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You have always guarded the tower, even before the king left the first orphan-daughter under the apple tree. Curled around its pearlescent moon dome, your black scales invisible against the night sky, your red eyes watch the courtyard where a little girl paces left then right and then stands in the middle, utterly lost.
Night falls around you. The city redshifts into coral-snake shades as monuments and modernist architecture of government buildings fracture the horizon. Low-orbit satellites command it so, and Washington, DC Nocturnal awakens. Across the capital, lights and data connections ripple with staccato rhythms, a hangover from last night’s unseasonal double blackouts.
Everyone thinks the uncanny folk steal children, but they steal adults too, steal their minds and memories, put their own folk where ours used to be. The new folk don’t know their loved ones, don’t know what a toilet is, don’t know how to deposit a check. Of course they don’t. Why would they? They didn’t need any of that, didn’t know any of those people, where they came from.
You are:
A disillusioned mathematical physicist with a wet open mind.
Desperate for knowledge.
A neo-masochist.
A willing sacrifice.
The golem who cares for my mother is patient, as I am not patient. The golem who cares for my mother is kind. It is precise. I took everything I wanted to be as a daughter, and am not, and I put it into the golem. I’m still afraid I am failing her.
Later, when the cameras were off and he was alone with his wife, hands still shaking from the cocktail of adrenaline, fear, shame, guilt, and vodka he’d been partaking of all day, he started to tell her the truth. Even then, he only spoke it in the dark, so overwhelming were his emotions that he could not bear to be seen.
“The truth,” she said, prompting him, trying to draw him from the enveloping gloom of their bedroom.
Congratulations on your Magic Sword”! For all inquiries as to its powers and perils, please consult the Virtue Exercises Manual”. However, we know new users sometimes get in over their heads. That’s why messages like this may appear on your blade. If you see such a message, heed it promptly, and everything will be fine. Welcome to heroism. We’ve been waiting for you!
Something has happened. It is amazing. It is unheard-of and inconceivable. It is many, many, many things, gathering a plethora of adjectives that indicate its ability to cause astonishment and confusion among those who behold it. It is a mountain-sized edifice of awe. Whether it is horrific, tragic, or a leap forward has yet to be decided.
Nevertheless, it has happened.
Jempo took a deep bow on the iron platform. His body flopped forward, limbs like thick braided wire. No obvious weapons in his large and rubbery hands. Little digital eyes and a bright smile that lit the rounded ball he had for a head. More clown than competitor at first glance.
I’m only doing maskwork until I find better, but there aren’t many physical jobs to go around in Schrödinger City. Most get done by gleaming machines, by hop-along bots and drone swarms. Luckily, maskwork needs a human touch—and supposedly, village folk are better at it than the folk who grew up here. Could be. I always liked masks.
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