Zay promised to never look back. Or down. Only up. At the perfectly capsized city in the clouds.
Clearest skies on record since the mirror world –The Upside– emerged from the smogosphere, according to Templar meteorologists. Its the divine sign he’d been praying for. Do what’s necessary. Take flight. For Shalewa.
He pumped the burners.
Balloon ascending. Turbulence. Thinning oxygen.
Flying a hastily built helium-craft composed of antiquated parts from abandoned shipyards was high-risk. Highly illegal. Suicidal. Still… far safer than returning to the Seminary.
Shalewa tiptoed to peer over the edge. “Is that heaven?”
He gently pulled Shalewa back. “Just another city.”
“Mommy and daddy there?”
Mirror versions, but their parents nonetheless.
Shalewa smiled. “Great.”
His sister was smart for her age. Much brighter than he was.
Chilly. Temperature dipping.
“Will we feel upside down?” Shalewa asked.
“It’ll feel like normal.”
Or so he’d heard from Solomonic diplomats who’ve visited the Upside.
“But then, our city will be the one upside down,” Shalewa said.
“Correct,” He replied.
Rising doubts… They’re breaking laws and risking lives to meet strangers. A selfish, dangerous plot. But… Shalewa deserves better. She needed parents, even if they’re doppelgangers of the ones they lost.
“Are versions of us there?” Shalewa asked.
“Maybe,” He answered.
Shalewa bit her fingernails. “What if they hate us?”
“But what if?”
Zay felt for the pistol with the disintegration rounds hidden in his belt.
A once a century, secret Congress of the most powerful and influential monsters of all nationalities, species, and realms. A parlay among humanity’s predators. He was tasked with surveilling the meeting by the foolish and misguided Humanic Order. He had greater plans. The Order will thank him whence the smoke clears.
Red Vampire, the host, was in his cross-hairs. Succubus brides trailing behind him, arranging and rearranging furniture. Preparing for their big feast.
Humans gathered in the city square. Visibly frightened but with an unmistakable resolve in their eyes.
They offered me no praise, nor sacrifices they’ve owed me.
“You no longer want immortality,” I concluded.
I wasn’t the creator, but I protected them as such. And unlike my mother– the creator, I was conflicted. Caught between virtuous duties as a cosmic being, and obligations I bestowed upon myself when I shielded them from extinction.
“We’re grateful,” The Governor declared. “But we can no longer offer you our children.”
I was not mother. My power required Life for life. An expensive, but unavoidable cost. Draining my own cosmic well could be catastrophic for all realities.
“You’ll be erased,” I warned.
Governor wiped tears. “We understand.”
They chose offspring over immortality. Perplexing.
“Are you certain?” I asked.
I summoned swords. “Worship me.”
“Okay…” Governor’s face ashened. “Michaela.”
‘Michaela”… the embodiment of mother’s wrath. The sword with dreams of being a shield.
My protective seal appeared above the city.
I wished to give, not take life. But they left me no choice.
I raised a sword to the exosphere. Let it simmer in the hellish heat before cleaving the seal with angry force
My seal shattered on impact. Mother can see them now. The city and everything in it, turned to dust.
Damn you, mother.
I felt rage. Sadness. Guilt.
Brother was right to rebel.
“Mother!” I slashed gashes in reality. “Show yourself!”
Ilana frantically searched for her car keys and taser. She was an hour late for her tattoo appointment with ‘Freeze’, the only tattoo artist capable of drawing Buttercup and Blossom. See, Freeze was an ill-tempered and impatient drag queen with switchblades who moonlighted as a bar-tending dominatrix at a bar frequented by homicide detectives. She understood having two jobs. Understood life as an enterprising diva. Tatts and hairdos don’t pay for themselves. She needed to get her ass in her car.
She snatched her keys and was about to leave when her phone rang.
“What?” She answered.
“June’s calling,” Camaiyah said.
“Impossible,” She replied.
“Can’t be him.”
“What do I do?”
“He can’t trace anything back to you.“ She leaned against the counter. “Even if he did manage to escape.”
“Back to us.”
“Don’t do that,” Ilana warned. “There’s no us.”
“I’m not the one who hacked him.”
“You paid me. I did a job.” Ilana used her phone to trace Camaiyah’s location. “I’m just a third-”
Her phone buzzed.
“Party…” She checked her phone. “He’s calling?”
“How did he-”
“Shut up.” Ilana interrupted as she frantically pushed ignore.
But the screen was frozen. Phone kept ringing. Text and email inboxes flooding.
Phone answered on its own. Speaker phone activated…. on its own.
“I know you’re there, Ilana,” June said.
Camaiyah was silent. Breathing hard. Swallowing spit.
“I know everything,” June said. “I just want to talk.”
‘Lies’ she thought. June wanted vengeance.
“Okay, lets talk.”
The Dominant climbed to the top of the Junk Heap mountaintop and looked down on his creations.
The Dominant looked angry. And sure of himself.
“I built this world!” The Dominant declared.
The countless kidnapped, murdered, tortured, raped, bought, and sold Ancestors of Chattel Creations collectively narrowed their eyes at the Suburban Dominant.
“Did I not build everything?” The Dominant questioned.
Their hands. Bruised from beatings. Disfigured from twenty three hour a day labor, and weekly bone snappings when the Dominant’s ancestors didn’t believe their creations were working fast enough. Discolored from ritual burnings. Scratches from clamoring for the children being ripped from their arms. Soaked from, sweat, tears and blood. Their hands… fading slowly out of existence as its been for decades.
“Of course you did,” The Ancestor replied as they began fading from the collective consciousness of the dominants– also known as existence.
Chattels didn’t god-like, time and space altering power like the Dominant’s. How could they argue their own existence? There was no place else for them to exist and survive within a world not of their making or control– within a Dominant’s thoughts.
They lowered their hands, deciding to accept their fates and allow themselves to be faded out of existence– also known as the collective consciousness of the Dominants.
“Very good. Know your place.” The Dominant placed his flag in the center of the universe. “I claim this world and all its realities.”
The Dominant’s wiped the Creations from their minds and all of existence.