Page 100 of Godslayer
"Good girl," the lead monster sings. "Good girl, good girl. But Luther’s good too! You came just like I wanted. Just like I planned. See? No one ever listens to Luther, but Luther knows!"
I try to struggle as they lower me down feet first. Then, I’m standing upright. For a fleeting moment I picture my escape.Pushing through the monsters and retracing my steps back to the train line where Tyse will surely be waiting. Looking for me.
But it’s too late, it’s over. My arms are yanked wide as I’m pushed backwards with such force, only the gnarled hands holding onto my wrists keep me upright. My back slams against cold metal. Bindings snap tight around my wrists. Then my legs. My chest. My stomach. My hips. Straps. Clamps. Restraints. Fast, brutal, efficient.
By the time I process what’s happening, it’s already done and once the last few secure over my chin and forehead, I am completely immobile. Upright, but attached to the slab of coldness against my back with no give at all in the bindings.
The broken man—Luther—spins. Then leans into my space. Hands fluttering like he’s orchestrating something only he can hear. His eyes flicker—bright, then dim, then bright again. They’re blue, but then quickly flash a sickly yellow-green color—the color of poison or vomit—before going blue again.
I recoil, but it does no good. There is nowhere to go. No possibility of escape.
"Yes, yes, yes," Luther chatters. "This one’s got plenty left, oh yes. Epsilon will be so pleased. We’ll unspool her now,niiiiiiceand slow."
I want to think about that word Epsilon, because I feel like it’s important, but my brain gets stuck on the word ‘unspool’.
I’m beingunspooled?
“Needles and thread.Needles and thread!”
Facing me is a cage. It emerges from the opposite wall, only a few feet away, and begins to move towards me. It is tall. Thin. Gleaming. Thread-thin wires with needle-like ends hand limp along the edges.
Spools?
Hundreds of them. Thousands. Maybe more. They all pulse with a faint, sickly blue glow. Not the bright glow of a canalmade of spark, but the dusty, sun-bleached blue of the Tau City Factory domes.
It takes me a moment to realize what this sun-bleached blue stuff is.
And then, I get it.
It’s spark. Previously harvested spark.Deadspark.
I am sick with want. With longing.I want to go home.
There is no hope of that, though. I see what’s coming now. Because there, in the center of the cage, between the hanging spools of needle-thin wires of flatly-glowing spark, there is a space. An empty space.
About the size and shape of a body.
My body.
“Ahhhh,” Luther sighs, like he’s looking at something beautiful. Then those sickly eyes of his lock onto mine, and he grins. "Time to take you apart, little dolly."
All the little needles come to life. Rising up into the air, reaching for me. Dancing towards me like a down-city whore enticing a customer with the swinging of her hips.
The swaying of needle-threads puts me in a trance, dulling my mind. I watch, helpless as cage comes closer and closer until finally, it’s right up against my face and I hold my breath, hoping against hope.
They attack me all at once. Like an animal.
Stabbing pain, sharp and burning. The wires pierce my skin and snake their way inside me.
And then… theyunspoolme.
I watch, helpless, as each needle-thin thread—once dead with residual spark—suddenly glows bright blue with my harvest.
24 - TYSE
The fading blackness is a reliefI didn’t realize I was waiting for, but with it comes the pain. Everywhere, there is pain. Immediately, my eyes are twitchin’ and flipping through menus in my data display lookin’ for relief. Trying to, at least. Because it’s not workin’.
“Not working, not working,” a sketchy, high-pitched voice says. It’s jittery and wrong, this voice. “You’ll never work again. Never, never, never! Needles and thread, making a puppet!”
