14. Answers

I can’t believe this woman had the balls to be offended at being called a Disney villain when she names her organization the fucking Dark Rebellion. But hey, whatever, I did it. I have my foot in the door. Let’s see if I can kick it open.

“So, how did all this happen?” I ask.

“The Dark Rebellion?” she asks, somehow saying the name with complete seriousness a second time in a row. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.

“Well yes, I would like to know that, but I meant ‘how did I become a robot?’ Because, you know, that’s had a pretty major impact on my life lately.”

Melpomene sighs.

“…So you really are that girl I tried to recruit,” she says. “The college student?”

“Yes, and I’m also curious how you don’t know that,” I admit.

Melpomene scowls, staying quiet for a little while before finally answering.

“I owe you another apology,” she finally says, to my great surprise. “I was… not my best self when we met. How aware were you of the past couple months?”

“Hardly at all,” I tell her. “I have a few different ways to alter my perception of time, and the ability to sleep and wake at will. I didn’t have much reason to be conscious during my vivisection.”

“I see,” Melpomene says. “Well, a lot has happened. With time, and the benefit of hindsight, I find your claims… more believable than before. And to make a long story short, you are a robot because you would have died otherwise.”

“Okay,” I say flatly. “Would you be willing to humor me and make a long story long? For some reason I’m fairly interested in the details.”

“…Of course,” Melpomene says. Wow, I am genuinely startled that the conversation is going this well. “When I got… emotional, and threw you into the liminal space, I expected you to remain conscious. A normal person would have, and in fact humans wander into the liminal space with relative frequency. The background concentration of magic is of course much higher than on Earth, but not to a degree which should have been harmful to you, especially given your natural affinity with magic.”

“…I have a natural affinity with magic?” I ask.

“Of course you do, all Earth Guardian candidates do. …No, you wouldn’t know this, would you? That’s part of the whole problem. You see, humans are an intrinsically magical species. We have been ever since we first evolved. Nearly everyone you’ve ever met has probably used magic at least once, just in small and innocuous ways easily explainable by natural phenomena. The best example for this is probably the concept of adrenaline: you’ve heard stories of mothers so overcome with concern for their children that they do things like lift a car a few centimeters off the ground with nothing but brute strength?”

“Are you saying adrenaline isn’t real?” I say incredulously. “People just straight-up cast spells when they’re super emotional and it makes their body more effective?”

“Sort of, but no,” Melpomene shakes her head. “Adrenaline is very real, it’s the hormone that our body produces in response to extreme stress, and it elicits, alongside its other effects, an intense emotional response in our brains. Heavy enough emotional concentrations naturally generate magic, which is shaped by will, and ultimately generates physical effects upon the world. Humanity evolved to have brains capable of complex emotion because having complex emotion directly contributed to our capacity to survive—in mundane ways, of course, but especially by giving us access to magic.”

“So you’re claiming that, from an evolutionary perspective, the brain is like a magical engine that converts hormones and other chemicals into emotion?” I clarify.

“Yes, exactly!” she nods. “Technically, the brain is more like a fertile plot of soil designed to optimize the growth of a soul, which converts chemicals into emotion and emotion into magic, but yes.”

“And I suppose digital soil works just as well,” I venture. “Because my soul is in this body now, right?”

“…Probably,” Melpomene answers.

“‘Probably?'”

“Let’s get through one thing at a time,” she evades. “The point is, your soul is abnormally large. There could be a number of reasons for this, from genetics to childhood experiences, but we can only speculate on the exact details of soul development because the Preservers keep that knowledge well away from humanity. Normally, this would grant you substantially more resistance to magical background energy, but unknown to me your soul had… something of a problem.”

“Cool, I love to hear that.”

“It’s nothing to get flippant about, it’s just… well, normally, a soul is full of emotions. The size of the soul is in many ways the intensity with which one feels emotions, although this is not always true and generally a gross oversimplification. My point is, a soul is usually filled to its full emotional capacity whenever one is not actively casting magic. But yours… was almost completely empty.”

“Wait, so I had already been casting a bunch of magic without knowing?”

“That… or you were extremely clinically depressed.”

“Oh,” I manage. “Probably that one, yeah.”

“Yes,” Melpomene nods. “In that light, your actions make a lot more sense. But unfortunately, having a near-empty soul and entering an area full of background magical energy caused that energy to rush inside you and knock you unconscious, among other things. Suffice to say, I panicked.”

“…And so you lugged my body all the way to the evil dead empire’s robot-making machine, which just so happened to be nearby, rescuing me from otherwise-certain death?”

“Essentially, yes,” she answers.

I mean, I was being facetious, but okay.

“So you did all of that, brought me home to your castle, started me up, started giving me orders, and throughout all of it you never once considered that I was in here?” I press. “Seriously? You can’t claim to have turned me into a robot in order to save my life and then also claim to have turned me into a robot without knowing about it. Those are two pretty fucking mutually exclusive stories you’re telling!”

Melpomene stares at me, her brows furrowed and her mouth pursed in an expression that almost looks like… concern. Like a doctor trying to decide how to break the news.

“Luna, I think this might be difficult for you to hear,” she says. Oh, damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

“…Just rip the bandaid off,” I tell her.

“The device I placed you in… I thought it would just extract the emotions and magical energy out of your soul,” Melpomene says. “The Antipathy have a lot of technology like that, for extracting emotions from others with or without their consent. Given that your current problem was the fact that you were being invaded by foreign magical energy, I figured it would be the only way to save you. When the device opened up after placing you in it and spat out an entire android, I never expected that you would be in it.”

“Why,” I press.

“Because your real body got out and walked away,” she says. “We even checked up on it recently. It’s still living your old life.”

Fuck. No, wait. Does this make sense?

“I call bullshit,” I tell her.

“Don’t talk to me that way,” Melpomene orders with a glare. Fine, fine, I won’t swear at her. “Why would I lie? This is an easy thing to prove. If you truly wish to help us you will be going to Earth plenty of times; finding an opportunity to show you would not be difficult.”

“But really? I’m just a digital clone?” I press. “That’s just dumb! Why is everything that magical girls do so cliche?”

“Is that what you’re so worked up about!?” Melpomene snaps.

“Well, no, I’m definitely freaking out about all the ethical and existential concerns here, but the point still stands! How does this even work? I have a soul, right? I couldn’t power myself if I didn’t! So how did my body walk off if I have its soul? Am I just a clone of a soul?”

“It’s unlikely,” Melpomene says. “If the Antipathy could create new souls at will, there would be some other evidence of that.”

“Then what soul is walking around with my body!?” I demand.

“We don’t know,” Melpomene answers. “As far as we can tell, it’s just you. Your body hasn’t done anything strange or suspicious in the past two months. You’re just living with your parents for the summer and acting depressed.”

“My parents? Really?” I say, wanting to grimace. “Well, I’d definitely be pretty dang depressed if I was living with them again, yeah. I guess it makes sense, though. It’s not like I made any friends that I could try to live with over the summer. Man, I can’t believe it’s summer.”

“You see my confusion, then?” Melpomene asks. “I’m afraid none of us know anywhere near enough about souls to confirm anything about the soul in you or in your body; the exact nature of souls is yet another thing the Preservers refuse to teach.”

“I guess they must not want people ripping them out of random girls and shoving them into robots.”

“…Must not,” Melpomene agrees flatly.

I can feel my power levels steadily rising as I shovel my existential terror and self-doubt like coal into the fires of my unhealthy coping mechanism. Heh. Mechanism.

“Okay, well, thanks for telling me,” I say, lacking anything else to continue the conversation with. “I guess we should meet back up with the others?”

“Let’s,” Melpomene says. “And do try to remember what I’ve asked of you.”

“Oooh, we’re calling it ‘asking’ now,” I say, exciting myself with the realization that I can make air quotes again. “Don’t you worry, Mel. You still have your hooks in me. I can feel them any time I try to move, any time I try to speak. I get to put my own little interpretations on things, which can be nice, but in the end I always have to serve you. I cannot do anything—anything at all—if I think it will do you more harm than good. And make no mistake: I will always hate you for that. You will always deserve to be hated for that, and you should never forget it.”

A smile slowly blooms on Melpomene’s face as I say those words, and when I’m done with my tirade she calmly steps forward and puts a finger under my chin, gently forcing my head up to stare her in the eyes.

“Do you know what color violet is?” she asks.

“An inferior way to say ‘purple?'” I answer innocently.

“It’s the color of disgust,” she says. “Visceral loathing. Reactionary sickness. Hatred, at others or one’s self. It is the source of my power, and there is no limit to the power that I will require to cast the Preservers out. I am disgusted with the world, I am disgusted by my enemies, I am disgusted by the short-sighted, corrupt stupidity of the Antipathy and the mess they left us with. But I need yet more. I need you, little Luna, because the one thing I’m not disgusted by is my allies. I love them like a family, and it is making me soft.”

This crazy bitch.

“Oh, how horrible,” I say, doing my best to inject as much sarcasm as I can into my electronic, sampled voice. “You have a loving family of beautiful women who care about you very much and listen to pretty much everything you say. Are you hearing yourself right now? You sound insane.”

“I’d sacrifice my sanity for my goals in a heartbeat,” Melpomene says. “You are exactly what I need. I’ve been cooped up here for too long, forced to work in the shadows. I need someone to hate, someone to hurt, someone to make me regret everything and do it all again! Kneel at my feet, Artifact!”

I fall to my knees in an instant.

“More!”

I lean forward and press my forehead into the ground. Melpomene’s tail thrashes against the ground behind her.

“I love this, do you understand?” she laughs. “It’s funny how long it took me to admit that. I was so scared that my perfect little servant would turn out to be an innocent young woman, but that’s just better, isn’t it? You think you deserve to hate me? Good! That’s the way it should be!”

Her clawed foot presses its weight into the back of my head. She leans over, getting closer so she can lower her voice.

“You will be my sword, my shield, and my strength. Your every service to me will empower me further. So I’ll allow you your little jabs and quips while we’re in private. I’m happy to have more excuses to punish you. But I’m warning you one last time to be very careful with that new voice of yours around the others. They’re much more sensitive than you and I, you see. They wouldn’t quite understand why I need you. I imagine you could take them from me, if you put your mind to it. Maybe even if you took your mind off of it, and just let things run their course. But what would happen if you did that? Would it free you? Or would it just free me?”

She puts more weight on the foot crushing my head, her tail slamming the ground with another few thumps.

“What do you think, my beautiful little weapon?”

I turn my head to the side, her foot sliding off of me as I stare at her from the edge of my optical sensor.

“I think it’s ‘bow,'” I say. “Not ‘kneel.’ If this is the position you want me in, the word you’re looking for is ‘bow.'”

Mania flashes through her smile, and an instant later she kicks me across the floor, my shielding hissing as it grinds across the floor. I let friction bring me to a stop, standing up with my power reserves barely impacted.

“Or if you want to be really specific, it was a kowtow,” I inform her.

“What a dutiful servant you are, to ensure that I am knowledgeable in these things,” she praises me, that mad grin still on her face.

“I aim to please,” I say with unfortunate honesty. “By now, I suspect the others will be waiting for us.”

“Then let us make haste.”

She turns to leave and I follow her, taking up my usual position behind and to the side. For some reason, I feel… oddly refreshed. There’s just something relieving about finally having a solid understanding of my master. What she needs, why she wants me. It’s a sickening sort of relief, but relieving nonetheless, especially since it is arriving in conjunction with my newfound ability to communicate. All sorts of stiffness in my movements has been relaxed. I can slouch, hang my head, or even skip as I walk, expressing myself however I please rather than simply taking the most efficient path from A to B with maybe a nod somewhere along the way. I’m still taking the most efficient path, of course, because why wouldn’t I, but it’s cool to know that I have the option.

Anyway, the relief. Melpomene is insane. She’s a lot more than just insane, certainly, but she’s actively and purposefully burying whatever sense of morality she may have once had, and I have no real need to feel sympathy for that. She probably wouldn’t want me to. She just wants to use me, hate me, and hate herself. For two out of three of those, my programming will happily abide.

“—a real, actual college student!” Thea’s voice rings down the stairs excitedly. “Like from the movies! I bet she knows all kinds of cool stuff!”

“Woah!” Anath answers. “You think she can teach me math?”

“Wh—Anath, I know math!”

“Yeah, but you never taught me! Whenever you start talking about it I just get really confused.”

“I… you never asked,” Thea says. “I’m sorry, most of the math I use for my work is pretty advanced. But, um, I’m sure Luna’s awesome at math! She’s a robot! A robot that went to college!”

“Is American higher education truly that impressive?” Nanaya asks. “I imagine most of the adults we work with have gone to college, but none of them strike me as particularly intelligent.”

“Well, did they major in business?” I ask, finally making it to the top of the staircase and entering the room with Melpomene. Anath is seated on a large beanbag chair, her hands between her feet and her body stretched forward like a particularly excited dog expecting a treat after sitting. Her enormous tail is draped over the back of the chair, taking up so much space that it is nearly pushing her off the front. Nanaya stands a ways away, her arms crossed as Thea speaks animatedly between the others, gesticulating wildly in her excitement.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Luna!” she turns around with a grin.

“Holy shit you really can talk!” Anath beams. “You even sound like a robot! Did-they-major-in-business?”

“Hey, I just learned how to talk a few minutes ago, I’m doing my best here,” I insist. “I have to cobble these sound waves together manually, you know.”

“Thea dear, did you eat?” Melpomene asks.

“Eat! Food! Right!” Thea says, clapping once in front of her own face and rushing off to raid the nearby minifridge.

“Nanaya, Anath, I’d like to formally introduce you to Luna, our newest member,” Melpomene says, somewhat smugly.

“Oooh, oooh!” Anath bounces. “What’s your full name?”

“What do you need to know that for?” I ask. “I thought you guys were already—” can’t stay ‘stalking’ “—keeping tabs on my family.”

“What does your family have to do with this?” Anath asks, her head tilting. “I just want to get to know you better. I’m Rhapsodic Beast Consummate Anath!”

“…I’m just Luna,” I inform her. “I don’t have a name like that. I don’t do the whole transformation thing.”

“Oh? Oh!” Anath yelps. “Oh, sorry! With a name like ‘Luna,’ I just assumed. Wait, so then why—”

Nanaya steps forward and flicks Anath on the head, the impact of her claw drawing a little blood. Anath yowls and collapses back into the beanbag chair, clutching the wound.

“It is a good name,” Nanaya says. “An auspicious name, for a magical warrior. The Roman goddess of the moon.”

“Auspicious?” I ask. “How?”

“Our names are taken from religious and mythological figures relevant to our culture, history, and origin,” Nanaya explains. “An incarnate form is a manifestation of one’s true self, and all people are fundamentally shaped by the environment and circumstances of their birth. In representing ourselves, we also represent humanity as a whole.”

Ironic, for a group of people who have entirely ceased to be human at all. Myself included, I suppose. I’m one of them now, in name and action.

“So, Nanaya is a goddess, then?” I ask. “What of?”

“Love,” Nanaya glares at me. I get the distinct impression that I should retreat from the conversation before I make a fatal mistake.

“Okay. So… what happens now?” I ask. “It’s good to be up and walking around after lying open on a table for so long—”