Memories are like a mirror, a way for you to examine the mask you wear day by day. Yet, they are ever so fragile, to the point even a light brush can cause them to shatter.
It takes far more effort to piece them back together than many have the luxury of sparing.
* Shadowtag, 2055
***
I sheepishly grin, then tap my hammer on the floor twice, a puff of lapis floating up with each impact. I clear my throat, then flamboyantly start:
“Come one, come all, gather round to hear the grand story of how the mighty Emmelyn Seras came to be but a simple maid!”
I take a moment to let the air still, then pull up one of my most vivid memories. That night everything changed, the night that our life was flipped upside down. I begin to speak, describing the black and white film within my mind.
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We start somewhere I’m sure you’ve been at least once, Prism, the First Floor.
Back when I was, uh, basically just a little kid, it was essentially the exact same as it is now, a place entirely too focused on its position in the reef. Every inch of the floor is meticulously shined by workers, kept in tip-top shape for the various visiting corpos who want to get their grubby fingers into the flotilla. Our apartment was near the top of one of the subsections, with a big-ass window that let us look down on the rest of our isolated world.
I was cradled in my mothers lap as she watched some old sitcom, giggling away at jokes I probably wouldn’t understand even if I watched it now. She was like a queen then, her hair rather similar to mine is now, dressed in a half unzipped party-dress, which she hadn’t bothered to take off after she abandoned some formal event before it really started, to be with me when my nannie bailed on us. It was then that I abruptly asked, lacking all emotion in my tone:
“Mom, why did you choose Father?”
Mom immediately paused her show, shifting to look down at me with a sad smile. “It really wasn’t something I had a choice in, Emme. Why do you ask?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “Well, he’s always spending time with Miss Renee and not with us, so I was just curious.”
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Abruptly, the mermaid on the other end of the call clears her throat, and I stop my narration.
[“I-I’m sorry for interrupting, Emme,”] Prism quietly mutters, [“I just, I thought we were learning why you were a maid, why are we starting from, here, exactly?”]
“Weeeell. It’s sorta important to things that happen later.” I chuckle as I rub the back of my neck. “I can skip to the next part if you want though, we’ve basically already hit the important part”
[“Being your dad was cheating on your mom?”]
“Well, kinda but not really. It’s a little bit more complicated than that.” I blow a raspberry as I take a moment to try to figure out a way to explain it fast. I utterly fail in my attempt. “Scratch that, a lot more fucking complicated. I guess in the end the lesson is that polycules can easily devolve into an utter mess, Prism.”
[“I thought polycules were illegal here?”]
“They are.”
[“Ah.”] Prism pauses for a moment, contemplating. [“S-Sorry for messing up your flow, please continue, p–preferably a bit more into the future .”]
“As you wish, Princess.” I grin as the girl sputters on the other end of the call, swinging my hammer around me a bit as I resume my story.
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Okay, let’s jump ahead a bit. A year after that, we were basically homeless on the second floor. Dad had cut his hair the day after we had that conversation about father, and he had attempted to keep it as short as possible, but the previous few months had been really rough on him, so his hair had grown out to near his shoulders.
I dunno if you’ve ever actually been to the second floor, but it’s far more… neonpunk then any of the others I have visited. It’s like they took the dystopian image of the future from bladerunner far too literally, but instead of awesome bio-androids they get all huffy about immigrants. Actually, I guess it’s sorta the same deal if you look at it from a distance, just a lot more uncomfortably real when it actually happens in front of you.
Uh, I guess that’s sort of an unimportant tangent, let me get back to the point of even talking about this.
We were wrapped up in a blanket on the side of the street when an older man walked up to us, obviously drunk out of his mind. I was a bit scared, but Dad seemed to have become rather numb to everything at that point. The man stumbled, taking a chug out of his drink before he plopped down on the ground next to us, giving a crooked grin as he looked me in the eyes and slurred:
“Aren’t you a pretty little one? I wanted a daughter like you once, y’know.”
I hiccuped, a little terrified at what that comment meant, but Dad’s retort to that comment was both instant and unexpected.
“I’m a man right now, you geezer.”
“Eh?” The drunk man shakily turned to Dad, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, sorry, shoulda' said son.”
Dad pushed the man’s face away as he complained, “Your breath smells like alcohol, if you wanna talk, speak while facing away from us.”
“Darn kids.” Despite his words, the man complied, turning his back entirely to us. “Look okay, I might seem drunk…”
Dad snorted at that one. “You mean, you are drunk.”
“Fine, whatever you say lad, but I came over with an actual purpose.” The man takes a swig from the bottle in his hand before he continues. “I actually am in dire need of help for my business, essentially by… an hour ago. You seem like you need work, you in?”
Dad narrowed his eyes before quietly asking, “It’s not to be a Joytoy, right?”
The old man turned around, a genuine look of hurt on his face. “I’m no goddamn pimp! I’m a dredgebeller!”
After a deep, deep sigh, the man shakily stood up, then offered dad a hand. “I’m Georgie. Do you want the job or not, lad?”
Dad bit his lower lip, then nodded and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. We immediately set off to the Fourth Floor, which was our home ever since. Eventually Mom met Pop, and I suddenly had two parents again. It was when she was pregnant with my younger sibling that I met her.
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[“Wait, I’m a bit confused,”] Prism cutely murmurs, [“I thought your Mom became your Dad, but now they are a uh, Mom again?”]
I blink twice, then find myself giggling a bit before I say, “Ah, I can see where the confusion is, you missed the part where they realized they were genderfluid. Mom is Dad, and Dad is Mom.”
[“This is making my head spin.”]
“You get used to it.”
Prism sighs, then asks, [“So, who is this ominous ‘Her’ you met?”]
“My… ex-girlfriend. Freesia.”
[“Oh.”] For a moment, Prism is entirely silent, which makes me a bit anxious, at least before she stutters out, [“S-Sorry, you can continue your story.”]
I only manage to put out a, “It’s all good, don’t worry.”, but it’s maybe more for myself then her. This next part is going to be a bit hard to talk about without getting emotional.
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This was… fifteen years ago, so it was Twenty Forty-One.
Now, eleven year old Emmelyn wasn’t exactly a normal kid. No offense to Mom, but they weren’t exactly the pinnacle of parenting, even though they basically sacrificed their cushy life for me, so I didn’t really have the support I needed for the issues I had.
To be blunt, my emotions were all fucked up.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Even back at that first memory I shared, I didn’t really experience emotion like other people did. I could feel them, but they were dull, hazy, in a way that made their impact so little they might as well have not existed. In hindsight, I think I inadvertently put a mask on to stay strong for Mom, but I didn’t know how to take it off at that point.
Now, it was a pretty slow day, though like I said earlier, I was alone in the station since Mom was in the hospital giving birth to my sister. I wasn’t really excited or anything, mostly numb laying with my head in my arms at the station's counter while listening to Pop’s old MP3 player. I was half asleep when the song changed, but that’s not what shook me out of my drowsiness. It was the sickeningly alluring voice almost whispering into my ear that did that.
“Hey, uh, you’re Reagan’s new kid right?”
I half opened one of my eyes as I unenthusiastically moaned out, “Yeah,” but when I saw who was actually talking to me, I immediately jolted up. Now, I didn’t have a concept of attraction back then, but looking back on it, I definitely was a bit enthralled by her at first glance. She was everything I wasn’t with her dark hair curly, ebony skin, and brown eyes, and though I could tell she was a bit older than me, she still had that glint of innocence kids have in her eyes.
I actually… I don’t really remember how the conversation went after that, despite my rather vivid memory of the day in question. I think I was just lost in her wake, which ended up with her convincing me to ‘take a break’ from the station to go watch a movie with her. I honestly don’t know how she found out I liked musicals so much, but she definitely took advantage of it.
She led me to a little abandoned apartment she had claimed as a hideout, where she put on Wicked, which immediately had me enthralled. I hadn’t seen either the Broadway production or the movie adaptation for the story yet, so I was basically hooked from the outset. Unfortunately for me then, I caught sight of the time halfway through and had to rush off to get back to the station, but not before she convinced me to come back the next day.
I got seriously chewed out for going missing for an hour, but my mind was entirely elsewhere at that point. Freesia was my first, and well, only friend on the Fourth while I was there, and I was completely totally lost. She had me around her pinky finger from the moment I met her, and looking back on it now, she probably set it up like that on purpose.
Ha. I was manipulated from the start.
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I bite my tongue, holding back the rising tears.. Nobody on the call says anything, but I know they probably understand how difficult this is for me to talk about from the tone of my voice. I clench my fist as I ruefully chuckle to myself.
“What the hell am I even doing? I haven’t talked about this with anyone, let alone my family, yet here I am, spouting off about the most vulnerable moments of my life to three people I have only known for barely hours.”
[“Emme…”]
I put my hand on my forehead, a contradictory smile stretching across my face. “I’m actually fucking insane, aren’t I? I mean, I’m not going to stop here, not now that you already know how it started.”
I take a deep, deep breath, wordlessly putting my mask back on. I think I’m going to need it.
[“A-Are you sure you want to-”]
“Sorry about that, and yes, I do.”
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Now, about four years later, a few weeks after her sixteenth birthday, we were in the apartment lazing around when she suddenly recommended we watch West Side Story. Now, for context, I had never watched it before then, mostly because Mom had always complained about how boring it was, so I never actually took the time.
With Freesia beside me, it didn’t really seem like too much of a hassle.
Admittedly, Mom is pretty much right about that musical, it kinda put me to sleep, at least, that is until ‘Somewhere’ began to play. It struck a chord with me unlike anything I had heard before, maybe I’m just sappy like that. The words of going together with someone to find a place that fits you made my world fall apart around me.
You see, I hate New Houston, I did then and I still do now. The administration that runs it into the ground, mindless idiots who live here, the goddamn fact that I lived in a glorified submarine. I was told that I would be here forever for as long as I can remember, stuck in what I considered hell for my whole life. Yet, this song gave me hope, just a paltry sliver of it, but it was enough.
My mask fell off at that moment, and Freesia had me.
As I sobbed, she held me in her arms, quietly crooning the lyrics into my ear. Perhaps she legitimately wanted to calm me down, but looking back on it, it just seems like she was pulling me further and further into her clutches. It’s hard to tell with her, so I don’t think it’s worth dwelling on.
The important thing is, that was the moment she first kissed me. After that, we were inseparable, lovers with a plain goal in front of us-
Finding our Somewhere.
Not that she ever actually fucking cared about that.
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[“Emme. Emme, can you hear me?”] Prism’s anxious voice drags me out of my trance, and I reach up to find a single tear going down my cheek. [“Are you okay?”]
I bitterly chuckle, shaking my head. “I guess not. I thought two months would be enough to be over… over her, but apparently not.”
I shiver, hugging myself as my chest silently heaves. The fact that talking about this was distressing enough to cause this much stress despite my mask… was a bad sign.
Yet.
Thinking about it wasn’t as hard now.
Yet.
It still fucking hurts.
I wish I could stop and just let the pain fade away through the numbness of the mask, but…
I kick a pile of lapis spores, sending it into the air around me.
I quietly breathe my next words through clenched teeth. “Work through it Emme. You can do it.”
[“Pardon? I couldn’t hear that very well.”]
“It was nothing, princess. Let me finish the story before I second guess myself.”
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A little over two months ago, the annual august festival was going on, but that isn’t what was important about the date for me. I had spent fucking ten years working as a essentially free worker for the people of the Fourth’s market, learning everything I could about being a New Houstonian merchant all the while. To be honest, I can’t stand sales work, it drains me like nothing else, especially when I get paid basically nothing for it, but I worked through it for one important reason.
I was planning on becoming the Fourth’s central market representative. The role comes with privileges and power on the Fourth, but the reason I wanted it was because of the secondary benefits, mainly that it was the only ticket to getting a corporate job from somewhere outside the flotilla. It was rare, but sometimes visiting ships would hire people from the central market as crew, and from there you could go anywhere.
I was incredibly anxious for the event, which was absolutely not helped by the fact that Freesia hadn’t talked to me in a few days. She was my mental crutch, the person I relied upon to be on my side no matter what. She was the only one that knew about my dream, the only one who wholeheartedly agreed with me that I should push forth for it. Of course, when the reveal came and they called Steven Lysander up to the stage to give him the job, I was incredibly disappointed, but it wasn’t too bad.
At least, until Freesia walked onto stage and kissed him on the cheek.
My world shattered right there.
I hate to admit it, but I ran. Unfortunately the place I ran to was the abandoned apartment, where Freesia found me wrapped up on the couch. She emotionlessly tossed a pre-prepared bag of all my stuff at me, pointing to the door.
I didn’t say a word as I left, and I don’t think I said a single word for a day or two. I went back home but I barely spent time there- No, I was a bit of a creep, stalking around Freesia’s house to try and eavesdrop any info I could get as to what the fuck happened.
Oh, I heard the truth straight from her mouth, and it broke me a bit.
Freesia spoke of how she fell for me because of my ‘difference’ to the rest, of how I would provide something she couldn’t get anywhere else. Yet, when I stopped paying as much attention to her, when I was working hard on a goal she swore to me she shared, she found someone else who fit the role better. A boy that wouldn’t take her away from her family if she was to stay with them.
I was ready to leave at that point, but then I overheard something that caught my interest. Mainly, she had heard of a woman from the Monteros looking for pretty workers for the manor, and that she was going to go apply when she got a chance.
No way in hell I was going to give her the satisfaction of that.
So I went out to search for that woman, and that was where I met Marianne for the first time.
The rest is history.
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“So, that’s it. The anticlimactic reason I became a maid. To spite my ex for being a callous bitch.” I run my hand through my hair, marveling a bit at the weight that finishing the story had taken off my shoulders. “For what it’s worth, it did pay really well. I don’t know if there are many other jobs in the reef that don’t pay in scrip.”
[“Emme… I legitimately don’t know what to say.”]
Numb, I stand there quietly for a few seconds, staring at the seemingly endless dead bodies ahead of me. A quote comes to my mind, and I just blurt it out without thinking.
“Someone I respect a lot once said, "When you spend your whole life living in a hole, the only way you can go is up.”
A dim spark lights in my heart, my frustration at the past slipping through my mask. I throw my hand up in the air, gesturing at the corpse farm around me.
“Well, not for me apparently! I fucking hate this place!”
Decisively, I clench my hand around the hammer, then start running forward
“I worked so goddamn hard for a fucking decade! So many exhausting days, dumbass people! Just to have it all vanish when my stupid employer sends me to fucking die! Only for me to gain everything I could ever want in a instant because I hit a fucking alien with a stupid monkey wrench!?”
I slide to a stop, throwing my hammer as hard as I can in front of me. The weapon clatters to the ground, sending a cloud of blue into the air around it. I breathe heavily as I reach up to cup my face, screaming into my hands as I let all out. I fall to my knees, the sea of blue spores beneath me shifting to hold my weight.
“I mean, what the fuck was it all for?! I wasted so much time, so much of myself on that stupid goal! I’m such a fucking idiot!”
[“No.”]
I freeze, looking incredulously at the video in my glasses to find Prism looking directly at me.
“No? What the fuck do you mean no?! How else could you describe someone like me?!”
[“I don’t think-”]
“Who else but an idiot would fall for such a fucking obvious manipulation!? Work their ass off for nothing!?”
[“MAYBE YOU ARE AN IDIOT, BUT FUCKING LISTEN TO ME FOR A MOMENT!”]
I completely freeze, staring in shock at the furious mermaid screaming at me through the call.
[“YOU’RE A SURVIVOR! GOD!”]
“A… Survivor?”
[“I mean, fuck! I can’t imagine going through half of that, let alone deal with the knowledge that you now have! Yet here you fucking are! Stronger than me in so, so many ways! Don’t put yourself down over that work, you gained valuable experience from that! Knowledge that you can now use to benefit not just everyone, but after so fucking long, finally help yourself!”]
She takes a breath, then asks, [“What do you want from your life, Emmelyn?”]
“I-I want to travel the world, helping people where I can.”
[“Then fucking do that! Who cares if you were manipulated and betrayed by people!? I certainly fucking don’t! So stop having a tantrum and get moving! We have work to do!”]
We.
That word bounces around in my head, gaining speed until it breaks free and knocks my mask clean off. Yet, I am not overwhelmed by what is below, and only one feeling seems to be present, a burning ember in my heart, yet oh so different from the frustration from just moments before.
I wordlessly stand up, walking over to pick up my hammer.
Funny.
It seems… almost lighter than before.