NaNo Ridiculousness Day 5 + some of Day 6 (gotta start making actual chapters!)
Hey there,
Here's Day 5 and some of Day 6 (got to start making real chapters) of "I Prefer the Mind Control." Enjoy the ridiculousness!
Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4
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“Holy fuck, you're one of the Kings!” I shouted.
How the fuck could that be possible? But logic lead me to no other conclusion.
Myd's eyes widened, and showed what almost looked like signs of lucidity and life. Sort of. “Oh yes, I suppose I am, aren't I? Technically, anyway. I've been so shut off from everything, though. Precious little conversation. Most of my bodyguards don't like to talk. Wonder why they didn't try to kill you when you figured out who I was.”
Shit, I didn't think about that. “Because cleaning up bodies is a pain in the ass?”
“That it is,” Myd agreed. I had trouble thinking of him as “King” because he did not seem like a King, though plenty of those back on Earth had been batshit insane. Myd's crazy just didn't seem...regal to me. That wasn't fair, I knew.
Something else bugged me and not just the fact that one of the Kings of Zimara was a mentally not-all-there guy who rather stereotypically looked the part. He had said that he was “moral support and decoration.” Would killing off the arm candy really cause enough political instability that he needed to be locked down here?
If I thought about it, there was already instability because Jirrin freaked out over the mysteriously early competition for the throne. Looked like I had found the reason for said instability, only wouldn't the actual-ruler King still be around to, you know, rule things? So what was with the creepy “hide a dude in the basement or similar” act?
I broached the subject. “Say, Myd, why would leaving you down here be a good idea, exactly? You can tell me because your bodyguards don't seem like they're going to kill me. I honestly don't get it because, well, aren't there two of you? So, wouldn't your partner be able to keep the Kingdom from crumbling like a stale cookie?”
What? That was a good simile!
He shook his head and sighed. “Oh no, it doesn't work that way at all. Would be convenient if it did, though. Alas.”
“So, how does it work? Because I am extremely confused.” I pulled out one of the dining chairs and sat down, grateful that Zimarans were humanoid and thus had chairs I could sit in comfortably.
“I feel dreadful about dying.” Myd looked really fucking guilty, though I presumed he hadn't infected his brain with whatever had infected it. He continued, “You wouldn't understand as you're from off-world, but if I die, King Cenyl dies as well.”
“What, because you're psychically linked?” I wondered.
“Oh yes. Indeed we are. But it's not just an ordinary link like many temporary Zimaran couples share, oh no.” Myd gestured to his strange necklace again. “You see this here?”
“Is it some kind of psychic technology?”
Myd shook his head. “It's purely symbolic, to show I'm Soulbonded with dear Cenyl. We're linked for life, and death, too, unfortunately.”
I was still fucking confused. “Soulbonded? Is that like being married, only with psychic powers?”
“Oh no, it's not the same. From what I know, human marriages can be much more even, generally speaking. Soulbreaking never results in an even partnership. The very notion is silly!” He giggled to himself.
Now, I was even more confused. “So, what does happen? How does it work?”
Myd pulled out his own chair and sat down. “Hmm, how to explain? You know how my people use their mind control on each other, right? It's an extension of that. Like in an ordinary link, one Gives and the other Receives, but it's ever so much more. For one, it's permanent and literally cannot be done unless both parties want it. After all, it would be terrible to break another's soul unless they wanted it, yes?”
Why would breaking someone's soul ever be a good thing? Who would want that?
He said, “Breaking another's soul is a good thing, if it's wanted. You'll find that surprising as a human, but it's what enables the bond to work. Total submission of self from one party is required and, indeed, is the objective for a pair that truly wants to be together. It's how Zimarans show their love, with one partner as property and the other as owner. Hmm, I think you already know a bit about this, yes? From what I heard, Xan is quite fond of you and you admitted you were his plaything.”
“Well, yeah,” I said. I still didn't quite get this Soulbreaking stuff, but, in some way, I think I understood what he meant about owner and property. Xan did treat me as a possession of his, which was impossible amounts of hot.
“It's another level of commitment. Right now, you are psychically and legally still more or less your own person, with attendant rights and such. Xan's control over you is not strong enough to make you want something you truly wouldn't want. You could break the control or say 'no' to anything he requested if you really wanted to,” Myd said.
The idea of saying 'no' to any of Xan's requests was just fucking preposterous. I wouldn't want to, and I certainly hated the idea of breaking the control. I recalled its temporary removal and how...wrong it had felt.
He continued, “A Soulbreaking is more or less exactly what it sounds like. A Breaker uses their power to damage a Broken's soul, literally breaking it so they can build it back up again using their power, changing the soul's structure and the Broken themselves. In doing this, the Breaker enters and takes possession of the Broken's mind, body, and soul in a way beyond ordinary links. It's a beautiful thing, to have someone in your mind like that, to have someone control you in such a way. I never wanted to say no to Cenyl, but now the very thought of saying 'no' is impossible. He can use me how he pleases, which is why it's so very sad I'm down here. He doesn't want this at all.”
Okay...what? Excuse me? Also, what? Did I mention what? Also, what the fuck? I could not quite wrap my head around that, at all. It didn't compute but so much didn't compute. This didn't compute for a specific fucking reason I couldn't compute. By all rights, I should have been fucking horrified at the idea of breaking someone's actual soul because, well, duh. That was fucking creepy. Only Myd seemed incredibly happy about his own Soulbreaking. I certainly wasn't on Earth anymore. Obviously, I wasn't on Earth, but if people did soul mutilation as a romantic ritual? Yup, alien planet alright. But it was horrifying, right? Except...
Myd gave me a funny look. “Pardon me, but your expression is rather strange.”
“Maybe that's because I'm a human with cybernetic modifications?”
He said, “Oh no, that's not it. I see plenty of cybernetically-enhanced people. It is not your face that is odd, but, rather, the expression upon it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“The few humans who know anything solid about Soulbreaking react with horror. They think it is a deep violation of basic rights. Oh, I suppose it is technically that, as Broken are stripped of their you would call them human rights and are legally classified as property of their Breakers. The word 'slavery' was tossed around, which is also technically true but somehow misses the entire point.” Myd stared at me as if trying to read my thoughts.
“And what does that have to do with my face?” I asked.
“Your reaction was, hmm, not exactly one of horror. Far from it, really. Not sure exactly what your reaction was, to be honest. How interesting.”
He stared into my face as if searching it for fucking clues, which was stupid as my current expression just said “why are you staring at my face so intently? You're not going to find anything interesting in it.”
Only Myd apparently did find something interesting because his face lit up. “Ah! I think I've got it!”
“Uh, got what?” All I had at the moment was severe confusion, which I was sure was all that showed up on my face.
Myd exclaimed, “What you were thinking! How very, very fascinating.”
I thought the Zimarans couldn't read minds. Unless whatever was in his brain gave him actual mind-reading ability? That couldn't happen, right? Personally, the idea of mind reading seemed like the equivalent of trying to read a doctor's handwriting: completely fucking illegible. You've presumably gotten a prescription before, right? Surely someone weird enough to think of me would be given pills!
“And what exactly was I thinking? I mean, I didn't react with outright horror, but is that really so fascinating?” I didn't think it was.
He practically bounced in his chair. “Oh it's not just the lack of horror that's so interesting. Oh no. A mere lack of horror would indicate simple open-mindedness, I think. You, you showed something quite a bit more striking.”
Could someone zap him with a Logic Taser, preferably one not made out of laundry, so he would make sense? Or at least get to his fucking point?
Myd's eyes twinkled. “You were interested.”
“Is interest so interesting? I mean, studying alien cultures can be neat, right?” Could someone fucking enlighten me please?
He laughed. “Oh, not the academic kind of interested.”
Uh-huh. And there was another kind? I just looked at him, wondering what the fuck.
“Rather a more...physical kind of interested. If my readings are correct, and I see no reason why they shouldn't be, you were were rather turned on by the concept,” he said.
I was about to protest the absolute absurdity of Myd's theory, when I said instead, “Would that process even work on a human?”
That is not what I meant to say! You're not going to erase that for me, are you? Nope? Damn you.
He smiled and then drifted into what appeared to be deep thought. “Hmm, the idea of Soulbreaking a human hasn't even been contemplated before, let alone tried. Though I think if you're able to Receive ordinary mind control, it might be likely to work. You really are interested, aren't you?”
“In a purely academic manner!”
That just made him laugh. “Purely academic, hmm? That's why you're blushing, then?”
I was not blushing. Or if I was, it was because it really was an “Ultra Laser Powerup Mode” kind of thing. Obviously. Why, now you think I'm lying, too? How the fuck does a fictional character lie to the author, anyway? Never mind, don't answer that.
“I'm blushing academically!” That made no fucking sense.
Myd didn't think I made any fucking sense either. “Blushing academically? I daresay that's not a thing you can actually do.”
“Is too!” I paused. “Okay, fine it's not a thing you can actually do and doesn't make a damn speck of sense.” I stared at one of the weird alien sculptures of doom. It was mocking me. Clearly, it also thought “blushing academically” wasn't a thing you could do in the real world.
“Oh, there's no shame in blushing, if that's what you're worried about. You're a fascinating character.”
“I'm well-written.”
Myd raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”
“Never mind,” I mumbled.
He said, “You really are fascinating you know. And not just because you're a human. It's not like I haven't seen humans before! They're not terribly common on Zimara, but we have had the odd few visit. And none have been like you. Some Zimarans on Earth have had temporary 'hookups' with humans, but generally their minds are more...difficult to handle and not suited to long-term control. I suspect it might be partly a cultural difference more than anything, as many Earth types aren't conditioned to want even such temporary control over their minds.
I raised an eyebrow while blushing, which must have looked odd on my face. “Really? But it's fun. Especially if you do it for longer than a night.”
Should I really be discussing this with Xan's dad?
Myd said, “Exactly my point. And that's what makes you so unusual, that you would think so. Even the humans who agree to try it generally don't like it to your degree. And to ask about Soulbreaking...”
“I'm a...curious young man. Speaking of things to be curious about, how the hell do you get out of here?” I wondered.
He shook his head. “You don't, or in one of my more terrible episodes I would have escaped already.”
“Episodes?”
“Oh yes. Right now, I'm actually at my sanest. I thought the refrigerator was an enemy a week ago and tried to destroy it. You're lucky I don't want to kill you!” He beamed, as if I were truly lucky and not actually in a precarious fucking position.
Their King was insane and living in a presumably basement apartment. After that handy bit of exposition about Soulbreaking, the reality of my situation hit me in the fucking face. While having a character conveniently around to explain strange alien concepts was useful, the fact that I was stuck underground? Not fucking good. Very not good. Obviously. Also, is it really a good idea to have one of the info-dumpers be off his rocker? I question that decision of yours as author.
“There's got to be a way out of here!” I would not fucking panic.
Myd chided, “Be careful what you say, Dylan. My bodyguards are everywhere. Just invisible.”
I thought of something. “You realize I'm Xan's guest, right? And won't he be kind of fucking concerned that I just vanished into a wall?”
“That would upset him, yes.”
I wondered, “So, then, won't it be very bad that I vanished? Might it not cause a lot of seriously problematic problems for me to just not show up? Won't that look suspicious?”
He frowned. “Oh, I suppose it would look suspicious, but Xan has already seen you disappear, and if you reappear you might be tempted to tell on me.”
“Xan has a right to know that his father is fucking nuts and living in a basement.” I glared at Myd. He may have been King of the whole damn Kingdom, but he was also not right in the head. True, it was rude to call him nuts, but you weren't supposed to get along with your boyfriend's parents, right?
For his part, he didn't look insulted. “He does have a right, but it would cause terrific instability, you know.”
“I can't lie to him or hide things from him!” Not only that, but, with this, I just didn't want to because if my dad had gone nuts? I would want to fucking know.
Shit, now would be a good time for a Deux Ex Machina, you know? What, you're not gonna give me one? That isn't fucking fair. I know you need dramatic tension and suspense and shit, but um, stuck in a basement here? Fine, I'll invent my own Deus Ex Machina out of...whatever's in the fridge. If I could make a Taser out of laundry...okay fine the laundry-Taser wasn't feasible. Shut up.
I got up and started to walk towards the kitchen. After all, that was where I had fallen out of the wall from. While my laundry-Taser wouldn't work, maybe I could pick the high-tech space lock with a pickle. I didn't have any better ideas, so yeah. I walked towards the refrigerator and opened it. Myd followed and observed me curiously.
“Do you even need to eat?” he asked. “I thought cyborgs could get adequate nutrition from photosynthesis.”
“I'm looking for a Deus Ex Machina,” I told him.
Wait, photosynthesis? Excuse me? And what the fuck? I wasn't a damn plant.
“Is a Deus Ex Machina some kind of special Earthling food?” Myd said.
I had to suppress my giggles, but I couldn't resist saying, “It's a particular kind of snack food. Made by the same people who make Plot Bunny gummy candy and Mary Sue chocolate bars.”
“Humans sure have some unusual tastes.”
I could say the same thing about Zimaran food, as the stuff in the fridge with the weird iridescent plastic-like containers baffled me. I recognized this was a damn kitchen, but that was about it. I hadn't the slightest clue how to operate the microwave equivalent, or, more importantly the “get me out of here” portal.
I asked the fridge, “Hello, is the exit in here? Any Deus Ex Machinas around? Hello?”
On a whim, I moved aside one of the strange containers and...
What the fuck?
I flew upwards, through the refrigerator, tumbling through darkness much like I had before. What the fuck? I kept flying and flying, eventually ending up in a hallway. And crashing right into Xan, who was implausibly standing right there. I landed on top of him. He recovered from the shock quickly though, flipping us over.
He quipped, “You know I'm supposed to be on top.”
“How - how the hell are you even here?”
Xan kissed me quickly before answering. “That's not important. Are you okay?”
“Fine, physically. But, seriously, how the hell did you find me?” That was just not very plausible.
He answered, “The second you disappeared, I contacted Jirrin. He managed to track you, to an underground chamber I didn't know existed. That isn't supposed to exist. We were trying to figure out how to get into it when you appeared out of nowhere. Don't ever do that again. I don't want my pretty little pet disappearing on me again.”
“I'm not going to disappear again.” Wait, I should not have fucking said that on account of how saying shit like that all but guarantees it will happen. I worried: how many more mysterious doors of doom could there be?
“You better not,” Xan said. He kissed me again before pulling us up into a standing position. “So, what was in that room? Jirrin insisted they're developing some kind of doomsday weapon. He was pissed nobody thought to involve him.”
I laughed; that idea was too absurd, though the Palace probably did have actual secret doomsday weapons chambers. Quickly, I sobered up, though. I took a deep breath and stared Xan directly in his concerned bronze eyes. “No doomsday weapons, Xan. But I did meet your father, King Myd. They have him locked down there because something infected his brain that's both killing him and making him kind of, well, insane.”
A delicate breaker of bad news, I was not. Perhaps I shouldn't have told Xan about his father, but they knew about the secret chamber. And he had a right to know.
His eyes flew open. “You can't be serious!”
“I'm serious. Deadly serious. You know I don't know what your fathers actually look like, but this guy had red hair, blue eyes, pale skin, about my height, and wore a choker necklace with a spherical pendant with a rainbow rune-type symbol on it. Who else could that be?” I tried to put on my best not-making-this-up face, in hopes he would actually believe me.
Xan's eyes widened farther. “That's - that's an exact description of my father. Wh-what - what the fuck? That's - that's impossible! And you said he's dying?”
I couldn't look at him. “Yeah. The alien...thing in his brain wants to kill him. He says he's trapped in the basement chamber because...something about political instability. If he dies, apparently your other father dies. I'm - I'm sorry.”
He embraces me so tightly I almost had trouble breathing. He laid his head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him and let him sob quietly into my shoulder. I had no fucking clue what to do. How did you help someone whose parents were, no shit, going to die?
Through his sobs, he whispered, “This - this can't be happening, but it would explain why the throne competition is happening now, wouldn't it? I - I can't lose my fathers. You really can't disappear again, Dylan, because I can't lose you either.”
Evil sculptures of doom aside, I had no intention of going anywhere But I was just so out of my element. There wasn't anything I could think of to help Xan, so I just let him hold me, wishing things didn't have to be this fucked up.
Here's Day 5 and some of Day 6 (got to start making real chapters) of "I Prefer the Mind Control." Enjoy the ridiculousness!
Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4
---------
“Holy fuck, you're one of the Kings!” I shouted.
How the fuck could that be possible? But logic lead me to no other conclusion.
Myd's eyes widened, and showed what almost looked like signs of lucidity and life. Sort of. “Oh yes, I suppose I am, aren't I? Technically, anyway. I've been so shut off from everything, though. Precious little conversation. Most of my bodyguards don't like to talk. Wonder why they didn't try to kill you when you figured out who I was.”
Shit, I didn't think about that. “Because cleaning up bodies is a pain in the ass?”
“That it is,” Myd agreed. I had trouble thinking of him as “King” because he did not seem like a King, though plenty of those back on Earth had been batshit insane. Myd's crazy just didn't seem...regal to me. That wasn't fair, I knew.
Something else bugged me and not just the fact that one of the Kings of Zimara was a mentally not-all-there guy who rather stereotypically looked the part. He had said that he was “moral support and decoration.” Would killing off the arm candy really cause enough political instability that he needed to be locked down here?
If I thought about it, there was already instability because Jirrin freaked out over the mysteriously early competition for the throne. Looked like I had found the reason for said instability, only wouldn't the actual-ruler King still be around to, you know, rule things? So what was with the creepy “hide a dude in the basement or similar” act?
I broached the subject. “Say, Myd, why would leaving you down here be a good idea, exactly? You can tell me because your bodyguards don't seem like they're going to kill me. I honestly don't get it because, well, aren't there two of you? So, wouldn't your partner be able to keep the Kingdom from crumbling like a stale cookie?”
What? That was a good simile!
He shook his head and sighed. “Oh no, it doesn't work that way at all. Would be convenient if it did, though. Alas.”
“So, how does it work? Because I am extremely confused.” I pulled out one of the dining chairs and sat down, grateful that Zimarans were humanoid and thus had chairs I could sit in comfortably.
“I feel dreadful about dying.” Myd looked really fucking guilty, though I presumed he hadn't infected his brain with whatever had infected it. He continued, “You wouldn't understand as you're from off-world, but if I die, King Cenyl dies as well.”
“What, because you're psychically linked?” I wondered.
“Oh yes. Indeed we are. But it's not just an ordinary link like many temporary Zimaran couples share, oh no.” Myd gestured to his strange necklace again. “You see this here?”
“Is it some kind of psychic technology?”
Myd shook his head. “It's purely symbolic, to show I'm Soulbonded with dear Cenyl. We're linked for life, and death, too, unfortunately.”
I was still fucking confused. “Soulbonded? Is that like being married, only with psychic powers?”
“Oh no, it's not the same. From what I know, human marriages can be much more even, generally speaking. Soulbreaking never results in an even partnership. The very notion is silly!” He giggled to himself.
Now, I was even more confused. “So, what does happen? How does it work?”
Myd pulled out his own chair and sat down. “Hmm, how to explain? You know how my people use their mind control on each other, right? It's an extension of that. Like in an ordinary link, one Gives and the other Receives, but it's ever so much more. For one, it's permanent and literally cannot be done unless both parties want it. After all, it would be terrible to break another's soul unless they wanted it, yes?”
Why would breaking someone's soul ever be a good thing? Who would want that?
He said, “Breaking another's soul is a good thing, if it's wanted. You'll find that surprising as a human, but it's what enables the bond to work. Total submission of self from one party is required and, indeed, is the objective for a pair that truly wants to be together. It's how Zimarans show their love, with one partner as property and the other as owner. Hmm, I think you already know a bit about this, yes? From what I heard, Xan is quite fond of you and you admitted you were his plaything.”
“Well, yeah,” I said. I still didn't quite get this Soulbreaking stuff, but, in some way, I think I understood what he meant about owner and property. Xan did treat me as a possession of his, which was impossible amounts of hot.
“It's another level of commitment. Right now, you are psychically and legally still more or less your own person, with attendant rights and such. Xan's control over you is not strong enough to make you want something you truly wouldn't want. You could break the control or say 'no' to anything he requested if you really wanted to,” Myd said.
The idea of saying 'no' to any of Xan's requests was just fucking preposterous. I wouldn't want to, and I certainly hated the idea of breaking the control. I recalled its temporary removal and how...wrong it had felt.
He continued, “A Soulbreaking is more or less exactly what it sounds like. A Breaker uses their power to damage a Broken's soul, literally breaking it so they can build it back up again using their power, changing the soul's structure and the Broken themselves. In doing this, the Breaker enters and takes possession of the Broken's mind, body, and soul in a way beyond ordinary links. It's a beautiful thing, to have someone in your mind like that, to have someone control you in such a way. I never wanted to say no to Cenyl, but now the very thought of saying 'no' is impossible. He can use me how he pleases, which is why it's so very sad I'm down here. He doesn't want this at all.”
Okay...what? Excuse me? Also, what? Did I mention what? Also, what the fuck? I could not quite wrap my head around that, at all. It didn't compute but so much didn't compute. This didn't compute for a specific fucking reason I couldn't compute. By all rights, I should have been fucking horrified at the idea of breaking someone's actual soul because, well, duh. That was fucking creepy. Only Myd seemed incredibly happy about his own Soulbreaking. I certainly wasn't on Earth anymore. Obviously, I wasn't on Earth, but if people did soul mutilation as a romantic ritual? Yup, alien planet alright. But it was horrifying, right? Except...
Myd gave me a funny look. “Pardon me, but your expression is rather strange.”
“Maybe that's because I'm a human with cybernetic modifications?”
He said, “Oh no, that's not it. I see plenty of cybernetically-enhanced people. It is not your face that is odd, but, rather, the expression upon it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“The few humans who know anything solid about Soulbreaking react with horror. They think it is a deep violation of basic rights. Oh, I suppose it is technically that, as Broken are stripped of their you would call them human rights and are legally classified as property of their Breakers. The word 'slavery' was tossed around, which is also technically true but somehow misses the entire point.” Myd stared at me as if trying to read my thoughts.
“And what does that have to do with my face?” I asked.
“Your reaction was, hmm, not exactly one of horror. Far from it, really. Not sure exactly what your reaction was, to be honest. How interesting.”
He stared into my face as if searching it for fucking clues, which was stupid as my current expression just said “why are you staring at my face so intently? You're not going to find anything interesting in it.”
Only Myd apparently did find something interesting because his face lit up. “Ah! I think I've got it!”
“Uh, got what?” All I had at the moment was severe confusion, which I was sure was all that showed up on my face.
Myd exclaimed, “What you were thinking! How very, very fascinating.”
I thought the Zimarans couldn't read minds. Unless whatever was in his brain gave him actual mind-reading ability? That couldn't happen, right? Personally, the idea of mind reading seemed like the equivalent of trying to read a doctor's handwriting: completely fucking illegible. You've presumably gotten a prescription before, right? Surely someone weird enough to think of me would be given pills!
“And what exactly was I thinking? I mean, I didn't react with outright horror, but is that really so fascinating?” I didn't think it was.
He practically bounced in his chair. “Oh it's not just the lack of horror that's so interesting. Oh no. A mere lack of horror would indicate simple open-mindedness, I think. You, you showed something quite a bit more striking.”
Could someone zap him with a Logic Taser, preferably one not made out of laundry, so he would make sense? Or at least get to his fucking point?
Myd's eyes twinkled. “You were interested.”
“Is interest so interesting? I mean, studying alien cultures can be neat, right?” Could someone fucking enlighten me please?
He laughed. “Oh, not the academic kind of interested.”
Uh-huh. And there was another kind? I just looked at him, wondering what the fuck.
“Rather a more...physical kind of interested. If my readings are correct, and I see no reason why they shouldn't be, you were were rather turned on by the concept,” he said.
I was about to protest the absolute absurdity of Myd's theory, when I said instead, “Would that process even work on a human?”
That is not what I meant to say! You're not going to erase that for me, are you? Nope? Damn you.
He smiled and then drifted into what appeared to be deep thought. “Hmm, the idea of Soulbreaking a human hasn't even been contemplated before, let alone tried. Though I think if you're able to Receive ordinary mind control, it might be likely to work. You really are interested, aren't you?”
“In a purely academic manner!”
That just made him laugh. “Purely academic, hmm? That's why you're blushing, then?”
I was not blushing. Or if I was, it was because it really was an “Ultra Laser Powerup Mode” kind of thing. Obviously. Why, now you think I'm lying, too? How the fuck does a fictional character lie to the author, anyway? Never mind, don't answer that.
“I'm blushing academically!” That made no fucking sense.
Myd didn't think I made any fucking sense either. “Blushing academically? I daresay that's not a thing you can actually do.”
“Is too!” I paused. “Okay, fine it's not a thing you can actually do and doesn't make a damn speck of sense.” I stared at one of the weird alien sculptures of doom. It was mocking me. Clearly, it also thought “blushing academically” wasn't a thing you could do in the real world.
“Oh, there's no shame in blushing, if that's what you're worried about. You're a fascinating character.”
“I'm well-written.”
Myd raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”
“Never mind,” I mumbled.
He said, “You really are fascinating you know. And not just because you're a human. It's not like I haven't seen humans before! They're not terribly common on Zimara, but we have had the odd few visit. And none have been like you. Some Zimarans on Earth have had temporary 'hookups' with humans, but generally their minds are more...difficult to handle and not suited to long-term control. I suspect it might be partly a cultural difference more than anything, as many Earth types aren't conditioned to want even such temporary control over their minds.
I raised an eyebrow while blushing, which must have looked odd on my face. “Really? But it's fun. Especially if you do it for longer than a night.”
Should I really be discussing this with Xan's dad?
Myd said, “Exactly my point. And that's what makes you so unusual, that you would think so. Even the humans who agree to try it generally don't like it to your degree. And to ask about Soulbreaking...”
“I'm a...curious young man. Speaking of things to be curious about, how the hell do you get out of here?” I wondered.
He shook his head. “You don't, or in one of my more terrible episodes I would have escaped already.”
“Episodes?”
“Oh yes. Right now, I'm actually at my sanest. I thought the refrigerator was an enemy a week ago and tried to destroy it. You're lucky I don't want to kill you!” He beamed, as if I were truly lucky and not actually in a precarious fucking position.
Their King was insane and living in a presumably basement apartment. After that handy bit of exposition about Soulbreaking, the reality of my situation hit me in the fucking face. While having a character conveniently around to explain strange alien concepts was useful, the fact that I was stuck underground? Not fucking good. Very not good. Obviously. Also, is it really a good idea to have one of the info-dumpers be off his rocker? I question that decision of yours as author.
“There's got to be a way out of here!” I would not fucking panic.
Myd chided, “Be careful what you say, Dylan. My bodyguards are everywhere. Just invisible.”
I thought of something. “You realize I'm Xan's guest, right? And won't he be kind of fucking concerned that I just vanished into a wall?”
“That would upset him, yes.”
I wondered, “So, then, won't it be very bad that I vanished? Might it not cause a lot of seriously problematic problems for me to just not show up? Won't that look suspicious?”
He frowned. “Oh, I suppose it would look suspicious, but Xan has already seen you disappear, and if you reappear you might be tempted to tell on me.”
“Xan has a right to know that his father is fucking nuts and living in a basement.” I glared at Myd. He may have been King of the whole damn Kingdom, but he was also not right in the head. True, it was rude to call him nuts, but you weren't supposed to get along with your boyfriend's parents, right?
For his part, he didn't look insulted. “He does have a right, but it would cause terrific instability, you know.”
“I can't lie to him or hide things from him!” Not only that, but, with this, I just didn't want to because if my dad had gone nuts? I would want to fucking know.
Shit, now would be a good time for a Deux Ex Machina, you know? What, you're not gonna give me one? That isn't fucking fair. I know you need dramatic tension and suspense and shit, but um, stuck in a basement here? Fine, I'll invent my own Deus Ex Machina out of...whatever's in the fridge. If I could make a Taser out of laundry...okay fine the laundry-Taser wasn't feasible. Shut up.
I got up and started to walk towards the kitchen. After all, that was where I had fallen out of the wall from. While my laundry-Taser wouldn't work, maybe I could pick the high-tech space lock with a pickle. I didn't have any better ideas, so yeah. I walked towards the refrigerator and opened it. Myd followed and observed me curiously.
“Do you even need to eat?” he asked. “I thought cyborgs could get adequate nutrition from photosynthesis.”
“I'm looking for a Deus Ex Machina,” I told him.
Wait, photosynthesis? Excuse me? And what the fuck? I wasn't a damn plant.
“Is a Deus Ex Machina some kind of special Earthling food?” Myd said.
I had to suppress my giggles, but I couldn't resist saying, “It's a particular kind of snack food. Made by the same people who make Plot Bunny gummy candy and Mary Sue chocolate bars.”
“Humans sure have some unusual tastes.”
I could say the same thing about Zimaran food, as the stuff in the fridge with the weird iridescent plastic-like containers baffled me. I recognized this was a damn kitchen, but that was about it. I hadn't the slightest clue how to operate the microwave equivalent, or, more importantly the “get me out of here” portal.
I asked the fridge, “Hello, is the exit in here? Any Deus Ex Machinas around? Hello?”
On a whim, I moved aside one of the strange containers and...
What the fuck?
I flew upwards, through the refrigerator, tumbling through darkness much like I had before. What the fuck? I kept flying and flying, eventually ending up in a hallway. And crashing right into Xan, who was implausibly standing right there. I landed on top of him. He recovered from the shock quickly though, flipping us over.
He quipped, “You know I'm supposed to be on top.”
“How - how the hell are you even here?”
Xan kissed me quickly before answering. “That's not important. Are you okay?”
“Fine, physically. But, seriously, how the hell did you find me?” That was just not very plausible.
He answered, “The second you disappeared, I contacted Jirrin. He managed to track you, to an underground chamber I didn't know existed. That isn't supposed to exist. We were trying to figure out how to get into it when you appeared out of nowhere. Don't ever do that again. I don't want my pretty little pet disappearing on me again.”
“I'm not going to disappear again.” Wait, I should not have fucking said that on account of how saying shit like that all but guarantees it will happen. I worried: how many more mysterious doors of doom could there be?
“You better not,” Xan said. He kissed me again before pulling us up into a standing position. “So, what was in that room? Jirrin insisted they're developing some kind of doomsday weapon. He was pissed nobody thought to involve him.”
I laughed; that idea was too absurd, though the Palace probably did have actual secret doomsday weapons chambers. Quickly, I sobered up, though. I took a deep breath and stared Xan directly in his concerned bronze eyes. “No doomsday weapons, Xan. But I did meet your father, King Myd. They have him locked down there because something infected his brain that's both killing him and making him kind of, well, insane.”
A delicate breaker of bad news, I was not. Perhaps I shouldn't have told Xan about his father, but they knew about the secret chamber. And he had a right to know.
His eyes flew open. “You can't be serious!”
“I'm serious. Deadly serious. You know I don't know what your fathers actually look like, but this guy had red hair, blue eyes, pale skin, about my height, and wore a choker necklace with a spherical pendant with a rainbow rune-type symbol on it. Who else could that be?” I tried to put on my best not-making-this-up face, in hopes he would actually believe me.
Xan's eyes widened farther. “That's - that's an exact description of my father. Wh-what - what the fuck? That's - that's impossible! And you said he's dying?”
I couldn't look at him. “Yeah. The alien...thing in his brain wants to kill him. He says he's trapped in the basement chamber because...something about political instability. If he dies, apparently your other father dies. I'm - I'm sorry.”
He embraces me so tightly I almost had trouble breathing. He laid his head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him and let him sob quietly into my shoulder. I had no fucking clue what to do. How did you help someone whose parents were, no shit, going to die?
Through his sobs, he whispered, “This - this can't be happening, but it would explain why the throne competition is happening now, wouldn't it? I - I can't lose my fathers. You really can't disappear again, Dylan, because I can't lose you either.”
Evil sculptures of doom aside, I had no intention of going anywhere But I was just so out of my element. There wasn't anything I could think of to help Xan, so I just let him hold me, wishing things didn't have to be this fucked up.