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Madam Ruan Mei still stood at the edge of the docking platform, gazing out onto the massive blue planet before her. Her face was a perfectly measured mask of apathy, but the slight downward tilt of her eyes betrayed her thoughts just a little. She almost seemed anxious as she waited for the status quo to change, for the moment to evolve. All the while, the scent of peaches lazily wafted around her.
She did not have to wait very long, as the lame gallop many would know as footsteps slowly made their way to her. The person almost seemed to be stomping over to her like a petulant child, but their cadence was out of sync. If she didn’t know any better, Ruan Mei might have supposed that an exhausted researcher had forgotten their place and was approaching her for guidance. At last the footfalls stopped and Ruan Mei turned around.
The first thing Ruan Mei noticed were Stelle’s eyes, which were quite literally glowing with rage. It seemed that it was more than just Stelle’s emotions that were unstable. How unfortunate. The next thing Ruan Mei noticed was the way that Stelle both favored her left leg and wrapped her right arm around her midsection, clutching her side. It appeared to her that she may have overestimated this trailblazer’s skills. Ruan Mei’s eyes narrowed just slightly, and her brow creased for just a moment, letting the mask slip and showing genuine sympathy.
But just as quickly, Ruan Mei returned to her formal, stoic self.
“The meeting of geniuses is over. As for the future of the Simulated Universe… That conclusion isn’t important. What’s important is your task.”
Stelle said nothing. She just stood there silently seething, trying so desperately to hold her tongue. Heedless, Ruan Mei pressed forward.
“You look… upset, correct? I regret my actions. There’s no defending what I’ve done. Time and again my experiments have fallen short, and they’ve always yielded predictable results.”
Through gritted teeth, Stelle replied, “Well, why couldn’t you tell me I would be fighting a swarm emanator outside of the Simulated Universe? If it was that predictable, why wouldn’t I be warned?”
Ruan Mei closed her eyes and shrugged. She shook her head while she said, “It wasn’t truly an emanator. I made a clone, but it… doesn’t hold a candle to the true Emanator. I merely thought that as one of the Nameless and one who bears a Stellaron you would effortlessly overcome this false prophet.”
“As flattering as that is,” Stelle replied with a warning tone, “You didn’t have to lie to me. You led me to believe I was just going to comfort your ‘children’ who worship you like a god. You made me believe that all I would have to do is round up the forlorn masses and bring them together in their mournful camaraderie.”
With her same flat expression and tone, Ruan Mei simply said, “How should I have explained it to you? I’m not good at communicating with others…”
Ruan Mei’s continued apathy only fanned the flames. “Well then how the hell do you do your job? Is a researcher not supposed to report to others for review? Is your life’s work more dishonest than that of a politician?”
Now this was insubordination in its purest form. To insist that all her work was no better than politics is a grand insult. Scoffing, Ruan Mei replied, “Only those who do not know the 'purity' of science cannot understand the agony of inconclusive results. Those who do not know what it is like to have to burn months or even years of their life's work because of the many ways the universe laughs at us, will never understand.
“It's you who doesn't understand! It is you hiding in your lab all the time, devoting yourself to this insanity, which causes these problems! Look, I don’t care what you say- I fought an honest-to-god swarm emanator and barely made it out. If it had-”
“It lasted only fifty-two seconds before it fizzled into non-existence, correct?”
Venom dripped from every word Stelle now spoke. “Fifty-six seconds.”
Ruan Mei was about to keep going, but she froze upon hearing that. After a moment of surprise, her face morphed into one of pure elation. She had taken yet another step closer to understanding the power Aeons wield. All those ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ she had split open and stitched together, the ⬛⬛⬛⬛ she had ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ to the ⬛⬛⬛⬛ which had taken so many hours, all of her soiled outfits had amounted to four whole seconds! Reverently, Ruan Mei turned her eyes up to the ceiling and whispered, “Aeonhood may yet be possible.”
It was Stelle’s turn to freeze, but she openly displayed her shock. Unknowingly, she had encountered someone with such an unhinged and dangerous goal. Her mind began racing as Stelle recalled every interaction with Ruan Mei, which now was cast in an entirely different light. Stelle’s mind was filled with pure dread as Ruan Mei began giggling, which quickly transformed into manic laughter.
Ruan Mei finally lowered her eyes and came face to face with Stelle. Her unadulterated euphoria halted after a moment and left the loading dock silent. To Stelle’s confusion and discomfort, the silence was more overpowering than even Phantilya had felt.
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Her mother had borne that very same expression when Ruan Mei was very young. That mix of inscrutable anger, fear, and pity. This one came in one of those rare moments that her mother pulled herself away from her microscope. Ruan Mei watched the memory roll through her mind detached from it all. She was a third party to her own life. However, Little Ruan seemed not to care for the blood and viscera that stretched up her forearms and dripped from her, nor the spasming heart she clutched in her hands. After all, she had watched her mother perform this very thing innumerable times.
Recognizing where this was headed Ruan Mei mouthed the very same words that Little Ruan spoke.
“Look Mama! I did it just like you! How did I do?”
Unaware of what she had just done, Little Ruan hoped for praise from her mother. It would make sense that her mother would be happy that she did this, because she could get done faster. Little Mei hoped that if she had done a good enough job that her mother might even make those little peach cakes that she and Auntie made long ago. 'Maybe Mama will look at the new textbook with me and we can smile together!'
But Little Ruan’s excitement turned to confusion as her mother continued to stare at her, her mouth agape. ‘Perhaps Mama left that ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ on the table for a reason. Oh, I hope she won’t be too mad that I did this.’ Concerned, Little Ruan stopped presenting the heart to her mother and stepped closer. “Mama? What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong when I-”
As Little Ruan had moved to try and get her mother to talk, she had stepped into the puddle that had formed on the floor. Not expecting the puddle, Little Ruan slipped and fell back into it. The liquid splattered across the floor and high onto the cabinets, and covered her mother as well.
Little Ruan sat in the puddle numbly as her mother screamed and rushed to the far corner of the lab where the cleaning center was. Her eyes found the heart as it layed on the cold floor and beat for the last time. Little Ruan remained motionless as she started to process all that was done.
Ruan Mei walked through the memory world and stood above her younger self. Despite the nickname she had been given, when this happened she was not little anymore. Ruan Mei stood there and waited for the next event to happen in sequence like always.
And just as Ruan Mei remembered, Little Ruan began crying. It changed from crying into weeping, and then weeping into wailing. It was wordless, and anything but quiet, but the pain and confusion it communicated was immense. Every second stretched onto infinity as Little Ruan’s desperation was only answered by echoes of her own until…
“Please Mama! What did I do wrong? I promise I’ll do better next time! Just–come back and tell me what I did wrong!”
The only reply she got was a door slamming open and the billowing wind as it rushed to fill the inside with its icy touch.
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Ruan Mei blinked and saw Stelle once more. Then Ruan Mei felt the oppressively warm air of the Station. Then at last Ruan Mei felt the tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes.
When she noticed this, Ruan Mei felt a raging heat in her cheeks and stones in her stomach. She needed a moment to compose herself, she knew that for certain, Ruan Mei just didn’t know how to quite take that moment.
Stelle noticed the moment that Ruan Mei returned to reality. Stelle began to say something, to apologize for the outburst, anything, when Ruan Mei whipped away to face the planet once more.
With a thick voice, Ruan Mei spoke, “I apologize for that, my assistant. I know that emotions are not that which is divine. Spare my dignity and say nothing right now.”
Stelle complied, and even took a step backwards. She cast her eyes about the loading dock, but no one was around except for the silently observing Express. Who knew just how much that great mechanical beast had witnessed, Stelle wondered. She shook her head and turned her gaze to the very same planet that Ruan Mei seemed to find comfort in.
Suddenly, Ruan Mei spoke. Her tone was even once more, but she still did not turn to face Stelle.
“The Anti-Truth Serum will make you forget the brief period we spent together. If you’re worried about anything, it won’t take effect immediately. It will happen slowly.
But let me ask you this, will you forget me?”
Stelle was confused. Why would she ask that if she had just said that I would forget anyways? Maybe I can remember if I’m determined enough, is what she means. But what good would that do? What evils might it spawn? Would it be so bad if I did forget?
But what if…
What might happen…
Would it affect…
Can I take…
Who would I…
Am I still…
In the end, Stelle’s only answer was, “I don’t know.”
Ruan Mei chuckled. “Well, I hope whenever you do decide, you are happy with your decision. Until then, my assistant.”
Ruan Mei turned her head to the side just a little and gave a small approving nod, tears sliding down the side of her face once more.