Giallos
Episode I:
'The Event Horizon of the Soul'
"The secret of assassination," began the older male opifex male in a style befitting an Shakespearean actor performing to an enraptured audience, "is the one secret that holds true regardless of the myriad of endeavors that life might lead you to pursue."
In this case, his stage was the very cramped chamber aboard a Dionysos Entertainment Corp. vessel servicing the Corona system. His audience limited to a single opifex female serving as his personal entertainer.
She was wrenching at his every word; though she tried to present the outward appearance of doe-eyed awe. She has been told, or more to the case warned, that this man was one of the more nastier professions working for one of the more nastier corporations. If this was so, she figured, he knew her thoughts better than she did.
Not that she gave his performance a moment of pause. Obviously, he was an actor that did not play to his audience. Instead, he strutted upon his stage as if called to perform before God.
It had been explained to her, in the processing center by the breed selection psychologists, that the opifex tended to have very extroverted personalities. The current school of reasoning stated that they were compensating for their lack of physical presence. Not that is had mattered to her. Her contract with Dionysos stated that by the laws of rights and property, her body was now a corporate asset. Not until she was 30 years of age, would she have any say so in even the lip stick she wore. They needed opifex for their entertainment ships, and so, she was now an opifex.
"The secret of success to anything you want to do in life", he leaned in closer to her. Considering that they were already in the single bunk of her 'office', it was a remarkable feat of psychical dexterity. She felt the heat of his body molded against her, the bonding of their skin by sweat, her small figure rose and dipped, snaked and twisted, over, under and around his every curve. His heart thundered so loudly that it became her own. He was eclipsing her, and she held her breath, wondering if she would emerge on the other side whole.
"The secret is to enjoy what you do." He finished. Then, he smiled.
It was a small, slight smile. The rays of light breaking out from behind the clouds like an echo of the hidden sun. A momentary look, if peripheral, of the soul of the man she knew only as Ice. It whispers to her own soul, "do I scare you? Would you like me too?"
Death had throw back his hood in intimacy , revealing all, and inviting more.
She kissed him. Without hesitation or pause. Her lips pounced like the hunter, not the hunted. Her passion unfurled as wings on which she hurled the very essence of her being at this man. She flew with all the pride and fearlessness of Icarus launching himself towards the sun that would surely destroy him.
She did so not because she felt any real passion for the man himself, or, for that matter, any real enjoyment from what she did.
No, she did so out of defiance. She would not be cowed and she would not submit. Never again. This was her bed, and for all practical purpose, her world and her life. Ever since she sold the rights to her body and life to the Dionysos Corp. in order to escape the slum hole of Saint Forent, Corsica, her freewill and expression was only her own in these few cubic feet of horizontal space. No matter who or what this man is, and regardless of his employer, this was not his stage. It was hers, and she was its only star.
The memorial of battles take many forms and expression. Sometimes its the destruction of a city or an entire people that marks the event. Other times, a simple marker that people are reminded of by a note on a calendar. Most of the time, its only the remembrance of those who were there who survived to remember. All are eventually forgotten, because man has no need to hoard such memorials when is he so industrious about creating the need for new ones.
This battle, occurring in space aboard the Dionysos Corp. entertainment ship Soiree, was marked by a simple question. The Omni Tech agent, know only as Ice, looked as his companion with all the fascination of a explorer who has encounter a new form of life.
"What is your name?" He asked, with no tonal flourish or accent acrobatics. He had had an epiphany , and was desperately searching for a word that would define the experience before it faded and was lost.
"Giallos." She answers.
giallos, take a bow!
