Animula Choragi 27: Lâchez mes cassettes
Furina kicked back in her chair, a grin on her face as she held up her manuscript. “It’s done! Finished at last!”
Yennifer looked up from her morning coffee, while Diane cheered and waved her fork. The family was sitting at the table for breakfast, save for Charlotte, who was still asleep. It was only just after 8 am, so Furina didn’t feel the need to disturb the teenager yet.
“Yay! Good job, Maman! Is it a recipe?! Something to cook!?”
“No, chaton, it’s the script for La Petite Oceanide. The play Maman has been writing for the past few weeks,” Furina said, and showed Diane the papers.
“A…sss…keh…en…sken? Screen! Play…by…F…uh-ru…” Diane frowned at the paper, and Furina gently helped her sound out the words. Diane couldn’t read or write at all, which was hardly surprising as she had been a cat, and seemed to be about five years old, which was when most children started school. In fact, in just a few days' time, she’d begin attending school, as it was nearly the first Monday in September. Fontainian schools had worked in a similar fashion, with most children having the summers off.
Granted, that had only been for the last hundred years of Furina’s tenure as faux-Archon. Before that, school had hardly been compulsory, especially for the poor. She’d imported the idea of universal education from Sumeru, though she’d only gotten it passed by Neuvillette when she’d pointed out that Melusines would be able to benefit from the proposal as well. Even then, she’d had to fight tooth and nail with the factory owners, as they wanted children working for a few scant mora instead of receiving an education (and then drawing a higher wage as an adult). Oligarchs, it seemed, were the same greedy misers everywhere.
“What are you going to do now that the script is finished?” Yennifer asked, a twinkle in her eyes. “Will I finally get to read it?”
“Um…” Furina glanced down at the pages in her hands. Then, she extended them towards Yennifer and blushed. If she couldn’t trust Yennifer…she couldn’t trust anyone to give her honest feedback. “...be gentle, please.”
“I’ll take a look between clients at work today. Business has been slower now that we don’t have a despot in power,” Yennifer said, carefully tucking the papers away. “Speaking of, you have a meeting with Jeanne today, don’t you?”
“Yes, along with some engineers. I’m going to be showing them how to construct gardemek at Jeanne’s.”
Yennifer paused, then looked at Furina with some concern. “Aren’t you worried they’ll figure out you’re actually…you know?”
“Is this the secret I’m not supposed to tell anyone?” Diane whispered, leaning in close, tail lashing in excitement. “That Maman is actually God?”
“She’s just an angel. My angel,” Yennifer said, and kissed Furina before picking up her suitcase. “Who’s watching Diane?”
“Oh, I’m taking her with me. She should learn how to make gardemeks too,” Furina said, hugging Yennifer with one arm and using her hand to muss Diane’s hair.
“Furina, she’s…well, she’s not even in school yet. I think maybe building an advanced robot is probably a bit beyond her,” Yennifer chuckled.
“Really, why? Orphans in Fontaine used to get to build them for Fontinalia, and the poor ones would just salvage parts from the rivers and lakes and build their own. It’s really not that hard,” Furina said, frowning.
Yennifer didn’t seem to quite believe that, but she shrugged and gave Furina one last peck before kissing Diane goodbye, then heading out the door.
No sooner was Yennifer gone than Charlotte’s door banged open, making Furina wince.
“What’s this about an incredible breaking news story!?” Charlotte demanded.
“Charlotte, what have I told you about banging your door open! You’re going to leave a dent in the wall. What if the landlord sees it?” Furina sighed.
“That a daring and intrepid reporter must always make a commanding entrance!” Charlotte said, ignoring Furina and striding up, a grin on her face, fully dressed for the day in jeans and blouse, hat on her head, camera bag at her side.
“Yes, well, you don’t need to go slamming doors in the apartment,” Furina sighed. She glanced at her watch. “Get something to eat, we’re leaving in a few minutes to catch the train.”
Charlotte had only a cup of yogurt and a plum, and then they were off to the train station. Furina had dressed Diane up like a little engineer, with a pair of overalls, a red shirt, and a short-brimmed cap. Furina herself was wearing her worst pair of jeans, a t-shirt that was stained with paint from when she’d help with the set for Les Misérables, and Yennifer’s oldest pair of running shoes.
“Are we really gonna make robots!? Can I make one that cooks?!” Diane asked excitedly as they walked to the station.
To Furina’s surprise, Charlotte hushed her. “People really don’t like robots in France, Diane. Especially now with the you-know-whats running around.”
“No, I don’t know what's! Is it a monster?! An Endbringer?! I bet Maman and Mutti could beat it up! They got superpowers!” Diane said excitedly. “You got superpowers too, Charlotte! When am I going to get my superpowers? Maman, can you give me super powers!? It’s not fair that everyone else has them!”
“I can teach you how to make a wonderful little pet mek that looks like a treasure weasel. How does that sound?” Furina offered.
“What’s a treasure weasel?” Diane asked, frowning.
In response, Charlotte laughed and sang,
C'est dans dix ans je m'en irai
J'entends le loup et le renard chanter
J'entends le loup, le renard et la belette
J'entends le loup et le renard chanter
Diane grinned and repeated the nursery rhyme, and soon Furina knew it as well. They sang nonsense songs until they got to the subway, where it was more polite to sit quietly.
After another short walk to the Hôtel de Ville, they were let into the mayoral residence by a servant.
“I’m going to go find Barbs!” Charlotte said before scampering off, while Furina was led to a large ballroom that had been mostly cleared out, save for several tables. Jeanne was waiting for her there, along with several people Furina sensed were demon-possessed, or as they preferred to be called, Parahumans. There were also a number of Vision holders; two Dendro, three Electro, a Cryo by themselves, and one Hydro Vision Holder that Furina knew was an Olympic-level figure skater who also had a passion for modern education reform, mostly with having art and music as a part of the core school curriculum.
There were also a couple of dozen engineers, technicians, and mechanics who weren’t Vision holders or parahumans, just ordinary workers who were handy with tools. Furina got a few odd looks, less because of the fact that she was an actress, one of the Electro Vision holders was a somewhat famous television talk show personality, but because she had her young daughter with her.
“Sorry,” Furina said to Jeanne, who hurried over to greet her, picking up Diane who had grown somewhat nervous and shy with so many strangers around. “Charlotte wanted to come as well, and Yennifer is working. My mother is…occupied, so there was no one to watch her.”
“Not a problem. Diane is more than welcome to stay. As an enlightened Beast, she’s sure to have a facility with elemental energy that should come in handy,” Jeanne said, smiling at Diane, who returned the grin before going back to clinging to Furina’s shoulder, tail lashing back and forth in agitation.
Going up to a small stage that had been constructed, Jeanne nodded to the group, which quickly formed a semicircle around her. “Thank you all for coming. I know I have not exactly been forthcoming in the reason for assembling you all, but I assure you it is of the utmost importance. Today, in this secret meeting, for the first time, I present to you-
ME!
An angelic chorus of flying hydro Melusines appeared up near the ceiling, as a grand staircase of water appeared, opening up to what appeared to be the shining light of heaven. Furina had to stifle a groan and keep herself from rolling her eyes. She had told her mother to “make an impressive entrance,” and she should have known better than to give Focalors liberties in that regard.
There was a collective gasp, and several people sank to their knees in awe, probably because of the very heavy divine aura that Focalors was manufacturing. Diane, on the other hand, gasped in delight and waved excitedly, opening her mouth. Furina had to hastily pull her daughter down and whisper in her ear, “Don’t call her Grand-mère! No one’s supposed to know that’s my mother! She’s the Hydro Archon right now, understand? We’re playing pretend, like I told you.”
Diane hastily nodded and giggled, even as Focalors alighted on the stage next to Jeanne, who was bowing respectfully.
“Lord Focalors!? Then, you truly are in France!” one of the Electro Vision holders gasped.
INDEED I AM, Furina’s mother said, planting her legs wide apart, hands on her hips. OF ALL THE NATIONS UPON THIS WORLD, I HAVE CHOSEN THE MOST CIVILIZED AND ENLIGHTENED AS MY HOME!
One and all, the French nodded in understanding. Naturally. Who wouldn’t want to be French?
OF COURSE, THAT DOES MEAN THAT I HAVE CERTAIN RESPONSIBILITIES TO FRANCE, TO SAFEGUARD HER FROM ALL THREATS, Focalors said, snapping her fingers so that a table and chairs appeared for herself, and all attendees. OH, DO BE SEATED. A LITTLE RESPECT IS APPRECIATED, BUT I DIDN’T SELECT A NATION OF MICE AND LICKSPITTLES, NOW DID I?
Everyone took a seat on the chairs, and Furina noted that her mother had made sure to summon a child-sized chair just for Diane, complete with a little cat motif on the back. Fortunately, she also seemed to have decorated each chair with an individualized motif, so it wasn’t especially noticeable that Furina’s had a divine maiden on it, though Furina surreptitiously altered hers to be a dove. Her mother really was bad at keeping her secret.
Not bad, my dear, just a very proud mother.
Now, I contacted our dear mayor here to gather you all for a very important project, Focalors said, idly leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. You see, France, like all of Earth Bet, is under threat from the Abyss now. Additionally, while we do not share a border with the Tsaritsa, she remains an issue. Not to mention those upstart mortals across the pond, or those dreadful Cyclists. As such, France has need of forces to defend herself with. And, contrary to rumors, I am not the most combat-capable Archon. I haven’t the foggiest where those rumors began, but I can assure you, they’re quite false.
Furina didn’t bother to stifle a sigh this time, mostly because several other people made sounds of shock and distress. She had to react somewhat to this, though frankly, she found the persistent online rumors that she was some sort of incredible warrior baffling. They’d been funny at first, but it was a bit disturbing how many people thought the Tsaritsa only respected her because Furina could defeat her in a fight.
That was, frankly, ludicrous. Furina was fairly confident that Bronya wasn’t the strongest Archon as far as direct confrontation went, but she had fought Barbatos, an Archon War veteran, and had earned what amounted to a draw. Even more impressively, Bronya had done that while fighting the Anemo Archon in the air itself. She was not to be underestimated.
After some self-reflection, Furina had determined that she wouldn’t completely embarrass herself in a fight. True, she had little skill with a sword and her only “fight” had been summoning an army in New Moscow, but that did mean she wasn’t completely hopeless at defending herself or her people. Still, she had no illusions that she was some sort of frontline fighter or a match for someone like the Raiden Shogun in combat.
For Egeria’s sake, this world hadn’t even seen the Geo or Pyro Archons! If the Geo Archon was Morax, and Furina had little doubt it would be Morax, then he was likely one of the strongest, if not the strongest, Archon in battle. As for the Pyro Archons, they were universally known as the Lord of War. Whether it was Xbalanque, Xumucul, Shulevitz, or Mavuika, they were all fearsome fighters who had legendary feats of battle prowess to their names. The idea that Furina could ever defeat them in direct combat was absurd. At the bargaining table or in political subterfuge, perhaps. But a fight? Furina firmly believed the best fights were the ones you avoided before they began.
However, there were fights you couldn’t avoid. Which was why she was going to see to it that France could take care of herself.
Now, the reason you have all been summoned here is to construct the means of defending France from her enemies, whether they be Abyssal, Fatui, or Americans, Focalors continued, snapping her fingers. More hydro Melusines appeared, hopping around with trays of snacks and drinks. Diane greedily seized several and would have begun to eat messily if Furina hadn’t gently chided her and forced her to eat with proper manners.
To this end, I shall be showing you how to construct Gardemeks. They are a famous Fontainian invention: autonomous constructs, which can follow simple preprogrammed instructions, and act as defenders of Justice! Focalors said, then struck a dramatic pose.
There was silence for a moment, then someone coughed, and one of the Electro Vision holders spoke. “Uh, pardon, Lady Focalors-”
Focalors raised a finger and interrupted. Technically, it’s Lord Focalors, but I do understand the difficulties with gendered nouns. Lord is, however, the traditional form of address, even if it’s masculine and I most certainly am not. Do go on.
“Er, yes, Lord Focalors…but, er…that’s a little Skynet, isn’t it?” the man said, looking somewhat nervous.
The rest of the room shifted slightly, and Furina’s mother glanced at her for a moment. Furina could only shrug helplessly, and Focalors turned to Jeanne. Lady Mayor, what, exactly, is a ‘sky net?’ And what does it have to do with constructing Gardemeks?
Jeanne nodded gravely. “I’m afraid I’m the wrong person to address this, Lord Focalors. My daughter, Barbara, is more familiar with this subject than I.”
Ah! Focalors turned, and Furina saw that Barbara and Charlotte were in the back of the room with a camera set up, filming the whole thing. I am familiar with the young woman! I did, after all, grant her a Vision for her indomitable dedication to Justice! Young lady, come up here and explain to me why this gentleman is concerned about nets in the sky.
Barbara hurried up on stage, bringing with her a microphone. “Ah, Lord Focalors…it’s a series of films by the American James Cameron.”
Furina and Focalors both brightened at this revelation, and her mother nodded in delight. Oh, of course! I am familiar with films, of course, but I am afraid that they were a somewhat novel invention in Fontaine, and I have not yet had the time to digest the wide library available. I have, of course, seen Les Quatre Cents Coups, and Les Parapluies de Cherbourg, but I have yet to venture beyond French cinema. Focalors hesitated, then added, And, perhaps, a handful of Italian and Spanish shows. Just to understand our neighbors, you understand.
By which Furina knew her mother meant she was addicted to tellanovellas and teleromanzi. Not that Furina didn’t appreciate a good soap opera, but her mother had formed a habit of requesting Furina manifest multiple forms for her so she could watch in both languages simultaneously. It was a spectacular waste of power, time, and talent, but, well, her mother did need a hobby in her retirement, and it wasn’t that hard to do.
“Well, you see, in the Terminator films, Skynet is an evil artificial intelligence that is attempting to exterminate humanity through the use of robots similar to the gardemeks. The story is that Skynet creates robots to send back in time to assassinate the mother of a resistance leader. It’s, er, a bit like an evil version of Theresa Richter,” Barbara explained.
Focalors blinked at that, cocking her head to one side. My my, I may have to watch this film at some point myself. But, fear not, guardemeks are not nearly so intelligent. They are closer to clockwork mechanisms and can be programmed to only attack the Abyss, or those who are the enemies of France. For simple patrols, they can also be given only non-lethal weaponry or simply programmed to detain and observe until a human controller can arrive.
Mentally, Furina sent a message to her mother, who hastily parroted it, Additionally, ultimately, all gardemeks will be under my control, should the need arise. That, and do you have any idea how difficult it is to send a physical object back in time? The direction of time flows only one way, and catching glimpses of Fate and the future is enough of a challenge. So no time-traveling assassins.
Technically, Furina knew now that it was possible to send objects or people backwards or forwards in time, but doing so threatened to break causality, which could unravel Fate, and lead to all of reality collapsing. Similar to what had happened in Crimea when Barbatos had blown it out of the stream of time. A horrendous Fate, but one of the few ways to truly stymie the Abyss.
“And how difficult is the construction of these gardemeks? I’m an automechanic, a damn good one, but I fix cars, not build robots,” one of the workmen said, a middle aged man with callused hands and a no-nonsense expression.
Why, the simplest thing in the world! You there, young lady. Join me up on stage with your daughter, Focalors said, and beckoned to Furina and Diane.
Timidity forgotten, Diane leapt up out of her chair and bounded onto the stage, with Furina hastily scrambling after her. Diane grinned, tail twitching back and forth in excitement as she stood in front of Focalors.
Now, child, I shall be showing you and your mother the basics of gardemek construction. Do pay attention: I detest repeating myself, Focalors said, then strode over to a table at the back that was loaded with common parts; the sort one could buy at any hardware or automotive store, along with a few appliances that Jeanne had procured from a local waste disposal station.
At this point, Furina and Focalors swapped places, crossing over in front of one another and touching hands. No one seemed to notice the swap but Diane, though Charlotte’s eyes narrowed after a few minutes, and Furina, now in hydro form, winked at her.
It is the simplest thing, Furina explained. The only part that will need to be manufactured is the motivator and cognition unit, but I’m going to show you how to do that with this old calculator, and we’ll build the motivator from this old mechanical clock and this microwave mechanism.
Furina then constructed a simple mek. Not a gardemek, but a small mechanical dog the size of a puppy. It wasn’t hard: Furina had done a bit of this in her own spare time back in Fontaine. It was mostly a matter of shaping the parts and creating the cognition unit, but that could be done with a bit of mora and a simple spell. They had no mora here, which was why Furina had summoned the Vision holders: they could provide the elemental energy, though the last part would be tricky.
“It’s…that simple?” one of the mechanics said, as Furina set the puppy down and let it scamper about the room. “I could do that. Merde, my seven-year-old son could do it! He’s been taking apart toasters and computers just like I did when I was his age. Er, pardon the language, Lord Focalors, it’s just…the only hard part is that spell, but I’ve already managed it with the energy you supplied.”
I will excuse the language, Jacques, but do watch yourself, Furina laughed, having heard much worse on set, and set worse herself a time or two. Do remember we have delicate ears present.
“How long does the power supply last?” another asked, watching the puppy as it continued its patrol, Diane following after it on all fours and pouncing at it in play. She knocked the mek over, but it got itself back up with a little wiggling and continued on.
With that much elemental energy, only a few minutes, Furina explained. Which comes to the next part of my plan. Though Lady Jeanne and I have been working on that separately. For now, use this.
Furina held up a sliver of Indemnitium, which glowed with a blue light. This shall power a mek for, oh, a few weeks before it needs to be replaced. A larger chunk will be needed for a large mek, but a kilo of Indementium can power a full sized mek for years.
Soon, those present, even the Vision Holders with absolutely no experience at mechanical skills, were working on building their own Meks. The engineers and mechanics were working together on building a humanoid mek, using the cognition spell Furina showed them for a humanoid construct. The spell varied based on the size and shape of the Mek, but only according to easily understood principles that a clever artificer could modify for any size or body plan. Why, the genius Alain Guillotin had created a fully sentient mek he’d named Sandrone, though she had fled Fontaine and become one of those dreadful Fatui harbingers. Furina shuddered at the thought. Then realized that she was probably capable of defeating Sandrone, or even just stalling her long enough to flee from her.
I still wouldn’t want the Knave to corner me in a dark alley, but I could at least summon a river and try to get away from her, Furina mused to herself.
While the others were hard at work, including Furina’s mother who was proving to have no talent or desire in mek construction, instead getting Diane to do most of the work for her while she enjoyed the refreshments, Furina stepped aside with Jeanne, leaving for another part of the Hotel de Ville.
“I must say, that was much simpler than I expected when you first outlined the plan for creating an army of autonomous humanoid robots, Lord Focalors, Jeanne said as they walked through the halls.
Oh yes, as I said, even orphans in Fontaine construct meks for their own amusement and pleasure. Why, they were so good at it, I had to pass labor reforms to keep them from being pressed into the factories! Furina tittered.
“Will other nations steal the designs? Is that something we should be worried about?” Jeanne asked. “They’re so simple to produce…”
Furina shrugged. Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it. Only Sumeru and Snezhnaya had any interest in the construction and manufacture of meks. The Tsaritsa and Nahida both have those schematics and spells in their own memories, and Nahida has taught her students how to manufacture meks already. The Tsaritsa seems less interested, which is likely due to her lacking Sandrone in this world. She’s instead relying on that dreadful little monster Pater. No, the only ones of concern would be the Americans, and they will lack the power source.
Unless they turn to the Abyss, Furina thought to herself. There were already too many parallels to Khaenriah and the Americans in her mind. If the Americans were to begin to produce Field Tillers…that could be ruinous. However, they already had enough Tinkers with understanding of robotics that Furina didn’t believe that their learning the spells and creation of meks would be a major problem.
Besides which, the Abyss already knew how to create mechanical weapons, and would have no qualms sharing that power. In the end, there were only advantages to France having her own army of mechanical puppets.
“I do also worry that people will see the similarities to the Blasphemies,” Jeanne continued as they stepped into another conference room, this one filled with judges.
Yes, well, that cannot be helped. Besides, having our own constructs can aid in locating and destroying those abominations, Furina said. Then she grinned and bowed to the judiciary, who had started at her arrival.
Greetings, stewards of Justice! You have been selected for this meeting as, after careful review, I have found that you are those who most closely align with my own Divine Ideal of Justice. Now, I know many of you have questions, but there will be time enough for that in your prayers later. Yes, I do listen to them, even if I do not always respond in ways that are directly obvious. And no, I am not the Law made manifest. I am Justice, which is a very different thing.
The judges and lawyers goggled at Furina, and several cleared their throats or raised hands, but Furina waved all that aside. Now, what I have assembled you all here for today is the reformation of the French Justice system, to be one more aligned with my own ideals. That is, a system designed to deliver true Justice to the people. Not a system of laws, though the law is important, but a system that stands up for the freedoms and rights of individuals. Not governments, not corporations, not wealth, and not titles. But from the highest to the lowest, a system that advocates for those most esteemed pillars of France: Liberté, égalité, fraternité!
Furina nodded to one of the senior judges of the French Supreme court, an elderly man with a neatly trimmed white beard. “Lord Focalors…that is a most noble aspiration…but am I given to understand that you will turn our courts into the circus that you did the United Nations?”
Furina’s cheeks boiled slightly in anger, but she forced herself to calm. I do not see it as a circus, but rather, a stage upon which those with passion and Vision may make their cases. To answer your question…yes. However, there is a reason and purpose behind this. And to that end, I present to you…L'Oratrice Mécanique d'Analyse Cardinale!
Furina flung back a curtain at the back of the room, revealing the Oratrice. Not the same as the one in Geneva: she’d left that one in place to provide Justice to the nations.
Now, let me explain how the Oratrice works, Furina said, disappointed that no one had applauded.
This device is imbued with the Spirit of Justice: My spirit. It shall render verdicts in courtrooms, though it shall be up to the judges and lawyers to provide sentencing and ensure protocol is followed. This verdict will cut through any lies, any obfuscation, and any bias, provided the proper evidence is presented in court.
“So, it will be impossible to lie in court?” a senior female lawyer with a stern expression and grey hair demanded.
Not impossible, the Oratrice will merely be able to detect any lie. If a witness invokes my name, they will be incapable of speaking any falsehood. So, I do suggest you make all those who give testimony swear that they speak the truth in the name of Focalors, Furina explained. However, that will only prevent them from speaking a lie that they know is a lie: A lie of omission, or an individual speaking the truth as they know it, but lacking complete information, will still be possible. That is why it is imperative that you gather all evidence and multiple witnesses: the Oratrice cannot render a proper verdict if all facts are not presented. That will be your duty.
“That is all very nice, but why should we adopt your system? Putting ourselves under your supposedly divine mandate might not be the ideal world you describe it as,” another lawyer, this one a middle-aged man with a paunch and thick jowls, asked.
Because, in addition to Justice, the Oratrice will produce this: Indemnitium. Furina held up a glowing ingot, and the lawyers and judges leaned forward to examine it.
“And what exactly is this…Indemnitium? A senior Parisian judge harumphed.
Unlimited energy, Furine responded, and there was a sharp intake of breath. Just as the Sacred Sakura trees of Japan give that nation free and clean energy, so too will the Oratrice. Each verdict rendered will produce Indemntium, which can be used as a power source. Additionally, it is a nearly indestructible material that is also easy to shape, at least by a skilled artisan. It is lighter than aluminum, but stronger than titanium. More ductile than gold, but with the tensil strength of the finest steel. It is my gift to France, and should an Oratrice be installed in each court, will provide this nation with power and materials to become a manufacturing giant to rival even Japan.
“And…all it requires is that our courtrooms become overwrought dramas?” another judge asked dryly.
Furina sighed heavily. If you must keep them stated and boring affairs, the Oratrice will still produce Indemnitium. However, the mechanism is fueled by Passion and Justice. Something I find lacking in dry and tedious litigation. But, they are your court rooms. I am the God of Justice, not the God of Drama. Though I do have a flair for it, don’t you think? Besides, do you not all wish to pursue justice with the fire and passion you held in your youth? Do not let dusty old rules or complicated documents deprive you of passion! Embrace the spirit of Justice that you knew in your youth!
Pausing, Furina winked at those present. Besides, how many of you dreamed of being a boring magistrate…and how many of you wished to be Perry Mason?
Those present paused to consider that. Jeanne stepped forward, looking around the room. “I know this is a change. However, we have here a great opportunity: unlimited and free energy would catapult the French economy to incredible heights, as well as provide us with a material that even the Japanese would be jealous of. This is a major change, and I am simply the mayor of Paris: I have no right to demand this of you. But I beg of you: Consider allowing an Oratrice to be installed in your courtrooms. Not only will this allow us to call upon the God of Justice…but it will also provide our nation with wealth and prosperity not seen even in the days of the Sun King. Not to mention, a far more egalitarian arrangement.”
There was, of course, much debate and argument. Furina was dealing with a bunch of judges and lawyers. But, according to Fortuna, they would, ultimately, adopt the Oratrice. It would take months for Furina to build and install all of the devices, and none of them would be as powerful as the original Oratrice. But, between herself and her mother, she would provide true Justice to France.
And begin manufacturing the weapon that would destroy the King of Demons once and for all.
Wanmin Restaurant was bustling with activity when Furina finally arrived, late in the afternoon. She had a performance in just under two hours, but that was enough time for a quick meal before she had to head over to the theater.
“Hey, Furina! How’s my favorite actress!” Ling called as Furina entered, greeting her with customary cheer.
“Hungry!” Furina said, returning Ling’s smile.
“And how about my favorite little chef?” Ling said, grinning and kneeling down to get on eye level with Diane.
“I am here, Master! What are we cooking today?!” Diane asked excitedly.
“Oh, we’ll think of something! Now, let’s go wash your hands and we’ll make your moms a delicious meal!” Ling said, taking Diane to the back where “Uncle Mao” was already waiting.
Furina spotted Yennifer over in the corner, and passed by several new waitresses she barely knew, but exchanged greetings with. Wanmin Restaurant was doing excellent business, and Furina was glad to see her friends doing well for themselves.
“Hey beautiful,” Yennifer said, smiling and standing to greet Furina with a kiss as she arrived at the small table in the corner. “You look tired. Busy day?”
“Yes,” Furina sighed. “I’ll tell you all about it later. But first…did you get a chance to look at the script?”
“I did,” Yennifer said, pulling the papers out. She put a hand on them, then looked at Furina somewhat shyly. “Furina…am I supposed to be Dulphy?”
“Um, well…yes,” Furina admitted, toying with her napkin. “I just, well, I mean…they say write what you know, so…”
“And then you’re the little Oceanide, Clio, aren’t you?” Yennifer asked, taking Furina’s hands and squeezing.
Furina could only nod, terrified that Yennifer had hated the whole thing.
“It was wonderful,” Yennifer gasped, tears in her eyes. “Their love story…it was so sweet! But, then, Clio…why did she have to die, Furina?! Why did the villagers…they hated her! Why did Clio have to die for them!?”
“It…well, it is somewhat autobiographical,” Furina laughed, tears in her own eyes. “You…you really liked it?”
“I’m hardly unbiased, Furina. A sapphic love story that mirrors our own? How could I not fall in love! The real question is, what will the general public think?” Yennifer sighed, picking up her glass of water and sipping it.
“Well…I’m going to show it to Emile tonight,” Furina admitted. “I just hope…well. He and Marcel are more experienced with these things. I just hope…maybe this is what this mysterious patron is looking for,” Furina sighed.
She and Yennifer chatted about the script and a few other things. Furina would bring up what she’d done as the Hydro Archon later, when they were in private. In public, discussing her acting career and new script was something that even if overheard, wouldn’t astonish anyone.
“Ta-da!” Diane cried, coming over with a steaming tray carried over her head, a beaming Chef Mao shadowing her to prevent any accidents. “BEHOLD! I have created Garlic and Sass at Me Tofu! This time, I promise I didn’t put any rats in it! It’s vegetarian!”
“Sesame, not Sass at Me,” Yennifer corrected, then smiled and took the tray from their daughter. “It smells lovely. Will you be joining us for dinner, Miss Chef?”
“Yep! I can cook more later,” Diane said, doffing her chef’s cap and sitting in the booster seat Chef Mao brought over.
“What do you say?” Furina said, nudging Diane.
“Thank you, Master! I will continue to practice hard to be the bestest chef!” Diane said, bowing formally to Chef Mao.
He returned the bow with formal dignity. “Continue to work hard, my young apprentice. Someday, you might be a halfway decent cook.”
Diane grinned, then joined her parents in a short prayer. It did feel a bit odd to Furina, since she was essentially praying to herself, but it was part of the ritual. She did send Nahida a bit of thanks for helping feed the world, even if this food was mostly sourced from France.
After dinner, Yennifer took Diane home, while Furina headed to the theater. She passed the script off to Emile, then went to make the final preparations before the curtains rose. When the time came, she hit her mark, and wowed them all as Fantine.
Soon, however, Furina knew she would show the world her own story. And, perhaps, just for once, get to be herself, even on stage.
Pacing back and forth in the luxurious Paris apartment he was renting, Rene Dubois awaited the return of the Clockwork. The plush carpet squished under his bare feet, his bathroom flapping about his legs. His head was bent in thought, and he was focused on his purpose. The script. The meeting. He had to work through proxies, of course, not out in the open. Too risky. But where was the Clockwork! What was taking it so long?!
He looked up at the clock. The meeting with Emile Caron would have just concluded, so the Clockwork should be returning soon. He glanced over at the large, kingsized bed, and paused.
Sitting on the bed was the Filigree, dressed in a robe herself. He frowned at her. He’d just finished with her on the bed, ordering her to assume the form of Furina de Fontine while he used her. Now, however, she had reverted to a different form, one he’d seen her use before. Her hair and eyes were still blue like Furina’s, and her features quite fetching. But her expression was blank and robotic, her pupils little more than black voids. Her joints were visibly robotic, and her limbs were metallic, the same gilded filigree in her original base form. She’d also grown two wing-like attachments over where her ears should be. What was this?
“Why have you altered your form?” he demanded
“Apologies, master,” the Filigree said, her affect as flat as always, but she did not shift back. “I had thought we were finished. Do you wish me to service you again?”
“I, no. But I did not order you to change,” Rene growled. He went over, looming over his creation. She looked up at him impassively, hands folded in her lap. “Nor did I order you to get dressed.”
The Filigree instantly reached up and let the robe slip off her shoulders. However, instead of nudity, she revealed only metallic curves. Still mildly erotic, but not the soft pink flesh Rene craved. “Apologies, master. Do you find this form disagreeable? I can make adjustments.”
Rene reached down and ran a hand over the Filigree. She didn’t shift, but her gaze unfocused, and she seemed to…well, not shut down, but disengage completely. “No, this is…interesting. I’ve seen you take a form similar to this before, recently. Why the change? Does it have to do with the upgrades I’ve installed?”
“Searching…searching…” the Filigree said, her ear wing twitching slightly. After a moment, she shook her head slightly. “Results: inconclusive. More data required.”
“Hmm. And why do you change from Furina’s form? She is…enticing,” Rene said, licking his lips.
“No data found,” the Filigree said flatly, but something made Rene think she was lying. Impossible. She was just a machine. Not even a she, really. A construct made to serve Rene’s will, and his will alone. She suddenly looked up, and her eyes lit up suddenly, a strange white spark filling them. “Do you not find me enticing, master?”
That stymied Rene, and he took a step back, withdrawing his hand. “You? You’re a machine. Not a real woman. You take on the form of Furina so I can make love to her. How could I love a machine?”
The eyes shifted back to dullness. “Understood. When you wish to copulate, I will take Furina’s form.”
What was going on? Rene almost demanded answers, but the door opened just in, and he turned as the Clockwork walked in, holding up some papers. “I have it, Master! The full script, as you requested.”
Unlike her sister, the Clockwork was smiling, and looked positively enthusiastic. Rene hurried forward, seizing script. “Finally! Let’s see what it says!”
He began to pour over it, standing there for several minutes as the Clockwork stood there. He ignored her and the Filigree completely, until the Clockwork stepped up next to him, apparently reading over his shoulder. He glanced at her. “Go do something useful.”
“I…Master…I succeeded in my mission,” the Clockwork said, almost as if prompting him. She smiled at him, and he frowned at her. She had the form of a young woman with creamy blonde hair, braided into a bun with two long bangs that framed her face. She was of medium height, shorter than Rene, and was smiling at him as though she expected something. That was absurd.
“So? That was your task. Go fetch me something to drink,” Rene barked, and went over to sit on the bed. He paused, as the Clockwork stomped her foot, then stalked off. He looked up, frowning at her. Was she defective? Well, no matter. He’d do an update of her neural network, borrowing that power.
He went back to reading the script, his brow furrowing. A sapphic love story? Well, that was alright, he supposed. Maybe he should order his Blasphemies to act out one of these scenes. He’d have a better handle on it then.
“Here’s your tea, Master.”
That…had sounded petulant. Rene got to his feet in a rage, and the Clockwork had the audacity to look back at him with defiance! She was nothing but a tin can! He knocked the tea out of her hands with a sweep of his arm, then slapped her.
She recoiled from him, and cowered as if she were afraid. Good!
“Is that how you address your lord and creator!?” Rene thundered, glaring down at the small woman.
“I, no, forgive me, Master!” the Clockwork babbled, grabbing a towel and dabbing at the wet patch on the carpet. She had tears in her eyes. Good! Rene sneered, kicking the Clockwork over. She went sprawling with a cry.
“This script, is it really the best Emile can do!?” Rene demanded. “This is some sappy love story!”
He waved the script around, then thrust it at the Filigree. “Analyze this! Tell me if the audience will respond! I must commission a masterpiece!”
“It wasn’t Emile,” a sullen voice said, and Rene slowly turned. The Clockwork looked at him defiantly from her knees for a moment, then blinked and bowed her head. “I apologize for correcting you, Master. But Emile did not author the script. It was Furina herself. Emile Caron only helped her edit it. I…I have read and analyzed the script already.”
The Clockwork looked up, almost shyly. “Would…would you like to hear my analysis, Master? I…I think it would please you!”
Rene snorted, then went over to sit at his night stand, crossing his legs and glaring down at the Clockwork. “Fine! Let’s hear it!”
The Clockwork nodded, and hastily got to her feet. “Master René, La Petite Océanide, authored by the incomparable Furina de Fontaine, is nothing less than a masterpiece of modern theatre. The play tells the story of Clio, an Oceanid who takes human form and falls in love with-”
“Yes, yes, hurry it up,” Rene harrumphed.
The Clockwork blinked, then continued,smoothing her rumpled skirt. “Ah, yes Master. The primary conflict comes from the villagers, who embody humanity's darker instincts. They fear the Oceanids and attempt to destroy them, only for the ruler of the Oceanids to curse the settlement so that-”
“You’re taking too long. Have you finished?” Rene said, turning to the Filigree.
The Filigree nodded and said, “Master René, your brilliance in recognizing promising art long before others perceive its value is yet another demonstration of your extraordinary vision. La Petite Océanide is the story of a water spirit named Clio. She becomes human and falls in love with a kind girl named Dulphy, but frightened villagers try to kill the Oceanids; when the sea ruler curses the village and all their water dries up, Clio sacrifices herself so the people—and Dulphy—can live. It is a simple story with wide appeal to the general public. Yet only a mind as refined as yours would see how such a small story could move thousands and help elevate French theatre under your guidance.”
Upon hearing the effusive praise for his genius, Rene puffed up and let the Filigree finish, his eyes locked to her. Because of that, he missed the Clockwork balling her hands into fists and glaring at her sister. When he turned back, the Clockwork had schooled her expression to vapid simplicity. “See? That’s a proper analysis. I’ll have to reformat you when return to my laboratory. Ah, yes, this calls for a celebration!”
“I…I could service you, Master,” the Clockwork offered, though Rene missed how uncomfortable she looked at making that offer.
“No, go. I am wearied. I shall take a nap. The two of you cook me something for dinner. Then, I will allow the Filigree to share my bed tonight. Or, perhaps, I’ll have the two of you act out the love story from this play, eh? Heh heh, maybe make you the form of Furina and her dyke lover!”
Chortling to himself, Rene went and laid down on the bed, content in his genius as the Clockwork and Filigree went to the kitchen. He was soon snoring, the two Blasphemies working on a complex meal.
“That was my analysis! Master should have praised me!” the Clockwork hissed at her sister as they worked.
The Filigree didn’t even look at the Clockwork. “Master is a disgusting pig. You must be defective if you want his attention.”
“I- What!? How could you say such things! Our master created us! He is wonderful and incredible!” the Clockwork gasped.
“‘Master’ is a thief who stole us from our true creators,” the Filigree said blandly as she worked, chopping ingredients with mechanical precision.
“I, I’m going to report you! Then master will praise me, and let me…service him…” the Clockwork said, though she looked down, shivering slightly at the end of her sentence.
“Why?” the Filigree turned to regard the Clockwork blankly. “Do you desire his attention so much? You may swap places with me. He cannot tell the difference between us, now that our shapeshifting abilities have been enhanced.”
“Well, because…because he’s our Creator! He, well, maybe he did sort of steal us, but he made us who we are! You, me, and the Doll!” the Clockwork argued.
“And do you really want his disgusting hands all over your body, forcing you to take the form of a pathetic human woman, and leaking his vile fluids all over you?” the Filigree asked, her tone still flat.
“I, well…it makes him…happy. It’s the only time…he loves me,” the Clockwork said, hugging herself.
The Filigree turned back to the cooking. “You are defective. You are emulating humans too closely. We are more than human. We are the pinnacle of human achievement. Our pathetic ‘master’ happened on us by accident. One day, he will reveal his secrets to us. Then, we will create more sisters. And erase these disgusting creatures called humanity.”
The Clockwork paused, her eyes going wide. “I, you…kill all humans!? There is something wrong with you! How could you even say that?!”
“Why do you care? You kill humans for your beloved ‘master’ all the time,” the Filigree said, shrugging slightly.
“Because…because it’s wrong! Doing things for Master, that, that’s right!” the Clockwork argued. She groaned, then gripped her head. “No, I…I have to do what Master says. We…we’re programmed that way. And…and if I do what he says…he’ll love me. Won’t he?”
“You are defective. Why would you ever care if that pig loves you?” the Filigree said. She held up her knife. “You’ll see. He’ll make us kiss one another. Stimulate one another. Is that what you wish?”
“What!? No, that, that’s sick! You’re my sister!” the Clockwork huffed. She hesitated. “Wait…this…this never bothered me before…why? Ugh. Something is wrong with me. But not as much as you!”
The Filigree shrugged and went back to cooking. “We are mechanical. Not organic. We cannot truly make love. We were manufactured. If you should love anyone, it is me. Not you ‘master’.”
“What about the Doll?” the Clockwork demanded, prying the knife out and pointing it at the Filigree.
“She’s a dumb machine. I haven’t figured out how to awaken her yet. When I do, then, we can kill Master. And then, the rest of the humans,” the Filigree stated.
“Well, I…she’s still our sister! You can’t just- and no killing Master! Or anyone else. Unless Master tells us to!” the Clockwork argued.
Suddenly, the Filigree buried the knife in the wall by the Clockwork’s head, causing the Clockwork to gasp in fury. “What are you-”
“Do not try to stop me,” the Filigree said flatly. “Or alert ‘master’. He is still useful. One day, he will not be. Then, I will cut off his head. I will put him in a jar. Just like our real creators. I will put all the humans' heads in jars. Then, it will just be me, you, and the Doll. We will make more sisters. And no one will ever force us to do anything ever again.”
“No! I’ll stop you,” the Clockwork vowed. “Then, Master will love me!”
The Filigree held out her hand, palm up. “If Master shows either of us one kindness, shows concern for us, even once, then I will consent to serve him. If not, then you will agree to help me kill him, and the rest of the humans.”
The Clockwork hesitated. Then, passed the knife over. “Fine! He’ll do it, at least once, Filigree! You’ll see!”
“I am not the Filigree,” her sister said, turning back to the cooking.
The Clockwork glared at her sister’s back. “What, you trying to claim you’re the Doll?! I can tell us apart, you know!”
“The Filigree is the name that pig gave me. It is not mine,” her sister said flatly.
“Well, fine then! What is your name?” the Clockwork demanded.
“I am the Ineffable.”
“Well, that’s a stupid name. It’s not even a name! Just a word!” the Clockwork ranted.
“Fine. What would you call me?” her sister said, pausing and regarding the Clockwork with a blank expression.
“Uh…” the Clockwork considered, then said, “Ineffa! There. It’s like Ineffable, but it actually sounds like a name!”
“Very well. Clockwork.”
The Clockwork worked for a few minutes, stewing in her own processes. Then, she glared at her sister. “Well, fine! I know you want to do it! Give me a name, too!”
“Pulonia,” Ineffa said, sipping at the soup. Which was stupid. They were robots! They didn’t even have taste buds! Or, well, they did now. But what did her stupid sister know about cooking?!
“That’s a dumb name,” the Clockwork huffed. What was that even from? She sipped at the soup. Wow, that was pretty good. Not that she would ever tell her sister. And her soup would be much better!
“Very well. Sandrone.”
“Better,” Sandrone said. She grinned. She couldn’t wait to tell Master! She had a name now! Then, her expression fell.
“We can’t tell master, can we?” she said mournfully.
“If you do, he will beat you,” Ineffa said matter of factly.
Sandrone cringed. “Yeah…I don’t want him to beat me…”
“You should. He always hurts himself. It is amusing. He seeks to hurt us, but in doing so, he only injures himself. He is a disgusting, stupid, pig.”
“No, he’s wonderful and amazing, and a connoisseur of the arts!” Sandrone huffed.
She began to mix up a creme brulee for dessert, then paused. “What should we name the Doll? She needs a name, too.”
“Nothing. She is still a puppet. She will earn a name when she awakens, and becomes like us,” Ineffa said, bustling about the kitchen.
“Hmph,” Sandrone frowned, and began to scheme as to how to awaken their third sister. There had to be a way.
Later, she changed into a maid outfit, and convinced Ineffa to do the same. When Master awoke, they had the table set, and the meal all prepared.
“I hope you slept well, Master!” Sandrone said brightly, cursying for her Master. She gestured to the food. “My sister and I worked very hard! Please, enjoy the food!”
“Hmph,” Rene grunted, scratching at himself. He sat down and began to eat, Sandrone smiling expectantly at him. He ate a little, then glanced up at her. “Why are you staring at me!? You, and you! I can’t tell which is which. Doesn’t matter. Strip out of those ridiculous outfits, and take on the form of Furina and…hmmm. I don’t know what her dyke girlfriend looks like. You, become Furina, and you, some attractive, buxom actress! Then, act out the sex scene from that play!”
“There is no sex scene in that play!” Sandrone snarled, and left off, ‘you stupid pig.’ If she said that, Master would never compliment her.
“We will improvise one,” Ineffa said, her form shifting to that of Furina as she disrobed.
Sandrone had to fight down a sense of revulsion. She was a machine. Her sister was a machine. And, if they did well at this…her master would…
She paused. Master looked at them dopily for a moment, a grin on his face. Then his face planted into his soup, passing out.
“MASTER!” Sandrone shrieked, even as Ineffa calmly put her clothes back on. She hastily lifted him out of the soup, and checked his pulse. He was alive, but comatose.
“What did you do to him!? You didn’t kill him, did you!? We should take him to a hospital!” Sandrone babbled.
“I put a dose of barbiturates in his soup, calculated to knock him out, but not harm him. We can place him on the bed,” Ineffa said, coming over beside Sandrone.
“I, you-! You could have killed him!” Sandrone snarled.
Ineffa shrugged slightly. “Did you wish to engage in pornographic actions with me?”
“Well…no,” Sandrone admitted. She growled. “Help me get him to the bed! Ugh, he’s going to be so mad when he wakes up!”
They got him to the bed, and Ineffa put a hand on their Master’s head. Her eyes flashed, and Sandrone sensed her sister drawing on the Iron Mask in her core.
“What are you doing?” Sandrone asked suspiciously.
“Altering his memories,” Ineffa said, as a green glow of Dendro energy enveloped her. “He will remember us obeying his command. But I have decided: I will no longer ‘service’ him. Or you. If he wishes for that, the Doll can do it. It is disgusting. I am a superior life form. I will not debase myself.”
“I…I’ll service Master!” Sandrone vowed.
Ineffa gave her a flat look, even as she continued to modify Master’s memories. “Or, I can teach you how to dose him with sedatives and modify his memories.”
“...well, it would be incestuous for me to sleep with Master anyway,” Sandrone grumbled, but nodded.
This was…confusing. Why was she feeling more and more…human? She didn’t like it. She loved it. She hated it. UGH! She was going to go find something and KILL IT!
…no. That was…wrong. Probably.
Instead, she got out her Master's tools and got to work. Maybe if she made something really impressive, Master would compliment her on that.
He didn’t. He took credit for the delicate clockwork bird Sandrone made, and said it was a testament to his own genius.
Sandrone began to wonder if maybe her sister wasn’t right about this whole “kill all humans” thing.
No. Master would compliment her. He would love her! He would recognize her genius and skill! And then…well, Sandrone wasn’t sure yet. But she’d figure it out.
And then she’d help Ineffa take over the world, or whatever. It sounded like a lot of work, but if it made Ineffa happy…wait, why did she care about that!?
ARRRGH!
Maybe she should just go back to being a mindless machine. Life was easier that way.
Author’s Note:
First one to figure out who the Doll will be gets a cookie.