Finish the story contest - WEEK 38
"What do you feel now?" The scalpel of a monotonous voice, cold as the halogen light blinding him.
"Let me go".
A sudden electric shock followed and almost broke the arched vertebrae of the specimen n. 19-B, while penetrating his limbs.
"What do you feel?"
"The ... the taste of a chicken".
Dense whispering, silent annotations, white everywhere.
He was floating in that white, for hours, perhaps days. Subtle lines, at the corners of his eyes. The last bulwark of Euclidean geometries. Over him, the ceiling was like an enormous virus. Not alive, not dead. Up there, all the gluttony of a pulsating white blasphemy was unfolding over his impotent being. A dodecaphony, ever hungry of new semitones in the musical scale of his moribund ego.
He felt his soul's entrails slowly peeled like an onion. That non-color was slipping inside him, like a sickly glucose sludge, inside every cavity, along every neuron, hair, capillary. It was a profound evil, different from pain. Pain is a vowel. If you're good enough, you can observe it from the outside of yourself till you inevitably lose consciousness.
That, instead. That was nothing less than a grinding profanation of his soul.
"Now. Some feelings?"
"Feeeeeeelings ..." was the mumbled answer, the sound resembling the broken lung of a deflating accordion.
Silent annotations following.
The synaptic stimulation was proceeding well, soon they could present the product to Mother Unit. It was said that, in prehistoric times, the human being populated the nano-swarm, when it was still called Earth. According to certain niche schools of thought, this.. thing.. could have been at the top of the food-chain. Go figure.
A new product, very efficient in its own way and not missing that pleasant touch of chaoticness, this human. No doubt that the Mother Unit would have liked it and find it entertaining, if not even useful.
The chief demiurge gently closed the skullcap of the specimen n. 19-B and left the room with its cohort of servile apprentices in tow. Enough for today.
The chief demiurge thought of the very tedious work ahead. Tests and more tests, and on this… Archaic specimen. There was no doubt that Mother Unit would find some use, or something to do with this creature. As for him, there wasn’t much purpose in having it around. He would’ve disposed of it at once… But Mother Unit called the orders, so the demiurge carried on with his labor.
Another day came along, with countless tests and experiments. Signal estimulation. Five senses, this basic beasts. How in the world could they move around with such a reduced perception range? It was no surprise their era had came to its end. Then more synaptic stimulation, but only for redundancy purposes. The brain was just so simple, its connections so few… The Chief Demiurge thought it was wasted time, all this checking and rechecking. Then blood tests. The fragile pump and its scarce fuel. Then something else…
The Demiurge scoffed and stood up. Although tired, he was expectant. Mother Unit would be pleased, perhaps pleased enough to upgrade him. Holding on to this idea, the Demiurge rushed the tests. Working like a madman, taking the specimen to the brink of uselessness, he could take it to Mother Unit the very next day.
Thanks to some overnight work, the subject was ready for showing very early. The Demiurge looked at it, idle and famished, but with its cognitive functions almost intact. The apprentices came in and the Chief gave the order to drag 19-B to Mother Unit. He couldn’t wait another second. Yet he had to, since the specimen fell to its knees a couple of times, mumbling something.
“I don’t feel so well...”
Maybe the toll of a whole day and night of tests was showing. The Demiurge thought that it was perhaps a better idea to let the specimen rest for a day before the presentation. But the thought of that upgrade blinded him, so he ordered the apprentices to lift the speciment and make way. Reluctant, they did so, and took a step. But suddenly, a buzzing noise filled the air. The Chief looked at the source: the human. It was vibrating violently and the whites on it eyes started showing. The apprentices now lied on the floor, inert, but the specimen was almost levitating. Before the demiurge could react, 19-B took flight directly into Mother Unit’s chambers. Then a pulse, and the Chief Demiurge faded. When he came back, he was in front of Mother Unit.
“A traitor maybe? Or just careless?”
He didn’t understand.
“That human… Was a weapon. Shortsighted, yes, but a weapon. I felt it respond to my signal when he neared the core. Then that horrible pulse. I was out a full second, you know? It could’ve been catastrophic. How did you let it pass through the tests? On purpose, maybe?”
“No, I never… I ran all the tests and there was nothing...”
“All the tests? Are you sure?”
“Yes! Well…” he tried to remember “There might have...”
“Might?” A painful jolt went thorugh the Demiurge, vanishing his conscience from existence. A new Chief Demiurge was already being selected. Mother Unit showed that one the events that had happened.
“Remember that there is no place for uncertainty among our people, my new Prophet.”
As we would call here on the meme-net: eliminated. Anyways, this was a good relaxing (despite being objectionable and actually a horrific scene of being fired and killed) story of how Capitalism basically will not stand for anything getting in the way of Capital reproduction. I mean look, even the highest of peoples are stripped of rank and treated worse than dirt after one peck-up (of which I can gladly cite anectdotes and companies collapsing when they lagged behind). Anywho, if this reflection wasn't deep enough, stare into more and see how the Mother Unit (a playful twist of Patriarchy my guess, because the Mother Unit still possesses the phallus despite having a "non-masculine" name) acts on an irrational whim while rationalizing as a countermeasure to uncertainty. Irrational that it thinks it can control Chaos, or the overlap of necessities and the outcry of Order, while maintaining the reproduction of society on this microcosmic scale. But not only that but to make an event out of a small error as well, yet, without being able to see Demuirge society, expected with how the Chief Demuirge treated the subject from the prompt to the ending. Good story I say. Get a happy slippery boi gif of Mischief.
I completely adore the attention you give to your comments, and the interpretations you find in other people's stories. The capitalism reference was unintended ahaha but I can see what you mean. Basically what I wanted to show is the second point you make. I imagined the Demiurge society as a highly-organized swarm-like society with some of a fetish for Order. But what you reject lives in you and shows whenever it can. Meaning that obssessing about Order and Concert is the best way to get swiveled by Chaos in more than one unpleasant way.
Thanks for kindly reading!
Yeah, reminds me of the New Angels who are anti-Chaotic Orderly forces. I just felt that off the Demiurges who seem like mere derivatives. A great correction is in order.
I liked how you prolonged the alienating, cold mood of the first half. The third person omniscient focused on the Demiurge was also interesting together with a smooth style and a good final twist. Well done!
haha, an all too humanly chief demiurge! :)
You gave it a moral sense as not to be impatient and ambitious or otherwise punishment is about to come.
Thanks for giving me your vote. I haven't participated all along this week. I was busy with my last post and getting in touch with the readers.
Maybe next time I will get involved a bit more again.
Have a good day, @amirani!
The 39th Edition stands ready for another journey through dreams and imagination. You've until next Wednesday to weave your tale. Will you share your story with us once again?