needs someone to keep the telescope lens of the ship
aimed at our next target, the Oblivion system, and my man has the smoothest
touch on the controls. They’re getting as much information as they can before
we arrive.”
“About
the planet the Magi want us to visit?” Yvette almost spit the term for the
aliens.
“Technically,
it’s the fourth moon of the second planet. So far we know that planet B is a
gas giant similar to Saturn. Sojiro already wants to name the parent planet
Mongo after the home world of Ming the Merciless.”
“I
know this sort of thing excites you, but I’m still not ready to return to the
command saucer.”
“We
could help Yuki in the barn,” Mercy suggested.
The
nurse was suspicious. Mercy kept trying to convince her to pray at the grotto,
but Yvette was too angry—at Toby, the Magi, and God. “You mean chapel.”
“No.
They’re using it as a real barn for the upcoming winter. It has a roof now and
should be cooler than the fields.”
Reluctantly,
Yvette agreed for her friend’s sake.
They
walked around the barn calling, but Yuki was nowhere to be found. Outside,
bundles of mature grain were stacked in the sun to dry. Inside, the round,
stone floor was flat and clean. From chest height up, the walls were lined with
wide shelves, each labeled in white tape and neat, black calligraphy. Mercy
hollered once into the structure, and Sojiro answered from a corner. He was dressed
in striped, baggy, linen pants and a sleeveless, white T-shirt that would’ve
been at home in The Great Gatsby . “She went to get more of my chalk from
Olympus.”
Mercy
ran to hug him hello. He responded with theatrical cheek kisses, one on each
side, but he kept his sooty-looking hands away from her clothes. “Careful,
Momma Hen, I’m doing some charcoal sketching.”
“You’ve
decided on your first piece?” Mercy asked, excitedly. “Show us!”
Yvette
was jealous because the smallest surprise could cause her friend so much
happiness.
Sojiro
led them to where he had his two-meter-tall smart-paper display of a photograph
tacked to the wall. He was sketching his rendition of that giant image off to
the right. “The theme is mythological representations of people in our party.”
When
Yvette circled to where she could see the high-definition photo of the original
sculpture, the breath squeezed out of her. A well-muscled, horned giant
captured a fleeing, panicked woman from behind. The caption said, ‘The Rape of
Persephone.’ In the sketch on the fresh plaster, the fleeing woman had her
face. The picture could’ve been taken from her own nightmares. The Japanese
artist had hit the nail on the head. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.
“It’s
rough. You don’t like it? I can change the angle. Or, I was also thinking of
this one.” With a touch to the smart paper, the view changed to Apollo chasing
Daphne with the same lustful intent. In this photo, the woman escaped by
changing into a tree. “I love the original sculpture because the leaves are so
fine that when you tap them, they ring like silver. They’re eternal yet fragile.
That quality is hard to convey in a fresco.”
Was
she wooden and rooted in place now? Fragile? Or was she fighting tooth and nail
against a malevolent god who forced her to imbibe part of his essence?
The
artist rambled on. “For you, Mercy, I have something really hot—Cupid and
Psyche. Lou is the winged lover—you know, pilot and ladies’ man. She’s all
innocent and cerebral.”
“Wow,”
Mercy said with a blush. “Is Cupid the blind one?”
“Blindfolded
sometimes,” said Sojiro. “He could only visit Psyche in her bedroom with the
lights off. When she cheated to see his true form, he had to fly away. The gods
made her perform feats like Hercules just to see that boy again, but she did
every one of them because my girl was smart. Eventually, they had to make her
immortal, too, so they could do it with the lights on in the middle of the
Louvre.
aimed at our next target, the Oblivion system, and my man has the smoothest
touch on the controls. They’re getting as much information as they can before
we arrive.”
“About
the planet the Magi want us to visit?” Yvette almost spit the term for the
aliens.
“Technically,
it’s the fourth moon of the second planet. So far we know that planet B is a
gas giant similar to Saturn. Sojiro already wants to name the parent planet
Mongo after the home world of Ming the Merciless.”
“I
know this sort of thing excites you, but I’m still not ready to return to the
command saucer.”
“We
could help Yuki in the barn,” Mercy suggested.
The
nurse was suspicious. Mercy kept trying to convince her to pray at the grotto,
but Yvette was too angry—at Toby, the Magi, and God. “You mean chapel.”
“No.
They’re using it as a real barn for the upcoming winter. It has a roof now and
should be cooler than the fields.”
Reluctantly,
Yvette agreed for her friend’s sake.
They
walked around the barn calling, but Yuki was nowhere to be found. Outside,
bundles of mature grain were stacked in the sun to dry. Inside, the round,
stone floor was flat and clean. From chest height up, the walls were lined with
wide shelves, each labeled in white tape and neat, black calligraphy. Mercy
hollered once into the structure, and Sojiro answered from a corner. He was dressed
in striped, baggy, linen pants and a sleeveless, white T-shirt that would’ve
been at home in The Great Gatsby . “She went to get more of my chalk from
Olympus.”
Mercy
ran to hug him hello. He responded with theatrical cheek kisses, one on each
side, but he kept his sooty-looking hands away from her clothes. “Careful,
Momma Hen, I’m doing some charcoal sketching.”
“You’ve
decided on your first piece?” Mercy asked, excitedly. “Show us!”
Yvette
was jealous because the smallest surprise could cause her friend so much
happiness.
Sojiro
led them to where he had his two-meter-tall smart-paper display of a photograph
tacked to the wall. He was sketching his rendition of that giant image off to
the right. “The theme is mythological representations of people in our party.”
When
Yvette circled to where she could see the high-definition photo of the original
sculpture, the breath squeezed out of her. A well-muscled, horned giant
captured a fleeing, panicked woman from behind. The caption said, ‘The Rape of
Persephone.’ In the sketch on the fresh plaster, the fleeing woman had her
face. The picture could’ve been taken from her own nightmares. The Japanese
artist had hit the nail on the head. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.
“It’s
rough. You don’t like it? I can change the angle. Or, I was also thinking of
this one.” With a touch to the smart paper, the view changed to Apollo chasing
Daphne with the same lustful intent. In this photo, the woman escaped by
changing into a tree. “I love the original sculpture because the leaves are so
fine that when you tap them, they ring like silver. They’re eternal yet fragile.
That quality is hard to convey in a fresco.”
Was
she wooden and rooted in place now? Fragile? Or was she fighting tooth and nail
against a malevolent god who forced her to imbibe part of his essence?
The
artist rambled on. “For you, Mercy, I have something really hot—Cupid and
Psyche. Lou is the winged lover—you know, pilot and ladies’ man. She’s all
innocent and cerebral.”
“Wow,”
Mercy said with a blush. “Is Cupid the blind one?”
“Blindfolded
sometimes,” said Sojiro. “He could only visit Psyche in her bedroom with the
lights off. When she cheated to see his true form, he had to fly away. The gods
made her perform feats like Hercules just to see that boy again, but she did
every one of them because my girl was smart. Eventually, they had to make her
immortal, too, so they could do it with the lights on in the middle of the
Louvre.
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