Most people in Papülonis live unaware they’re only extras in someone else’s story.


    An obvious sign of social decay is that the mob towers function under their own laws and mostly the police don’t even bother with them – after all if no crimes are reported, why would they? Mirra Leone is no exception in that sense. She took over her father’s empire when she was 19 years old after he ended up in prison due to a drug deal gone bad. It’s obvious to her now just as it was when she was young that though strength and quick-wittedness helped her rise to the top, the real seat of power rests wherever the ability to wield Cell Circuits as a weapon does. She intends to claim that throne.


    Mirra Leone knows how to use her father’s connections in the world of the rich and powerful to manipulate her way into the creme de la creme of society. She aims to apply her pretend-legitimacy as a scalpel and find out exactly how deep into the guts of society has Ultra extended its tentacles, as she knows they want that seat just as much as her.


    Her father’s henchmen are not happy about that. They say its reckless even by the fiery standards of the youth. One day almost a decade after her father’s arrest she finds her way into a banquet thrown by the Chromo family. These Eyes Wide Shut parties begin as a mere networking exercise culminating in the most shocking way for the uninitiated. The castle in the sky can be shut down for various orgies and drug binges for weeks. Perfect for an aspiring oligarch, because she is initiated.


    The Chromo family is a Military Industrial Complex dynasty who built their wealth on being completely legitimate merchants of death. Mirra, by contrast only recently stopped peddling in corpses beneath the counter. Tri-annually, they used to throw massive fundraisers for politicians and activist causes they sometimes hypocritically supported. After all, what’s the point in being the equivalent of Ares and then turning around and setting up a hospital for the veterans you helped maim on both sides of the war.


    She’s talking to an actor, Hastrel Krump. He’s a handsome man well-known for his ability to completely disappear into a character. She leans closer to him, laughing at his witty remarks. Encouraged by her amusement, he says:


    “Sure, it’s a way to give back, but does it really erase the damage done by neutron bombs? Seems like there’s a more straight-forward way to help these people.”


    “Oh? Like making tear-jerker movies?” Mirra says.


    “Har-har,” he says.


    The Chromos hold these fundraisers at the top of their skyscraper in Papülonis. It is by far the most expensive and extravagant of the towers, to the extent that it might as well have been made from silk. Though not modest itself by any stretch of the imagination, Leone Tower looks like a truck stop toilet compared to their lavish lair. The real-estate prices in Chromo Tower are higher near the ground level than they are at the top of some other places, like for instance Tower Windsor. Here every cubic centimeter of it is designed for luxury.


    The attendants of these parties are actors, governors, Emperors of the Republics, police commissioners, and sometimes a Cell, who in this case due to his success and renowned discretion happens to be Eurus, but also entrepreneurs, people of prominence. Through a cleverly designed series of events disguised as coincidence, Mirra finds herself invited there thanks to the newly found success of her business. Her strategy is remarkably simple - she takes veterans and prisoners and under the threat of horrid consequences makes them provide muscle and security. Her main customers are venues and places where telling what you saw would be equivalent to giving up your eyes as sanctions. She has been hired to enforce the security of the guests of said party in Chromo Tower. To represent her employees, she’s in attendance herself of course. But compared to the rest of the patrons, she’s new money - dirty by their accounts - and as such doesn’t know how to properly behave. Or does she?


    She’s wearing a dark green dress made from silk with almost nothing underneath, styled after Ancient Greece, beautifully matching her caramel skin. She leaves just enough to the imagination for the dusty monocle-men and too much for their shriveled old brides. Intentional? Take a wild guess.


    Some of the wives murmur: “Obvious to me what she’s doing… Just distasteful.”


    “Ah, come on,” their husbands hand-wave their protests away, “She just put in a little effort – what’s the big deal?”


    Her dark long hair is done up in an artistic bun with accessories and strands of hair have been set to flow meticulously to the sides, accenting the curve of her neck. The design is held together with an ancient jade pin valued at several million Imperial credits coming to a stop just above her collarbones. Its volume is on full display and her athletic back is left bare for the admiration of the visitors. As she slowly walks through the crowd, eyes follow her.


    “Damn,” some of the men mumble, their wives throwing around quiet insults at the same time, thinking she can’t hear them. She can, and she likes what she hears. After all after the domestics she may cause, she can quickly find them a shoulder to cry on, and perhaps one that is not too literal with the NDAs they have to sign.


    Mirra’s gentle lips are emphasized by a lipstick just a few shades darker than burgundy red. Her shoulder straps are held together with two rings made from a gold alloy and the dress is flowing off her with waves like that of a rose. Mirra’s side and her trained torso are visible as well and the dress acts more like an accessory to Mirra’s glorious physique.


    “Love that dress,” one of the men tells her as she twists past him.


    “Thank you, dear,” she responds.


    Her hefty bosom is divided by an ambitious cleavage - her breasts are covered up sufficiently to not come off as immodest. However, at the same time no man can deny being intrigued by the few visible lines. The fabric teases their shape and size. As if any more was needed, the crisp but not-too-cold air pumped into the banquet hall tightens her skin beneath the covers, bringing the fabric in front to its limits. The dress flows between and around her thighs with no doubt left about the magnificence of the ordinance carried by them as though having been sculpted by an old Renaissance master. Every single detail of her appearance is deliberate and by-design.


    As if her dashing looks aren’t on display enough, she towers above most men with carbon-ceramic stilettos, putting her a tad over two meters in total height.


    ?And now a word from our security sponsor, Mirra Leone!“ the announcer said.


    ?Hello, dear friends. I trust you’re enjoying your evening in the safe arms of our dear veterans,“ she says in her sultry, almost deep voice, while pointing out to the men with guns in butler outfits. A hollering applause erupts, as well... you can’t just not applaud the veterans, right?


    ?I do know the reputation of the Leone family, but I hope that today’s professional work done by our contractors sheds some new light on my house. Enjoy your evening and remember, the boys can be to go, as I suspect price won’t be an issue?“ she winks at the crowd some of whom guffaw at the quip. She continues:


    “They and the most sophisticated personal security apparatus aside from the Imperial government is for hire for several different plans. But I assure you… the Imperium is not nearly as compliant.“


    She steps down from the stage. A fat aristocrat dressed like the monopoly man with a monocle and a bushy gray moustache approaches her and introduces himself to her in strong and posh British.


    ?I am Lord Windsor. What a wonderful speech, young miss. If your father had been half as charming, I doubt any of the accusations had ever stuck,“ he chuckles.


    ?Well, thank you, my Lord,“ Mirra says, while blushing on purpose. ?Is your wife out of town?“ Mirra asks slyly.


    ?Looking at you, I’m having a hard time remembering who she even is,“ says Lord Windsor, ?tell me, Ms. Leone...“


    ?Call me Mirra, please,“ Mirra interrupts.


    ?Mirra, are you available for a private consultation?“


    ?Private? I thought you only went to orgies, Windsor,“ a deep baritone says from behind him. The figure is 250 centimeters tall, lean and athletic.


    ?Eurus! You son of a... well... Son of a gun!“ Windsor erupts in a hearty chuckle so loud it seems like he could rupture a lung.


    ?Young lady, you are in the presence of the very peak of antiquity. Human ingenuity and persistence in a figurative nutshell. This here is one of the few hundred Cells remaining on Martis. This is Eurus. Eurus, Mirra Leone.“


    ?The pleasure is surely mine,“ Mirra says almost gasping for air, ?oh my god, aren’t you a specimen.“


    As a small girl Mirra grew up with stories about Cells told by her father’s henchmen. She’d always wanted to meet one and idolized them a lot. Seeing Eurus, she could not help but faint a much smaller yet involuntary blush.


    ?Hah! I think she likes you!“ Lord Windsor laughs, ?Well I can hardly blame her. Look at this one, right?” he points at Eurus behind him with his thumb, “He could be a homeless rat and I think even still I’d sport a semi.“


    ?I’m suprised you could even manage that, Winnie,“ an older lady with a black dress and a strict corset outfit joins the conversation. Her face is as white as porcelain and her thin lips are slightly wrinkled.


    ?Well, though I might physically appear under the buckling weight of the proverbial red tape, I can assure you, the artillery is well in operational order,“ Windsor quips back, ?how are you holding up, Lady Chromo.“


    ?Well I’d say that it’s already been several months since Ludvig passed away, but I must say... the pain is still fresh. Now it’s just Kalopsia and me,“ she points to Kalopsia, who is near the center of the banquet hall. A faintly blue-skinned 17-year-old girl with a leather jacket and a beautiful white mane of a mohawk, green eyes and dashing red lips, ?Who’s going to carry on the family name?“ she cries out.


    “Now, now, Victoria. No need to be dramatic,” Windsor says as he puts his hand around and comforts her.


    It is well-accepted gossip that the Chromo family is barren. All their centuries of genetic enhancements finally took a toll. If they had discovered this fact sooner, maybe Ludvig and Victoria could’ve made a child. Instead they made great efforts to acquire a descendant from an undisclosed place, but it’s widely known that they paid a lot for her to be perfect in every way. People often quietly wondered amongst themselves - why would she be blue though?


    ?Mirra, darling, why don’t you show Eurus here the floors? I’ll handle the waterworks,“ Windsor tells Mirra, ?Don’t forget to stay in touch.“


    ?You’ll be alright?“ Eurus asks Windsor.


    ?Yes, yes, I imagine Mirra here will have her boys make sure I arrive at Tower Windsor safely.“


    ?Of course, my Lord,“ says Mirra.


    They walk out of the banquet hall into the hallways of Tower Chromo, embellished by old wooden floors and paintings and armor from the medieval ages. Usually, this part of Chromo tower is open to tourists and visitors. The Chromo family is known for their philanthropic endeavors and so they allow schools, students, anyone interested, really, to walk their halls and bask in the glory of history. There’s a fully decorated mannequin wearing original Spartan armor from 3rd century BC. Mirra and Eurus stand to look at it.


    Mirra tilts her head a little, with her eyebrow raised.


    ?These remind me of you,“ she says.


    ?In what way?“


    ?How they stood against the might of Persia, just a few hundred of them during the battle of Thermopylae. Similar to how the Cell Circuits were just a few thousand strong but managed to break the Machine Revolt.“


    ?We couldn’t have done it alone. Many millions of brave lives were sacrificed to gain the upper hand. We were merely the tip of the spear to break through the enemy lines and force concessions in its defenses.“


    ?Well had there been more of you,“ she says, ?I think we might have spared the millions.“


    ?It was obviously not meant to be. Could you honestly blame them?“


    ?Well, yes. It was not the senator’s son dying under thread of the metal menace. It was a kid from Brooklyn or South Boston or Beijing who wasn’t lucky enough to dodge the draft.“


    ?Do you think it would’ve made a difference if the senator’s son had died instead? In the grand scheme of things, I think it wouldn’t have mattered at all.“ Eurus traces his finger across the chest-piece of the Spartan, studying the faint dust pattern.


    ?My, my... Genetically enhanced, centuries old, but still naive. A death in the family springs its living predecessors to action. Instead of sending another child into the meat grinder? They wave a pen and a million more super soldiers crush the machines without breaking a sweat.“


    ?Hah,“ Eurus chuckles, staring at the tiny layer of dust now in his fingers. He looks back at her and says: “You honestly believe that this money hungry senator would, even if he could, change the course of history? Do you think he’d willingly direct future power out of his own hands? Despite his donors? Simply because his child died? Children of senators still died of cancer, disease, drugs. All the wars, all the suffering that could’ve been avoided with the flick of a pen. But, alas! Their fingers lied still when it came to changing these things. Because when on top, the status-quo serves the big shark. That’s true even if it comes at the cost of eating its own siblings. The breakthroughs in any of these fields and the creation of my kind came despite the best efforts of these supposedly powerful men. You realize, it’s quite obvious that they would’ve stopped us at the price of human kind if they had their way? The man who made me broke every law to arrive at a breakthrough. He ended up a hero but thanks to blind ambition from those well-meaning and righteous senators, we would’ve otherwise not been here, and mankind would’ve become extinct. Perhaps as the final soul was about to be extinguished, they could’ve been happy knowing that things were kept just as they were.“


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ?Well... it seems the doe became the wolf,“ Mirra says, ?Would you care for a walk on the streets below?“


    ?Looking like you do now?“


    ?Oh?“ Mirra says, ?I seem to under the lingering impression that I have the watchful eye of an ancient super soldier. Am I wrong?“


    ?Who’s watching me?“ Eurus asks.


    ?Don’t worry, darling. I’m a Karate black belt,“ she says.


    They walk towards the vehicle bay elevator, admiring the priceless works of art and history they observe on the way. Mirra takes Eurus’s arm and holds it ever so slightly against her side such that Eurus feels her warmth. He tries to ignore it but even beneath all the enhancements, he feels an undeniable flicker of a new sensation towards her. She’s smart, strikingly beautiful, but even so, no part of her is crafted in advance unlike Eurus or the babies of trillionaires, who were built from scratch in a tube. She’s like that primarily by chance.


    “You think back then, back during the Ancient Greeks… They would’ve hailed you as a god?” Mirra asks.


    “Dr. Vakkar is Prometheus… Not Zeus,” Eurus says.


    “Chained to a rock?”


    “Where Greeks saw salvation from a Deus Ex Machina, I’m more of an Anthropos Ex Machina. Born out of man’s ingenious grasp of nature… No holy book imagined machines looking for meaning and man-made soldiers as fearsome as any apocalypse.”


    They arrive at the vehicle bay. Mirra’s driver opens the door to her luxurious limousine. It was built by an old British company originating back to the end of the first World War. They ride to OG-1 and the car sets them down on a platform the contents of which can only be described as a cesspool. Call girls on every street corner, young gangsters playing various games in front of their favorite cafes and pubs, some with said girls on their laps.


    ?Quite a scene,“ Eurus says.


    ?Don’t worry, dear. I’ll keep you safe,“ Mirra says, ?This is the life led by the ones who simply can’t afford your protection. Paycheck to paycheck, sick to their bones and anxious to have their turn with the world. Does it ever occur to them it could get worse?“


    Most gangsters see Eurus first, but before they can manage a sour look, they spot Mirra on his arm. Instead of anger, they don an image of respect, knowing that rarely if ever Cells associate with crime lords let alone take their leaders on a stroll through the slums. As they walk, some gangsters let out a whistle, cat calling Mirra. Their more experienced counterparts quickly give them a shove or a little kick to knock some sense into them. Mirra’s only smiling, enjoying the attention she’s getting.


    Mirra takes his hand and leads them down an alleyway smelling faintly of piss and vodka. A group of 10 youngsters jump out from behind a dumpster to block their way. Eurus isn’t surprised, as he knew of their presence as soon as they entered the alley. Clearly drunk and high out of their minds one of the group steps in front of Mirra. She stops and says:


    ?Whatever’s going through your head, kid, leave it in there.“


    ?You and your daddy better go back the way you came or you’re getting served to my friends like a pig on a spitroast.“


    As he says that Mirra’s face turns from confident to worried, but before her expression changes completely, Eurus pulls her back and takes her place. While she is slightly taller than the boy, Eurus dwarfs him. Despite being completely under the influence of a wide mix of drugs the group realizes that this bite may be too big to swallow for them and the other nine start to retreat. Whether out of pride or sheer stupidity, the principal crook keeps his stance.


    ?You’re going to die for some minge, big guy?“ the guy says, as his hand moves behind towards what is presumably a weapon of some kind.


    ?You’re nothing but bugs in my way,“ Eurus says.


    ?Hey, Bolle, let ’em passss,“ a guy from behind him slurs out.


    Bolle contemplates for a moment and then steps aside. Eurus walks by them and leads Mirra though the group when suddenly he loses her grip. Eurus turns around and sees Bolle has her by the neck and is aiming a gun to her temple.


    ?You just keep walking, pal, and she’ll survive,“ Bolle says, as he slides his hand towards her chest and starts to feel her up. Eurus can see clear panic in Mirra’s eyes. He can hear her heart as her pulse skyrockets.


    ?Ahh, the word of a rapist. And what? This is supposed to work? You realize that if you kill her right now, I’ll pull your guts out from your asshole, you little cunt?“ Eurus says.


    Bolle says nothing but he stops groping Mirra.


    ?And as far as your goons are concerned,“ Eurus looks at their spooked faces, ?They’ll be dead in five seconds.“


    While he’s talking, additional glands in his jaw produce a mixture of his corrosive blood and his mouth slowly fills with a dangerous liquid. Even his secretions are weapons to be used. He hears Bolle’s heartbeat turn erratic, rising in rhythm and detects from his breathing pattern that a moment of hesitation has arrived.


    No more is needed as Eurus propels his spit to his eyes, leaving his vision permanently impaired, if not blind. He screams out at the immense pain in his eyes. Mirra ducks and elbows him in the stomach, which causes Bolle to pull the trigger, killing one of his boys with a headshot. In a split second, Eurus then jumps toward Bolle and Mirra, while the goons try to grab the couple for a chance of survival. Eurus lifts Bolle up from his neck, while Mirra slides back, slowly retreating. Bolle blindly aims his gun towards Eurus. He grabs his wrist with his hand and yanks his arm off his shoulder, at the same time crushing his esophagus into paste like a party cake. In those very few blinks of an eye, one of the gangsters tries to lunge towards Eurus. This only results in him being swatted unconscious with Bolle’s arm while Eurus turns around. The others are still in their places in clear shock, the adrenaline coursing through their veins now blocking out the effects of the substances they’re under. Eurus sees them hesitating as well.


    “COME ON! WHO’S NEXT?” Eurus booms out, his roar deafening.


    The hooligans turn heel and escape, more similar to waddling than an actual sprint.


    ?Are you alright? Would you like me to take you home?“ Eurus asks Mirra, while still looking at the fleeing youngsters.


    ?My hero,“ Mirra says.


    Eurus turns around to look at her and to his surprise Mirra is back to her sly smirk though he can hear her pulse pounding away. He’s impressed by her control over her face and expressions. Were he not a Cell, he’d never realize the fear still coursing through her body and her blood vessels. He also wonders if she risked her honor and possibly her life on purpose to see if he was willing to defend her.


    ?I think… I’ll be fine,“ she says.


    ?What about me? Perhaps I’m traumatized.“


    ?I’ll certainly try to make it up to you,“ she says, ?Come on, let’s go.“


    She takes his hand that isn’t covered by the innards of Bolle . She leads him further through the alleyway onto another, bigger street. They keep going deeper into OG-1.


    After walking for a little while, she stops in front of a shoddy little place. It has no more than twelve small tables and it looks like it would immediately be shut down if it were subjected to a health inspection. There’s a sign over the door that says ?French Meating Place“. The place is packed, however.


    ?A lady might get oh-so hungry after a battle,“ Mirra says.


    ?I seriously doubt a lady should lower her standards so far, though,“ Eurus teases her, ?Also, my hand is covered in blood,“ he protests. He smelt the place immediately after setting foot off their Bentley and the state of its capacity does make sense however.


    ?Don’t knock it ’til you try it, oh super soldier mine. I don’t think your hand will matter here, by the way, considering the place is supposed to be such a letdown. If I have to be forced to smile while being conned into eating one more tiny piece of pretentious steak skewered upon a miniature piece of bread, I think I’ll develop some type of upscale eating disorder. Hopefully your eyes, being as good as they are, can see the place buckling under its patronage. They have the best spare ribs in the Solar System. In my opinion at least...“


    Eurus can’t deny that possibility. The sweet aroma the place exudes cannot be dismissed. They step inside and the middle-aged African chef notices them immediately.


    ?Mirra!“ he calls out and waves his hand motioning them to come closer. When they arrive at the counter behind of which is a three meter tub filled with smoldering coals. The grill is covered in several meat products all presumably anxiously waited for by hungry customers, many of whom steal looks towards the new visitors. Women try their damndest to hide their fascination with Eurus. The men who accompany them try their best to stop their blood from leaving their brains as they look the marvel that is Mirra.


    ?Who’s your friend?“ he says with a big smile and a thick French accent.


    ?This is Eurus,“ she says, ?We’re on a date. Eurus, this is my dear friend Alcubierre.“


    ?Is that right?“ Eurus asks, ?It seems we haven’t reserved a table.“


    ?I love your voice, bon monsieur, and I’d love to hear you speak about your adventures here, but Mirra is a long time patron and she gets to eat in my office,“ Alcubierre says, ?Alice, take over!“


    He steps away from the grill as a teenage girl takes his place behind the line. He motions them to follow him. Mirra goes in front of Eurus, pulling him by his hand and Alcubierre leads the pair through the kitchen door. To Eurus’ surprise, the kitchen is manned by an African lady, presumably Alcubierre’s wife, and a girl who’s the spitting image of her father. There’s another door through the kitchen which leads them down a narrow staircase, such that Eurus has to slightly crouch to even fit to walk.


    A waft of scent from Mirra’s hair passes to Eurus, consisting of her natural odor, honeyed coffee, with a slight note of gunpowder. Her aroma gives him a sense of yearning, longing for something that never was. Even in the small passage, she walks confidently, not worried about stumbling. It’s obvious she’s walked these steps many times. The way Alcubierre invited her in makes Eurus think whether she is as bad as he suspects. He knows she must be playing at some game – that much is obvious – but is that really all there is to her? It’s hard to say.


    The threesome enter a small room with a computer, a small fridge and some cabinets which hold some servers, making the space warm and humid. Some men still believe in the sanctity of a signed piece of paper and Alcubierre is clearly one of them. He sits Mirra down on his desk chair and Eurus is sat on a cushioned metal armchair, which creaks under his massive weight. He hands Eurus a wet towel from a dispenser on the wall and Eurus cleans his hands from Bolle’s blood.


    ?Don’t go breaking my chair, monsieur, these are the best seats in the house,“ Alcubierre says, as he gently strokes Mirra’s hair and pulls her head to his chest. He gives her scalp a fatherly kiss.


    “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Eurus says.


    Just after he leaves the room, Mirra stands up and walks over to Eurus and sits sideways on his lap. Eurus is surprised by her directness but puts his arms around her because even he can’t deny her majestic figure, certainly feeling a pressure rising in his body. She’s sweating from the heat in the room generated by the servers.


    ?May I give my savior a kiss?“ she asks him as she gazes deep into his eyes and he looks at hers.


    Without waiting for his response, she then leans in and imprints a kiss on his lips to which he responds in kind. She guides his hand from her hip up to her chest, letting him feel her breast through the fabric of her dress. Mirra can feel Eurus’s body develop a response that’s pushing into her thigh as well – she likes her effect on him. To Eurus’ surprise however, her pulse is almost at resting pace at around 60 beats per minute. Is she simply so athletic that this is her pulse already at elevation or is she calm or perhaps unimpressed, Eurus thinks to himself. He knows about her reputation and is suspicious towards it, as it implies an attempt at subterfuge. As their tongues meet for a brief moment during the kiss, they hear the door at the top of the narrow staircase open and Mirra quickly goes back to her place. She motions Eurus to wipe her lipstick off his face as she cleans hers. Right after she sits down, Alcubierre opens the door with an enormous plate of various meats surrounding the freshly cooked spare ribs and the room fills with a sublime aroma from the assortment of meats.


    ?It occured to me that the monsieur might want more than the average patron,“ Alcubierre says. He then sets the plate down on the table and then takes out a bottle of 30-year-old whiskey from his desk drawer, and two Scottish crystal glasses and pours them almost half full. He then quickly shuffles to the fridge, takes two tall glasses from the box next to it, and pours two bottles of Falkonturm beers into each of them. He sets the beers down on the tables as well.


    Eurus takes out his currency chip to hand over to Alcubierre, to which he shakes his head and says:


    ?No, no, no, no, no, no, Mirra and friends don’t pay.“


    They dig into the food delivered by Alcubierre, who quickly leaves them alone. The room falls quiet aside from the noises made from the pair devouring the bountiful feast in front of them. The Falkonturm beer is silky and creamy in texture while keeping its perspiring nature. A perfect combination for the rich supper served to the couple.


    When they finish, Mirra makes the suggestion that Eurus should accompany her to Leone tower. They walk back to where they left the Bentley, which then drives them to their destination.


    At the peak of the tower, the stars shine on them. The moons of Martis - Deimos and Phobos - illuminate the faux forest before them. They walk through the artificial jungle until they reach an alcove with a cushy bench placed in the middle of it. Mirra suggests they sit and gaze upon the skyscape. As they lay there, Mirra asks if Eurus believes that there is intelligent life originating from outside the Solar System.


    ?In order to answer such a question, you should define what do you think intelligence is?“


    ?I think it’s to do with pattern recognition – the ability to look at facts and draw conclusions from it in a meaningful way. Let’s put it this way: do you think humans are the first or the only ones with the ability to create a civilization?“


    ?Well, considering the vastness of the universe, I don’t think it possible to be alone in that regard. Though to my knowledge, even if we haven’t encountered anything like us, it’s like drawing conclusions about the oceans of Terram by inspecting a syringe full of water on Mars. There simply isn’t enough data to draw a conclusion. For instance, look at the Big Dipper. You could draw a plane between the two wheels and that space holds more worlds than there are grains of sand on every beach in the Solar System. Are we really to say anything about that given we have only been to less than ten of them?“


    ?I’ll take that as a yes.“


    Mirra leans onto Eurus, and puts his arm around her. She looks up into his eyes and guides his face closer to hers. They kiss and Mirra moves herself so her dress becomes ajar, slightly revealing her naked breast underneath it. Eurus however is reluctant to move further as she tries to move her hand towards his groin.


    ?Don’t worry, nobody will bother us here.“


    ?Why are you doing this?“ Eurus asks.


    ?Doing what?“ Mirra asks back. Her pulse becomes noticeably faster.


    ?This feels like it’s going somewhere. Are you really aiming to make love to me?“


    ?I thought it was obvious.“


    ?Cells are infertile, I can’t make you rear a child. So, why?“


    ?Relax. Call it a bucket list.“


    ?No. Considering what I know about you, I think instead of harmless fun, most of all, what you want, is power. Are you trying to make me fall in love with you to use me for my abilities?“


    Her pulse beats even faster.


    ?There are simpler ways of acquiring favors from a Cell,“ she says as she promptly sits upright and adjusts her dress.


    ?Yes, but in case I’m right, this is less transparent and would potentially yield more long-term results.“


    She stands up, and takes him by the hand. They walk into the building and Mirra leads him to her chambers. It’s a room much bigger than Eurus’s and has a huge bed. Her bed and the styling of the room is akin to something out of a colonial castle. There are shelves filled with enough books from the floor to the 4 meter ceiling to supply a small library. Many of them are of a single topic – Cells. Others are textbooks and collections of studies speculating on the ancient methods of how one might go about making a Cell. They’re incomplete – otherwise more would have been created. There are history books describing how the ancient force was wielded but also epics from eons ago. There is even a statue of the first Cell created, Deimos, name sake of Mars’ moon, wielding his battle axe made originally from the bones of a genetically engineered rhinoceros. He has a blade from a depleted uranium and steel alloy, giving it strength and weight making it capable of destroying almost anything by applying massive kinetic energy at a selected area. He was recently declared MIA at one of the colonies.


    ?I didn’t hide my obsession with Cells and mythical warriors the likes of which you are. I’m not trying to scheme favors out of Cells. I employ enough mercenaries to stage a small war so whatever I need done, I can do it myself. I’ve never met a Cell before in my life and now that I have I can’t take my mind off of you.“


    Eurus senses her bodily functions and realizes that she’s likely telling some version of the truth – at least as far as she knows. However he can’t take the chance of being wrong, compounded by the fact that she is an excellent master of her body and could be hiding her true intentions beyond what Eurus is capable of noticing. Which is why to her dismay he says:


    “It’s time for me to leave.”