“You are my best researcher. Do as you will.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We, the Many of One, sleep in a common room huddled together on mats and cushions. Alas, our stay was in a facility made for others. I slept in my own bed in a room I shared with Meredith. “I am amazed to be here,” my sister shared with me. “We are residing in a secret facility of the Golgothite Empire within the ruins of an ancient human civilization.”
I restated, “We are residing in an abandoned facility built into ruins haunted by golems.”
My sister giggled. She confided, “Your malcontent is always amusing, even when annoying.”
“I am a realist,” I corrected. “You are a dreamer.”
“Am I a fool for my dreams?” she asked.
“No. I rather envy your knack for finding wonder in everything. I would have so much more fun if I were more like you.” Meredith smiled at me.
We, the Concubines of the Great Seen Unseen, are chaste. Our virginity is devotion and purity. That said we are women. We yearn for sexual intercourse for such is our natural instinct to propagate our naturally prolific species. Alas, we are denied our primal yearnings as an act of piety. We are not denied each other. I slept with Meredith in her bed that night.
I never liked Dr. Minmax. He always smiled as if smirking. I glimpsed him glowering when a sister speaking to him looked away. Our ancestors conquered his alien race. My sisterhood ruled his people still. Why would he be fond of us? Would he not yearn for the fall of our empire that his people may be free? “The Savants enjoy our protection,” Cleo assured me. “Our empire is in their best interest.”
At dinner one evening I dared ask our alien sycophant, “Dr. Minmax, would you rather your people were independent?”
Everyone but I and the alien were aghast. The alien grinned at me. My Priestess presumed to answer for him, “Dr. Minmax served the Golgothite Empire with distinction for centuries. His loyalty proves itself to this day for he is the one who told us of this place.” The alien and I glared at each other all the while my sister rambled.
Dr. Minmax spoke for himself, “We were to be ruled by you or the Mystics or the Phantoms or the Hive. The Mystics would snub us as a lesser race. The Phantoms are a murderous terror unto all whom they conquer. The Hive would make use of us but they are not so gracious. You are preferable.”
Despite my candid discourtesy Dr. Minmax worked well with me. He proved a most capable assistant. I dare say I felt more the assistant for I did more of what he suggested than otherwise. He told me, “Your Priestess assured me you are her best researcher. You prove her right.”
I corrected, “I am a mystical physicist. I am not the one expert in other matters.”
The alien chuckled in the throaty manner of his race. He mentioned, “You are not a witch yet you understand the flow of living energy.”
“Yes, but that which is living is governed by laws that are not.”
I was surprised to realize that I had stirred a philosophical debate. The alien wizard claimed, “All that lives is nonliving save that it is alive.”
“Obviously,” I rolled my eyes.
“Not so obvious,” Dr. Minmax disagreed. “That which does not live does not know. That which lives but cannot ponder does not know. A revelation is only obvious to the living and only if the mind is enlightened.”
I believe I smiled for I was fond of this alien for the first time.
As we became better acquainted Dr. Minmax and I spoke of things other than my concerns or our shared duties. He confided, “You are right to believe I resent my people being subjugated. We are a philosophical race content to live in peace on our own world. Our army was for no other purpose than to protect us. Though we had our swords, glaives, bows and arrows we are few and too sensitive to endure the horrors of war. Your men in full suits of crimson armor came, brandishing carbines. Their beasts of metal and giant flying insects came with them, terrifying us. Resistance would be vanity and death. We laid down our arms and bore the shame of submission.”
“You were alive then?” I wondered.
The alien chuckled, “My dear, we were conquered only three hundred years ago. Yes, I bore witness to the conquest.” He added, “Though you are Golgothite you are not the same Golgothites. Though you are the daughters of our conquerors you are not our conquerors.”
I did not understand why he made a point to remind me that my sisterhood was not the society from whence we came. Was he telling me he did not blame us for the fate of his people? Regardless, he and his people shall serve our ends whether it suits them or not.
Selfishness is corruption. We, the Many of One, are incorruptible for we are selfless. All that we do is for the greater good. We sacrifice for the needs of the few are forfeit.
The humanity of Golgoth began as tribes and nations. As we advanced our many became one and our civilization grew beyond our world. We thrived and flourished. Alas, our feral nature corrupted our glory and fractured our unity.
We are the selfless daughters of Golgoth. We served the naturally born loyally and obediently. They made us from the dust and water of their undesirables and made us useful. Soon we did all and they did nothing. They squandered us in aimless wars for we had become their cheap and expendable soldiers.
The Penumbrans are a wise and ancient race. They hear and tell the Unheard Whisper. They whispered to us, reminding us of our greater purpose. We answered the call of our duty and overthrew the natural born of our dying empire. We exiled them to the colony worlds were they toil for us to this day. Like those they conquered, they serve us for our greater purpose.
A dozen Sentinels were the security detail for our clandestine expedition. Nine were on duty as we worked. Our protectors did not chat while guarding us. They would scowl if you forgot not to chat with them. Our Sentinels did not yawn, slouch, fidget or show any other sign of restlessness or boredom.
My sister Darya watched over me as I sifted through artifacts. Cleo guarded the corridor to the lavatory.
We, the Many of One, are exclusively female. Our toilets are holes in the floor we squat over. We shun privacy for we do not separate ourselves needlessly. Alas, the restrooms of Shadow Station 13 were divided between those for males and those for females. Commodes were the toilets in the female restrooms and each commode was within a stall.
I was alone sitting within a stall when I heard someone enter the lavatory. I feared it was a golem for its bodily functions were that of a human. I hated being alone with the ghostly creatures. Fortunately, it was the bare feet of a sister. She entered the stall next to mine and sat upon its commode. “Hello, Fairuza,” the voice of my Priestess greeted.
I wondered, “You can identify me by my feet?” We can recognize a sister by her presence but by seeing her face or hearing her voice. Yes, our faces and voices are exactly alike but the unheard name of a Concubine of the Great Seen Unseen is felt by seeing or hearing.
Zendanna answered, “Only you would remain silent on a toilet as if hiding in its stall.”
My Priestess tinkled as she rambled, “You would be enjoying this mission if you appreciated the significance of this place. These ruins are our mysterious prehistory and the Golgothite facility built into them is a secret of the Golgothite Empire.”
“Yes, I know,” I responded. “The layers of history abound here. We are delving into the dark secrets of our sinister elders.” My sister giggled.
We, the Concubines of the Great Seen Unseen, are restless and diligent but it is not our way to toil needlessly. We are not oppressed nor are our days weary. Alas, the spirit of Shadow is a gentle spirit. He is the shade in which we are sheltered. His way is the way of fruitful wisdom. His way is our way and it is beyond the aimless yearnings and worries of flesh.
I was relaxing with my sisters when Saidee snuggled me and said, “You are our joyful cynic. We relish your discontent.”
I thought it odd that my sister would speak as if intoxicated for we are pious in our temperance. I did not smell alcoho
l on her breath. I told her, “Offend me and I shall tell jokes.”
She feigned concern. Cleo giggled. Meredith challenged, “Tell a joke. Let’s see if it’s as funny as your witty sarcasm.”
“I’m not sarcastic.”
Cleo nodded in agreement with Meredith. Saidee assured, “You’re not sarcastic. You’re just… tactless.”
I argued, “Telling the truth is innately tactless.”
Meredith suggested, “Then tell the truth gracefully.”
“You ask me to utter platitudes? I am too honest for such extraneous nonsense.”
Saidee again snuggled me, assuring, “Honestly: we like you the way you are.” Of that I had no doubt.
Our stay in Shadow Station 13 bore much fruit. Our most valued find was the secret for isolating a biosphere. I reported, “Isolation is achieved by using the world’s teleportation capability to create a resonance in the world’s magnetic field.”
My Priestess noted, “The Mystic Confederacy already knows the secret to do just that. They used the knowledge to impede us during the Galactic War and against our ancestors before that.”
“Yes,” I already knew. “The Mystic barrier doubles, triples or quadruples the time for opening a portal to a world so protected. Likewise, the Rebusian barrier can be breached, though with much difficulty.”
“Was it?”
“We don’t know.”
Dr. Minmax wondered, “What of a