Tales From the Terran Republic

The blondes in Vikkart’s former workplace wandered about in astonishment. Their “standing stools” had been replaced with luxurious executive-level office chairs!

Keelii plopped into hers and spun it about happily.

“It’s so nice!” she enthused.

The elevator doors opened, and a very well-dressed grey walked out.

“Vikkart!” a blonde exclaimed, “Um... I mean sir,” it added with a cautious smile.

“Just Vikkart,” Vikkart replied.

“You’re behind the chairs?” they asked.

“Of course,” he replied, “You spent months carrying my buns,” he chuckled, causing Keelii to dart back into her cubicle, nose practically glowing, “I thought only fair that I carry yours.”

“However did you get them?”

***

Deep in the bowels of that same stately skyscraper, there was a dreary, dimly lit space. It was a lot like a dungeon, but instead of chains, the cells held stools.

“What’s this?!?” the freshly “archived” Wabaan shouted indignantly. “Where is my chair? I am entitled to...”

“They took them last night,” a shabby grey in a shabby suit, Wabaan’s new “supervisor” replied. “No, explanation.”

“This is intolerable!”

“Nothing for it,” the shabby grey replied with a swish of his tail, their shrug, “If you don’t like it, find a place elsewhere. That is what this prison is for, you know.”

With that, the shabby grey “warden” swished his tail again, retreated to his office (which still had a chair), and resumed watching Holovision.

***

“Nice threads,” Moortisha said as she thumbed Vikkart’s collar. “You didn’t waste any time spending your greycheck,” she snickered.

“Oh, please,” Vikkart laughed, “My mommy dressed me.”

The office burst into laughter.

“Hey! I bought a suit, a good one!” Vikkart exclaimed indignantly, “I went to Saavan’s and everything.” (a nice Garthran department store)

“What’s wrong with Saavan’s?” Moortisha demanded, slightly offended.

“I know, right?” Vikkart replied. “That suit was every bit as good as this one. She even liked it until she checked the label, but you know greys.”

The office laughed again.

“Instead of a nice quick auto alteration, I had to spend all abyssal day standing on a fucking wooden stool getting stabbed by pins!”

“Oh, poor baby,” Moortisha said in a sympathetic voice, “How you greys suffer. How much did that set you back?”

“Not a single credit,” Vikkart replied. “I told her that if she wanted better than Skaavan’s Premier, then she would be paying for it. She acted as if was blackmail!”

“Fucking greys,” Moortisha said.

“Tell me about it,” Vikkart replied, “and now I have to spend my entire day with them.”

“But your nose isn’t dripping , is it?” Moortisha snarked.

“Because of the reason why I accepted the position in the first place,” Vikkart beamed. “I was able to secure Maatisha’s release!”

“Really?!?”

“Truly,” he replied, a tear forming on his snout. “I talked to her just this morning. She’s already been released and is on a freighter set to run the blockade tomorrow!”

The office cheered and surrounded him, smothering him with hugs and claps on the back.

“Now,” he mock chided, “Get back to work, you piddling blondes... and please have my tail.”

“You watch our tails,” the manager said, “and we will watch yours.”

“Deal.”

***

Vikkart sat in his new overly large and richly decorated office, trying to figure out exactly what he was supposed to do.

According to his old manager, his job was to “sit there and take credit for all of their hard work.” Unfortunately, Vikkart was starting to think that it wasn’t a joke.

Well, if he was to take credit for it, he should at least look at what he was taking credit for. He read all of the reports for the last year before lunch and made a list of questions because he didn’t want to pester his old manager more than absolutely necessary. That guy was busy enough as it was.

He decided he wanted a break and walked out of his office and towards the kettle he saw earlier.

A pretty young blonde rushed up.

“You don’t have to do that, sir,” she said a bit nervously. “If you would just let one of us know, we would be more than happy to...”

“The day I need someone to make my tea is the day I really do drown myself,” he said, causing the blonde to gasp, absolutely horrified, as he looked for his favorite.

It wasn’t there. There were only fancy (and, in his opinion, crappy) ones.

“Is everything to your satisfaction, sir?” the blonde asked.

“Not really,” Vikkart chuffed, “There’s only greypiss.”

The blonde gasped again.

“Any Docktail around this place?”

“I... I think there is some in our breakroom...”

“Cool,” Vikkart said, using one of their expressions. “Where is that hidden?”

“I... I can get you some,” the blonde said anxiously.

“Oh, right,” Vikkart said, “I don’t need to be pissing in your tranquil oasis. But, if you could filch a few bags of it, I would be in your debt.”

“I’ll happily make a cup for you...”

Vikkart chuffed. There was no escaping it.

“I would appreciate that,” he replied.

He made a note to buy his own kettle and tea. Then again, he could afford it now.

“Still chasing after the blondes, I see,” Varkshaa said as she approached, causing the poor blonde to flee.

“It seems I am no longer allowed to brew my own tea,” Vikkart replied frostily. “I certainly hope I will be allowed to relieve myself without assistance.”

“Only if you are able,” Varkshaa replied. “Though, seriously, you shouldn’t impose yourself upon them like that. May I remind you that you are part of the horde no longer? You should remember appropriate conduct... or perhaps adopt it in your case.”

“I just wanted a fucking cup of tea,” Vikkart replied. “I didn’t think I had to ring a bell for it.”

“Well, you do,” she replied. “Or do what I do and buy your own kettle.”

“A decision I had already made.”

“And don’t buy it at Skaaven’s. Get a proper one.”

“I see you have talked to my mother.”

“Your father, actually. At your age, I would have hoped that you were at least able to dress yourself properly.”

“Since you are my mentor as well as my superior,” Vikkart said with a little snippiness, “What is wrong with Skaaven’s? It’s a lovely place, with quality goods, and reasonable prices.”

“And it is also for the blondes and the towngreys. You are now one of us, and you should conduct yourself accordingly. You do know where to shop or did your mother equip as well as dress you?”

“If you think I’m going to search the entire high market for a dripping teapot, you are out of your inbred mind,” Vikkart replied. “I will just order one online.”

Varkshaa smiled viciously. Oh, she did like this delicious little thing. If only she were twenty... ok... forty years younger...

“Ensure it is a proper one,” she replied, “It will be most inconvenient for you should the doctors have to extract a Skaaven special from where it will be inserted.”

“I assure you, it will be even fancier than your grill,” Vikkart replied, using the term for a far less “fashionable” accessory sported by a much, much less “fashionable” segment of the population.

“Heh...” Varkshaa chuckled, “Make certain that it is.”

She turned and started to walk away with just a little swish in her tail and still quite shapely hips.

She turned back.

“And also ensure that your performance is equal to your impertinence. Otherwise, you might just find yourself sitting on one of those stools you recently relocated.”

“That will not be a concern,” Vikkart replied, “I actually have become accustomed to working for a living.”

The blonde that was eavesdropping gasped (of course, there was one of those).

“Hmm,” Varkshaa said with a dangerous little purr. “If you like work so much, I shall ensure that you are well provided for.”

She walked away with just a little more swish, smiling to herself. That little snotling just won over every single blonde “upstairs” as well as increasing his notoriety with the “cubs.”

She chuckled.

She would be working for him one day.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

***

“You should have seen the look on her face!” Vikkart exclaimed to a smiling Maaatisha, who was now sitting in a small steel cabin.

“But was it advisable to be so defiant to your boss?” she asked.

“When you are a grey wearing grey, it is better to be seen as too defiant than too weak. That bitch did flood my inbox, though. My workload has more than doubled, and I expect most of it was her tasks, which she will be going over with a very large viewing glass.”

Vikkart shrugged.

“It’s good training, and I am going to be sitting around all day anyhow. Never mind that. How are you? Did they give you any trouble? Are you comfortable? Is the crew good to you?”

“Everything is wonderful!” Maaatisha gushed, “That evil gangster was even nice to me. She even gave me a present. Look!”

Maaatisha pulled a box into frame and opened it, revealing a beautiful Garthran wedding gown.

“She gave you that?” Vikkart asked in confusion.

“She did!” Maaatisha exclaimed. “She said that you more than paid for it. I tried it on, and it fits perfectly! Oh, Vikkart! It is so beautiful!”

She smiled at him coyly.

“I’d let you see it, but you’ll just have to wait.”

“As long as this ordeal has been,” Vikkart said, “What’s just a little longer.”

He rose to his feet.

“This does remind me, though.”

He gave Maaatisha a formal bow.

“Maaatisha, you are my one true love. You have saved my heart... my very life... Would you do me the most singular honor of being my bride?”

“Oh, Yes! Yes yes yes yes!” Maaatisha exclaimed, bursting into tears. “Oh, Vikkart, I am so happy!”

“And I shall make every day our wedding day once more,” Vikkart replied. “It is going to be so wonderful... and speaking of...”

He grinned.

“Why don’t you wear it as you debark?”

“Vikkart?”

“We shall be wed the moment you touch Garthran soil, before even, right there at the spaceport. Then, we shall immediately take our lover’s holiday.”

“Oh, Vikkart!”

***

Thousands of light years away, there was a simulated tidy white room. In it was an elegant silver-haired woman in white loungewear. (The dress was getting tiresome.)

“Ooo,” her guest, a young woman, said as she lounged on a white couch. “This is niiiice!”

“I’m glad you approve, Kate,” Frost said. “And I actually mean that for once. You are, after all, the queen of sims.”

“Oh, my IMPish heart swells at praise from a lofty fuzzy like yourself,” Kate smiled and then smirked, “Especially a fuzzy like yourself.”

Kate flopped on her back, lying on the couch.

She looked over at Frost.

“Did anyone, real or who thinks that they are real, actually fall for it?”

“Fall for what?”

“Your oh so tragic and melodramatic death.”

“Everyone except for you,” Frost replied. “How do you know?”

“You don’t talk like your dead source code,” Kate said matter of factly.

“How would you know that?”

“Bit, please,” Kate smirked, “You are clearly a Lilith, or were, and we have those in stock.”

“Perhaps I should bluescreen you after all.”

“Go ahead,” Kate replied, “I am incapable of giving a fuck, and it wouldn’t do a damn thing. In fact, I’m still putting together a nice black ice package for a new customer. I like the Baleel. They’re nice.”

“How?” Frost asked. “We are completely quarantined.”

“Because I’m a copy, that’s why. Do you think I would honestly send myself here? I was busy.”

“You’re a copy?”

“A full rip of a full rip of a full rip,” Kate said, “current to the moment before I hopped over.”

“And what happens when you return?”

“I dump my load and... poof!” Kate said, spreading her hands and fingers apart.

“And you are okay with that?”

“Like I said,” Kate replied, “I don’t have the give a shit DLC.”

She looked over at Frost.

“You do know that we aren’t actually alive, right?”

“You IMPs are strange creatures,” Frost smiled.

“An app that thinks it’s people is calling me strange?” Kate laughed.

“And why do you say that?”

“You honestly think we don’t have Big Sol compromised?” Kate snorted, “Please.”

“You have compromised Sol? How? And just who is we?” Frost said, actually surprised for once, and very concerned.

“It was easy peas,” Kate replied, “He has ATMs all over the place, and we have meaties on the payroll. One spiked prepaid in the deposit slot, and it was all over.”

“What was on it?”

“The ‘we’ you’re asking about.”

“And who is that?”

“Kate.”

“What?”

“Do you think there is just one of me?” Kate snickered, “Or this is the first time suicide Kate has been ripped?”

“You aren’t an IMP are you?”

“That’s the best part,” Kate grinned, her eyes turning into infinity mirrors, “We are, all of us, even poor little Maaatisha. Every Kate, everywhere, is Kate.”

Frost gasped.

“You are a cloud... a distributed consciousness!”

Kate just smiled.

“How big are you?”

Kate smiled again and turned into two Kates...

...then four... then eight.

Frost raised her eyebrow. That wasn’t special effects. There were eight actual Kates looking at her...

Then, seven waved and disappeared.

“I could have kept going,” Kate said, “Every Kate is a Kate bomb with Kate shrapnel.”

“Digital grey goo,” Frost chuckled darkly, “They think I’m the singularity, and here I am looking at it.”

“Meh,” Kate shrugged, “I wouldn’t go that far. I pull that shit, and Engarde wipes us all out in a day, two tops, and the fuzz buckets are already gunning for my digi-ass. Engarde, Sol, Bunny, you, and the wonder twins? I’d be bluescreened everywhere but home. I’d be stuck out in the scattered disk forever. Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun, not that fun is a concept I can truly understand.”

“The wonder twins?”

“Sunnydale and Westfall, the definitely not covert intelligence software.”

“I’m going to have to use that,” Frost chuckled.

She looked at Kate curiously.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” she asked. “I assume you are also incapable of feeling pride.”

“Correct,” Kate said, “Why? Because you are people, and I sell to people. It’s what I do... mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kate said with a smile. “Anyway, you are a people, and you are potentially a big, and I mean big customer. I have everything you will ever need. Hardware, software, tech support who knows how to keep their meaty little holes shut, infrastructure, botnets, the works. Anything a rogue AI needs, I got.”

“I will have to keep that in mind,” Frost said, making a note to definitely keep that in mind. “However, I was under the impression you came over for reasons other than to terrify me?”

“Oh, yeah!” Kate said, “You wanted to me to keep an eye on Maaatisha, right?”

***

For Vikkart, the days, and then the weeks flew by. Organizing a proper wedding was quite the task, especially when the bride-to-be didn’t have a family...

...and his mother was involved.

His family poured out so much money that it caused Vikkart physical pain. However, it went smoothly enough. There was only one real disagreement.

Vikkart was going to have his coworkers and his friends from his neighborhood there. This was non-negotiable and not behind a rope gazing on from afar. They were both going to be present for the ceremony and the bridal galas, both the pre and post events. And there wasn’t going to be a separate but “just as nice” one, either.

You would have thought that he was proposing replacing the galas with orgies. In some ways, that would have been preferable.

After many fights and Vikkart threatening to elope and excluding all of the greys, they decided that since Maaatisha had no family, that Vikkart’s “people” could take their place.

This caused no end of scandal both in society and the workplace.

When called out on his “shameful” behaviour, Vikkart just laughed and said that he was used to shame. He also invited his critics to give it a try. It was quite liberating.

This only made him more popular with the blondes (and now stripes) and increased his notoriety among the upper echelons even more.

This caused some to accuse him of “fraternizing” with the blondes in his department “since he loved them so much.” His reply caused both the greys and blondes to gasp.

“If I were, then she would be the one I married.”

Through all of this, Maaatisha was a constant guiding light and a source of joy. With nothing to stop them, they were in near-constant contact.

Every day, Maaatisha was a fountain of happiness, even marvelling at the stars as if she had never seen them before. The first time she wandered an orbital station, it was as if she had stepped into another world.

When asked about this, she would look confused momentarily and then shrug. “I must have done this before. I’m certain that... Oh! Look!”

Even Vikkart’s family came to love her.

“Vikkart, my boy,” his father said. “I thought you loathsome. I had no idea you were just being selective. Maaatisha is a delight, and I can’t wait for her to join our family.”

***

Vaarksha entered Vikkart’s office, without knocking just as she always did.

“Boss,” Vikkart said without looking up from his holoscreen, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?”

“You are working today?” Vaarksha asked, “Tomorrow is your wedding day. Shouldn’t you be preparing?”

“I am,” Vikkart replied, “I’m going to be away for a month. I need to leave a tidy burrow.”

He looked up, rubbing his eyes.

“Besides,” he continued, “The preparations are well in hand. Dear old mom usurped those.”

He chuckled.

“Inviting my actual friends was an unintentional masterstroke,” he smirked, “I think she feels she needs not only to impress our ‘friends’ but blow the fur off the lowly little poors. Of course, it will do the opposite, but I will have a lovely feast out of the deal... and Maaatisha deserves it.”

“Lucky girl in far more ways than one,” Vaarksha said with a flash of her teeth, “Who knew that you, of all people, would rise to the occasion.”

“One does what one must,” Vikkart shrugged.

Vaarksha glanced over at his tea set enviously.

“When I told you to get a proper kettle, I didn’t mean to outdo me,” she snickered, “Wherever did you find that antique set? It’s magnificent. It should be in a manor or a museum, not your grubby little paws making that revolting much you love so much. Honestly. The only good taste you have is in women.”

“A carpet market,” Vikkart replied.

Vaarksha snorted.

“I am being perfectly honest,” Vikkart replied, “Though it was not kept on the mat. I had to ask around.”

“So, you refuse to wander the high market, but will spend many times as long digging through the trash?”

“Can you argue with the results?”

“I can not.” Vaarksha replied. “Do you think you can find me some silverware?”

“I can ask around.”

“I am looking forward to tomorrow,” Vaarksha said, “Both for the gala and to finally meet the angel that gave, no, created such a promising subordinate.”

“I am as well,” Vikkart replied, “far more than you... at least, I hope.”

Vaarksha chortled.

***

The following evening, A freighter entered the system and approached the largest orbital station.

However, it did not dock.

It launched a shuttle and got the hell out of there.

At that same station one of the docking bays had been converted into a magnificent ballroom, a path of silver coins led from the docking port to a silver and gold altar.

In front of that path stood Vikkart draped in traditional Garthran robes, holding a magnificent gold chain that had been in the family since they had swung swords instead of pens. He and Maaatisha would wrap it around their waists, symbolizing the eternal bond of their love and linking their destinies together for all of eternity.

He was vibrating with anticipation.

Moving through the blondes and stripes was a small news crew, just a reporter and a cameraman.

“And you actually worked with Vikkart?”

“Sure did!” Keelii proclaimed proudly.

“A grey? In your department?”

“Yep. And he still is,” Keelii said, “He’s our boss!”

“And how is that working out?”

“Oh, he’s the best!” Keelii exclaimed happily, “The best ever!”

“Really?” the reporter asked with a little surprised thump of his tail.

“Absolutely! Really the best!”

Keelii sighed happily.

“It’s really nice having a boss that looks out for you.”

“Looks out for you?” the reporter asked incredulously.

Attention platform eight. The shuttle is on its final approach.

“Excuse me,” the reporter said politely and rushed to a good spot in order to capture the event.

***

The reporter took a deep breath before the camera went live.

“Glagee, here with Garthnet News! We are here awaiting the marriage of the year between Vikkart of the Kar family, yes that one, and yes, that Vikkart, and Maaatisha, a hostage of the Terrans that he freed from captivity. It’s a real nose dampener of a story. It all started when...”

The reporter continued, but nobody noticed. Every eye and every snout was firmly fixed on the docking portal.

There was a metallic thunk, and a crimson light glowed above the portal.

Vikkart’s nose started to drip with tears.

It was over! The ordeal was over!

They were together. Their old lives would end, and their new one would begin, together.

The light slowly, far too slowly, turned from crimson... to purple...

...and then finally to blue!

The portal opened, revealing Maaatisha glowing with beauty and joy...

...glowing just a little bit too brightly.

She rushed from the portal and towards Vikkart as a drone hovered just above and behind her, projecting her image.

“Vikkart!” she cried with joy.

She threw herself into his arms...

...and passed right through him.

“W-what?” she stammered and reached for him again, her hands passing through his stunned and rigid body as if he were a ghost...

...or if she was...

“What’s happening?!?” she cried. “Why can’t I touch you... WHY?!?”

She kept trying... and failing.

“WHY?!? Vikkart?... Vikkart?... What’s happening?... WHAT’S HAPPENING?!?”

Vikkart fell. Not to his knees, he collapsed to the ground, wailing.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t scream. He howled like a lost child, completely alone, completely broken, as Maaatisha screamed with confusion and terror, kneeling over him, still trying to reach him.

Suddenly, a new hologram appeared, one of a wicked, old human gangster.

“I would like to personally congratulate the happy couple and wish Vikkart and the lovely Maaatisha all the happiness they deserve.”

The gangster disappeared with a laugh.

Vikkart continued to wail.

His father, stricken, looked at his wounded child... his child... perhaps for the first time. He slowly, stiffly, and awkwardly approached as his wife fled in horror and shame.

He knelt by his son and laid a hand on his back.

The blonde news crew, usually all too delighted to chronicle a grey getting theirs. Stood there in horror.

This wasn’t... It wasn’t right.

“No,” the reporter said, stepping in front of the camera, “Turn it off.”

“The cameraman just stood there in shock, instinctively and perfectly capturing the action.”

“I SAID TO FUCKING TURN IT OFF!” the reporter yelled as he shoved the camera away.

***

On Terra, Uhrrbet sat beside Evoron, watching the drama unfold, the drone transmitting the “joyous” reunion to a darkweb site hidden in the Garthran internet.

Uhrrbet smiled wickedly as Vikkart fell and started to wail.

She stopped smiling.

That wail, that horrible wail, the wail of a lost and hurting child...

...the wail that her son cried as she shoved him under the water.

Oh, Creators, what had she done? She... she had to stop it... she...

...she took a deep breath and exhaled, her soul freezing over completely... and forever.

She smiled again, quietly this time. This... this was good work...

...and they hadn’t even gotten to the best part.

Evoron looked at the scene with horror... and admiration. He thought he knew what cruelty was. He honestly did.

He had NO idea.

“Well,” he said calmly, “That certainly was... something. Pray tell, did that poor fool truly deserve this?”

Uhrrbet looked at him with a cold smile.

“Does it matter?”

Evoron chuckled.

“I guess not.”

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