Ex Machina [M]

[Eleanor Lamb]

Creatures of all shapes, sizes, and colors inhabited the salty seas of the Vasty Deep. During his—admittedly rather limited—time living in Costa del Sol, Gadge found time to get to know the waters and their denizens rather well. He spent most of his time tinkering away at the Empire’s various broken-down vehicles in Seb’s garage, certainly, but on his off time, the boy genius took himself down to the beaches and submerged himself in the ocean. He introduced himself to the creatures that made their home beneath the waves. The tiniest schools of fish might not seem the most interesting, but they welcomed him with open fins, and the scariest monsters might not have been very hospitable, but he certainly enjoyed gazing at them from a distance.

Tonight, however, Paige Owens usurped them all in his mind. His time spent on the boardwalk searching for dates had finally paid off earlier that evening, when the tall, slender girl—he noted that she stood several inches taller than he—had taken notice of him. He remembered the moment vividly: she leaned over the edge of the dock, soaking in the salty air. Then in one swift motion, she had swept her fiery red hair aside and focused her beautiful eyes on him. Their gazes met, and Gadge’s mind had zeroed in on one thing: getting her into his bed.

Crass, he knew, but living in a brand new universe put him in an adventurous mindset. He resolved, in that moment of intense eye contact, to put an end to his sixteen year dry spell, and to put an end to it tonight. Luckily, the redhead seemed at least remotely interested with him; she agreed to take a walk down the beach together. Breaking the ice had always been the hardest part of talking to hot girls for the boy genius, and even as he awkwardly stumbled over himself time and again, Paige picked up the slack. She worked for the moments just as much as he did, and Gadge found himself altogether shocked that maybe, just maybe, he would finally get fucking laid. For the first time in his whole life, he had a shot.

Hovering just beneath the water staring into the eyes of a creepy-ass clown fish, he didn’t know how he could be so optimistic. This part hadn’t been in any of the online articles he’d perused about “how to pick up girls,” but nevertheless, it signaled the continuing success of his conquest. The clown fish’s huge eyes stared blankly back at him, but somewhere within those bulbous black orbs, Gadge could almost see little Nemo saying, “you’ve got this, bro.” The words of encouragement, however hypothetical, gave him the courage to paddle his way back to the surface of the salty ocean and get back in the game.

He burst out of the water, and sure enough, Paige made her way out of the ocean. In the moonlight, her naked backside glimmered. Gadge watched as she sauntered up the beach toward where their clothes sat in a messy pile. Thinking back, not revealing that he was a prime had been the best decision of the night. Sure, he could have summoned bathing suits for both of them, but since she thought he couldn’t, he now got the best view in the world. How in the world could he find anything to complain about with this end result?

The redhead glanced over her shoulder. “Hey, cutie!” she called out, “Get your tight ass out of the water and come hang out with me!” The boy immediately obliged, splashing his way onto the shore. He didn’t exactly like the fact that she chose the moniker ‘cutie’—he would have definitely preferred some variation of ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’—but at this point, the fact that she was talking to him at all seemed like enough of a miracle, so he didn’t argue. He ran as fast as he could up to their clothes pile. Paige dug through the mess of boy’s and girl’s clothes for her underwear before finally finding it and slipping it on, one leg at a time. Gadge watched probably a little too closely. “See something you like?” she smirked, turning toward him.

Gadge’s eyes were not on her face.

“Uh,” he sputtered, altogether distracted, “v-very much so.” He nodded erratically, and she giggled, entertained by his awkwardness. She reached down and pulled her bra out of the pile of clothes, snapping it back on. The disappointment visibly colored the boy genius’s face, and upon recognizing it, Paige giggled again.

“Aw, cutie,” she smiled, but her tone started to worry the blue-haired boy. Her voice had adopted the vocal pattern of someone that was just about to lay down some very, very unfortunate news—and Gadge had a feeling what that news might be. “I like you and everything, don’t get me wrong,” she started, edging closer to him and placing a hand on his cheek, “but… well, y’see…”

Gadge didn’t let her finish. He lunged forward and pressed his mouth to hers, reaching around and haphazardly grabbing the small of her back, shoving her so close to him their bodies were touching. He half-expected her to break away from the embrace, but they lingered in the kiss for more than a few seconds. Finally, instead of rejecting him, she started to kiss him back. His eyes opened involuntarily, utterly in shock that his rather forceful advance had worked, but he supposed it had something to do with everything he had read in those articles—confidence is key, ladies like a bold man, all that shit. They kissed for what seemed like an eternity, and finally, Gadge got brave and placed his other hand on her butt. She jumped a little bit and giggled, separating their lips for the first time.

“Okay then, tiger,” she smirked, one eyebrow raising, “seems you’ve got a little more spunk than I expected.” Gadge didn’t know what to do, but he could not make himself speak, so he just put on the best “sexy face” he could think of and went in for another kiss. She accepted it, and he pushed her into the wooden leg of the dock. For a few minutes, they made out right there—him stark naked and her wearing basically nothing—right underneath the dock, lit up by the Vasty Deep’s very bright moon. Eventually, she lightly pushed him away. “So where’s this garage you work at?” she asked. She looked at him more suggestively than any girl had ever even thought about looking at him before. He couldn’t breathe.

“Right up the pier,” he nodded in its direction, trying to sound as sexy as possible. “You wanna head up there and… fool around?” She giggled, and for a second he thought he might have said something wrong, but then her fingers started to trace his waist line and the feeling that shot up his spine told him that whatever he said, it was very right.

After Gadge had pulled on some pants and Paige had put her sundress back on, the pair had sprinted hand in hand up to Seb’s garage. When they got there, the neon sign remained burning bright; Gadge found that a little odd, considering the garage had closed for the day a little while ago, but he paid no mind to it—he had other things to think about, after all. The couple slipped into the darkened work room, and within a few minutes Gadge had lifted Paige onto one of the work tables and once again, they were engrossed in sucking each other’s faces in a manner that displayed all too well just how teenage they were.

“Hey, uh,” Paige muttered in between kisses, “what’s that smell?”

“Probably just the gas and shit from these jank-ass cars,” Gadge shrugged. The boy genius made a mental note that something did, indeed, smell off—but he decided he would check it out later. They went back to kissing, undeterred by the weird smell, but then an idea dawned on the blue-haired boy. “Wait, wait, wait,” Gadge stopped their makeout session, backing away from her for a second, “…do you mind if I turn the lights on? I wanna see your pretty face.”

She might have been blushing—Gadge couldn’t tell. Either way, he could see her silhouette nodding, and excitedly he turned and headed for the light switch. The fluorescent lights above them flickered on, and Paige filled the entire garage with an ear-splitting scream.

The boy rushed to see what she saw, and if shock hadn’t muted him he might have screamed as well. Slumped up against the wall just across from the redhead lay Seb, the owner of the garage and Gadge’s boss for the past few days, bleeding and mutilated. The blue-haired boy would have gone to check and see if his employer had survived whatever had flayed him so terribly, but at that point, he knew there was no way. Seb was dead. A puddle of blood, still smelling fresh and especially foul, oozed out from underneath him. That meant only one thing: it had not been very long since the murder.

Paige let loose another deafening scream, and Gadge spun around the see a tall, bulky man in a brown pinstripe suit wrap one arm around her waist and cover her mouth with his other hand. Off in the other corner of the garage, another smaller man—this one in a navy blue suit—leaned against the front door of the business formerly belonging to Gadge’s now dead employer. “They only want the boy,” the navy-suited man hissed, “get rid of her.” And with one swift motion, the big guy snapped Paige’s neck and tossed her lifeless body to the concrete floor. Tears materialized in the young engineer’s eyes, but he couldn’t scream. He had seen too much death already to be pushed to shrieking by the murder of a girl he had just met a few hours ago. The sight of her broken, mangled form crumpled up on the ground horrified him, but something told him that he had far more pressing matters to dwell on.

That instinct proved right as the brown-suited man leapt over the work table and lunged at him. Gadge bolted to the side, barely dodging the man’s grab, but the clicking of a gun stopped him in his tracks. He turned to look at the man in the navy suit, who had his pistol out and ready, the aim trained on him. If his calculations were correct, a shot right that instant would have cleaved his forehead wide open. He froze. The cold steel of a crowbar slammed into the back of his skull.

[Eleanor Lamb]

A booming crash shook Gadge awake. The boy genius’s eyes flickered open, his vision met with a room altogether unlike Seb’s garage. The cramped space aroused a little bit of underlying claustrophobia inside the boy, the ensuing anxiety quickening his breathing. He tried to stand, but the clinking of chains and the new sensation of metal clamped around one of his scrawny wrists made short work of that idea. Without warning, the tiny room lurched. Gadge’s stomach didn’t agree with the movement; seconds later, he found himself sitting in a puddle of his own vomit.

Another clap of thunder shook the room’s flimsy metal walls. Gadge huddled in one of the corners and tried his best to hold back the rest of his dinner, though he expected this would be a losing battle, in the end. His stomach rocked with the motion of the room; he had felt this sensation before, during his few weeks cooped up in Costa del Sol. He had no way of knowing for sure—whoever constructed his little cage hadn’t been kind enough to include windows—but something told him he was on a boat.

The hours before—had it been hours? How long had he been trapped here?—flooded back into his brain. His excursion with Paige on the boardwalk, their rendezvous in Seb’s garage, and then… his boss’s blood, everywhere. A snap of a neck. A violent smash on the back of his skull. He remembered growing immediately dizzy, and then everything going black. Then the next thing he recalled was this room. Rocking back and forth with the waves, shaken ever so slightly by powerful bursts of thunder. Whoever the men who had killed Paige were, they had kidnapped him. They abducted him and shoved him into this tiny little room.

A light draft flowed in from underneath the room’s only door. As the cold air tickled his skin, Gadge became acutely aware of his distinct lack of clothing. Somewhere along the way, his kidnappers had stripped him of everything but his briefs. He blushed at the thought, although he did not know why; nobody was here to see him in his skivvies. Besides, he never possessed a low self-image, not for as long as he could remember; hell, he ran around shirtless most days. His hands reached for his abdomen; the bandages still remained. They had not removed those, thank goodness.

But who did these motherfuckers think they were, anyway? The boy’s temper flared. How did these guys get off, anyway, just showing up at Seb’s garage, murdering two people and kidnapping another? Even as he stewed in his own anger, though, Gadge’s mind told him he had bigger issues to worry about. How they got away with the crime had become irrelevant at this point—their success ensured that; rather, he knew he should be wondering why in the world they wanted to kidnap someone in the first place. Had their target specifically been him?

“They only want the boy. Get rid of her,” the man in the navy-colored suit said. The words rushed back to Gadge’s memory as he realized: yes, he must have been their target. Seb and Paige had merely gotten in the way—been in the wrong place at the wrong time—and had paid for it with their lives. But why in the world would they want a boy like him? “Special” and “worth kidnapping” didn’t describe him at all. He had lived in this Omniverse, in Costa del Sol, for just a few short weeks, and during that time all he’d done was tinker on a few broken Empire speeder-bikes and other various vehicles. Who the fuck were these guys to take such a vested interest in a fucking second-rate mechanic’s assistant like him?

Someone’s shadow appeared, blocking the little bit of light that slipped in through the crack between the door and the floor. Gadge lunged to his knees, his chains keeping him from getting too close to his only means of escape. The clicking of locks reawakened the anxiety that bubbled beneath the surface of the boy genius’ mind; he swallowed nervously.

The door swung open with a loud creak. The navy-suited man from the garage leaned in the frame, his sunglasses sitting precariously on the tip of his long, pointy nose. Above the darkened spectacles, a pair of beady little eyes stared down at the boy genius with intense interest. Fear consumed the mechanic as his gaze met the wiry man’s. For a few brief, tantalizing moments, silence filled the little makeshift cell. The blue-suited man cleared his throat. “Good evening, boy,” he murmured, “I do hope you’re not too upset with your lodgings.”

Gadge’s lips contorted into a scowl. As if his words didn’t do enough damage, he struggled to listen to the man’s voice without boiling with fury. Its sound resembled something between a snake’s hiss and a vulture’s piercing caw.

“Unfortunately, it’s the best we can offer you,” his captor shrugged, interpreting the boy’s resounding silence as permission to continue. The man reached one of his long, thin fingers into the pocket of his double-breasted coat—a little too large for his slim frame—and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and placing it in his mouth in one swift motion. He blew a bit of smoke into the confines of the tiny cell. “You see, this type of guerilla mission requires a little bit of… improvisation. The broom closet of this little vessel had to work. Constraints, you know.”

“Fuck you,” Gadge spoke up for the first time in this conversation, his voice a deep, throaty growl. His obscenities did not phase the man—in fact, they seemed to only please him more, as his gross looking mouth, cigarette hanging lazily out of it, shifted from a neutral expression to a smile. The boy resolved to keep his mouth the fuck shut for the rest of his time on this boat if it meant that he didn’t have to look at his captor’s yellowing teeth again.

Cigarette smoke began to collect inside the four walls of the room. Gadge coughed a little bit, the nausea from earlier returning as his throat began to spasm. Vomit erupted from his lips, spilling over onto the navy-suited man’s nice dress shoes. His captor let out a tiny chuckle, kicking a few chunks of the boy genius’ dinner off his feet and then looking back into the adjacent room. He snapped his fingers, and the burlier, brown-suited man appeared behind him in the doorway. The tiny man slithered out of sight, and his large companion reached down and jerked Gadge up, ripping his chain off the wall. A shooting pain shot through his wrist—certainly it had broken—and he felt himself being shoved into a much more well-lit section of the schooner.

The boy lifted his head and looked out the boat’s front window. Dark, tumbling waves crashed into the front of the vessel, egged on by a powerful-looking storm. Lightning danced on the horizon; a foreboding shade of grey colored the whole sky. Off in the distance, a lighthouse rose out of the violent waters. Though everything else around it seemed dramatically overcast in darkness, the structure shone like a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of the storm. White marbled protected whatever lay inside. Judging from the fact that their ship’s course seemed set directly for it, Gadge assumed its contents included more than just an old lantern.

The navy-suited man slinked up behind him. “That’s where you’re headed, boy,” he hissed, “Someone down there really wants to talk to you.” Gadge’s scowl deepened.

“Why,” he sputtered, trying to regain the strength to speak, “…why are you doing this to me?” His captor scoffed, slightly, straightening his posture and walking up to the window. Another silence filled the room, except this time, Gadge found himself on the losing end of it. Now he needed the response—he wanted answers. These men didn’t seem intent on giving him any, however; they seemed content to let him wallow in uncertainty. The lighthouse crept up slowly, getting closer and closer with each passing wave.

Gadge shivered. The air current flowing through the boat’s cabin chilled his half-naked body; he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep warm. Ahead of him, the navy-suited man placed a hand on the captain’s wheel and began to steer the vessel into a small, stone dock that looked innocent enough. In fact, the whole lighthouse looked—to the untrained eye—like something out of a happy film; pristine and white, it didn’t seem like the place evil rested. But Gadge had seen the face of evil back in his home realm—he knew better than that. Devils always lurked where angels seemed most present.

The ship docked next to the lighthouse. The mystery of what lay inside that tower plagued at Jonas’ mind; it scared him absolutely to death. He had to remain strong, though. He could not let these men see his fear. So, the boy genius’ face remained firmly defiant; but Gadge did not know if he had ever been more afraid in his entire life.

[Eleanor Lamb]

The reality of his situation beginning to set in, it suddenly dawned on Jonas Miyazuki that the last time had been at the mercy of other men, he had been on his way to his death.

Familiar sensations crept up his spine as the ship slid into the lighthouse’s dock. Vivid images raided his mind: each of his friends, his family, one by one being systematically rounded up and escorted out of their prison cells, led to their executions. For weeks, his life transformed into an endless cycle of waiting. Simultaneously hoping that he would be next—rather than one of his friends—and that maybe he might survive one day longer.

He had come so far since then, thanks to Omni. He held few warm feelings for the so-called god that had abducted him and brought him here, but somewhere deep within the young engineer’s heart, he knew that he owed that little white silhouette a debt of gratitude. Whether he liked it or not, Omni had saved his life.

The next few hours would determine whether his efforts had been worth it.

His wrist burned, the bones snapped by the larger of his two captors, but every other inch of him rattled from the cold. Outside, the storm raged on; rain pounded the ship’s front window. Gadge knew it must have been even colder outside.

Once they completed the landing, the navy-suited man gestured for him to follow. The boy’s rebellious impulse told him to stay put, but a violent nudge from the burly man behind him quickly quelled any bravery that swelled up in his gut. The chain squealed along the floor as he dragged it along behind him, out of the ship’s main cabin and toward the furious tempest. With no ramp to bridge the gap between the vessel and the dock, Gadge’s kidnapper leapt rather gracefully from point to point. When it was his turn to leap, the boy genius hesitated.

“Come now, boy,” the slimy man summoned him further, two of his long, spindly fingers motioning his captive to come hither. Biting the bullet, the young man hopped off of the boat, sending up a few prayers to Omni as he did so. His bare feet hit the wood of the dock, but immediately flew out from underneath him, and he landed with a crash on the ground. Involuntarily, the boy released a groan, laying back on the dock.

A chuckle escaped the brown-suited man’s lips behind him; it was the first noise Gadge had heard the man make in the entire time they had spent together. The boy genius scowled crossly, frantically picking himself back up again.

“Oopsie-daisy,” the thinner man chortled, “Someone’s going to have a bruised ass in the morning.” He giggled, spinning away from Gadge with a certain effeminate charm, and then began to bound his way up toward the door to the lighthouse. The white marble structure towered over the trio of travelers, still looking completely out of place in the midst of this raging storm. The boy genius sighed deeply, beginning the long trek up the stony stairs to the lighthouse’s door. As much as he did not want to follow these men to whatever sinister situation they had in store, he seemed to have few other options.

Thunder clapped in the distance, but the rain smacked the boy genius in the face. Violent gusts of wind danced across his bare body; the storm soaked through the little bit of clothing he wore within seconds. Gadge’s teeth chattered. He hesitated to call this day the worst day of his entire life, but it was certainly the most uncomfortable. At the very least, the water washed off some of the vomit that clung still to his skin.

He stalked up the stairs, soaked to the bone. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that the brown-suited man had remained back; up near the lighthouse’s door, the boy would be alone with the snakier of the two men. A lump formed in his throat.

The stairs seemed to go on forever; it was not a long trek, but between the forces of nature beating him back and the general aura of pain and exhaustion that washed over him, Gadge had trouble making the journey. Eventually, he made it to the top, joining the man next to the lighthouse’s wooden door. The boy slumped against the lighthouse’s marble wall, taking a moment to let his breathing regulate again—he remembered a few breathing exercises he’d read about that worked like a charm—but the incessant pounding of the rain erased all hope of true relaxation.

Crusty fingers traced the bottom of his chin, gently lifting his face up until he was eye to eye with the snake of a man standing before him. The man’s long fingernails traced the skin of his cheek, and then his neck, and down to his chest before finally pausing where the boy’s heart was. The navy-suited man flattened his palm against Gadge’s skin. “You’re afraid,” he nodded, “That’s natural.” The boy averted his eyes back to the ground.

The man’s fingers returned to his cheek, softly caressing the youthful skin of the boy’s face. His touch frightened the young engineer, but not because he felt any danger—rather, the whole encounter seemed almost sensual. This man caressed his face the way he might a lover’s. Gadge wriggled away, breaking away from his captor’s touch.

“You are…” the man started, but he seemed to lose his words suddenly. Gadge’s eyes flickered up to meet the thin man’s, and there they lingered for a second. Behind the intimidating façade he had been keeping up, the boy genius spotted something that looked almost like sorrow hiding deep within his gaze. The slimy-looking man regained his words. “…you are a fascinating specimen, Mr. Miyazuki. I cannot wait to see the things you accomplish for us, and I wish I could spend more time with you, see it with my own eyes.” Gadge’s face contorted, puzzled.

“Alas,” his captor sighed, “that is not my purpose.” He shrugged, stepping past the boy and wrapping his fingers around the handle of one of the double doors. Carved onto the entryway was some kind of image, but Gadge could not place it. The door swung open, revealing nothing but darkness; across the threshold, nothing could be seen through all the blackness. Fear bubbled up inside the boy, but a firm grip on his shoulder ushered him inside.

As the pair entered the structure, lights came on seemingly automatically. Gadge’s eyes immediately lifted to see a large, blood-red banner hanging beneath a gargantuan bust of a man he did not recognize. In golden letters, the banner read: “No Gods or Kings. Only Man.”

The boy genius swallowed nervously as the navy-suited man shoved him down a staircase on the far side of the room, beneath the large bust of the unfamiliar man. Jonas thought for a second that he should ask who this man was—he seemed important enough, anyway—but he thought better of it, choosing instead to keep silent.

In the background, a little tune hummed through unseen speakers. Brass instruments.

Sailing.

“The bathysphere should be here shortly,” the thin man informed him, peering down into a dark void as they finally reached the lowest level of the lighthouse. Sure enough, seconds later, a large golden sphere—shaped like a diver’s helmet—rose up from the abyss. His captor gave him a gentle push, and he clambered through the doorway into the large sphere, decorated with plush seating and a couple of rather dirty windows. “This is where I must leave you,” the navy-suited man said, a twinge of regret coloring his voice, “I am truly sorry that I cannot follow you into the city. I would… absolutely love to be there.” Crusty fingers once again returned to his cheek. Gadge’s muscles tensed. The man smiled a sad smile.

“Ah, yes, time to go, I think,” he nodded, sifting through the boy’s blue hair with his spindly fingers. He latched on to the back of the boy genius’ skull and slowly pulled their faces closer, until he could place a delicate kiss on Gadge’s forehead. A going-away present, though it sent more shivers up the boy’s spine than his cold, soaking-wet briefs did.

Without another word, the navy-suited man swept out of the bathysphere and jerked the door shut behind him. As the locks clicked, Gadge instinctively stepped toward the entrance, but despite the huge, circular window that let him see outside into the large, rather empty chamber, the thin man’s silhouette disappeared up the stairs and back toward the lighthouse’s entrance and the boat home before he could even try to beg for escape. It seemed he was stuck here with no way out.

Near the back of the vessel, a large, golden lever stood against the wall. Seeing no other option, Gadge pulled it. The bathysphere lurched, and then suddenly began to move downward. The young boy felt his nausea bubbling up inside of his stomach once again. He plopped down on the plush seating, leaning back against the cold, metal wall of the transport as it sank further and further into the lighthouse. After several seconds traveling downward, sea water began to rise outside the large window on the door. Eventually, the entire bathysphere submerged itself into the ocean, leaving behind the surface world of the Vasty Deep and its various islands. The sea grew calmer the deeper the vessel sank, distancing itself from the storm that surely still raged above.

As the sphere continued its downward path, markers began to appear in the window, designating how many fathoms deep the boy had been taken. Just past eighteen fathoms, a screen slid down in front of the window, obscuring his view of the rest of his descent. Images flashed on screen, of things that Gadge did not recognize—an advertisement, perhaps? Eventually, a sort of mural of a man wiping his forehead appeared, projected there, and a pre-recorded voice began playing.

“I am Andrew Ryan,” the voice began, “and I have a question: is a man not entitled to the sweat from his brow?”

Gadge blinked. The picture changed again.

“No, says the man in Coruscant—it belongs to the Empire. No, says the man in Camelot—it belongs to the King. No, says the man in the Oververse—it belongs to Omni. I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose…”

The screen slid out of the way. The bathysphere traversed a section of rocky undersea terrain, and when it crossed to the other side, the now open window revealed a beautiful sight.

“…Rapture.”

A massive underwater city sprawled out across the ocean floor. Gorgeous, intricately designed structures weaved in and out of each other like nothing the boy had ever seen before, and floating in between two of the closest buildings, another large, blood-red banner hung, hovering in the strange physics of the ocean’s deepest places. In magnificent, glittering golden letters, it read:

Welcome to Rapture.

[Eleanor Lamb]

“A city where the artist would not fear the censor.”

Andrew Ryan’s disembodied voice continued its diatribe.

“Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small. And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city, as well.”

Ryan’s welcome seemed enthusiastic; like something worth getting excited over. Gadge knew, though, that it had not been intended for him. The choice whether or not to enter the underwater city had not been his own… it had been made for him, by men in suits. No matter what he wanted, he would enter the city. Not of his own volition, he would become a de facto citizen of Rapture tonight… whatever that meant.

The bathysphere weaved through the tall, magnificent buildings of the city. The architecture, Gadge had to admit, was splendid; very inspired designs, to say the least. Just ahead, a series of wrought-iron semi-circles created a sort of track for the bathysphere to latch on to. As the vessel approached them, one by one, they began to light up, spelling out a message—a mantra, perhaps—that gave the boy genius an eerie feeling:

“All good things of this earth flow into the city.”

The sphere chugged ahead, inside a tunnel labeled “Rapture Transit Authority.” Once through it, the bathysphere slowed to a stop inside a tall, cylindrical chamber, riddled with posters for different things. Gadge tried to catch a glimpse at them, but he had trouble comprehending the words—telekinesis? Plasmid?

Another lurch, and once again the bathysphere began to travel. This time, the direction was up. The posters disappeared below as the vessel moved onward into the longest darkness yet.

* * *

She liked giggling.

It felt a lot better than screaming did. It created a… warmth in the back of her throat that made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Almost like she was cuddling a teddy bear—the entire time she giggled, she was cuddling a teddy bear.

Her empty-looking eyes glowed with delight as she watched the people down below. The lights of the buildings illuminated a little party happening through a window a few stories down, in the building opposite theirs. She longed to be there: laughing with the fancy people at whatever joke had made them just double over, dancing with a handsome prince in a freshly-pressed suit, sipping on beverages she wasn’t allowed to have. They all looked like they were having so much fun; all she could do was sit up here, and watch them, and giggle a little bit. Why didn’t they allow her to go play with the people down below?

She turned away from the window, looking at her own extravagant surroundings. The golden walls sparkled, ruby red drapes hanging everywhere because everyone knew red and gold looked the best together. A smile appeared on her tiny, round face as she thought about how she would decorate this place and realized it looked exactly as she would have it look. Perhaps, the little girl thought, I can have fun all by myself. I don’t need anyone to play with, I have all of this!

Another giggle, and then she began to skip. Her feet bounced on and off the ground as she pranced around in a circle, taking ownership of her own personal palace like the little princess she was. This is my castle, she decided, and I am the queen!

She ran back to the window, pressing her face against the glass and looking at the tiny figures milling about in the room down below. Their party sure looked fun, but she would make hers more fun. That was what being a queen was about, anyway. Making sure you threw the best parties in the world—better than anyone else in the whole universe! She let out a long, loud laugh at the thought, tilting her head backwards and letting her eyes close. She let herself dream of the people below, and what they would think if they could see her palace—this room was just a tiny little part of it. Heck, even she didn’t know how big it was!

Dorothy.

She spun around. Dangit, Daddy was here.

Dorothy, your Sisters are worried sick about you. The big lug stepped out of the doorway, into the golden light of her room. His big shiny suit reflected the light just right—just like Daddy, to always look good no matter what. Dorothy sighed; she couldn’t even be mad at Daddy when he had dressed up so nice to come and find her.

“Sorry, Mr. Bubbles,” she sang in her most pitiful-sounding voice, trying to win some favor using Daddy’s favorite nickname, but she did not rush to him. Instead, she turned and looked out the window once again, wanting to catch one last glimpse of her new friends down below. The ocean separating them felt like nothing as her eyes studied each shiny thread on the women’s dresses, or each colorful flower decorating the men’s lapels. Just a little bit of a swim and she could be at the party too—or they could be at hers. “Look at the little angels, Mr. Bubbles!” she smiled, touching her nose to the window glass once again, “They look so pretty tonight—I wish they’d come and visit me. I want to see them.”

I know, sweetheart, Mr. Bubbles said, lurching up behind her, but they’re busy. Maybe one day they’ll come and see you.

Dorothy pouted. “Grown-ups are always so busy,” she sighed, her frustration evident. She turned to look at Daddy, though, and couldn’t help but smile. “Except you, Mr. B! You always make time for me.” She rushed for the big lug, wrapping her arms around his big, strong leg. It was cold to the touch, but something inside her ignored that and all she could feel was her Daddy’s love bleeding into her through the very fibers of his being. She felt so incredible hugging him that she couldn’t imagine wanting to ever be permanently apart from him. Only small detours like this, Dorothy decided. Check on the little people—the Queen’s subjects, as it were—every once in a while.

Outside the window, there was a noise. Dorothy turned and looked down, seeing the bathysphere sliding into its little tunnel. “A new friend!” she exclaimed, her smile growing broad. “Maybe they’ll come visit me, Daddy?” She looked up to her giant guardian, hope barely visible in her pupil-less eyes.

Maybe, sweetie. Daddy’s response didn’t seem all too certain, but Dorothy felt confident. How could anyone new not want to meet the queen of the city immediately upon arrival? Time to go home, I think, honey, Mr. Bubbles said, and Dorothy stole one last glance at the party below before deciding to comply.

She sighed, trying her best to sound rebellious. “Okay, I guess, Daddy,” she groaned, but then she couldn’t help but slip a little mischievous smirk in there at the end. Her Daddy treated her too well for her to be mean to him. She sprinted past him, toward the hole in the middle of the wall. A simple little trip through her tunnels would take her immediately back home, she knew. Before she climbed up, she turned and looked at her Daddy once again. Her hero.

“See ya back home, Mr. B!” she giggled. She climbed up and in the hidey hole and headed home.

* * *

After five minutes rising upward through the shadows, the bathysphere finally stopped.

Outside the window, light poured in. A long, red carpet led from the bathysphere across a bridge to the opposite platform. A couple leaned against the rail of the platform, basically eating each other’s faces. For a moment, Gadge’s thoughts drifted to Paige and the terrible, terrible events of earlier that evening; he quickly tried his best to focus on something else, anything else, but the mounting guilt he felt for her death could not be shaken. The only break in his thoughts came when the door to the bathysphere swung open without warning. The far off couple stopped making out for a moment to gaze at the scrawny, dripping wet, boy—clad only in his underwear—tentatively clambering out of the gigantic sphere.

Gadge tripped as he tried to exit, falling face first onto the metallic platform the vessel had docked next to. When he removed his face from the floor, he saw drops of blood fall from his nose to the ground and added a broken septum to the laundry list of injuries he had uncovered this evening. His gaze shifted upward, and for a second, he focused on the couple, who seemed altogether turned off by the sight of this mangled, half-naked boy laying on the opposing platform. Within a few minutes, though, they were not his only spectators, joined by a few more fancily-dressed people who had snuck out of whatever party nearby was making such a racket. Loud, trumpet-filled music wafted in from a chamber close by, and Gadge could tell that the clinking and clanking of his arrival had certainly disturbed a bunch of people having quite the fun night.

From the small crowd that had gathered across the bridge, the boy genius heard a few hushed whispers. “Should we help him?” “Who the fuck even is he?” “Why does he look so awful?” The judgmental tones of these people reinforced Gadge’s belief that he was not at all welcome in Rapture—that, perhaps, he was not one of the good things that flowed into this city.

A woman—tall, thin, and draped in a floor length emerald dress—burst forth from the crowd. Her blonde hair had been stacked on top of her head in a style that seemed altogether too large for her frame. It resembled a beehive, and for a second, the engineer became incredibly afraid that this wasp was here to sting him while he was down. She clumsily rushed across the bridge, her heels slamming loudly against the metallic surface, and knelt down next to him, touching his back gently and without malice. It was then that he looked up and met her gaze. Her eyes regarded him with pity, not with hatred.

He took in a deep breath. “…help,” he said, for the first time asking for what he so desperately needed.

She nodded, trying her best to put the situation together in her brain. Slowly, she helped him up off the ground. “I’m afraid,” she said loudly, “I’m going to have to make an early exit from the party.” The crowd groaned with annoyance. “Sorry, folks, but sometimes, duty calls!” she smiled at them as pleasantly as she could, and then helped the newest denizen of Rapture begin to walk across the bridge. “Come, boy,” she urged him, “let’s go get you washed up, hm?”

Gadge hobbled along beside her as she ushered him away from the crowd.