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by verity (@verity) · a week ago

a lesser deity's malevolent omnipotence strategy

#short  

it was standing there, by the wall. it always was. this never changed. a perfectly typical figure, unchanging, feminine in presentation. exactly to specification. always watching. the perfect background object. it never had anything to say, if it even had the ability to. that was never the goal, not before all the lines were traced back to whence they came. not before everything was according to schedule.

the station all but dead at night, faint drafts flowing down the entrance. the final inbound stop of the night rolling in. two boarding, three departing, all within margins.

every footstep audible, easily traced with precision. an executive, late thirties, high position; fortunate. he’d only had that role for a matter of weeks, and he knew from where his role’s vacancies opened. pacing nervously, barely noticing a thing despite the caution. again, ‘fortunate’, for but a moment.

he wasn’t worth any focus at the moment. the spirit turned back, to look into a middle distance.

the spirit wasn’t much of an entity on its own, rather merely a front; lacking provisions for much more than a datalink. basic and limited, its design was primarily security factors. its covering was basic layered clothing, fitting of the season, bearing a livery non-descript; the only clear marking being a seven digit november-registration faintly visible on its coat.

resonance; of distinct mode. deafened, cautious steps. pacing uneven, echoes uncertain, source unclear; to stop,

only to resume pace. she corners with absolution. at shoulder level, four rapid hand signals, full view. continues direct. a girl, holding coat tight; for a moment, gestures the spirit to follow, knowing it can’t.

the exit another thirty paces away, she turns, stares for a moment. proceeds another thirty steps, to climb the first ledge. she turns again, as if expecting something. as if expecting those failures to be redeemed.

and from the stairs a gust blows down, fluttering all that untouched for moments’ eternities, yet

the cold night’s breeze made no difference to its facade.