Far off, Keti could sense tens of thousands of lifeforms springing into existence.
The boy spoke again. “Is it possible that you don't know what you've done?”
“Makli.” The name escaped her lips unbidden. Shock, an unknown emotion to her, caused her to verge on material collapse once again.
“Ah,” Makli said. “You begin to remember. Good. May the truth bring you pain.”
With that, the boy fell to the stage, leaving Keti standing alone in front of the Empress’s throne.
Keti stood before the slumped body of the Empress.
She had taken it for granted that her awareness encompassed all understanding; every event, every variable and its inevitable joining with other variables to create what humanity called the future.
In an unobtrusive spot in this map of her awareness, one speck of an island floated up. Like paint dripped into a pool, it spread tendrils outward.
How could a whole be incomplete? How could everything not be everything?
She assimilated this new knowledge but with disgust at its existence.
Keti’s “sleep,” as the Empress called it, had warped her energy. Though she had been unaware of it, her perfect energy had become fragmented and debased.
Why would she have, upon reawakening, compared her current state to the one before she had slept? Absolutes did not change.
Yet in this moment, she recalled the Keti that she had always been; it was distinctly not her.
That Keti, she saw with raw disbelief, had existed to care for humanity. She was a goddess who had once taken human form simply to walk a young boy through a forest, lest wolves follow and devour him (as she had known they would).
In her mind's eye she saw the moment trapped in time forever. Keti, receding into the woods with a messy-haired boy, his hand in hers. He stumbled on a fallen branch, nearly twisting his ankle. Keti delicately pulled him upright again.
At that exact moment, while lovingly guiding the boy along, she had chosen to glance behind her. She had known that she would see nothing but forest, yet she had inexplicably felt compelled to glance back.
But now, oblivious to the disarray surrounding her in the Grand Hall, she knew what had compelled her to glance over her shoulder that day.
The Keti who glanced back, for all appearances seeming to smile warmly at the Keti watching this memory, looked, of course, like the Empress.
The memory continued to play. Keti, in human form, spoke softly to the boy and they resumed walking.
She knew. Disgust rippled through her, and her form once again threatened to dissolve.
Somehow her rest had allowed rot, or something like it, to seep into her unflawed energy. Deep below the conscious level, she had extracted one non-corrupt section of her own essence to create a separate, unsullied being.
She had given that being the appearance that she had traditionally assumed when walking the planet in human form.
Eventually, in her corrupted state, she had been drawn out from her sleep. The Empress's energy had called to her because it was the missing, pure element of Keti.
She had awoken as a monstrosity, a distorted reflection of her true self. With wanton disregard she had swept her arm in front of her, ravaging the planet she had once existed to care for.
Not once had she questioned the reason for this atrocity, for she had known without question that her will was justified by its own perfect nature.
Billions of the humans were gone, spread across an area far outreaching the one she had tended to in past times.
The revulsion was too great for even a goddess to bear. As Keti retreated once again into a deep, insensate slumber, her thoughts were of the Empress.
Thoughts of her own efforts to shatter the beautiful harmony of the Empress's energy. Thoughts of the Empress locked in an inescapable cage, looking down on a world she desperately longed to be with; to guide, to love, as some level of her had done from time immemorial.
So obscene were Keti's crimes against the humans that Makli had finally been torn from his own rest, to punish her. He had resurrected all those who lived in his lands, brought them to life in a drastic show of power.
Were there others beside Makli? She could not say, for the knowledge was lost to her.
Chapter Thirteen
The Empress's eyelids fluttered as she regained consciousness. The ceiling above her was a deep black that absorbed all light. Her whole floor, her ‘suite’ as she occasionally thought of it, consisted of this enigmatic material, leading to a sense of detachment from the City it overlooked.
It was unnerving in times when she felt especially fragile.
She was in no rush to get out of bed. Once she was off the bed, she knew, it would vanish. For whatever reason, Keti was particular about doing that.
Keti came to her on, she was almost sure, a daily basis. Never for more than a few hours.
For years she had had nothing to look at but the floor-length windows, and a view from so high above the City that she couldn't make out peoples' faces.
Only in the past year had Keti allowed her a screen to watch vid channels on. The selection of shows and movies was staggering, but the Empress suspected that there were ones she wasn't allowed to watch.
Regardless, it had done more than spark her imagination. It had lit a wildfire.
What shows does Keti keep from me? It was one of the things she daydreamed about occasionally before getting out of bed.
An imaginary one that she'd fixated on in the last week was about families (and sometimes angry, solitary outlanders) walking in simulations of parks. They would each, in turn, face the camera and say things like “Fuck you, Keti! Get fucked!” Then they would immediately be punished by Keti with terrible deaths that ranged from spontaneous combustion to being pecked to death by cartoon birds.
It gave her perverse satisfaction to picture, and hadn't gotten old yet. It was better than watching any real shows that Keti made available.
It genuinely surprised her that Keti chose to give her sudden access, after so many years, to part of the outside world. What a strange concession for the maddeningly consistent goddess to make. The Empress wondered if Keti was going crazy. Especially in the last months.
She wasn't going to question it, though.
She wished it would upset Keti for her to question the sanity of the goddess, but it was no use.
Keti would say “Perfection does not change. Flaws can not be introduced where there is no opening for them.” Still...her access to vids from the world outside the Needle was counterproductive, considering Keti's purpose.
The Empress reveled in her newfound ability to see slices of humanity and embrace its mannerisms. After a full year of access, even the worst vid programs kept her engrossed.
For half an hour now, she lay on her bed so drowsily that the day's (previous day’s?) events didn't encroach on the paths her mind followed.
Then, only vague recollections. The Assembly had been interrupted by a sudden commotion. Mid-yawn, she sat up abruptly. What had happened?
Keti had taken her over, a state in which the Empress retained only the faintest shred of recollection. She felt it; some sort of commotion, people running for the doors...
Considering how erratic Keti had been lately, she had wondered if the message to that man Dugan had been a trick to get her hopes up. It made no sense…so much so that it was unusual even for Keti.
A man was going to try to kill everyone at the Assembly? And Keti, rather than killing that someone, chose to leave the outcome to chance?
It had seemed like a cruel joke, just another of Keti's tactics for letting the Empress's hopes be used to “perfect” her, which of course meant hurting her deeply.
She had done her best to not think about Dugan, leading up to the Assembly. She knew that nothing would happen. Keti only acted in ways that would eventually hurt her.
Still, she vaguely started remembering that something had happened! There had been a fight! How e
xciting...
The rush of adrenaline waned within seconds. No matter what had happened at the Assembly, it obviously hadn't affected her. Frustratingly, she'd already known that there was no hope for the Assembly leading to any change in her life.
She'd been right, too: nothing felt different to her now. Nothing had happened.
A flush of shame coursed through her.
How sad is this? I'll spend the rest of my life obsessing over the time that some guys wrestled around in the same room I was in?
All the same, she was energized by the chaotic turn her life had taken in the last year.
First, Keti had, out of nowhere, let her have access to the outside world through the screen in her suite. Around then, status updates from Citizens' CR rings began scrolling along the edge of the window that comprised one whole wall of her floor in the Needle.
Then had come the announcement of the Assemblies, as if it had been perfectly logical for Keti to begin interacting with the Citizens after twenty years!
Perhaps Keti had given her the screen so she could learn to talk more naturally in the Assemblies, or when she called Dugan to deliver her message?
He had been so imperfect! He had scars and terrible uncombed hair and... it was awesome.
She smiled to herself and breathed out contentedly. The sky was beginning to flood with light, so she walked to the windows, not caring that the bed would be gone now.
Panicked CR updates scrolled past the Empress' oblivious eyes as she looked down.
The sidewalk below was lined with dozens of kneeling Citizens. This was abnormal but nothing extraordinary; occasionally the Citizens would organize a devotional event honoring Keti.
The Empress suspected that their motive was selfishness. Their lives were so blessed that all they feared was losing luxuries.
Still, the sight of the group made her sigh without realizing it. She fell backward dramatically, realizing she was in a sudden mood for some entertainment. Her curved chair, which should have materialized to catch her, instead appeared a couple feet to her side.
God damn it. The Empress grimaced while she massaged her tailbone.
Under her breath, she muttered, “Fine, nice one, Keti.”
The chair had appeared in the wrong spot for watching anything on her personal screen. In fact, it was facing the window instead of the screen.
The Empress glared at it, willing it to move to its usual spot.
The chair did not move.
She exhaled violently and uttered an exasperated growl. Getting no reaction (but being too proud to try to summon Keti for an explanation), she crossed her arms.
Really?!
She stood up. “Fine,” she announced to the chair before sitting on it sideways, with her legs dangling over one arm of it and her back resting on the other arm.
She held a hand up to the screen. With the way her day was starting, she doubted whether it would turn on.
It did.
Had she been allowed access to news channels, she would have seen the nonstop coverage of panic in the City. No one knew what the events of the previous day meant.
An outlander had shot the Empress, numerous eyewitnesses said. The outlander, a boy, had not left the Grand Hall (which was barricaded and under constant surveillance).
Whatever the meaning of this, Keti had allowed it to happen. It was not for humans to try to save the Empress, or punish an assassin who evidently wasn't going against the goddess's will.
After ensuring that all Citizens were accounted for, they had sealed the Grand Hall shut.
Several dozen mourners had assembled outside the entrance of the Needle to pay their respects, despite public warnings that the area was considered too dangerous.
Had her attacker exhibited the black eyes that Keti did when she manifested herself? The scene had been too chaotic; none could say with certainty.
Rumors and debate swirled, barely adhering to the facts.
Keti had announced that there would be three Assemblies. This had only been the second. The Empress must surely be alive...or, ominously, the next Assembly could happen without her.
If Keti had not been responsible for the events of the second Assembly, it could only mean that another force was at work. One with ill intentions for the City and its inhabitants.
Sporadic suicides were alleged but unconfirmed.
With a quick flourish of her hand, the Empress selected an old episode of Bytech Anon that she'd stopped partway through. The show centered around characters her age, but often it magnified her feeling of isolation.
In this episode, Carlee paid Giann to reprogram her cleaner bot with a simple A.I. recreation of her ex-boyfriend Luiw. Predictably, it reminded Carlee why they'd broken up in the first place.
“Stop following me everywhere,” Carlee whined as the episode resumed from the point where it had been paused.
“But Carlee,” the bot answered in an overly robotic voice, “I want to run my hands through your wonderful hair.”
Giann, who was leaning against a marble-masked table, shrugged innocently. “You told me to add that as a permanent command. Luiw said that shit one time, not all the time.”
Carlee strode past the bot. “Make him stop following me and touching my hair,” she said, emphasizing her point with a poke to Giann's chest.
“I can rewrite his commands at home and come back tomorrow to install the revised code...”
Carlee frowned comically and poked him four more times. “You can't do this to meeee,” she wailed.
The Empress paused and skipped back five seconds.
Carlee frowned comically and poked Giann. “You can't do this to meeee,” she wailed.
The Empress frowned hard enough to force her eyes shut. She jabbed a finger at the air in front of her.
“You can't do this to meeee,” she repeated in a stage whisper.
Unsatisfied, she stood up. She frowned again, poking the air menacingly.
Throwing her arms in the air, she declared, “You can't do this to meeee!”
It still felt fake. She squeezed her left hand into a fist, and kept squeezing until the muscles in her hand hurt.
“Fucking...,” she said to herself. The people on this show were so effortlessly charismatic; meanwhile the Empress never felt like she acted human.
She looked back to the screen, where Carlee pouted with her arms crossed as the cleaner bot stroked her hair from behind.
She laughed a little too loud at Carlee's exaggerated pout.
“Waaaaaahhh,” Carlee yelled dramatically, without pushing the bot away.
The Empress giggled and mimicked her.
“Waaaaaahhh!”
She slid a leg off the arm of the chair, lazily spinning it in a circle to check if Keti was standing behind her.
With a soft grunt she spun the chair back to face the screen again.
Shouldn't the attendants have come up by now? she wondered.
She craned her neck to peek over the back of her chair. The elevator doors remained shut.
In the moment she paused to stare at the elevator, she became aware of a sense of foreboding in the air.
Being a stranger to the concept of physical danger, she stood and boldly marched to the doors. There was no call button for the elevators, so she confidently extended a palm to the spot where it would have been.
Nothing happened.
Would've been nice, she shrugged as she returned to the chair.
She fixed her eyes on a spot to her left, as if someone were standing there.
“Uh...I don't hear you coming up with any better ideas,” she said to no one.
Lately the Empress's days had been enlivened by these scattered bursts of contextless storyline.
After moments when she succeeded in acting “right” (by her highly-skewed concept of what was normal for people her age to act like), she found herself vividly casting whatever she'd said or done as the start of a scene in a show or vid.
Seemingly out of no
where, one comment would inspire her to act out entire scenes in her mind.
Sometimes her character was the bitchy intern. Other times, the social butterfly of a group of eccentric friends.
None of the other characters mattered. The Empress was the one in the spotlight. She would pause after speaking, letting herself pretend that someone was reacting to her.
It wasn't uncommon for her to get lost in these scenes for ten minutes or more, pacing around and gesturing dramatically (and in doing so, losing track of whatever she'd been doing).
Not that it mattered.
For the last three or four days, she'd been partial to having other characters call her Alicia in these microfantasies.
It felt right; she would love being an Alicia. The name was beautiful to her because it conjured images of stunning, classy ladies in vids about other eras.
Kyra had been her favorite name for almost two months; it had gotten old, and reminded her too much of Keti's name.
It seemed reasonable that since her birth name was lost to her, she was entitled to name herself whatever she pleased.
Keti, meanwhile, had flatly refused to acknowledge that The Empress had once had a birth name, or human parents.
“You,” she was told, “exist beyond the boundaries of human potential. Do not demean yourself by adopting their customs.”
But then why did Keti give her the screen, which she worshipped far more than she did Keti? Why had Keti idly watched her embrace every new human trait she learned from the shows on it?
She could tell that she had undergone a transformation in this past year: one that saw her stilted, inhuman manner erode to reveal the girl beneath it.
Keti had never explained, nor had the Empress dared to question, what this had done to her energy.
It occurred to her for the first time that she'd never seen Keti or herself mentioned in any of the shows or vids she'd watched. But that could only mean that Keti had omitted anything which made reference to them.
“Keti?” she asked the air around her, but to no avail.
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