Seeing Faces
It’s rare when we get a shipment to deliver that’s not packaged somehow — either in Earth-standard boxes, another world’s version of shipping crates, or a livestock pen of some kind. Even that bunch of alien trees had been thoroughly wrapped at the bottom. But this collection of machinery parts didn’t have so much as a layer of cling-wrap on it. I guess the owners figured these things were sturdy enough not to need it.
They were probably right. The metal chunks were heavy. I tried to guess what they were made for as Blip and Blop muscled the biggest ones onto a hover sled, clearing the way for Paint and me to gather up the smaller pieces. Captain Sunlight bid the customer farewell and shut the cargo bay door.
“I think these look like vertebrae,” I said to Paint. “Greasy vertebra. Ew. I’m going to need a new shirt.” The offworld engine oil of whatever didn’t seem acidic at least, so that was nice. I sighed about the black smears.
“Strange vertebrae,” Paint said, juggling her own armload of odd shapes that didn’t seem to be rubbing off on her orange scales. Not that I was jealous or anything. “There would need to be a dual spinal cord.” She tapped a claw on one of the holes.
“Hm, yeah. There are probably animals like that,” I said. “Or robots, as the case may be.”
Ahead of us, Captain Sunlight opened the door to the appropriate storage hold, then headed off on captainly business. It was impressive how different a vibe she gave off compared to Paint, for all their physical similarities. Both were little lizardy people, but one strode with her lemon-yellow head held high, every inch the authority figure, while the other was Paint. She somehow bounced when she walked, even when weighted down by unwieldy metal things.
“I’ll bet these stack really well,” Paint said. “They look like they interlock. We could probably build a spinal column without them falling over.”
“We probably could,” I agreed. “But I don’t want to be the one responsible for bending one of the flanges because we wanted to test it out.”
“Hm. Yep yep yep. But I maintain that we could.”
“We could.”
The two of us entered the storage hold to find Blip and Blop racing to see who could unload the sled faster. It’s not that the Frillian twins were overly competitive, but they were twins. They’d apparently hatched at the same time, and had been in a low-key competition to see who was better at life ever since. But they smiled while they did it.
“Done!” Blip declared, setting down a lump of metal big enough for Paint to hide behind. She raised her hands in triumph, fins fluttering.
“Doesn’t count,” Blop said as he put down his own piece. “You didn’t line them up right. Mine are tidier.”
They squabbled about this while Paint and I unloaded our metal chunks nearby. I had to kneel to keep from dropping the things. It would be just my luck if they did warp on impact, or bounce off each other and whack me in the shin.
The Frillians took their debate out the door before I finished. They’d already moved on to who could steer the hoversled with the minimum of touching.
“Ha,” Paint said. “They do stack.”
I turned to see only one of the things set on top of another, with Paint ready to catch it if it slid. She took it down before I could say anything.
I just nodded and arranged my own into a reasonable huddle, then wiped my hands on my shirt. It was only when I moved toward the door, with a look back at the big pieces, that I got a good look at the one that Blop had set on its side.
This was the logical place to put it, not sticking out past the rest, but the thing that caught my attention was the shape when seen from this angle. Those two holes could have been eyes, and the flanges were shaped like stubby arms. There were even a couple slots in the middle like nostrils.
I burst out laughing.
“What?” Paint demanded.
“It looks like Zhee!” I said, pointing. “Big bug eyes and everything!”
“What does?” Paint asked. She came to stand next to me, following my arm, but just looked confused. “Where are the eyes?”
“These!” I said, stepping closer and pointing at the holes. “And those are the arms. Isn’t it perfect?”
Paint cocked her head as if slightly tilted vision could unlock the answers. “Arms?”
I repeated myself, but she still looked lost, so I found a notepad and pencil in a storage cupboard —reliable even when the batteries all run out — and sketched what I saw.
“Ohh, I get what you mean now,” Paint said when I showed her. “Those parts are lifted like pincher arms, and those are roughly the same proportion as Mesmer eyes.”
“Yeah, it’s uncanny,” I said.
Paint took the notepad to study it closer. “How did you even notice that?”
“It was pretty easy,” I told her. “It just jumped out at me when I looked from the right direction. Like seeing faces in clouds, you know?”
Paint’s blank expression said that she didn’t know.
“Do you not do that? Find patterns of familiar shapes in random things?”
“No?” she replied. “Is that a thing I’m supposed to be doing?”
“You don’t have to! It’s just something that everybody does on Earth, ever since we’re kids. It’s probably from a long history of watching for camouflaged predators in the bushes. You’ve got camouflage on your planet, right? You must.”
“Yeah, sure,” Paint said easily. “But I guess not that much. I’ve never seen a face in a cloud; that sounds terrifying.”
“Not really; it’s more like feeling smart for spotting something. Well,” I amended. “It could be a little unsettling if you see a skull or something. But that’s rare. There are whole systems of divination about this sort of thing.”
Paint looked like she was about to ask a million questions, but right then the sound of familiar clicking footsteps tapped down the hall.
“Zhee!” Paint called, whirling with the notebook in her hand. “Zhee, look what Robin saw!”
Zhee came into view looking just as eyecatching and purple as usual, halting at the doorway while Paint eagerly explained the conversation we’d just had. Quickly and enthusiastically. With lots of waving the sketch around, and pointing back at the machine part.
I felt like apologizing as he stared with an unreadable alien expression. His antennae weren’t even moving; I couldn’t tell what he thought of it all.
Finally Paint finished talking. “She says it’s probably because her species watches for predators in the bushes. Isn’t that amazing?”
Zhee made a point of looking slowly from the sketch to the metal thing, then to me. I braced myself for judgement.
Instead, Zhee raised his pincher arms into the same pose and declared, “I am the danger that lurks in the bushes.” Then he slunk out of sight, many legs scuttling in a quickstep way that he knew darn well I found creepy.
Paint blinked at the empty doorway, still holding the notebook.
“Aw, man,” I said. “He’s picking things up from Trrili.”
Paint immediately closed the notebook. “We definitely shouldn’t show her.”
“Agreed!” I said.
After a moment of thought, Paint tore the page out and handed it to me, then took the notebook back to the cupboard. I pocketed it with a final glance at the metal vertebra that looked remarkably like a cartoonish Mesmer squaring up for battle.
Someone had left a roll of no-residue marking tape on a box nearby. I grabbed a strip and stuck it onto the metal, with the ends curved up.
Now the thing had a goofy grin that possibly no one would recognize. But if there were any humans on the receiving end of this delivery, they ought to get a good laugh out of it.
~~~
The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!
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“Who did this to you?” A deep voice echoes, vibrating around the walls of the throne room. On the opulent throne sits the owner of the baritone voice — Ryomen Sukuna. The king of curses, resting his head on his arm as he looks down at you, too scared to look up from your feet.
“I don’t like repeating myself.” He warns, your body hasn’t ceased shaking. Your uniform is tattered, the rips in the fabric revealing deep purple bruises. Uraume was the one that found you, unconscious in the butlers pantry. After waking you up they brought you to the throne room. So there you were, kneeling at the feet of your king.
You arrived to the estate a year ago, your life as a servant was agreeable. Lord Sukuna treated all his servants well. You were loyal, efficient and pleasant to look at, it was only a matter of time before he started to notice you.
At first he requested you be the one to serve him breakfast. Then it became lunch, and suddenly you tended to all his meals. He demanded you for everything, his bathing, dressing. He could do all of these things himself of course, but he prefered your gentle hands. His personal attendant, not even Uraume, had seen the king of curses at his most vulnerable... but you had bared witness to all of him.
“Fine, if you won’t tell me who. Then why?” Ryomen slowly rises from his throne, his looming figure towering over your kneeling body. He lowers himself to your level, one hand reaches down to lift your chin. Firm yet gentle he forces you to look up at him, your eyes meeting his red ones. Your once flawless skin is covered in bruises. His eyes darken.
“They t-think you favor me.” Is all you can manage to get out.
Word spreads around the estate of course. And plus Sukuna didn’t exactly hide his preference for you. You didn’t sleep with the rest of the help, you were given a room connected to his. ‘In case he requested your presence in the night’ but the reality was he slept better knowing you were near. You didn’t eat the servant food, you dined in the great hall. At a separate table he had made for you. All of these things on full display for the others to see, it wasn’t long before the insults started. At first it was the odd ‘slut’ or ‘whore’ being mumbled in passing. Then an accidental shove into the wall, always followed by a curt “sorry”.
But today? It was your birthday. You had only mentioned it to Ryomen in passing one day at breakfast. He never understood the need for such a useless celebration. You went about your duties for the day, when Uraume found you and handed you a small box. And there on display for everyone to see, a beautiful beaded bracelet made from polished cherry wood. A token of appreciation ‘for your hard work’.
A gift from the king of curses.
“What’s so great about you anyway?”
“Lord Sukuna’s bed-warmer gets everything she wants!”
They punched and kicked, throwing you into the pantry. The group of servants you once thought of as your family. Clouded by jealousy, hatred towards you — the lord’s favorite.
Ryomen Sukuna, the epitome of ruthlessness and malevolence, softens his gaze. He looks upon your trembling form with… pity? His moment of weakness is replaced by an unreadable expression.
“You have been relieved of your servant duties. You will stay here in my quarters from here on out.” It’s a demand, leaving no room for objection. Your eyes well up with tears looking up at your king, his other hand wipes them away. He rises, walking towards the door, his back facing you.
“Get up. Uraume will tend to your injuries. Once you are well, we will visit the servant’s quarters. You will point out those who laid their filthy hands on you, and I will kill them.”
part 2 out now!!
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