I stand here, silent, as I always am, as the Emperor and his family sit in their plush seats at the crystal table, idly talking to each other. They pay me no attention, as if I’m invisible. As if I’m not there at all, and I almost wish I was not here at all, because then I could escape the suffocating feeling of the strange and all-consuming loneliness that overcomes me. I’m drowning on dry land. I am always drowning on dry land.
“What have you learned today in weapons training?” the Empress asks the Prince brightly.
“Nothing much. Just, a few different ways to cut a monster’s head from their body.” The Prince smiles.
Monsters. Like me. I shiver, at the thought of what the Prince could do to me if I ever stepped out of line, or if even he ever wanted to.
“That’s lovely,” the Empress states.
“You will be a great warrior yet,” the Emperor tells him.
He will, I’m sure. The Prince is glorious. He is good. He is capable of anything that he sets his mind to.
“Thanks, but it’s not easy,” the Prince replies.
“Of course it’s not easy, my son,” the Emperor coos, “but you’re studying hard and you’re not giving up. You will be a great leader yet.”
“Thanks, dad.”
“So, son,” the Empress begins, “have you talked more to the girl in your training cohort?”
“Not much, mother. But we get to talk here and there. She seems to like me well enough.”
“Would you like us to invite her to the palace?” she asks.
“I would, but I would feel a bit embarrassed being around her alone.”
“We could invite your other friends as well.”
“Okay, mom.”
“Boy!” I can tell that the Empress is addressing me because of the horrible and harsh tone she uses. My heart shivers in my chest under her harsh words. “Go get us more punch! The jug is running low!”
“Yes, Empress,” I reply readily, reply hollowly. There is nothing else I could say.
I rush to the kitchen with the diamond pitcher of punch and I hurriedly fill it, rushing back. The dining rooms are all close to kitchens, thank the gods, and each kitchen is fully stocked. So I do not have to walk for too long. But still, I take care to take as little time as I can. I know that I wil be rebuked if I don’t. I know that I have to perform as best as I can. I dodge and weave through the constantly moving nanobots all around me.
“You’re late.” The Emperor’s words are cold and devoid of affection. As they always are when talking to me.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I reply to him. He doesn’t reply back, turning once again to face his family. I stand there, ready to do whatever is required of me.
They talk on, once again oblivious to my presence. I am once again a shadow left against their blinding brilliance. And I listen to them talk. I listen to them talk even though it tears me up inside, even though it leaves me drowning, because the silence is somehow even more deafening.
———7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6VfwPmFTom
The family has retreated to their private rooms to attend their own matters. They are content and happy, after a long day of running the empire and living their lives. Usually, I am supposed to be attending to them even though. But I have to recharge the energy of the palace right now. A task which I am deeply dreading yet strangely looking forwards to.
The other slaves usually do most of the energy recharging. The castle is huge. It’s intricate. I wouldn’t be enough to do it all. I wouldn’t be enough to keep all the robots running and doing what they are meant to do. That’s why there are hundreds of other slaves making the energy to make everything run, using the magic in their bloodstream as an energy source for all the machinery that makes the palace run.
But the Prince breaks things. He breaks things all the time. And I have to use my magic to repair them. It’s my job, and really the main reason that I am kept here in the castle, kept away from all the other slaves, kept away from all the other monsters, away from anyone in the same position as me. Because I’m needed in here, not out there. And I need to do all that I need to do in here.
So I walk into the contraption of whirring metal parts that is connected to all the things that the Prince broke. I get inside the twisting and moving metal cage. And I attach all the wires made of Vaderium to my wrists, my neck, the holes on my lips. I take a deep breathe as everything writhes to life around me.
And all I can feel is pain. It courses throughout each and every part of my body, burning and grating and leaving me shaking and gasping. My body feels like it’s being ripped open and sliced with a serrated knife. It feels like pure heat is flowing in my veins instead of blood. And it’s white-hot. White-hot. Everything is white-hot. I almost pass out, as I always do, but the machine isn’t merciful enough to let me do that, as it needs me awake in order to extract my magical energy.
But it’s okay. It’s what I’m here for. It’s what I exist for. I exist to burn. I exist to hurt. I exist to hurt and to bring glory to the empire with my hurting. It’s all that I am capable of. It’s all that I will ever be capable of. A monster like me, weak and pathetic and lowly, can only serve his betters, can only be a sacrifice to the empire.
Hours pass, and eventually I am released from the hold of the machine. I collapse on the floor, and I lay there, breathing hard. Everything inside me aches. Everything inside me feels like death. But this is not a new sensation. I always feel like death in my heart. I always feel beyond death. My body is simply reflecting my heart and my mind right now, was simply reflecting it during the whole time I was in that looming mechanism.
It’s sweet, having your body reflect your heart. Sweet and terrible and magnificent.
I suppose I’m lucky in a way. I only have to do this for about two hours each day. The other monsters, the other slaves on the Home Planet or the lower planets, they have to go for eight hours each day. That must be worse. Maybe. I don’t know how they do it. But at least they have other monsters around them. Sometimes I think that I could endure any amount of physical pain for any amount of time if it meant I could have other monsters around me, in my life. I don’t know why I long for this so badly.
A whizzing disc flies up to me, about the length of one of my fingers. One of my dark purple, monstrous fingers.
“Slave! Bring me a dragon simulator.” The Prince’s voice echoes through the room from the small device, before it starts whizzing away again.
———
My arms are straining under the weight of the heavy gold-encrusted armour that I am lugging. I half walk, half run down the twisting corridors from the armoury to the training room. I have to go fast. I have to go fast. I have to get all of this armour to the Prince and I have to get him ready for training. Dodging the nanobots all along the way. I hate the nanobots.
I finally emerge into the large room with a glowing grid of neon stretched over its walls, with simulations of various beasts and monsters and even some people standing ready. The Prince is there, along with his four friends, the girl he has a crush on, and their trainer. I deposit the armour on the polished obsidian floor at his feet.
“Oh, you’re back, slave,” he acknowledges.
“Yes, sir.”
The armour rises up to coat him with itself. And he turns back to his friends. I stand on the sidelines, watching them fight an army of blackish-purple monsters that look too similar to me. I admire my master and his friends. Their skill, their prowess, their grace. I think about how ugly I must look from their point of view.
Finally, the simulated battle is over and the soldiers in training are left panting and coated with sweat.
“We did it,” the Prince’s blond-haired friend pants, “we killed them all.”
“Yes, we did!” The Prince’s voice is boisterous. “And we will kill them all. Boy!” he waves to me, “come here!”
I rush to him. His muscular figure towers above my scrawny skinniness.
“We will kill all the monsters!” he declares to his friends, catching my throat in his large, warm hands. I start panicking preemptively, knowing where this will lead. But as he squeezes tighter and tighter, cutting off my air, I feel a sense of calm and peace that I have never felt before. I will die like this. This is how I die.
He squeezes tighter. And tighter. I can’t breathe. My head throbs. My neck is overcome with pressure, it feels as if all my muscles are collapsing. I try to gasp but I can’t as my vision blurs. I feel lightheaded. My lungs feel like they’re being sucked out of my body. My whole body screams as it reaches desperately for oxygen that I cannot get.
I’m going to die. I’m going to die. He’s going to kill me. Thank the universe that he’s going to kill me. Thank the universe that I finally, finally, finally get to die. That this aching, hurting existence is finally going to end and maybe I’ll … maybe I’ll even be free. I am overcome by giddiness. He is going to kill me!
But he doesn’t kill me. He lets me fall onto the floor in a pathetic heap, desperately coughing and gasping in front of his friends who are standing above me, laughing.
“Just like that!” the Prince proclaims, “all the monsters will crumble before me just like that.”
“Won’t your dad get angry though?” the red-haired friend asks, “he is proud of the peace he created in the galaxy, and proud of the wealth he built as well.”
“The monsters are bound to forget their place and act up,” the Prince retorts, “then we’ll see.”
I want desperately to tell him that I know my place, I know my place, I will always know my place. But I know he doesn’t want to be interrupted now, not while he’s gloating to his friends. Not while he’s telling them of all the glories he will create when he finally takes his place as the new Emperor. When he takes his birthright.
I hope that his plan succeeds. That he can kill all of us. Because that will be better than this. That will be so much better than this burning existence that we are forced to live. Of course, this existence is deserved. But death would also be deserved. Death would also be deserved and it would be much sweeter.
But I know that this dream of his will not last into adulthood, will not last into the day when he actually becomes Emperor. He will realize how much the galaxy runs on our magic before that day. And everything will go on exactly as it is.
“Slave!” the girl orders, “Go get me a laser blaster!”
I pull myself up and rush back towards the armoury.
———
I trail after the Empress and her son while they take a stroll through the city gardens. I carry their bags behind them, straining at the weight, struggling to keep up with their unburdened steps. Inside the bags is a folded-together mini-gazebo for a picnic as well as picnic foods in a freezer. They are well-prepared for a day out in town. They even brought me.
“The garden is really beautiful,” the Prince comments.
“So it is,” the Empress agrees, looking around at the exotic and colourful flowers casting light all around. “What’s your favourite one here?”
They continue talking. And once again, I try not to listen. But I can’t help it. It cuts me so deeply, how I’m not a part of this. How I’m not a part of their bonding, a part of their love, a part of the connections that they share. Despite being so close to them so much of the time, there is always an invisible line between myself and the masters. I will never truly belong, except in the role of the servant.
I swallow down the lump forming in my throat. The lump constantly forming in my throat. I fight past the grief, past the loneliness, past the anger. Past the overwhelming and all-consuming loneliness that haunts my every moment, every heartbeat, every breath. I fight the bitterness on my tongue. And I stay silent, stay passive, stay in my place.
I suppose I should not complain. They feed me. They clothe me. I’m not part of the family. No matter the fact that I live in the palace along with them, no matter the fact that I see them every day. I am not really a part of this family and they don’t have to treat me as if I am. They don’t have to include me in their conversations. They don’t need to talk to me. They’re under no obligation. I should be grateful for what I have.
After all, the Prince is right, all that us monsters deserve is death. And the Empire doesn’t give us death. It gives us life. And for that we should be grateful.
My arms burn and I make sure to not let anything drop, straining and struggling to not trip over myself and make them scream at me. I have not messed up so far, but I need to be sure to not mess up ever. That would inconvenience my masters. And I cannot inconvenience my masters. Not only would they yell at me, but they deserve so much better than a clumsy slave that trips over themselves and causes chaos.
“I have to say, mother,” the Prince is speaking, “the flora from the lower planets is rather beautiful.”
“They are beautiful when they grow under the Empire’s control and protection,” the Empress replies, “as all things are.”
The Empire’s control and protection. I suppose I should be grateful for the Empire’s control and protection. They maintain the peace. They protect the weak. They protect all the planets under them. And all they ask for in return is our obedience and tribute. I suppose I should be grateful. I know I should be grateful. But for some reason, it’s really, really hard for me to be grateful.
The sun shines on the golden hair of the Empress and the Prince, and it blinds me.
———
The Emperor is walking down the long corridor lined by clear cells, housing all sorts of monsters. Beside him walks the Prince, and behind both of them trails me, as silent as the prisoners behind the glass walls.
“The Empire protects all those who need protecting,” the Emperor explains to his thirteen-year-old son, who is three years older than me. “We stop dangerous criminal monsters from hurting loyal monsters and from hurting our people.”
The prisoners all around look terrible. They have metal gags around their mouths and most of them are covered in scratches and bruises. Many of them are banging their heads, their hands, their bodies against the unyielding glass of their cells. They’re being tortured. They’re torturing themselves. I know how it feels.
“These monsters in these cells,” the Prince begins, “what crimes have they been brought to heel for?”
“Mostly they have tried to defy the Empire and they have tried to weaken our rule over and our hold on the other planets. I’m sure you know why that is dangerous.”
“Yes, sir,” there is a smile in his voice. “If we are not able to rule over the lower planets, if we are not able to care for and protect the lower planets, then there will be nothing to stop them from descending into chaos and turning on each other.”
“Absolutely, my dear son.” The Emperor’s words send a strange pang through my heart. “Without our protection they will descend into war. There will be chaos. Bloodshed. The strong will overpower the weak. The stability of the galaxy will crumble. And our own great and civilized planet will fall into ruin.”
“So have all the prisoners here tried to fight the Imperial Forces?”
“Most of them have, in petty and squalid little rebellions. But some of them have tried to steal back their power sources. Of course, they didn’t succeed.”
“What will happen if they have their power sources?”
“Then, my son, they could focus their magic in whatever direction they wanted to, rather than only being able to use it as an energy source to power our machines and technology. We all know, that if they have this sort of power, that would spell the end of what we’ve oh-so-carefully built.”
“How can we be sure that they will not be able to access the power sources that we have confiscated from them?”
“Because, my son, remember, the power sources are surrounded on all sides by the void, except for the tunnel that only we have control over. And remember, nothing can get through the void. The void destroys all life that touches it.”
“I will protect the artefacts in your inventory, father, I promise.”
“It is impossible to take the artefacts without annihilating yourself and them, for all that connects the power sources to the rest of the galaxy is an easily retractable tunnel. Still, I am sure that you will do much to protect the power of the Empire.”
———
I wake up. I am groggy and tired, but I used odds and ends I found to make myself a small alarm and I have to wake up now or else the masters will get mad at me. So I pull myself out of the rest of sleep, out of the glorious nothingness, the emptiness, that sleep brings. And I force myself, shaking internally, to face a new day. A new day full of the old horrors. Full of the old strains. Full of the old loneliness and the hatred and the misery.
I drag my feet to the small sink in my room, a room which is more of a closet really, and wash my face with water and brush my teeth with a bit of toothpaste. I go as fast as I can, so that I may have a few moments to myself when I’m done. I never have time to myself. Except deep in the nights, when the darkness cloaks everything. But night is far, far away and now I have to face the day.
I finish brushing and I sit down on the floor of my room. It’s a tiny room, just big enough for me to lie down in. It’s a sparse room. All I have is a thin, ratty blanket, a worn-out sheet on the floor, an old and thin pillow, a sink, and a squatting toilet. It’s nothing. But still, in the early mornings, when no-one is telling me what to do yet or where to go, it’s mine.
There are times, when the family is asleep, when I am awake, when I can think my own thoughts, without anyone looking at me, without anyone looking through me, without anyone expecting me, without anyone judging me, without anyone completely disregarding me. I treasure these times, because they are the only times when I am at least a little bit my own. I am at least a little bit free. I am at least a little bit able to escape the drudgery of the life that has been forced upon me.
Not that I want to be free. No, no. Of course not. I know my place and I know why it’s important for myself and everyone else to stay in our places. I could never dream of rebelling. I could never dream of seeking more freedom than the family is willing to give me. But I treasure the little bits of freedom that the family graces me with nonetheless.
I pull myself up and drag my heavy feet to the breakfast table so that I can lay out all the foods that the family will eat for breakfast. They have many hearty meats and thick stews and strange and exotic fruits from all around the galaxy. They eat food flavoured and seasoned with all the finest genetically modified spices. And everything they eat is so rich and so full of taste and flavour.
Once I’m done, I apply the temperature-regulating force field over the food to keep it all exactly the right temperature and to keep it fresh and moist and good. It’s an easy bit of technology to use, you just have to take pictures of the food and the disk will judge for itself what the optimal conditions for the food are. Still, it’s stressful nonetheless, because I have to make sure I get everything right. I always have to make sure I get everything right.
Now it’s time for me to eat my own breakfast. Which is not something I am looking forwards to. I walk to the kitchen and get out the jug of tasteless thick liquid out of the corner under the counter. I pour a glass out and I force myself to down the disgusting mixture that is not quite solid and not quite liquid. I know that it has calories, even if it’s lacking on the nutritional side. All I really need is calories. I don’t really need nutrition.
I glance out the window for a second, and all I can see is the shining gold of the palace. I wish there was something else out there.
———
It’s night time. It’s finally night time. All the family is asleep. The Emperor. The Empress. The Prince. And I am supposed to be asleep as well. And it is during this time when I am supposed to be asleep that I feel the most alive that I ever feel. It is during this time when the whole world is quiet that my own heart can finally be loud. Loud and undeniable and undeniably mine.
Not that I’m hurting my masters. Oh no, I would never hurt my masters. I’m good. But I am rebelling against them a little bit. In a way that doesn’t matter. In a way that doesn’t hurt anyone. In a way that is just, simply my own. The only thing in this life that I have for myself. The only thing in this life that I can find myself in.
I slip through my door and pad my way down to the library, magic thrumming in my blood. I have so much magic inside me, and it still flows through me even after the draining of energy from my body. All the pain, all the terror of that horrible machine that harvests energy from my being, it all cannot seep the magic from me. And that magic demands acknowledgment, demands release. It demands an act of rebellion, however small and meaningless.
I arrive in the library, darkened to blackness. My own ugly darkness is unnoticeable here. Unseen here. I get tomes from the shelves. And oh so tenderly, oh so gingerly, I open them up, everything around me and inside me going still for the moment where breath becomes air, where yearning becomes truth, and fire becomes light inside my shivering soul.
Holograms spin to life from the pages of the books in front of me. Holograms that teach me much about the universe. History, politics, technology, science, everything that a royal would need or want to know in order to run the Empire. So much knowledge, right at my fingertips.
And I learn, and I learn, and I learn.
Everything is so entrancing. I get to use my mind, I get to challenge myself, I get to test myself in all sorts of ways. I get to think creatively and solve problems. I get to find out how things work. And I get to find out how I can make things work. I can overcome difficulties and reach understandings and epiphanies. I can use the mental energy I have inside myself, the mental energy that has built up and built up over the years, that is just aching for release.
Throughout the whole process I make sure to keep an eye out for anyone’s footsteps, for any voices, for any hints that the family might be awake, that anyone might be coming for me. I know that if anyone finds me, if anyone at all finds me, and sees me then I will be dead. I will be quite literally dead.
But even this towering, looming danger isn’t enough to make me stop. I’m just too curious. I just love knowledge too much. I’m just madly in love enough and nothing, not even death can make me stop seeking this. It’s too enticing, too entrancing, too absolutely exhilarating. I might be a slave, I might be a slave and a monster, but I can learn things. I can learn things and I will.
After hours have passed, I close all the books and secretively return to my room. I sleep so that I won’t be too awfully tired in my day tomorrow.
7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGafbS0PvuU
————————7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeSkXuyolqD
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