Galactic Energies

by Luca Rossi

I walk into the transfer booth that's set up in the middle of the living room. It's the latest model, something only an elite gamer would have.

  The dirty grey walls disappear. During twenty seconds of darkness, I transfer over to the game's entry portal. Enormous versions of military characters loom before me underneath the CyberGames sign. I need to choose my persona. I'm going to go with the soldier, that'll be a sure shot of adrenaline!

  It starts. I enter the arena. My nose is flooded with the smell of wild nature.

  I'm only half as tall as an ant. The surrounding plants tower over me like skyscrapers. Augmented reality shows me the positions of my allies at eye level. First objective: regroup.

  As I look for my friends, I shoot a couple gigantic insects, which die instantaneously.

  We're here, all three of us: me, Jack and Vladimir. I've never met them in real life. But in this world, we're an unbeatable and close-knit team.

  We advance. Tension levels are through the roof. When you're this small, even the flap of a butterfly's wings can be fatal.

  We proceed towards our objective, the Latrodectus Mactans. Also known as the black widow. We're her ideal prey: small, slow and clumsy. Whoever invented this game is a genius.

  We're already close to the web.

  “Stop!” I order. We hide underneath a few blades of grass. “The little whore has company.”

  Fantastic! The developers even included a male version in the game.

  The conscious minds of actual spiders are transferred into every game session. In real life, somewhere in the labs at the software house, animals are lured into little transfer booths, where they're connected to the game.

  “Ha – look! The male is a real romantic,” Vladimir says ironically.

  He's courting the female on the web, caressing the tips of her feet. She's much bigger than him and has a red hourglass on her thorax. She remains immobile. He continues his advances, careful to avoid the fatal bite that would bring the courting ritual to a quick end. He jumps on her back and, steadying himself with his legs, deposits his sperm.

  “Escape, buddy,” Jack whispers.

  The male swiftly scampers away. He's safe.

  “Now!” I order.

  We approach the web. We climb up using the grappling hook and get into a triangle formation at the top. The vibrations of the delicate threads immediately tip the spider off.

  Vladimir shoots first. One of her eight legs is now out of commission, but the black widow still manages to leap towards my comrade.

  I shoot. I hit her in the thorax. She stops, trying to decide which prey would be the tastiest.

  She lunges towards me. I take aim and...darkness.

  Something's not working right! The world disappears and reappears.

  A message springs out of the sky, written in a semicircle, as if stenciled on a rainbow: “Hacked by the Savers.”

  “Shit! Someone must have hacked the server. Asshole pirates!” Jack exclaims.

  The hackers must have introduced a virus or changed the game's code. But soon everything's working perfectly fine again.

  The arachnid is almost on top of me. Jack and Vladimir shower it with gunfire. The black widow doesn't give up. I'm looking right into her eyes, but the vibrations running through the web prevent me from lining up a good shot.

  She's hovering over me now. I somersault and try sliding underneath her exoskeleton, but she's quicker with her mandibles, ripping into the flesh of my chest. The poison seeps into my body. The pain is atrocious. I stop breathing. The spider has already started wrapping me in silk. I lose my senses. I'm dead. What a drag...we have to start the level all over again!

  Entry portal. I need to choose a new persona but the only thing in front of me is the image of a big spider. I'd rather leave! What the...! Even the word “Exit” has disappeared. A countdown materializes in front of me: 9, 8, 7...

  I'm inside again. Eight legs, four mandibles, incredibly sensitive perception and a sickening combination of odors. I want to vomit. I'm a spider. Male.

  “Where the hell did Alex go?” I hear Jack ask from somewhere nearby. They're looking for me.

  “Ho ho ho, what have we here? A handsome male? Come on, Jack, let's go! Maybe Alex is off somewhere knocking back a beer, trying to get himself together. It hurts like hell when you're KO'd by spider venom,” Vladimir responds.

  They come towards me, carefully. How can I communicate with them?

  “I'll mess around with it, as long as it's not as alert as the female!” Jack says.

  “Wait, let's push it towards the web. That way she'll gobble him up and we won't have to waste our bullets.”

  I try to escape, but every time I head in one direction, a blizzard of bullets stuns me. It's impossible not to follow the path they're forcing me to take.

  I reach the web. I have no idea how to court a black widow.

  She pounces on me. I try to escape, but she's much quicker. She's starting to inject poison into my body when everything goes dark again.

  No optical signal. The guys at CyberGames must have finally regained control of the server and restarted it. Those hackers are such a drag!

  Twenty seconds pass. With the amount of money that I paid, this is really a disappointment! At least I'm going back home now.

  I regain consciousness. Eight legs, four mandibles. What the fuck? Another game as a spider?

  The scene has changed, however. I move and run into a plexiglass wall. I step back. There's a gigantic sign on the wall: CyberGames.

  This scene isn't part of the game that I bought! I start to wonder if I'm in the lab of the real-life software house. But everyone knows that consciousness can only return to the body it came from!

  My sensitive legs pick up a pattern of rapid vibrations. Two females are coming my way. Quickly.

  Arcot and the Queen

  1

  The planet Vlaolia is ruled by a powerful species of vampires. Trade with earthlings is rare, and not many space shuttles venture out to the fringes of the galaxy to exchange goods and merchandise with this world. The culture of its inhabitants, the Vlaoli, remains largely a mystery. Vlaolian society is based on the principles of absolute hierarchy. All power is in the hands of Queen Vril, who makes all decisions regarding everybody's life, or death.

  When Captain Arcot's ship reached the vicinity of the planet, he was granted permission to land in the capital's biggest space port. He was going to complete the transaction that had previously been discussed via spacelink. Once he landed, Arcot was surprised to find no mere master-at-arms waiting for him, but the Queen herself.

  The Vlaoli are slightly taller than earthlings, incredibly strong and keenly perceptive. They've mastered the powers of telekinesis, telepathy and prophecy. Arcot had spent a lot of time practicing with a mental shield to prepare himself for this encounter.

  Once he reached the throne room, Arcot noticed that every single emotion he had was directed towards, and strictly dependent upon, the Queen's presence. The hall was filled with towering purple columns and bas-reliefs with inscriptions that narrated the history of the planet. At the top of a long flight of stairs, the Queen sat on her throne. Soldiers stood motionless near each column, then disappeared with a simple wave of her hand.

  Arcot felt his blood run cold at the idea of remaining alone in the Queen's presence. He was seized by an irresistible impulse to move forward: it was as if an invisible force led him towards the throne. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the silent hall.

  Once he reached the bottom of the staircase, something forced him to kneel. He tried resisting the best he could, but his legs bent by themselves and he found himself on the floor, his gaze directed downwards.

  For just a split second he remembered the formalities usually used during business negotiations. He had never before found himself in this sort of situation.

  He waited for the Queen to speak, yet was overcome with the curious suspicion that his thoughts and emotions were being intensely scrutini
zed by the Queen.

  He felt another urge he couldn't resist, an impulse to approach her, and slowly began climbing the stairs. He wanted to lift his head and look up but couldn't: he was forced to keep his head down.

  Once he found himself closer to the sovereign, his eyes became glued to her nude feet. They emanated an incomparable magnetism. He kneeled again and his head automatically bent down. He tried again to resist, yet her feet gave forth a dark force that slowly came over him, pulling him in further.

  In that same moment, he lost control over his own mind and limbs. He felt he no longer needed to make his own choices. Every other thought and emotion left him as the energy radiating from those feet enveloped him. He observed their every detail: they seemed perfect, like the most beautiful things he had ever had the honor to lay his eyes upon.

  2

  The Captain closed his eyes and placed his lips on the Queen's feet. Time stopped. He felt he could remain frozen in this position forever, without being able nor wanting to separate from her. He wished harder and harder that this moment would never end, that the energy moving from his lips into his entire body would fill him up completely.

  “Rise, earthling.”

  He obeyed, though extremely reluctantly. He delicately removed his lips from her feet: the separation was excruciating, as if he was depriving himself of everything that he had ever truly wanted all his life. He stood up straight.

  The Queen was swathed in a tight dress whose dark colors were constantly changing. The Captain did not dare look into her eyes, instead he observed her limbs, her lithe legs, her tiny and perfect waist, her generous breasts. The vampire's classic figure showed through her dress. Arcot wondered what he should say or do, yet was unable to utter a word.

  “Look at me!”

  He raised his head and looked into her eyes, dark as the depths of outer space. Her black, extremely long hair was slightly wavy, licking the edges of the throne upon which she sat. Her lips, as red as blood, stood out against her milky white skin. Arcot immediately sensed the sheer power of her gaze. The emotions he had been holding back until then erupted all at once. He wanted to tell her and show her an infinite number of things. His words were ready to gush from his mouth, but the Queen cut him off before he began.

  “You can't stay here.”

  The Captain did not reply. He didn't understand. Those words were a stark contrast to everything he felt at that moment. He couldn't even comprehend the idea of being away from her. Vril continued:

  “The Vlaoli are an elite race. We have lived on this planet and this planet alone for thousands of years. We only trade with other beings in this galaxy to the extent necessary. We continuously study other planets, much how scientists study mice in a lab. For us, other people are simply not worthy of interacting with us. We believe that one Vlaolian vampire is worth the population of an entire world. The few foreigners that live among us have become our pets. You are young, earthling, a dreamer, determined, courageous. The mental shield you tried using doesn't do anything in this hall. I know everything about you. If you ask to stay here, I can permit you to do so in chains, sitting in a corner of the royal palace. You would spend your days doing nothing else than begging for the occasional glance from me. Now turn around, go away and never come back.”

  The Captain still had not dared to address a single word to the Queen. He felt short of breath. His tongue was made from stone. After her response, all kinds of thoughts swam through his mind. Nothing made sense. He remembered the vampire stories he and his friends had told as teenagers. He remembered the images of bloodthirsty vampires. Finally he found his answer.

  “There's something that not even you, my Queen, can do without.”

  Vril looked at him curiously and, for the first time, a glint of interest shone through her hard and firm eyes. She intuited what Arcot was going to say and felt a deep, dull desire throb inside of her. The Captain continued:

  “I could be your living reserve of precious earthling blood.”

  3

  Several months passed. Princess Icolia, from the city of Mashrin, came to visit the royal palace of Vlaolia. Mashrin was the exact opposite of the capital, and thus the city's customs were also very different. Vlaolia was the symbol of power and hierarchy, the central hub for the planet's arts and culture, the place that received and sent all communications with the rest of the galaxy, while Mashrin existed in a state of anarchical obscurity. Most people didn't know what happened there. The city's vampires had few relationships with outsiders. It was said that the citizens of Mashrin had mastered the darkest arts, yet nobody knew exactly what those arts were. Among the Mashrinians, all of the power was in the hands of the Princess, whose family had always governed the city. Icolia was the symbol of everything Mashrinian. Nobody knew exactly how she governed the city, who served or worked for her, what she did all day, what rituals she participated in or where she was at any given time. Yet her presence and her power could be found wherever they were needed, often at just the right moment.

  Princess Icolia entered the Queen's throne room, reached the bottom of the staircase and knelt down.

  “Queen Vril, I bow to your power,” Icolia greeted her.

  The Queen's lips curled into an imperceptible, sarcastic smile. If there was one thing Icolia would be happy to get rid of, it was the authority that the royal power held over Mashrin.

  “Princess Icolia, out of all the governors of the cities of Vlaolia, your visits are the most infrequent, yet they are always so meaningful. I've heard that everything is going splendidly in Mashrin. There are, however, a few important matters we must discuss,” the Queen responded.

  Vril asked many questions. Icolia answered in great detail, while still trying to say as little as possible. The two vampires focused on many issues concerning the government of the city of Mashrin, until Icolia said: “Queen, I can't help but notice how fruitful Vlaolia's contacts have been with the rest of the Galaxy, nor can I ignore the splendid animals you love to decorate your palace with.”

  On the left side of the bottom of the staircase, dressed in a tight black Vlaolian suit, Captain Arcot was bent over, on his knees.

  He hadn't left the capital since his first visit with the Queen. He had been granted permission to dismiss the crew of his space shuttle. His hair was cut and all of his body hair eliminated, according to local custom. They had taught him how to behave as a servant of the Queen, making him practice through all sorts of exercises and quizzing him on everything he had learned. The vampires in charge of his education had treated him with the utmost respect, as they treated every object that belonged to the Queen. Once ready, he was again brought before her throne. A long leash, of purely symbolic value, stretched between the base of the throne and the collar Arcot wore. Vril did not so much as glance at her new servant on that first day.

  “Princess Icolia, we have much to learn from visitors from other planets. Though they do not have our physical and mental abilities, they bring along great culture and wisdom - certainly not comparable to our own, yet still of great interest.”

  Icolia stared at the multiple marks on Arcot's neck as her body grew tense with desire.

  “Yet, my Queen, I understand that Vlaolia has signed treaties with the galactic unions forbidding us from feeding upon the blood of other people.”

  “True. We are prohibited from hunting on other planets and bound to respect the lives of all who land in our space ports,” Vril responded, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Indeed, the earthling you're looking at asked on his own initiative to become my servant and blood reserve, and that is what I granted him permission to do.”

  Princess Icolia looked directly at Arcot.

  The Captain had accepted everything given to him on this planet. He allowed them to change his appearance. He had worked to learn the customs of servitude in the palace, memorizing every single detail he was taught. He never objected. If this was the only way he could be close to the Queen, then he would not object. O
nce he was in the throne room, he fulfilled his role as the Queen's pet. He knew that one day the Queen would want him closer.

  The Princess' gaze was penetrating, imbued with mystery, darkness and a wild force. Icolia turned back to the Queen.

  “The studies you have allowed us to carry out in Mashrin would benefit greatly if we could apply them to a creature such as an earthling. I'd be immensely grateful if you would let us examine him for a few months.”

  The Queen generally gave gifts of alien origin to governors of Vaolian cities whenever they paid her a visit. The Princess' request, therefore, was legitimate.

  Yet the Queen responded drily:

  “I've already made arrangements to give Mashrin a different gift, it's been planned out for some time now. I'm sure you won't wait so long before visiting me again. Perhaps then we can consider your request.”

  “Naturally, my Queen. Forgive me for my impudence.”

  The Princess was excused and headed back to the guest apartments, where she got ready for the evening rituals and dinner.

  The Queen rose and began walking slowly down the stairs. Her being was awash with one of her deepest, crudest desires. She restrained herself from leaping upon her prey. Arnot was familiar with that particular aura and look. Yet this was why he had accepted the impossible, what he had decided to give up his own humanity for.

  He leaned his head to the side, showing her his handsome neck, though the Queen's strength could easily have bowled him over. He felt her teeth penetrate his flesh, the blood flow from his body, the life slowly drip out of him.

  His senses dimmed. His eyes closed. He began to sink into oblivion. Satiated, the Queen left the Captain's unconscious body on the cold, hard floor.

  4

  The Queen's bite never lasted long enough to kill him. Vril knew how to restrain herself and didn't want any fatalities. The Vlaolians had signed treaties with other worlds promising not to eat aliens, but there was a simpler and easier interplanetary agreement at work here: this earthling liked it. She didn't mind keeping him leashed near her throne, yet if this hadn't been the typical Vlaolian custom, she might have been willing to give him greater freedom of movement. Slowly, her curiosity towards Arcot turned into interest. She listened to the Captain's many stories of what he had seen during his travels. She asked him a lot about his native planet, the Earth, and the other worlds he had visited.