Until they get to my bed. They then stop, come down to look at something at my feet, before moving up and coming to my face. They turn themselves down, but they’re still too bright for me right now, and I feel a knife stab its way through my skull. I begin to breathe harder, but then a cold hand places itself on my forehead.
The voice… The sweet voice… it’s back. It’s whispering things to me. I want to listen. I want to focus on them.
“You’re okay, I promise. Just go back to sleep. The day will come, and the light will greet you. You just need to rest first so that you can greet it back. Will you do that for me?”
I barely shake my head, before once more allowing my eyes to shut, and I drift back into the void.
======+++++======
Laughter. Maniacal laughter. I look up from a screen, before my world changes. There’s now fire around my desk, but my hands are paralyzed where they are. Black, shadowy figures are appearing. They’re coming closer. They… They…
“Mr. Ilisem, wake up.”
I barely open my eyes, spotting the golden halo from my first bout of consciousness over me. The cold hands of my second bout touch my shoulders, gently squeezing them as the person tries to wake me. I try to let them know, but as before, it only comes out as a small croak.
That seems to comfort the voice though, as it lets go and says, “Oh, good.” She then reaches down, touching my wrist. I can barely feel it, but I can see it, along with…
My eyes slowly widen as I look upon what must be the angel that the other man must have been talking about. She was perfection from what I could tell. Smooth, snow white skin that was entirely unblemished and shone slightly in the light, bright, blonde hair that framed her face, which must have been the halo I had kept seeing, and her face…
She had a cute, button nose, red lips that were curled into a small, gentle smile, and her eyes… They were unlike anything I think I’d ever seen. I can only think that because my memory seems to be gone with anything else I might want to work, but that doesn’t matter right now. Not when I get to look into those pools of gold that are her irises.
Looking down from her face, I feel my face heat up a bit, which only causes pain to come in my chest, quickly followed by pain in my head as I moved in reaction to the first set. I couldn’t entirely help it though. Her uniform was made up of two tight, green pieces of cloth. One that made up a shirt that came over her shoulders and chest, but left her arms and midriff exposed. Her skirt wasn’t much more modest, coming to maybe the middle of her thigh.
I hear the man from before laugh in the other bed. “Hey, Angel, looks like you have another one who’s already smitten with you.”
The woman giggled back, a sound that made my heart rise in my chest, which was a slight problem at the moment. My groaning must have worried her though, as the woman was immediately with me again. Her hand, which I now noticed was covered by a white glove, came against my cheek, cupping it. “Please, relax. We’ll have plenty of time to know each other in time, I promise.”
I smile at her, happy to hear that this won’t be a one time experience. That she’ll be there when I wake up again. I want her to be there when those shadowy figures come back though, so I take one last look across her form. Her green hat with a brim, cocked to the side on top of her slightly messy hair, the white buttons that keep her shirt closed, along with the two breasts pockets on her shirt. She even has two medals on it, which surprises me. Such a nice woman should have more.
And, as I lay my head back, I notice her long, black leggings that cover most of her skin below the skirt. Just like the rest of her, they make me smile, happy, and know that I’ll wake up safe.
======+++++======
She’s there. She’s beautiful. So beautiful. I want to reach out and touch her. Be one with my angel in a close embrace. But I’m stuck to the chair at my desk, unable to move. I look to her in fear, but her features are changing. Guns come out of her back and emerge from her arms, before they point themselves at-
I wake up, sweat pouring down my forehead as I shake in my bed. The nightmare shouldn’t have been there. I had my angel. Why would my angel change like that?
I look up, and she’s there, smiling at me with those beautiful lips and those… eyes. Why are they different like that? Why are her hands cold when she radiates so much warmth in her demeanor? Is there something wrong with me?
She leans in closer to me, whispering to me. “Mr. Ilisem, please, calm down. I’m here, and I’ll take care of you, so is my duty as a Class Six Angel, German Femalia division. I’ll nurse you back…”
Her voice faded as my mind retreated back. Femalia. Femalia. Femalia were what… what…
My mind became quieter as she placed her hand on my head, and my eyes swiveled to the point of contact. There was a slight shimmering at her wrist. Above it, she looked normal. Her hand though now was made up of small metal plates that were open to show off various tools that massaged the side of my head and administered… something.
I blink at her, my body shaking for reasons I cannot understand. I try to say something, but she places a finger to my lips. A finger that looks completely human. “Please, calm down. I have been checked by some of the best in our research field. I am not a threat to you. Just a woman made to be capable of handling everything you may need while you’re here. I promise.”
I swallow hard, before finally managing something. Managing a word to desperately communicate something.
“Happened?”
Angel’s eyes moved away from mine at the question. It had come out as barely a croak, and she began to rub my chest, and I could feel the extra devices begin working on it. Making sure it didn’t hurt, as I could feel whatever pain had been there slip away. “It would be in your best interest not to think about that right now. You were badly hurt, but I’m working on repairing your body, along with the doctors here. Once you’re stronger, I’ll tell you, okay?”
I looked at her. Those yellow eyes, which I could now see data streaming through, barely noticeable by their slightly faded color against the pure gold of her eyes, they looked sad. I didn’t like them looking like that. Not when… Not when she was still my angel, even if she wasn’t human.
After all, angels weren’t, something that made me smile.
======+++++======
I’m back at my desk. Just like every other time, sitting at my desk. It means something, but I’m having a hard time understanding. I come back here every night, but I don’t know why. I need to though. It has to be important.
I type on the screen, doing my job. People are around me, quietly working on what they need to as well. We’re just doing our jobs. It’s just another day. Another day of peace.
She walks by. My Angel. She is the nicest part of these nightmares, and today she’s brought me some coffee. I sip it, we begin to talk, and everything is fine. Happy. We’re just a couple as I want to be with my sweet nurse.
Another man comes up and starts talking to us. He’s in shadows, but we talk jovially, not having any problems.
Until Angel raises her arm, and his head explodes.
I know I could possibly wake up. I could scream, I could escape, but I want to know what’s happening. Why she’’s here. Why she is changing into those shadowy shapes I saw before. Those shapes that cause desks to catch on fire, walls to explode outward, and make me fall to the floor.
But the final answer I’m given before going back to darkness, where there’s nothing to comfort or threaten me, is the ceiling collapsing, giving me nothing more than I had before.
======+++++======
I nod to the man in the bed beside me. I’m able to stay awake a little easier now, but I don’t know how long it took for me to get even to this point. My memory has been coming in bits and pieces, like what my name is, that I’m single, and that I’m twenty-five. Angel says it shows a good possibility of a full recovery for me, but I don’t know how I feel about that, because once I’m better, I’ll have to say g
oodbye to her.
I shouldn’t dwell on such things though. At this point, much to my amazement, my fellow wardmate has gotten his arm reconstructed, and now it’s working just fine, so he’ll be leaving today. He made plenty of jokes about missing the special treatment that they all got here, but Ilisem knew better. This was a guy who wanted out, at least that was his guess.
The man came closer, stroking the beard that had formed on his face with his new hand. Supposedly, he’d been clean shaven when he came here, but now he had a beard almost as thick as his hair. He then put that hand on my shoulder. “Hey, you’re gonna need to look out for Angel for me, alright? I won’t forgive you if you break her heart.”
I smile back at him, before softly whispering, “Won’t…. Promise.” I pant from the effort, but I know he understands. Speaking is still hard on me, so I just try to get out what’s necessary, even if it could be misconstrued.
The man just laughs though. “Man, I’m a little jealous of you. I’ve never had the pleasure of getting close to a femalia outside of nurse ones like Angel, and never for long enough to really get to know them, so don’t blow this opportunity, alright?”
I chuckle a little, before gasping for more air because of it, but it’s nice to laugh. It’s nice to have even that much energy. It’s getting closer to where I’m a person again, like my friend. It occurs to me though that I’ve forgotten something, and turn back to him. After a few unsteady breaths, I whisper, “Name?”
The man grins, before patting his chest. “Douglas Micken, proud sergeant for the Germans, but that’s not high enough to command those warriors.”
My face lowers at the words. Warriors? Who did he…. Did he mean femalia? Why would such beautiful woman be warriors? It’s not like they…
I look up as he places a hand on my shoulder. “Sorry. Don’t worry about it too much for now. I was just being-” He stops as I hear something be shouted, and then Douglas walks away. Someone must have been calling him. He’s right though. I shouldn’t worry about anything. I just need to relax…
I snap back awake as a hand lands on my shoulder, before it retreats away. I look up and…
The woman I look at is my Angel, but… not. She has the same colors, same shape, but… they’re plates. Metal plates, like the ones on her hands. Her loose cloth is now rigid armor over her chest, and her skin has lines showing where the seams in her metal was.
She reached down and touched my face. I can feel her shaking, and I want to comfort her, but all I can focus on is how the light gleams off of her face, and how her hair is strands of steel, staying in place as that messy haircut, instead of bouncing with her movements.
I swallow hard, before whispering, “How?”
She gently strokes my cheek as I see her eyes turn blue, and a drop of water comes down from one. A tear? But… she’s a robot. How can she cry? How can all of this be? I stop thinking though as she begins to speak.
“This is what I truly am. Ninety percent machine, ten percent organic. A Machina Femalia, but allowed to have the form of a human through advanced cloaking technology. I have the processing power of an artificial intelligence run by a human mind, what was supposed to be perfection, but…”
She kneels beside the bed, staring into my eyes as more water comes down her cheeks. “We were made to be able to show emotions as well as our fully human counterparts, because we were still supposed to be. We could simply serve better purposes than anyone else ever could, such as my abilities to keep you alive.”
Her face was centimeters from mine now. “I’ve been charged with moving you onto the same transport that Douglas was to go on, and my time is limited, but… I want to tell you the truth finally. It’ll explain why… Why I’ll never see you again. Why I can’t.”
I want to say something. What she says… it’s bringing things back, but I don’t want to focus on them. I just want to focus on her. I don’t want to have to leave her, and I reach out to her, trying to hold her, but my body won’t respond right. It just… It just wants to go back to sleep.
She puts her hands on my arms, pushing me down slowly as she hums. It’s so nice, and soft, just like her. Just like I can still see her.
“We’re malfunctioning, and your city was attacked by a squadron of these malfunctioning Femalia. A squadron of my people who only… only wanted to hurt you. To kill you, and it’s not restricted to the war ones now. It’s… It’s spreading. They’re even afraid that I may develop whatever is causing this, so they wanted me to disable my cloaking and show who I truly was.”
And now… Now I remembered. Seeing the woman, clad in metal, silver and blue, before she raised her hands, and two rockets came into the floor of my building. I was lucky to avoid any real damage, but they kept attacking, and attacking, and…
And it still didn’t matter, I thought, as I finally put my hands on the side of her face. “Love… you… still.”
Angel smiled at me. She smiled while those tears, those terrible, terrible tears kept falling. She then leaned down and her cold lips pressed against mine.
It would be the warmest moment of my life, as we held each other. I had my Angel. She had me. We were together. I was able to show her just how much she meant to me. How much I loved her, and saw her as my guardian. How much I never wished to be apart from her.
But by the end of the day, I would be. I would be out of Europe, and the barrier that would keep her and her kind permanently in Europe, the continent they’d done the most damage to, where they could never hurt another person ever again.
And would never see another one, even me.
Author’s Note
I. Need. To. Do this sometime. So yeah, there’s even a Machina Femalia short story, because I like the concept, but man am I having a hard time getting to it. This shows what came before the story though, and what these robots were made for. Healers, fighters, etc. like that. Cyborgs, through and through.
This was an art inspired piece though. One of my artist friends on Deviant Art, named Calcium Miku, posted a picture that would become Angel, and my mind lit on fire for some reason seeing the cute, energetic girl in her uniform. I immediately messaged her to ask if I was allowed to write a story based on it, and then ran back to get this done.
Something that this also brings up for me though is the use of first person. I’m not one to normally write in first or second person, for a mix of reasons, ranging from a worry about not being able to write it, to problems that come with the perspectives that don’t come with the more universal style of third person.
However, I also enjoy doing sort of journal style writing, which this and Sarah’s story both have a level of. It can be more succinct and impactful than other ways, without the fluff that can come from having documenting each aspect of a person’s day. It also makes me super proud when it comes out as well as this one did, and makes me wonder why I don’t normally keep a journal.
Diane
Diane looked down upon her holy text, taking in the same words she had since she first came to the monastery ten years ago. It had been a rainy day then too. Alone and scared, the little girl had sought a future with the nuns, where she would hopefully be happy, and safe. Today would not be all that different, except that this time, the she was abandoning safety, for what she thought she truly desired. Freedom.
The pitter patter of raindrops on her book brought her out of her memories, and she shook her head clear. She had not come to the roof to think, but to act. To learn, and to grow. She nodded to herself, trading the small brown tome, for a larger, black, grimoire. The rain turned to steam as it touched the heavy book, the enchantments upon it not allowing a speck of damage. Diane swallowed hard, the weight of the book growing with each moment she held it.
Diane laid it down upon the stone that made up the chapel’s roof, before steeling herself, and peeling away the cover. Just like the cover, the pages refused to allow mere rain to ruin their texts, and the rising white puffs proved that the young woman had indeed been w
rong. The fortune teller that had given her the book had not lied to her. It was indeed a spellbook, and the she had to assume that this meant the crazy hag’s words had been true as well. That she did not belong on this roof, or even within the halls she called home.
“No.” Diane had barely forced the word out. She had promised herself that morning that whatever she found in here did not change her. Magic did not make her bad, or good, it was what you did with it that mattered. Even with this mantra in mind, she couldn’t help but look back at the barred door, swallowing hard as she felt goosebumps run along her skin. “No, they’re wrong.”
A tear fell down her cheek as she began to flip through the pages. So many of the spells scared her. Death, destruction, and fear were the domains of these arcane schools, not repairing or healing like she had hoped. A cold wind blew along the roof, causing Diane to clutch at the brooch that was between her breasts, keeping her cloak in place. The pages turned with the wind, and soon fell into the Pyromancy school of magic, just as Diane’s shivers ended.
Looking at the most basic spells, she found herself wanting more. To know what the words meant better, to see exactly how much they could do, or, better yet, how much she could do. What were the boundaries with which she could use fire to warm, and, if need be, defend? She flipped the page one too far, and her eyes lit upon the simplest spell of the first sub-class of fire spells. Her eyes lit up, and she found herself speaking the words before she could stop herself.
A booming crack filled the air as a single bolt of electricity left her hands, and crashed into the stone roof, sending shards of stone and mortar flying away from her. Diane stared at her hand as electricity crackled between her fingertips. She could feel the latent power within her. It quaked and squirmed, demanding to be used. She shut her eyes for a moment, before looking up for guidance. All that greeted her was more rain. No fire from the heavens came down to burn her. No answering challenge from any of the gods that may have sent down their own lightning bolts. Only soft rain.
A smile split on her face, just before she broke out into laughter. She wasn’t dead, nor corrupted. Instead, she was ecstatic! Her mind couldn’t stop racing to the surge of power she felt when the energies within her had gathered and launched themselves into the air. Her long, brown hair was sticking on end from how uncontrolled it was, but she didn’t care. It all felt right, unlike so much that she had done before. The prayers, yoga, and mantras could never compare to the feeling of her own magic.
Legends From a Jumbled Man Page 6