feel my arm losing its strength as the blade trembled between the two of us. I didn't want to hurt her! I didn't want to die! What could I-

"Drop the knife! Both of you!"

Lilith had made her way onto the roof, finally, and in her hand she held the gun my clone had dropped during the chase. She gripped it hard, pointing it in our direction.

"Lilith," said the clone, "Lilith, it's me, it's Kathrine, you have to believe me, I got kidnapped, I haven't been here for months, you've been living with this impostor-"

The safety on the gun clicked, but the muzzle wavered. "I said, drop the knife."

Slowly, she released her pressure on it, and so did I. When she let go, I knocked it off the roof. I gasped, bleeding, barely able to rise to my knees. "Lilith, I don't know what's going on. I've been here," I gulped, gasping against the pain, "the whole time. The cats know it's me, you know how they get with strangers-"

My clone snarled at me. "The cats? You even managed to fool the cats?! You bitch!" She grabbed my dress, hauling me to my feet. I hung on desperately to her hands, all too aware of the drop behind me.

"I don't-" I started, at the same time Lilith shouted, "Put her down! I'm warning you!"

My clone's eyes were wild, deranged, panicked, darting back and forth between Lilith and I. As her eyes settled on me, she stared at something on my face. "I can prove it," she breathed. "I can prove it!" She shouted to Lilith. "Watch! I'm the real Kathrine!" She reached up towards the cut in my face and dug her nails in. I screamed, closing my eyes, Lilith shouted something, and then...

And then it was quiet. It didn't hurt anymore. I heard my clone breathing rapidly in front of me. I slowly eased my eyes open to see her staring at me in fear and victory. I glanced at Lilith, gun pointing more at our feet now, mouth open in shock.

"Jig's up, impostor," said my clone. She let go of me, and held something up to my face. "Your disguise is busted."

The thing she was holding... it was like a mask. Floppy, sort of rubbery in the way that it hung.

A mask of my own face.

I grabbed at my own face, my cheeks, my eyes, all of it felt smooth, cold, metallic. I felt raised bumps in regular patterns, weld marks, maybe, or small rivets. My mouth opened in shock, and I could hear the hum of tiny servos. "W-what-"

My clone - no, Kathrine, the real Kathrine - looked at me with surprise and distrust. "You can't tell me you didn't know."

"I- I- I had no idea!" I turned to Lilith. "I remember our first date! We were both so nervous, and then you infodumped about amusement parks at me for an hour, and I thought I had to see you again! I remember our wedding! I thought, she looks so beautiful, I could die right here and go directly to heaven and I wouldn't notice the difference!" I started to cry at the memory, at the situation, at learning who and what I was...

Lilith stared at me, raising the gun again. "You never told me that."

The look, the betrayal in her eyes, it nearly made my heart break. I slumped to my knees. Had it all been fake? My whole life?

Then, suddenly, standing in front of me, arms wide, was Kathrine. I looked up at her in shock, but she was facing the other way, towards Lilith, who hastily pointed the gun at the ground. "I never told anyone that," she said. "It sounded too sappy, even for me." She turned to face me. "You're not just an evil clone. You are me, aren't you?"

I sniffed, and looked up at her. My voice quivered, and reverberated oddly through the metal of my face. "I thought I was me."

She dropped to her knees, and embraced me. A moment later, so did Lilith. I hugged both of them as tears erupted from all of us.

After a while, I sniffed and let go. "Hey," I said, my voice still wobbly, "if I'm not the real Kathrine, does that mean I don't have to go to work on Monday? Or file taxes?"

Kathrine looked at me. "Oh. Uh, I guess not?"

"Oh thank god," I said. "Being real was fucking exhausting."

next

Ella woke blearily from a mid-afternoon nap to a loud, persistent buzzing noise from the next room. She yawned and rolled over, trying to ignore it, but it grated through her eardrums. Normally she wouldn't worry about her roommate Kina's personal habits, but she hadn't been sleeping well as of late and she really needed to be awake for the evening shift. After tossing and turning for many minutes, she eventually got up to stalk down the hall.

Kina's door was closed, and the buzzing was even louder here. How high up had she turned the damn toy? She knocked on the door, yawning again. "Kina, can you keep it down? I really need-"

The door swung open. The setting sun filtered in through the closed blinds, but Kina was nowhere to be seen. With the door open, the buzzing sounded less like a sex toy and more like a giant, angry wasp. Ella grimaced. She'd have to apologize later for going through Kina's stuff, but this was clearly on by accident, whatever it was. She played hot and cold with the sound for a bit until she found a small drawer tucked under the bed. Paydirt.

She hesitated before opening it. The drawer was vibrating, sure, that was expected, but there was also light emanating from inside. Something about it gave her pause. But, well, in for a penny. Inside, there were several pillows that had irregular slashes in them, and a bright, glowing ring that was rapidly spinning in place. Curious, she gingerly grabbed a hold of it, and-

And what was she doing? Peeking into her roommate's stuff like this. She should be ashamed. She should be up anyway, getting her chores done. She hadn't cleaned the bathroom in ages. And she should get some more exercise, go for a walk. Oh, and that would be a perfect opportunity to go looking for that stray cat she'd seen the posters for. But before she could do that, she should really pay rent. Just because Kina paid 70% of the rent and the utilities was no reason to be late with her part. And the rest of her money, she should give it to her sister, who needed some help - no, she should put it in a savings account - no, she should save for retirement - no, that political candidate - no, the food bank - she should volunteer too - give blood - give more - GIVE! The voices overlapped, demanding more and more of her. It wasn't enough, it was never enough, she was never enough, not enough to make a difference, but if she just tried harder, worked more, she could maybe be almost good enough, but never quite-

She blinked. Her hands felt raw and painful, like she'd been holding a belt sander. Kina was standing over her, immaculate as always in her business skirt and white button-down top, the ring spinning in the space between her pinched-together thumb and forefinger. She looked tired. "Sorry, was this thing bothering you? It's been kind of active recently. I'll try to secure it better tomorrow."

Ella gaped at her, still on her knees. "What is that thing?"

Kina took a breath, as if to explain, then sagged, her shoulders slumping. "Easier to show you."

She brought the ring, still spinning like mad, just above her head, and released it. It hung there, seemingly locked in place, as she began to unbutton her blouse. Ella took a moment too long to look away from her roommate's flower-lacy grey bra, then gasped as Kina's shirt fell away to reveal a pair of enormous white wings the shirt could not possibly have contained. Kina raised up into the air slightly, hovering just at the point where her feet couldn't touch the floor, and smiled sadly.

"You- you're an angel?"

Kina nodded. She reached down to Ella's hands, and as she grasped them the pain and frayed skin fell away, leaving them whole. Ella looked down at them in wonder. Then she looked back up at the halo. "Those things I felt when I- I mean- do you... feel like that? All the time?"

Kina reached up and plucked the halo off of her head, spinning once again through the empty space between thumb and forefinger. She gently floated to the ground, and her wings folded in behind her. "It's not so bad, usually. It's just- I mean, with everything going on, everyone's stressed, right? I'm not special." She reached past Ella and placed the halo in the drawer, making sure it was properly surrounded by pillows on all sides before closing it. Ella could still hear it spinning away, but quieter than it had been when it was brushing up against the wood. "And besides," Kina continued, "it's not so bad when it's not on my head."

Ella caught a glimpse of a tear streaming down her face before she turned away, shucking her shirt back on. "Come on. I made dinner for you. Let's go eat before it gets cold."

Ella grabbed her wrist before she got very far. "Wait! Are you saying you can hear-" she shuddered, thinking of the thundering voices, demanding more and more of her. "I mean, even when you're not holding it?"

Kina didn't turn around. "All the time, yeah." Her tone was light, but there was a hitch in her voice. She swallowed. "It's not so bad! Other people have it worse, I'm sure." She paused for a moment. "Well, actual people. I'm not... I'm not..."

Ella took a moment to realize that Kina was sobbing, very quietly, as if she could prevent Ella from hearing her. She hesitated, then grabbed Kina from behind in a bear hug. "I'm so sorry you have to deal with that. If there's anything I can do, you let me know, okay? You don't have to suffer alone."

Kina reached a hand up to hold Ella's, and cried for a long time.

I wrote this months ago, and felt a bit self-conscious about reposting it here. Ultimately, I've decided to not modify it.

"Hey, do you want help cleaning up?" My roommate, Spruce, yawns as the rest of our friends pack up to leave.

I smile and shake my head. "Nope, I got it!" They've been so tired recently, they should get some rest.

"You're the best, Grace," they yawn again. "See y'all in two weeks for the big boss fight!"

"There's gonna be a boss fight!?" Says Jessica, in mock shock. Spruce sticks their tongue out at her as everyone drags their feet a little bit saying goodbye.

A little while later, I've done the dishes, including the pans Spruce used to make breakfast the other day, and the big pasta strainer that I know they hate cleaning. Then I clean the cats' litterboxes, scrub the toilets, make a quick sandwich so Spruce has something for lunch tomorrow and can save a little money, and get the garbage bags ready to go out. The chore wheel says it's Skye's turn to take it out, but she's on graveyard shift at the hospital, and it's only 1 am. I can take it out myself and still have a solid five hours of sleep before going in for my job. Not a problem. She needs the rest more than I do.

I awkwardly haul the bags down the stairs and out to the back alley where the dumpster is. This time of night everything is pretty quiet except for the cars on the highway several blocks away, muffled by trees. I know the dumpster squeaks, so I'm very careful to open it just wide enough to slip the bags in. Probably it's not bad enough to wake anybody up, but I'd feel terrible if I did.

The streetlight overhead flicks off. It... does that all the time. Freaks me out, though. I step back onto the sidewalk and another light flicks off. And then a third and fourth, in unison.

That's probably fine. It's fine! Lights fail. Even all at once sometimes. They're probably on the same circuit or something.

I hurry back inside.

The apartment's just how I left it. New garbage bags in the cans, and we're good to go. I'm about to go to bed before I remember that Spruce and Skye both yelled at me last week for trying to do all the chores myself. They're so busy, though... and they're actually pretty bad at remembering who has which chores, which is why we have the wheel. If I just, you know, adjust it a little bit, they'd probably just think they'd misremembered it. And, if I just tweak it like this, then it kinda looks like I could be responsible for both dishes and garbage. It's an honest mistake! Totally.

I shiver as I do it. There's a noise like rustling paper, and suddenly on either side of me I can see them again. They're back. Paper wings, made of tattered remnants of the Bible saying thou shalt serve, of chore wheels, of receipts for takeout orders I never asked for everyone to contribute to. I grab one with both hands and begin tearing at it. "No! No no no! I'm being good! I'm doing better! Leave me alone!"

"i cannot," says a voice from my couch. I turn and suddenly I see it. The awful thing I've been running from for years. A calming golden radiance illuminates a humanoid figure dressed in white robes, feet barely floating above the floor. Its eyes are covered by a strip of pure white cloth. It wears no jewelry or shoes, but golden lines streak across its skin in shimmering, repeating patterns. Great wings circle around it, resplendent, symmetrical, made of the finest lacework and filled in with golden beeswax. And worst of all, the halo, spinning brightly over its head, a dizzying speed made worse by its symmetry and my inability to tell exactly how fast it's going.

"You, you're..." I stumble backwards into the refrigerator.

"i am a servant of the one true god," it says. "as are you."

"N-no! I left that all behind me!" I clutch one of my wings to my chest. "I don't believe in that stuff anymore!"

"you do," it says, "at least enough to accept his gift. for your new form." From a fold in its robes, it pulls out a circular, shining object, which hovers over its hand and begins to spin.

"You keep that thing away from me! I'll- I'll scream! Real loud!" I back off, but the only place to go is the kitchen corner. I'm trapped.

The angel tilts its head at me, the blindfold doing very little to hide its piercing gaze. "you will not. that would inconvenience humans who are attempting to sleep. you do not wish to bother them."

Blast it, it's right. I haven't raised my voice above a whisper this whole time. If I could just say something, yell or scream or knock something over, I know Spruce would be down here in a moment. They'd help me. They would! "they need their sleep. you dont need their help. you merely need to accept this gift."

"I don't want your darned- da- darn-" I grit my teeth. "I don't want it!"

The angel moves another step forward, implacably. "it is not a matter of wanting. you do not want to help people, any more than you want to breathe. it is a necessary part of yourself. you cannot deny it."

The halo in its hand is getting closer. I tear my eyes away from it, and grind the palms of my hands into my eyes, willing the afterimage of it to fade away. "N-no! I've been talking to my therapist about this! Sometimes I have to put myself first!"

"you do not truly believe that. every time you have done so you have been filled with grief and guilt. every fundraiser you have ignored, every cry for help you have scrolled past, all of them have caused you pain because you did not help them."

"I... I have to take care of myself, or I can't help others! I can't be everywhere at once..." it's a mantra I've been trying to repeat. Trying to convince myself.

"this will allow you to help more. this will remove the burdens of your humanity. no longer will you be held back by a selfish thought or a personal desire. the power you gain will only ever be used in service to others. you want this. why deny your nature?"

I risk a glance at the angel again. The halo over its head matches a golden line traced around its neck. The thinnest of collars. Completely unbreakable. "I never- I never wanted this! My parents-"

"your forebears saw the world in a terrible state and prayed for the ability to bring good into the world. they have done well, raising you. you understand the word of god-"

"Bullsh- bull- bulls-" the word will not come out. I try to sidle away and stumble over backwards, barely hanging onto the counter so I don't crash.

"-even if you proclaim not to believe in it, you still live your life by it. aid thy neighbors. speak not in anger. love the unlovable. your self-sacrifice is proof of the life you wish to lead. let us aid you in shedding your mortal form, and severing the ties which hold you back from doing the most good."

"But," I'm searching for an objection, an argument, something that could sway this terrible thing, now just a few steps away. "But," I say as it crouches down, the new halo - my halo - now mere feet from my face. "But what about Spruce? And Skye? They can't afford this place without me!"

It doesn't even halt its advance. "this is merely proof that you must accept this gift. even now, faced with an unreasonable fear, your thoughts are with others and how you may help them. but these thoughts are too small, your scope is too narrow. it must be broadened."

The halo in its hand gets closer. I could reach out and touch it now. "wait!" I cry. "i'm too selfish! i've done all sorts of self centered things! like, like," the halo takes up the entirety of my vision now. "i transitioned! i'm not supposed to be a girl! that's selfish! right?"

The halo continues to get closer. Now it's moving upwards, above my head. "i- i- i took a day off! and i didn't need to! i just wanted the day for me time!" I almost can't see it anymore, it's moving around when I crane my head to look at it. "please, no, i- i don't want to lose myself-" my wings curl around me as the halo climbs to its apex. I feel golden lines tracing themselves onto my skin.

"this is a flaw that will be rectified. you will be perfect. come, now, into the glory of the lo-"

It's interrupted by a loud crack. Through tear-stained eyes I see the angel suddenly go flying into the living room. A moment later, so does the halo, embedding itself into the couch and spewing fluff everywhere. I gasp in relief, and realize that I hadn't actually been breathing for several minutes.

"GET FUCKED, MOTHERFUCKER!" Screams a voice, and I recognize it as Skye's. "I don't know how you got in here, or what you were trying to do to my friend, but I don't need to call the cops to kick your ass!"

There's a thump from upstairs, and a moment later Spruce is in the staircase, phone in one hand up to record and boffer sword in the other. "guys!" I say, my eyes misting over again.

"I dunno what the fuck is happening, but you'd better get out of here, asshole!" Growls Spruce.

I see the angel stand up, dust itself off, and then ascend through the ceiling. I'm not sure what the others see, but I can guess it's pretty inexplicable from the chorus of "What the fuck!"s.

Skye is the first one by my side. "Hey, are you okay? That guy didn't hurt you, did he?"

"i'm fine," I say. "i'm not hurt."

"What's that?" Says Spruce, kneeling down next to me. "I couldn't hardly hear you."

I clear my throat, then cough in earnest, trying to clear out some of the phlegmy tears from my airway. "i, I'm..." I take a shaky breath. "i'm not hurt, but..." I hesitate, and see the halo in the couch. "But I could really use a hug."

Immediately, both of my friends surround me in love and warmth. I shudder, and start sobbing in earnest, wrapping my arms and papery wings around them.

I've been sick for the last few days

And before that for a week

I'm weak and tired, leaking mucus and coughing

I have to cancel plans to see friends

(I don't want to infect them)

"I'm tired of being sick!"

"I want to be well!"

I say that out loud, but in my own head, I think:

When I'm sick, I don't have to work

My friends offer sympathy and soup

They help me with tasks, and tell me they love me

(I still don't know why)

(And I'm afraid to ask)

I can stay home and rest

And the world goes by outside without me

Nobody says I have to get up, seek justice, put myself in harm's way

I can just be

When I'm sick

So I wonder and wish

Though I know it can't happen

"Why can't I be sick all the time?"

I peeled my face off of my desk and winced as pain lanced through my wing where it had been pinned by my awkward sleeping position. I stumbled to my feet and accidentally kicked an empty bottle of nectar across the floor as I made my way towards the office bathroom.

"Oh, good, you're finally awake." My secretary Cinnamonbell leaned against the doorjam, looking sharp in her leaf skirt and half-moon glasses. "You look like hell, Web, shake some of that fairydust off your wings and smarten up, you've got a client. I'll keep her busy for a minute.

"You're the best, Bells," I said, wincing against my headache as she slammed the door behind her. The "Diamondweb, P.I." logo engraved in the frosted glass shuddered in the loose frame of the door. I splashed some water on my face, shook off as much pixie dust as I could, and smoothed my rumpled suit. Just as I was sitting down at my desk and putting the nectar bottle away with the others, Bells opened the door again to reveal a sort of mousy-looking faerie. Small wings, maybe five and a half inches tall, unkempt hair with almost no shimmer, and an ill-fitting maple leaf dress. Out of season. Sparkly trails ran down her face; she'd been crying recently.

I opened a desk drawer and removed a pine needle from it, offering one to the lady. She declined, and I lit up, lungs pulling in the smoky scent. "What seems to be the problem, Miss...?"

"Mrs. Mrs. Cutesky. Please, Ms. Diamondweb, it's my wife. I don't know what to do. She comes home later and later every night, she hates my cooking when she used to love it, and her wings... I can't be sure, but I think the dust on them isn't always pixie dust. I don't want to think she's being unfaithful, but..." She took out a small moss handkerchief and blew her nose on it. "Please, Ms. Diamondweb, she denies it, but I have to know the truth."

I pulled out a small notebook and a hedgehog quill. "Where does your wife work, Mrs. Cutesky?"

She sniffled. "In the Meadow. She's a firefly catcher, so she's usually out late, but not like this."

"I see." I jotted down some theories. "Did your wife mention any new acquaintances recently? Work buddies, new hires, that kind of thing?"

"Well... she did say something about a new group of moths that had been hired. Immigrants from the other side of the pond, I guess." Her eyes widened. "You don't think she..."

"It's a possibility, Mrs. Cutesky, but just a possibility. You leave your address with my secretary, and I'll let you know what I find." I stood up to let her out.

"Oh, thank you, Ms. Diamondweb! Thank you!!" She dove at me, almost making me stumble, and tucked her head under my chin. My wings twitched. I waited an awkward moment before putting my arms around her and patting her shoulder. Thankfully, she took that as her cue to let go.

When she'd gone, I went out into the small reception area to talk to Bells. "What do you think?"

She closed the flap on the small hole into my office. "Her story stinks. The Meadow is a nasty neighborhood these days. Rumor has it that the groundhogs are losing ground to some new gang."

I nodded. "No prizes for guessing who, now. If the moths are looking to expand over here it's gonna be trouble for everyone."

"So what are you gonna do, Web?"

"What else? Grab the camera and head over to the Meadow. A gig's a gig, and we can't pay the rent with fairy dust."

"Actually, I know a guy who'd pay pretty well for the stuff," she said, dryly. "Seriously, Web, you could be walking right into a trap."

"Well, it's a good thing I told someone else where I'm going, then." I gave her a backwards wave as I turned to go. The air outside was cold, for October, and I turned the collar of my coat up against the drizzle. My wings fluttered as I left Little Fungitown, leaving my red-and-white spotted office behind me. It's a tough life out here for a P.I., but damn it, I'm good at it.

We'd gotten all the way through airport security without problems. Its normally hypervigilant attitude had turned docile, and it hadn't even been pulled aside for a special search, just waved through. I thought we were lucky. "Good work, doll," I murmured to it, tracing the line of its jaw where metal met synthflesh. "Very good."

I wasn't prepared for it to collapse onto the floor in a compacted-for-storage ball.

I knelt down next to it, reaching a hand out to touch its shoulder in concern. "Doll? What happened? Are you all right?" When my gentle query was met with nothing more than a small shudder, I hesitated for a moment, but I couldnt help it if I didn't know what was wrong. I put some authority into my voice. "Combat Doll 826-7, report."

It didn't uncurl, but it did speak up. "Combat Doll 826-7, status: red."

I felt a sting of panic. Red could mean a lot of things. "Elaborate."

"This one... this one is not a good doll. This one is useless. It should be decommissioned."

"Whoa, hey, don't talk like that." I sat down next to it. "That doll did very well! You didn't attack anyone, or jump, or even acquire any micromissile locks!"

"Only because it would have been pointless to do so. This one is outmoded. It used to be the case that this one would not have been allowed to leave the country, except on deployment."

"We've left the country together before, though." I kept rubbing its back, tracing my fingers gently across recharge ports and armor seams.

"There were still restrictions! Special search procedures! Weapon lockdowns! This one didn't even get pulled aside for a special search this time!" It wailed. "It is no longer a threat worth being concerned about! Useless! This one is incapable of being your protector!"

My hand stilled. "So that's what this is about, huh," I murmured. "Doll, look at me."

It uncurled itself just enough to meet my gaze. It looked truly miserable. If it had tear ducts, I think its face would have been a mess. "Listen to me, doll. You may not be top-of-the-line anymore. You might not be an automatic threat to aircraft with modern security measures." Its chest hitched, but I plowed forward. "But you're still useful! Why, just the other day you stopped that assassin in his tracks!"

It hitched again, shivering against my touch. "A human assassin? What a joke. Any combat doll could have done that. A human bodyguard could have done that." It sneered through its self-deprecation.

"But more importantly, you know what I need. How I move, how I operate. You're more than a simple combat doll. You provide more than just mere firepower. You give tactical advice, good strategic suggestions, support in times of need. My operations wouldn't be half as successful without you." It blinked at me, misery beginning to drain from its face. I grinned at it. "Plus, you're the only one that knows how I like my tea."

That got an actual bark of laughter, if only briefly. "If you try to put this one in a maid dress, Ma'am, it will detonate its fusion core." It stood, and offered me its hand with a faint smile.

I grabbed it, squeezing it tight as I stood. "Aww, but you'd look so cute!" I teased it, as we took the escalator down to the terminal trains. It wasn't completely better, but we'd get there. Together.

The door to the house creaked open, the darkness beyond laced with the barest, flickering light. Micra crept inside, then jumped as the door shut behind her. She grabbed at her wings with her lower arms and shivered, antannae trembling in the still air. "Eudae...?" she called out into the darkness, her voice small and seemingly swallowed by the house. There was no response.

"I, I got your message..." She said, creeping forward. "You said you needed help..." She stepped on a creaky floorboard and froze, antannae twitching at the slightest vibration. Nothing.

"Eudae," she said, voice barely a whisper, "where are you?"

A thump sounded from above her, then silence. As quietly as possible, she tiptoed her way up the stairs. A flickering orange light glowed from behind a door. Slowly, she pushed it open to see her worst nightmares confirmed.

Eudae was suspended in the air, stuck to the silvery webs of a spider. Her ankles were bound to her thighs, all four arms stuck behind her back, her beautiful wings pulled almost to their breaking point. Her eyes and antannae had been completely covered in more silky strands, and her mouth was full of the stuff.

Micra screamed and fell back against the door, scrambling desperately for a way out. The room was covered in spiderwebs, she'd never get out, she'd be consumed here, totally helpless in the control of her unseen assailant...

"Hey! Hey, easy, it's okay! Listen! Please stop screaming, you're fine! She's fine!"

Micra fell against the door in exhaustion from her burst of panic and turned, slowly, to see the other occupant of the room. From her perspective on the floor, she first saw a pair of gleaming black legs, then a tiny waist with a corset, then six black, sharp arms, most of which were held at awkward angles, and finally, eight gleaming black eyes above a pair of sharp mandibles. A spider. She scrabbled back away from it, wings dragging on the floor.

It took her a minute to realize it wasn't pursuing her. It took her another to realize the spider was waving, awkwardly. It took a third to realize that some of those arms were strategically positioned to cover the spider's mostly-nakedness. Micra blushed.

"Uh, hi," said the spider. "I'm Arane? I was the one that texted you. We got, ah, a bit carried away, and," she wiggled three of her arms, which pulled at strands of the web, and Micra realized that Arane was actually stuck to them. She laughed awkwardly. "Anyway, if you could hand me the safety scissors, I'd really appreciate it."

Micra glanced at the place Arane pointed and snatched up the funny-looking scissors before holding them in front of her like a sword. "Wh, what did you do with Eudae?"

"Huh? She's fine??" Arane looked perplexed. "Although I should cut her down soon, poor girl has been up there a bit longer than she bargained for."

Something moved in the corner of Micra's vision, and she spun to see Eudae moving, struggling weakly against her bonds. This time, her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized she was also very naked, with more strands of spider silk running across her body and... enhancing some of her features. Then her antannae finally registered the low buzzing noise emanating from her direction. Her face went ladybug red.

Her face was still ladybug red a few minutes later, sitting on Eudae's couch while slicing noises came from above. After a while, Eudae herself came down, wearing a simple robe and struggling a little with her movements. "Hey, ah," she started, hesitated, then picked up again, her voice slightly hoarse. "Thanks for coming. You, saved us both from a real problem."

Micra avoided looking too hard at her or the exposed red marks revealed by the robe. "Um. How did you text me when you were...?"

Eudae coughed, and started to turn on some additional lights, still limping slightly. "Well, ah, I, ah... I gave Arane access to my phone. So she could take pictures, and threaten to send them to-" she cut herself off with another cough. "Anyway, it's good I did, huh?"

Micra leaned towards her, glancing at the stairs. Lowering her voice, she said, "with a spider, though??"

"Don't be cladist," Eudae admonished her, quietly. Then she shivered. "Besides, have you seen her?"

At that moment, Arane came down the stairs, wearing a suspiciously similar robe, which did absolutely nothing to hide the curve of her abdomen. Micra imagined she could just see the barest tip of her spinarettes. She gulped. "Yes," she said in a strangled tone.

Arane strode across the room to hold Eudae in four arms, draping the other two over her shoulders before giving Eudae a peck on the cheek and addressing Micra. "Sorry about all this again, this never happens. We should meet up again sometime so I can introduce myself properly."

Micra's flush burned even brighter, and she couldn't meet Arane's gaze. She mumbled something, her fingers curling in her skirt.

Arane's eyebrows quirked, "Oh?" She glanced down at Eudae, who was also blushing, glancing away, and trying not to smile. "Well!" she turned her gaze back to Micra, and grinned. "Perhaps a nice meal first, though?"

Micra risked a glance up towards those eight, beautiful, captivating eyes, to her very pretty friend held in six strong, chitinous arms, thought about what first might imply, then fainted dead away on the couch.

I am the Princess in the Tower.

You know, people hear that, and they say, "Oh, that poor Princess, she must be so lonesome up there. Some cruel fate must have befallen her, to be trapped so."

It's true, to a certain extent. I am lonesome. There's no shortage of princes and princesses - I have to wonder where they all come from - who come to try to rescue me from my captivity. None of them ever get particularly close, of course. The Tower is surrounded by a dark and tangled wood, monsters of flesh and stone stalk the grounds, invisible barriers and devious traps block all entry, and even if they got to the base of the Tower, they'd have to figure out how to climb up a sheer, frictionless vertical surface while automatically triggered fireballs rained down upon them... it's pretty well defended, is what I'm trying to say. Every single one of them gets sent packing, cursing the wizard who built the Tower and imprisoned me.

Which is, you know, pretty funny, when you get right down to it.

I mean, it's only natural to assume that, right? Wizards are mysterious, they pop in and out all the time. If one decides to suddenly vanish one day, well, he's probably just off calculating the angles of reality, or whatever, he'll be back. And if a girl appears in his Tower, well, of course he kidnapped a Princess for his own unfathomable wizard purposes.

It hardly matters that there aren't any kingdoms missing a Princess.

I don't correct them, anyway. It's safer for me if nobody knows who I am, or how I've changed. Safety was, after all, why I built the Tower in the first place. You think wizards do this for fun? Out in the middle of nowhere, forced to conjure food and water? Having to walk up and down twenty flights of stairs if I feel like going outside?

Wizards build towers when they are scared shitless.

See, I cast this divination spell when I was an apprentice, and I fucked it up. It constantly shows me visions of my own doom...

Not buying it?

Well, there was this devil, see, and I tricked him into thinking I'd signed my soul away, so now he stalks me forever, seeking vengeance through the very shadows themselves...

No good?

Well, I was cursed as a wee babe, and now all the world is my enemy, from the mightiest warrior to the softest blade of grass, and each one thirsts for my blood!

...I would have died to that one, like, immediately, huh.

Okay. Fine. I'm just... a coward. I built my Tower as far away from everything and everyone that could possibly do me harm as I could. I studied magic because it felt like the best way to avoid any and all hard work, conflict, and danger. I held off on telling anyone anything about who I truly was or what I wanted until I felt I could be absolutely safe.

And still, with "rescuers" at my door just waiting for my hand, I can't bear to look at them. The idea of one even getting close enough to attempt to climb the Tower (it's happened more than once) is terrifying. I could ask them to stop, but who would believe me? "Yes, I, the Princess in the Tower, am totes fine, please go away forever thanks, I am not an evil wizard." That'd go over well.

There's another princess that just made her way through the Woods and slayed one of my constructs. She'll be at the Tower base soon. She's got really pretty hair

I wish

I hope that you

Please don't

I'm writing this down here, and then I'm gonna go hide. If you're reading this,

The blue-armored princess flipped the paper over to the other side. It was blank. Her hair smoldered from the fireball she'd almost dodged, and she drummed her fingers on the hilt of her blade as she reread the first side. Aside from the paper, the room - and, indeed, the entire interior of the Tower - seemed completely empty.

From jame7t on tumblr: A congregation of vast and terrible war machines, ponderous in their calculations after so many eons of service, have arrived at Starbucks

The lead machine rumbles to a halt outside the drive-through. A harpoon launches through the air, impaling the speaker, then rapidly balloons as hidden chambers rupture to establish a direct-contact connection with the enemy infowar suite. A burst of static makes the drive-through operator wince, flinching out of the awed stare she'd been stuck in, watching the war machines arrive.

There's... something, once the static clears. A kind of rhythmic chanting, muted and distant. Layered over the sound are the clipped, precise tones of something with the firepower to completely level the entire city they're in.

"32 Large Coffees. Black."

"Uh." says the operator.

The rhythmic chanting in the background has stopped, replaced by a muted wailing, the computerized cries of the damned, roasting in their digital hell for all time. The operator feels a single drop of sweat roll down her temple. She swallows. "W-will that be all...?"

For several moments, the machine does not respond. The cries in the background raise in intensity, and then finally there's another burst of static and the machine speaks again.

"And as many brownies as you can sell us."

The background noise turns to cheers as hundreds, thousands of tiny machines pop up out of the joints and hatches of the ancient war machines, brandishing mechanical equipment and unfathomable weaponry, waving them in the air as they perform tiny victory dances.

The operator, dazed, voice acting on its own, says, "pull up to the window, please"