MEAT PACKING DISTRICT — FAVELA CITY
11:35 AM
Stella had led a relatively sheltered life. Other than the haunting memories of Thorn, she had never confronted raw hatred or violence, nor grappled with deeply primitive experiences. While Contrast had taken her as far south as northern Ordiz on two occasions, most of her shadow had been resolved in Compiz and Pluriz by the age of ten. The traumatic memories from Thorn—felt as if Stella herself had lived them—were the most intense she had ever faced in these soulful worlds. But the events of the previous day weighed heavily on her mind. It wasn't the demons; slaughtering them had been oddly satisfying. Rather, it was the man, Hepius, who had chosen death over the life she had enabled. This feeling was unfamiliar and unsettling. Stella was not accustomed to seeing Underlings as people, and she struggled to come to terms with the encounter.
They followed Sibyl toward the distant warehouse, a colossal structure of steel and concrete that overshadowed everything around it.
Zie reverted to zir steely demeanor, speaking in a detached manner reminiscent of a robotic tour guide from the twenties. “This lab was established by a revered Earthling. His ambition: to aid travelers in accelerating their journey up the spiral. By 2052, researchers recognized that some humans took longer than others to integrate their shadows. Transitioning from Ordiz to Compiz—which was the highest stage back then—proved challenging for a quarter of Earth's populace. This discrepancy persists today across all developmental stages. Some individuals simply transcend their shadows more rapidly.”
Before them stood the imposing metallic structure, windowless and spanning the area of a football field. It seemed to mirror Sibyl’s mood perfectly.
“Are you all right, Sibyl?” Shadow asked, staying close with his shoulder brushing against zirs. “I can sense your distress. I feel it too, you know.”
Without meeting his gaze, Sibyl tilted zir head downward, allowing the tips of zir mohawk to hang before zir eyes. “A traveler—let's name him X—proposed a theory. He suggests the issues arise from traumatic memories passed down from previous generations. He argues that these shadows, rooted deep in one's epigenetic code, are tough to confront. They're the unfair burdens—the legacies Earthlings find hard to shed.”
“In New York, folks would place owl statues by the windows to ward off the pigeons,” Shadow remarked. “Funny thing is, city pigeons probably never encountered a real owl in their lives. So, I never understood why they run away.”
Huffing slightly as she tried to keep pace with the others, Stella replied with a smirk, “Well, I’m terrified of tacky statues, and I'm certainly no pigeon.”
Sibyl continued in a scholarly tone, “Past studies on epigenetic inheritance in organisms like planaria flatworms and C. elegans suggest that it might be transmitted through small double-stranded RNA. However, the exact mechanism—how it interacts with neurons in the brain for more intricate memories—is yet to be understood.”
“Genes are grossly overrated. Aren't you the living proof of that?” Stella posed. “You connect them all, don’t you?”
“Our shared unconscious,” Shadow whispered thoughtfully.
Sibyl, rolling her eyes with a touch of sass, countered, “The idea of a collective memory is intriguing. But to dismiss everything as the universe's doing is 'untestable' and, according to some, counterproductive to scientific advancement. Besides, an entity—or something akin to me—might not even be present higher up the chain. So, to validate his theory, X initiated tests on his proposed transmission mechanism spanning three generations, involving thousands of model organisms. He's even extending his research to check if unrelated subjects can inherit a traumatic memory. The key might lie in bioelectrical networks.”
They neared the entrance of the monolithic structure. The warehouse's automated sliding doors, towering at twenty feet and constructed from reinforced steel, were clearly designed to deter and protect against any unwanted entry.
“Oh nooo! Not thousands of traumatized worms.” Stella quipped with a smirk. Noticing a change in Shadow's demeanor as he neared the door, she inquired, “What?”
He paused, a shiver passing through him. Closing his eyes briefly, he whispered, “Just a bad feeling. Warehouses... they're never a good sign in the lower worlds.”
As the doors silently slid open, Stella's gaze was immediately captured by a solitary spotlight illuminating the nearest corner of the expansive room. Within its harsh, clinical glow, the stuff of nightmares was laid bare.
A teenage girl gave birth, a tender smile gracing her lips. But her moment of joy was cruelly truncated as a cold steel blade emerged from her chair, severing her head just as her baby came into the world. Mechanical arms swiftly gathered the mother's remains, processing them into a grisly pink pulp even as the infant's first cry pierced the silence.
That heartbreaking wail was a gut punch, leaving Stella reeling. She retched, overwhelmed, as machines efficiently erased all traces of the macabre event. Shadow, beside her, stood frozen, but his eyes held a tempest so fierce that she braced herself for a cataclysmic event.
Stella wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her dress, clutching Shadow's shuddering form. Uncharacteristically, he offered no solace—no soothing embrace, gentle words, or reassuring smiles. Together, they watched as machines lifted the infant into a glass chamber, with feeding needles embedding into her tiny limbs. Suddenly, they were the center of attention, bathed in a spotlight so intense it blinded Stella.
Rooted to the spot, Shadow's internal turmoil was evident in his eyes and tremors. It hit Stella then: he had witnessed such horrors before. This had been his relentless reality for years. She pondered how he had managed to endure, to seemingly hold onto sanity—until the chilling realization struck her that, perhaps, he had not.
Stella felt the edges of her sanity fraying. She yearned to scream, to exact revenge on the mastermind behind this monstrous operation. All the while, Sibyl continued, projecting a smile that was a calculated blend of amiability and cold detachment. In that expression, Stella saw a mirror of her own simmering anger, recognizing that Sibyl too was struggling to suppress zir fury. “Due to the significant leaps X's experiments have spurred on human progress, he's touted as a frontrunner for the Nobel Peace Prize this October.”
“A maniac, celebrated?” Stella shot back; disbelief clear in her pitch.
Sibyl's nod confirmed it.
Shadow's voice, hushed and eerily controlled, barely rose above a whisper. “Do the people of Earth truly understand the nature of these experiments?” The icy edge to his tone rivaled even Sibyl's.
“As long as the experiments align with Earth's developmental goals, no questions are raised. Animal experimentation has been entirely prohibited, leading to the cessation of inhumane scientific practices Up Above. The results speak for themselves,” Sibyl explained, baring her teeth in a manner reminiscent of an outdated robot. Zir eyes, though, were as sharp as a butcher’s knife. Just like Shadow, zie was containing zir storm. Stella, on the other hand, felt her own emotional maelstrom teetering on the brink of eruption.
Damn it, Twist's voice intruded into their minds, jolting both of them. The Ledger grants color tokens based purely on the positive impact individuals have on the metrics from Up Above. Some of these people could be leaders in our communities. Given the service we've facilitated, letting them satiate their demons, it's plausible they might even function at the EC level. We're in the dark. These monsters would never vote to out themselves. And due to Storm's glitches, they've been deprived of their regular 'fix' for weeks. Now, with people dying, the integrity of our governance systems is in jeopardy.
“‘People’ have been dying every day, Harry,” Shadow's voice was laden with bitterness, the tremor in his words reverberating through the ground beneath them. Stella gripped his arm tightly, lending him a silent support. “The crimes may have moved, but they're still happening. Your indifference astounds me. Stop hiding behind those damned screens.”
Stella mentally scanned every member of the EC. “Their dominant red hues would surely betray them in Up Above's Unanimity theaters, in their attire and surroundings, wouldn't they?”
Sibyl moved closer, zir expression still glacial. “Spiral evolution encompasses rising above yet integrating the lower stages. The absence of heart doesn't exclusively align with red. Many hearts bleed red for all the right reasons.”
“They do, and they should,” Shadow's words emerged, imbued with a fervor better suited to his poet’s angry lips.
Bud, get out of there. That place reeks of nightmares. This isn't helpful, Sibyl. I've seen more than enough.
Twist's interjection was met by Sibyl's cryptic smile as zie addressed him, “You've got a visitor at your residence, Twist.” Zir eyes briefly darted towards Stella.
Wh-Who?
Just as Sibyl was about to divulge more, Stella interjected, “It's a surprise. My surprise. Hurry, we've got things handled here.”
Now's not the time for guests...
Exhaling deeply, Stella said, “For once, trust me. And don't forget to disconnect from us. This one is... personal.”
There was a sharp intake of breath, and suddenly, Twist's interface went dark.
In the aftermath of the spotlight's intensity, Stella's eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness of the surroundings. Tentatively, she scanned the room, barely daring to breathe. On their left was a wall studded with thousands of ovular artificial wombs. Within each, an unborn child floated. From a nexus of semi-transparent tubes, the grisly remains of the deceased mother were pumped into each womb. The sterility and detachment of the space made Stella's skin crawl.
Yet, it was the scene on the opposite wall that truly stole her breath. Rows upon rows of young girls lay on bunk beds separated by glass-like barriers. None of them seemed to have crossed the age of thirteen, and every single one bore the undeniable bulge of pregnancy. The eerie part was their uncanny resemblance to the girl they had just witnessed being murdered—as if they were clones. Their faces, devoid of any emotion, were lit up by individual screens that played serene scenes of nature: birds, bees, and butterflies.
Sibyl gestured towards the girls, zir voice cold and analytical. “Here, he's experimenting with the influence of the mother's womb on the child's epigenetic memory. Each fetus inside those artificial wombs has a twin being carried by these girls.”
Stella's response was visceral. A scream erupted from her, raw and piercing, fueled by disgust and righteous anger. It seemed endless, echoing the depth of her horror. These girls had been reduced to breeding machines, stripped of their identities and humanity. To Stella, it was an abomination, a heinous crime against...against… They aren’t human, they are lower creatures. Yet, no logic could appease her rage.
She was part of the problem. She’d never asked questions about the metrics and the incentives and the cost on the shadow worlds. In her green days she had marched with others to free farmed animals from their torment. She knew they too had a soul. She used to play ball with the cows and the pigs at the farm when she was little. They loved and experienced joy, sadness, fun, frustration, and pain. They missed her when she wasn’t around, and they lobbied for food and scritches when she visited. She was devastated every time she saw old documentaries showing the animals with dead eyes, cooped up in impossibly small spaces and fed by machines. Curious souls crushed by boredom, lack of learning, and absence of love.
She’d fought against the pecking order of souls Up Above, learning and evolving to create Systizien solutions—cultured meat, vegan leather, artificial milk. She’d been proud of all the tokens granted by the Ledger every time she made an impact on Earth’s development goals.
Still, like all others, she had accepted the experimental pecking order established by two unelected Gods, weeks before they were murdered. An untested hypothesis, implemented by a willful universe shackled by old rules. She shook her head. She was regurgitating Storm’s words and indulging in unhelpful feelings. Rage was never the answer, and still…she couldn’t stop screaming, and all the girls stared at her with their sleepy eyes.
Beside her, Shadow struggled to contain his grief, tears bursting out from his eyes as the storm thundered outside. And then it hit the roof over their heads, electrifying the entire metallic building and threatening to fry them and all the children. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.
“Come here. Come here!” She squished him.
She did it to stop the deadly storm and because she needed it—a hug, maybe two. And he collapsed over her shoulders, sobbing madly. And that’s when she understood he had needed that hug for a very long time. This was just one of billions of traumatic experiences, all out of control. Human shadows were darker than ever.
His voice quivered as he whispered, “Hope is a plan.” With newfound determination, he dashed toward the girls, flinging open each glass door. Sibyl stood beside him, watching intently, zir mohawk bouncing in palpable anticipation.
Tears shimmered in Stella's eyes. “Shadow, we can't help them all like this. There are billions.” She hastily wiped them away, voice breaking with urgency. “We need to get to the lab. Explore system-level solutions.”
He stared at her, his brows furrowing in a judgmental scowl. “Abstraction is a step away from the human heart, and someone needs to have one—a heart. We're no different from the heartless if we turn our backs on the pain right before us. Don’t lose your heart, Stella. We don’t need your perspective right now.”
With a gentle touch, he tenderly removed the needles embedded in a girl's arm, then, cradling her close, he carried her outside. They sat on the floor, the girl by his side, nestled against him.
Shadow smiled—all warmth and kindness—palms up, waving his fingers to draw the rest of them closer. Their eyes shifted away from screens to focus on him—a glimpse of curiosity returning the life that had been stolen from them. He blinked his large eyes, joyous and fun loving, as if the storm was nothing but a bad dream, and they started moving, first their heads, then their hands pulling out needles and discarding feeding tubes. Soon enough, they sat around him, mimicking his flirty expressions.
Still erratic, Sibyl acted like a retro bot, the fake smiles as blood chilling as the words zie spoke. “They leave their cubicles once a day to partake in highly curated, traumatic experiences, all documented so X can test if the memories will be passed onto their grandchildren.”
They can’t see you or hear you, right? Stella asked.
Sibyl shook her head. “The mothers are terminated after giving birth to prevent any oral memory transmission. Epigenetically, memory imprints must pass through three female generations to be conclusive; a girl is born with all her eggs, each carrying memories from her mother and grandmother. X believes that in two weeks, he'll have the proof he needs to launch his RNA-based memory deletion tool. As simple as ingesting a personalized meal. In two weeks, when these babies are born, he claims humanity will achieve a massive leap up the spiral of consciousness. I suspect he’s wrong. That, as Stella said, genes are…overrated. They are just hardware assembly manuals.”
What type of traumatic experiences? How much do they suffer? Shadow kept smiling even as his mind’s voice bled emotion.
“The suffering adheres to Compiz's guidelines. They endure minimal physical pain—like mild shocks and distasteful sensations. The real trauma lies in the psychological torment, especially episodes steeped in sheer terror.”
But in two weeks, if X's theory about epigenetic memory is right, we might see a shift in humanity's colors. Maybe more yellow and turquoise? Stella’s words felt like toxic poison. They stung in her mouth. Still, nothing compared to the sting of Shadows’ piercing eyes on her.
You don’t get it, do you? Stella shrugged, her tone defensive. Gods aren’t superheroes. They can’t be. There’s always a trade off.
Sibyl's eyes widened as if a revelation had just struck zir. That’s…an interesting point, zie mused. We need super-heroes, don’t we?
Shadow returned his attention to the girls and smiled.
“Who. Are. You?” One girl asked. Her mouth struggling to utter speech, clearly a capability they didn’t use often.
With a dramatic flourish and a sparkle in his eyes, he proclaimed, “Who in the world am I?’ Ah, that's the great puzzle! I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”
Stella recognized it, the old story as he went on almost singing his words.
“I know this girl, you see?” He spoke. “She’s called Alice, and one day…one day she was bored with sitting by her sister, having nothing to do.”
They all got closer and so did Stella. They sat there mesmerized by his story and the way he moved his hands and laughed and blushed when they smiled back. They awkwardly repeated some words: “Rabbit.” “Hole.” “Watch.” “Hat.” And then came the giggles. Plenty of giggles echoing around like little joyful bells, their hands rubbing their big round bellies in delight. And Stella wanted to laugh but it made her cry and all she could think was that they were losing time, and also that this was the most important thing she’d ever done with her time.
Stella's laughter held a tinge of hysteria. “I think I’m losing my mind.”
He squeezed her hand and replied as she knew he would. “I’m afraid so. You're entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are.”
Then he stood up, and as the girls did the same, he lifted his index finger just above his nose to call their attention. “And then Alice remembered what the Queen had told her. That sometimes she believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. Here’s one.” He leaned in and spoke quietly. “You can totally defy gravity.” Standing straighter, he winked. “I have.”
“Pretty sure that’s from another story,” Stella said, realizing quickly how silly the interjection had been, but she couldn’t help it. Like the rest of them, she was immersed in his words and the world they created.
He smiled, raising a brow. “It’s my story. I tell it the way I want.”
And she went along with it, singing the words she knew, waving her hands dramatically. “We’re through accepting limits 'cause someone says they're so. Some things we cannot change, but 'till we try, we’ll never know.” The girls clapped, and she clapped with the girls, and people were dying in all worlds—murders and suicides—while she was…telling stories…
She shouldn’t have traveled to the lower worlds. Twist had warned her years before. It was impossible to be an effective ruler if one is caught up in the pains of the worlds. Impact is best reviewed by analyzing data; strategy is best designed by reviewing cold hard facts and related trade-offs. Sensitive hearts make poor decisions, if they don’t bleed to death first. Accepting their humanity—the girls’ humanity—created a long-term existential risk for humanity, the real one.
Sibyl locked eyes with her, a cold smile cutting through clenched teeth. My resilient heart. I see now…Gods aren’t superheroes.
Resilient, but still…a heart, Stella whispered, every word laced with tension.
Shadow’s face betrayed him: a tight lip, shimmering eyes, and furrowed brows. “Everything is possible if you stick together and travel north and pray to the universe with all your hearts.” Sibyl, we’re going to send them to Pluriz. We don’t need miracles to help them. May their journey be filled with luck and serendipity and kind Underlings, and trees bursting with sweet fruit, and baskets of warm clothes and comfortable shoes. Do you understand?
Casting a decisive nod, Sibyl replied, “We don’t need miracles, just a little luck.” Zie moved with purpose towards the sliding door, flinging it open with a flourish. The startled girls gasped.
“What are you doing?” Shadow asked.
With a playful spin, Sibyl gestured to a nearby structure. “A cosplay workshop, just next door.”
“Cosplay?” Stella blinked.
“It’s like dress-up. Think Halloween,” Shadow clarified.
Stella’s brow furrowed. “Can’t we opt for something less... attention-grabbing?”
“More attention-grabbing than a sea of identical twins in white gowns?” Sibyl said. “They need masks and warm garments and shoes.”
Despite his exasperation, Shadow looked at Sibyl with tenderness. “Are you having fun?”
“I have fun, when you have fun, my heart. I’m just following your lead. No one will bat an eyelid at a cosplay convention.”
Stella smirked. “It’s audacious. I like it.”
Shadow leaned in, using the same magical expression he’d used with all the girls. “When the travelers are gone, the universe is allowed to have a heart. We don’t need miracles, just a little luck.”
“Here, as in Systiz, some travelers remain. This journey is fraught with danger.” Sibyl reminded him.
Shadow nodded. “We can’t stay for long, but I’ll ask Thorn to help, once they are back,” he said, as if it was a sure thing. “She’s the most qualified to deal with this world.”
Stella scoffed, “The best choice? You jest!”
He almost smiled, turning to Sibyl. “How long for the unborn?”
As one of the girls cradled the newborn, Shadow assisted with the intricate mechanisms.
“We have a fortnight before safe extraction,” Sibyl replied. “They must remain here for now.”
Stella’s voice quivered. “When X discovers the failure, will they be in danger?”
Sibyl offered a reassuring shake of zir head.
“We'll return for the babies,” pledged Shadow, looking intently at the girls huddled together.
With a deep breath, Stella tried to shield her heart from the haunting sights and memories. While she cared for these creatures, her driving force remained clear: Bibi, her beloved grandmother. Stella needed to prioritize the bigger picture—inter-world politics.
Shadow’s voice echoed with urgency as he shouted, “Let’s go! Follow me and stay together.”
And so they did. A cloud of hundreds of girls in their white gowns, bellies bursting with life, running past Stella on their way out. Some stopped half way, taking a moment to wave at the wall of unborn babies they were leaving behind—daughters, sisters, cousins.
“Stella, you have a notification from Dr. Kasali. The Nyiragongo is…” Sibyl began as Stella vanished.