MF1.0 - 07 - The Beast

There are several ways one can react to seeing a monster. To a towering, hairy hunchbacked monster with a sunken, barely human face and oddly luminescent eyes. These include, but are not limited to: screaming, crying, running away, grabbing a weapon, testing your breath for alcohol and, of course, ignoring it. All perfectly reasonable responses. Stef merely stared at it. After a moment, she blinked. It hissed at her, then lunged. It roared in her face – and she hoped the sharp teeth weren’t “all the better to eat hackers with”. She stood her ground. There was literally no point in being afraid. She would leave the room, or she wouldn’t - she was smart enough to know when she wasn’t in control of a situation. ‘Dorian gave me the key. He’s busy shagging in my bed. Needed somewhere to sleep.’ She looked up to the monster’s eyes. ‘And it’s nice to meet you, boss.’ The monster snarled and retreated behind a huge desk. ‘I didn’t expect Dorian to be my downfall. I may as well have called the angels for help and ended this sooner.’ His – well, the voice sounded male – accent was strange, she couldn’t place it. She crinkled her nose and chided herself. She was staring at a monster – there was no chance that the man in front of her was human – and she was thinking about his accent. This, Spyder, is why you almost get hit every time you cross the road. Over analysis of a situation. I don’t over analyse, I notice. Keep telling yourself that. Monster? Oh, right. ‘If you haven’t noticed, I’m not screaming. I’m not going to run down stairs and tell the others we’re working for G’Mork. It’s your prerogative – staying up here and appearing eccentric seems to have worked so far.’ He snorted and turned to her. ‘Why aren’t you screaming?’ He thumped a hairy fist on the desk. ‘You were warned not to come up here. I could eat you. You should be afraid.’ ‘I didn’t think you were a tame lion,’ she muttered. ‘If you’re going to hurt me, there’s nothing I can do. The only good exit is a staircase, which you could simply push me down. I’m not screaming, because I’m not an idiot.’ He stared silently at her. She bit her lip. ‘Yeah, ok, I’m insane ok? Certified. I did the certification, which probably makes me more insane.’ He wasn’t asking for a life story, he was deciding if you were a midnight snack. Shut up, maybe he can smell truth or something. No, they give the weird truth powers to reporters. Who do? …convention? If you don’t know, why would I? The monster snorted again, then lifted a clawed finger and pointed down an adjacent hall. ‘Dorian’s room is down there.’ She stepped toward the hallway, but stopped. ‘What’s her name?’ ‘Why does it matter?’ ‘The data is degrading.’ Just as the memory of a pilot would. ‘I’m not the only one who has noticed. If it’s changing and degrading, it’s dynamic. If it’s dynamic and degrading, there’s a deadline. If you’re looking for someone, and there’s a deadline, there’s only one possible way it could end well. I don’t care about the Romeo and Juliet – I don’t believe in that crap, but you promised to go to an old man’s funeral if I…if the code monkeys found her.’ The monster stared at her. ‘I don’t know where you came from, or what the hell that data is, but that old guy didn’t get to see the Narnia you came from, all he wants is for someone to remember him and see him off to…whatever’s next.’ The monster growled, and stared at her with its glowing eyes. ‘You know what comes next, nothing. Just because you came back doesn’t mean he will. There is nothing after this life.’ Please tell me this is one of those moments where I’m imagining things. Shut up, I’m hiding in this corner over here. He’s a monster, they lie. No, that’s trickster gods. Do you know he’s not one of those? No. Then shut up. ‘You made a promise to an old man, my ten fingers, my genius brain and my keyboard are going to make sure you keep that promise, now tell me her damn name.’ ‘Her name is Mela.’ ‘Thank you,’ she said, then strode down the hall. Then turned and walked halfway back up, as she had gone past Dorian’s room.