《The Facility of Myth Reduction》


 Chapter 1 – Blood, Flesh and Prayer

    Blood and prayers filled the now-empty stone temple that had become filled with charred human flesh and bone. A lone old man stood in front of an ancient humanoid in betrayal of the rules of his community as twin teardrops fell down his ash covered face. He would soon be filled with pain at the cost of his self-sacrifice and he did not know if his soul would be taken but at this point, the man no longer cared.


    In a way he was thankful that his village had been wiped out, nobody was left alive to observe his degeneration into heresy. His promised afterlife was no longer within his reach. Not when his soul was devoured.


    But he would gladly welcome damnation in return for the granting of a single wish. He went onto his hands and knees among the dirt and the guano and lowered his head so it touched the floor.


    ¡®Defiler of form. I offer myself to you as a sacrifice of my own will. I only ask that you take my strength and punish my enemies. My blood, flesh, mind, and soul are yours ancient one.¡¯


    The creature that had once thought of itself as a living god before it had been near-starved and reduced to a base state animalistic state for at least hundreds of years began to slowly reawaken.


    I¡­.hear¡­.I¡­..smell¡­.I¡­..listen.


    Shards of expression shot through the mind of the man who had long fallen to the floor. Froth coming from his mouth as his eyes and skin melted and slipped into the mouth of the waiting statue. He was suffering either agony or ecstasy but it was too late to tell.


    A form appeared in the before the time-worn face of the statue. Eyes and a mouth. One yellow and one green with a mouth that was simply an absence of space. The mouth as it was creased into a smile as the consciousness of the living god began to return.


    I¡­.awaken¡­..I¡­..I¡­..will grant your wish. Here-tic.


    To kill those who tried to kill you. The creature understood this concept very well, its mind gradually becoming sharper and more aware with direct interaction with sentient flesh and bone as it flowed into the mouth of the worn statue. The features were hard to make out clearly as they began to flow from male to female and then in-between.


    Revenge. Death and pain upon your enemies. Yessss¡­.


    If the man had still remained lucid the words that it made would have sickened him to his core. He was breaking every single belief that his tribe held all for the sake of revenge, it was the only sane choice that he could have made when his small world had become insane.


    The being that was living god was more akin to an animal than a sentient humanoid. It had been starved for close to a millennia and hidden away inside this remote jungle temple. The only ones who had interacted had taken on the roles of both carers and wardens with each generation educated to fulfil the role when they died of old age in turn.


    The old man saw a living god for the first and last time in his three or so decades of life. He had entered the shrine inside the cave with only his prayers and the remains of his tattered clothing on his body. Blood slowly dripped from his eyes as they were altered into new eyes better equipped  the dark night.


    He knew his remaining life span was being rapidly consumed in order to fuel the change but it was not out of malice or hatred. A fish would swim, a bird would fly and the being trapped within the depths of stone and prayer existed to mutate and adapt all forms of flesh, blood and sinew.


    One¡­final¡­blessing. I give you the opportunity to remember. Your thoughts will flow into me as your last enemies become mine.


    Time. The god did give the man one kindness, out of a sense of humour or because it had forgotten the strength of a human form, but it allowed his mind to think back, to recollect his decision and actions that had led to this point.


    A single statue untouched by time, dust or moisture stood within. Light in colour with the roughly hewn shape of a humanoid figure who stood with arms crossed on its chest. A faint glow appeared as any living creature approached and then retreated. No insects or other creatures had marred the grace of the carefully cut stone. Any form of guano or droppings was avoided despite the mess on the surfaces of the temple.


    The man recalled how the evil ones who had come to his isolated village had thought him dead amongst his friends and family, but he alone had survived. His method caused him severe grief. To be a lone survivor was not to be a hero, nor was it a mark of success. He had failed his family, his tribe, and his entire village in the pursuit of greed. It had been he who had revealed the location of the temple to the outsiders in the firm belief in their promise to remove the statue and release everyone he knew from eternal service.


    In short, he wanted to be a hero that would be recognised and lead the village into a new future, free of otherworldly concerns. He wanted to once more become the young man that had wanted to destroy the temple but had been too afraid at the time to approach by himself.


    He had met the outsiders when he had been scouting a fair distance from the hidden village. Despite being deep within a jungle forest there were deserts beyond that were reachable within several days¡¯ journey. Oasis there offered the opportunity to find palm dates and other types of meat that were unattainable in the immediate surrounding forest. His caution and stealth had enabled him to observe a medium group of outsiders who were well-equipped and armed at least from his perspective.


    Over several days he had carefully hidden in the surrounding vegetation and listened to their chatter and bickering. Their words too rapid for him to fully understand but he was able to pick out several phrases repeated over and over.


    He was able to learn that they were searching and become increasingly frustrated as a result with their lack of success.


    The only time they were silent was when they were given direct instructions larger older heavily muscled man who had tasked them with searching the surrounding areas before returning in the evening and drawing in the dirt rough locations that he recognised.


    Listening to their talking he realised that several of them were able to speak and be understood in the same language as him. They were not of his tribe but removed, as though they had learnt second-hand.


    Even their writing was the same. It sounded strange to his ears but understandable. Realising his courage he called out and approached those few and the leader swiftly turned in his direction, one hand on a modified handgun resting in a leather holster and the other upon a sharp parang blade. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Weapons had initially been raised but the leader swiftly put a stop to any act of violence toward the man.


    Instead, the strong leader held out his arms as though greeting long-lost friend and in the broken version of the same language called him into the camp to eat and drink with them.


    He would be a guest and they would follow rules of sanctuary and protection for as long as he chose to give them the pleasure of his company. The older man hesitated before he stepped out into the open, revealing his appearance which drew more than a few murmurs before the leader swiftly silenced them with a harsh gaze.


    ¡®


    The strong man patted the side of his waist where a sharp blade hung from his belt before he nodded and bowed respectfully towards the older man.


    The act was appreciated but his accent was atrocious. To him it came across as either heavily practised or he had been given the ability to speak sentences and his tongue was forced to speak them. The old man despite his relative isolation was aware of sufficient levels of current technology in the greater world, the words spoken were not actively from a machine voice.


    The old man stood proudly. Lines and tanned skin belied his lean body despite his age and mainly grey hair.


    ¡®You ask for peace? You who bear weapons and clearly show signs of experiencing combat?¡¯


    He directly fixed his eyes upon those of the muscled leader. The other one might be strong but the outsiders had always had a reliance on technology. Always did and always would.


    The leader turned towards a thinner man who translated his words directly. This time the words came clearer, slightly archaic, but still understandable.


    ¡®Peace upon a fellow traveller. Please let me show you our hospitality and¡­¡¯


    stumbled on the word for a moment before he tapped his cheek with a rough finger.


    ¡®Generous. Yes, we are generous to our new friend. Peace upon you.¡¯


    He held out his arms in a sign of welcome before he noticed the hesitation from the older man and beckoned a younger soldier to come over to his direction. He then unbuckled his weapons hanging from his belt and handed them over to the younger man before he made a sweeping motion with his hand dismissing him.


    ¡®Old man, Please, peace with us. Eat and drink and only talk. No¡­violent on you.¡¯


    The older man felt that the words of the leader sounded strange, as though his tongue had been forced to speak them or he was simply out of practice.


    He stepped forward again, this time with a smile on his face. Outsiders or not, the smell of the meat cooking inside smelled delicious to him. He was unable to control his own appetite it seemed. His own hidden community was self-sufficient but lacked in modern conveniences.


    Food and drink had been shared, along with laughter and fruit juices to sooth tired throats and the leader of the outsiders talking through the translators told him that they knew of the burden that the village had suffered.


    His own attempts at further language came across as strangled in his throat.


    ¡®I, yes. I welcome your hospitality and offer of peace. We will have no violence.¡¯


    The old man put down his own weapon, it was hidden within his clothing, a sharp blade with a blunt end. He would have to remember to not let any of them touch it due to the poison that had been applied. Even a small misunderstanding would mean that he would need to kill as many of them as possible before retreating.


    There were many hidden traps within their surroundings that were checked on a weekly basis and environmental hazards designed to kill the unwary. As long as the raiders remained in their camp they would be safe.


    He made sure that his weapon was sheathed and placed it on the ground.


    ¡®Peace upon fellow travellers. Tell me, are you perhaps lost?¡¯


    They came forward and sat a respectable distance from the old man, they were dressed even closer in style to himself. He recognised them as outcasts, or the children or those cast out from the greater tribe. They hadn¡¯t died after all although their memories of the specific location and details of what was truly guarded in the temple would have been removed.


    Their capacity for language and culture remained the same. Out of respect the old man sat and listened, he looked towards the muscular leader who made sure that they were given sufficient privacy as the raiders stepped back several metres out of heaving distance.


    ¡®Talk.¡¯


    The were there to relieve them of their curse and offer support. The man understood after a point that they talked of a prison, a place to keep the evils of the world locked away from harming humans. They had promised the spirit in the statue would cause him and the villagers no harm once they had removed it and taken it far from this place.


    ¡®You have told them our secrets? You choose to fail in your duty despite your outcast status?¡¯


    ¡®We did not speak. They knew. None here talked but they still knew wise warrior.¡¯


    ¡®I do not want your flattery but the truth. Blood yourselves, show me you still respect the sacrifices made for your lives. For mine.¡¯


    Previously any who had arrived in the village who had been an outsider had simply been directed towards the temple and the wealth of treasure that was considered to be there. To be able to speak the same language as them was a rarity but it was not unexpected. If they were instead interested in the cultural value, they were again directed. Otherwise, they were given a sleeping draught and then thrown inside the temple once deeply unconscious.


    For those who were more aware there was always the standard course of food, drink or odourless smoke that was used on the most suspicious types.


    After they had entered the region of the temple with a lack of any protection that only the villagers themselves were disinclined to share strange sounds would echo before swiftly falling silent. Then when it was the right time, they would clear out the bones and bury any objects or personal possessions that remained behind.


    They had seen enough travellers over the long millennia that technology and advancements held little interest for them. It was only their role to guard and protect the spirit within the temple from accessing the outside world.


    It was early in the morning, far earlier than any would-be awake that the armed band of outsiders snick into the temple site under the instructions of the villager who had led them in silently without disturbing or waking any animal or human.


    ¡®Come. This path is safe. Do not step out of the boundaries that I¡¯ve marked. You will suffer.¡¯

 Chapter 2 - The Coward

    His words were carried along by the two translators who accompanied the raiders, none of them had been permitted to carry firearms nor any bladed weapons. To remove a statue would not take weapons, he had been surprised that the muscular leader had agreed but it had set his kind at ease.


    This was his territory, he knew the hidden paths and traps and caches of weapons. Even without a blade he still had several pouches of powders and dust which could blind a person permanently.


    ¡®Ah, I missed that one. Please tell the foolish ones that they are quite safe as long as they cease all movement. Once their friends have pulled them out then we can all begin our journey. Remember, follow where I walk.¡¯


    He failed to notice the glances sent in his direction from the muscular leader.


    He had used a far smaller amount of sleeping draught in the communal food to make sure that everyone slept an hour or two more than normal.


    The old man became filled with regret at this memory but as his soul was slowly devoured and the living god inside the statue absorbed his essence his memories continued to flow. Revenge would be his, even at this cost. He could not turn back time but he could focus further on the target of his revenge, the raiders. His death was assured, theirs would surely follow.


    By equipping themselves with the same methods that the villagers used to approach and clean the temple and statue surroundings they had been able to remove the large stone carving without mishap. It was due to the elders trying to intervene in what they considered their sacred duty being interfered with and the warnings that became legends of the dangers that would be at risk to the outside world and humanity at large.


    The violent men and women had turned on the villagers when they had tried to block their exit once they had secured the statue. The atmosphere had heated up and arguments quickly became bloodshed when the leader of the raiders cut down the elder blocking his path, soaking the ground with her blood, and causing those nearby to scream in terror.


    Covering himself with the blood of his family as they were killed within their homes, he cursed himself for his cowardice. His friends and his neighbours had been bludgeoned and hacked to death. They had been told to leave their homes or the buildings would be set on fire and the entrances would be barred and they would suffer a worse death by fire and smoke.


    The well was the only part of the village that hadn¡¯t been contaminated by blood, fire, and destruction. The middle-aged man was able to clean himself and quench his thirst with cold water that washed away the taste of ashes from his mouth.


    Only he had been left with nothing, they had killed, burnt, and taken anything of value and ruined the rest. The man remembered the stories that his father and grandfather had told him. The main reason for the relative isolation of their village from the rest of the world is the harsh environments close to the deserts. They had thought themselves safe from the violence of the outside world, but war and conflict had made the world a smaller place.


    The task that they had been set by their ancestors was simple. If any of the villagers heard any traces of a whispering voice in the air they were to gather together at the site of the old temple and pray to a particular statue. There was no trace of answer or response from the whispering sounds, but the villagers would place several different animals in cages made out of wooden materials, bound by vines in front of the ancient pristine statue and then remove their presence.


    All villagers would show their respects and then immediately leave the isolated temple and remove themselves to a set distance. Then they would resume their lives of rearing small animals, repairing homes and organising food stocks.


    Occasionally the elders of the tribe would pass down the stories at festivals to carry on the culture and understanding of the necessity of why the villagers needed to remain. Their role was to protect the outside world from the being that dwelt within the statue.


    After a week or so, the bravest and strongest villagers, both male and female would enter the temple site to clear the area in front of the statue. There would be no sign of the original animals and only remnants of the broken wooden cages. Bones of varying shapes and sizes that showed traces of melting and melding into strange new forms were removed and then broken into dust to be applied to the crops of the village. No questions were asked.


    Occasionally a young man or woman, barely out of their teens would question the life of living in an isolated village and seek the wider world. They were given a task by the elders of the tribe to attempt to break the statue and release the villagers from their age-old task.


    The individual who entered the cave was never seen again but sounds that would not come from a human throat were heard shortly before the villagers understood that they had failed in their task. There was one particular safe way to enter the temple and only for short periods in an emergency.


    All members of the village were told to beware of the temple but that the spirit that dwelled within the statue would be willing to answer prayers. It was not a forgiving being though and the method of repayment would not always be the one that you wanted.


    He had not been told the name of the god but only that it remained alive as so many gods had been removed from the world. To see a god in the flesh was to lose your existence, the man had been warned when he was younger only to approach the shrine in times of dire emergency.


    Also, it would be better for him to use a stranger. He chose himself as a cost instead. There were no other options in the burnt-out ruins of his now-destroyed village. Perhaps if he had been brave or capable enough, he might have been able to capture one of the raiders after they had been drunk and full of bloodlust during the post-destruction and the capture of their goal.


    He dragged himself into the temple, each foot dragging behind a trail of blood that was not his own but that of his family. He had no animals in cages with him as the raiders had taken them for their food supplies. The smaller cages filled with colourful birds had been smashed and broken apart. The pure sound of deathly silence and crackling flames were the only sounds that hit his ears. The screams and cries of the rest of the village had long become quietened. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    When the god within the statue finally emerged from the darkness and answered his prayers the mind of the man shattered and collapsed, and his blood bubbling with rich, heat began to pool on the floor of the ancient temple.


    The smell was warm and faintly of metal. It was unfortunate that the man never got to see exactly how his prayers were answered in full but his enemies, the raiders who had lied to steal from his home village, suffered and ended up becoming far less than human in divine punishment.


    The raiders who were laughing in their camp on the edge of the desert did not realise the retribution that was coming their way. It was the leader who first began to feel the changes within. At first, he thought that the alcohol that they had stolen from the last village had gone bad, either that or the grains and meat that they had taken had mixed with the blood of the animals that they had slaughtered for their celebratory feast.


    The mission had been successful and the pay-out from the client would be enough for all of them to finally choose a life of retirement and a way out of the mercenary world. All they were waiting for was the strang stone statue to be collected and removed. For something that was meant to be so old as though it had been newly built and polished.


    The whole process of removing it from the temple had been a headache though. If all of the inhabitants had slept longer and not challenged them with weapons the situation would not have gotten out of control, and nobody need have died.


    There was a tiny sound in the air that all were able to hear. A hushed whispering noise spoken from ancient, cracked lips made dry from the lack of moisture in the air. The lack of response from the raiders came from the sheer amounts of alcohol and adrenaline developed from the satisfaction of bloodlust and bounty that made them unaware. It was ignored.


    The strongest member of the raider group first heard the soft undertones of the voice. He was a strong man covered in scars and muscle, although some parts of his body were shifting into fat as he reached his fourth decade of life. He still maintained enough control and direct authority over the group that his orders were followed.


    The voice from the statue reached him initially. Either he was being targeted deliberately or he was unlucky enough to be chosen. A desperate prayer was answered. He grabbed his head, but he found that his hands had begun to shift, fingers melding and hardening as his torn clothing began to fall off his body.


    Dropping to the ground he tried to let out a scream but the only sounds that came out were the  of a newly born animal.


    ¡®Meeeehhh.¡¯


    ¡®Meeeeeeeeeeehhhh.¡¯


    Yeeesss¡­.the flesh and blood¡­become. Interlopers. Become and reduce. My gift. My divine punishment.


    Next, his legs and lower body shortened into hooves, the flesh becoming twisted and bones melting together.


    The rest of the band of around twenty froze in amazement as their leader transformed in the space of a dozen heartbeats into something less than human. Not a pure animal but an abomination of nature, a form produced through madness and magic. They froze in horror and their bodies refused to move as their minds broke apart in turn.


    My¡­response to the request of the faithful.


    Sometimes, death was not the worst that could happen. The life of a beast was a hard and often brutal one, but mercifully short. The pain and agonies of transformation became a lifetime of suffering for the raiders who were being changed on the lowest genetic level although they still retained their intellect and sentient awareness.


    The other raiders began to transform in turn, each one taking a different shape as their clothes, in turn, tore open and bones stuck out from raw flesh. Eyeballs melted and slid down into newly formed orbital sockets as skulls shifted downwards on their forms.


    ¡­.An old design but it works..yessss¡­.


    By the main campfire, a single being stood as the mutations continued throughout the raider¡¯s camp. Twisted forms are framed in deep shadow by the flickering fire and other sources of light.


    Sounds torn from throats no longer human-created an impression of a herd of animals struggling in their birth into new life forms. The process destroyed the minds and hearts of the humans before they swiftly died upon full transformation.


    Blessed. My blessings on this group.


    The living god smiled. The sacrifice wasn¡¯t necessary, but when called upon for divine retribution it had fulfilled a final prayer from one of the last remaining faithful. It remembered Oannes, the testing had worked well with that one before it had escaped. If anything it had been too successful, intelligent enough to hide and pass on the teachings that it had learnt. Thankfully the lifespan of the fish creature was heavily reduced. The other god of cleansing water had not been pleased that one of its priests had been used but the results spoke for themselves.


    This time it was unsuccessful with its experiments. It could have been the quality of the stock, these humans were malnourished and lacked sufficient growth potential. Creating a chimaera took more effort than it had originally thought, their souls would remain as useful fuel though, it would make good use of them.


    The flames of the campfire flickered before slowly dying out as sand began to fly in the near darkness and reduced the flames into grey charred ash. Torn and ripped clothing was left abandoned in the wake of the fury of the annoyed god.


    No footsteps were left behind in the shifting sand. Time passed onwards. The only remains of the raiders were their abandoned guns and ammunition left on the ground by the now rapidly decaying organic forms that had once been homo sapiens. This time there were no broken cages left behind. The broken weapons sank deeply into the ground.


    The living god  far into the distance, far beyond any mortal eyes could see and saw entire cities filled with vibrant life, music, and bright lights. There it would find more potential subjects. The sculptor of flesh and creator of new life had woken again from its millennia-long sleep.


    The night itself shivered in fear. Silence ensued afterwards once the screams of the flesh changed had died and a single man standing by himself walked forward towards the statue with outstretched arms and a smile on his face, the purple scarfwrapped around his neck flapped in the desert winds.


    You¡­..? Whhhhy can¡¯t I see you?


    The distant sound of a helicopter was heard off in the distance.


    ¡®Welcome blessed one. You will not harm the crew or myself. Be at rest and sleep for now, for our work will soon begin.¡¯


    The young man simply smiled and placed a tanned, manicured hand on the surface of the statue. If the sounds of the transformed mercenaries had disturbed him, he showed little sign.


    ¡®Sleep ancient one. We will talk when time permits.¡¯

 Chapter 3 – Arrested

    ¡®Concrete walls and floor, check. The smell of coffee and cheap vape smoke, check.¡¯


    Inside a blue-walled interrogation room, a young man with brown hair and an unusual white streak in the front was sitting in a metal chair. He was in his early twenties at most, but his grey eyes and youthful features had an almost timeless quality about them. His fingers were lightly running across the arms of the chair as it felt cold and sterile to the touch.


    He was currently  the room to see if he could distract his mind by thinking about what he could see. Presently he was running through a checklist of standard features for a standard police interrogation room and quietly murmuring to himself. It would be a recognisable tactic for someone who was trying to stay calm in a difficult situation.


    ¡®¡­Cheap wooden table pinned to the floor, check. Belongings were removed from me and bagged before entering the room, check. Two lightweight aluminium chairs, check. Cheap painted walls, check. Double mirror on the wall, check. Hidden camera, check.¡¯


    The police officers who had brought in the young man hadn¡¯t said a single word to him since they had removed him from the convenience store where he had been browsing the sweet snacks section. His attempt at discussion had been politely rebuffed with a shake of the head but he had not been read his rights.


    The young man had been escorted into the room while being held in both arms by two armed uniformed police officers who let go once, he had been put into the back of the police vehicle which had been removed once they had entered the interrogation room and then one of them brushed off one of the seats as if to invite him to sit down before they left the room.


    The entire process had been quite short and there was no case of booking him into the police station. The desk sergeant on duty had not recorded his arrival and any further police officers at their desks or leaving the station had only glanced at him before turning away. He was especially good at recognising details, he recognised that all of the police personnel that he had seen so far had expressed a sense of tenseness in their body language. When he had been escorted past normal conversation resumed again but he hadn¡¯t been focusing on any of the spoken words.


    What surprised the young man is that they both left the door unlocked after they had left the room. Not a single word was exchanged, and neither was he stopped from leaving.


    He had tried his best during the whole ordeal to express a sense of non-hostility in both his body language and the expression on his face. Thanking the police officers for their time and consideration he  before taking a seat by  facing the door.


    It was only himself in an empty clean but sterile room. He felt a little bit disappointed that nothing else had happened, usually in crime stories he would be left alone in a locked room before a pair of detectives came in and began questioning him.


    ¡®Concrete floor, check, secure unlocked door, check. Embedded lights in the ceiling and edges of the room, check.¡¯


    He raised his head as he heard a sound coming from outside of the room. It sounded like someone talking, but he couldn¡¯t quite make out the conversation. He was able to work out that it was several people talking, perhaps it was the police discussing with a senior officer.


    The young man was slightly annoyed but not overly worried about the situation. He had been picked up when he was walking back home from university. The police officers had been rather surprised at his lack of reaction to their presence and the fact that he had put both hands in front of him as though expecting to be handcuffed before he was put into a police car and driven to this particular station.


    He was presently wondering why they hadn¡¯t handcuffed his hands to the table in the room before he heard a sound outside of the door. Given the silence in the room, it was likely that he would soon have a visit from a police officer or several.


    That would be a standard tactic of the police forces and an interrogation in general. Torture did not produce the results that were wanted and even though he was located in a major city governed by a democratic legislative process it remained a minor possibility.


    Next, he heard the sound of a pair of boots thudding on the floor. A rush of air came into the room as a middle-aged woman walked in. She was dressed in a dark leather jacket, trousers, shirt, and matching heavy boots. If another person saw her, they might feel that she was a woman growing older that felt the need to younger. Either that or they would stare at eye-patch before trouble began.


    She was in her thirties at most her matt black hair was cut short with one side shaved closer. One of her eyes was a light green while the other was covered in a red eyepatch. It made an interesting contrast; Duke was unable to help himself before his eyes dropped to the table in front of him. He had no idea why someone would want to dress up in a black leather jacket unless they wanted to  tough. She might take offence if he chose to stare at her eyepatch, so he tried to avert his gaze towards the floor and continue counting the items that made up a police interrogation room in his mind.


    He continued to murmur to himself. ¡®One person of authority here to ask questions, check.¡¯ Speaking these words so softly to himself just under his breath that it would have been impossible for an average human to hear the sound of his voice.


    ¡®Hello, Duke.¡¯ She grinned with a toothy smile. Aside from the sound of him breathing softly, it was all that could be heard inside the room.


    Soundproofed walls, check.


    Duke chose not to respond. It would be better if he let her start the conversation so that she could ask her questions and he could work out the appropriate responses that would cause the least amount of conflict. Sometimes, he said something that would rub a person the wrong way. Not on purpose but his very nature seemed to encourage conflict with others just through a few words, he was trying his best to become a better person though. It was hard work so far, but he hadn¡¯t made another person angry in several months at his workplace in the museum.


    To make the situation come across as easier in his head Duke began to re-run through his checklist of the room in his mind. Everyone had their coping mechanisms for stressful situations, and this was one of his.


    No police officers, un-check.


    The woman didn¡¯t seem taken aback by the lack of response from the young man despite her greeting. Her grin grew even wider. It seemed wrong somehow, as though he was seeing a cat that enjoyed seeing a mouse that it wanted to toy with. He had read about that type of expression in a book with a cat and a lost girl called Alice. A funny-coloured cat had grinned before it vanished, the woman¡¯s smile reminded him of that picture. He wondered if the woman would vanish before his eyes as well. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡®Lucky. Do you think that you¡¯re lucky?¡¯


    The woman asked him while looking straight into the double mirror that was part of the wall on the side. She started to scuff one of her boots along the floor making a dragging noise on the hard concrete floor. The noise echoed in the room.


    ¡®Duke, I asked you a question.¡¯


    The metal chair opposite mine, check.


    Keeping to his policy of refusing to respond until he was clearer on the situation, Duke kept his mouth shut. The best option when in police custody was to keep quiet first, also he didn¡¯t want to create an awkward situation where he commented on her appearance and caused accidental insult.


    The woman didn¡¯t choose to sit down in the opposite chair but continued to stand by the open interrogation room door instead. She looked down at the young man sitting down before leaning back against the door and crossing her legs. Her black boots looked heavy and strong, and she continued to scuff one along the floor. Duke looked at her boots a bit more, strong, they looked good and strong. He supposed that she enjoyed walking a great deal.


    ¡®Would you like anything to eat or drink?¡¯ spoke the woman.


    Duke felt surprised at the gentle tone. She didn¡¯t come across as a police officer, given that she wasn¡¯t wearing the uniform of one. A plain-clothes detective then, it would make sense regarding her appearance. Duke thought that she might have lost her eye in the line of duty. Or an accident involving a game of pool. A mystery that had nothing to do with him.


    Her tough appearance didn¡¯t match the tone of her voice. Strange, she was trying to rile him, to increase his emotional range beyond what he was comfortable with.


    He struggled to think of a decent response. People skills weren¡¯t his strong point, he wasn¡¯t bad at making friends but occasionally he would say the wrong thing and accidentally upset people. He decided that his best option right now was to sit down in the same chair indicated by the police officer, put his hands on his lap and sit with his back straight. A firm, but open-to-listening pose.


    He stopped gazing at her black boots and tried to avoid looking directly at the red eyepatch she wore over one eye. She might consider it offensive. Best to focus on the space directly above her head.


    ¡®¡­I don¡¯t know.¡¯ He said uncommitted. ¡®I don¡¯t  much when I eat or drink.¡¯


    If the woman heard the strangeness of his answer, she ignored it and carried on with her questioning tone.


    ¡®Did the police treat you nicely? Did they bother you in any way?¡¯


    ¡®No¡¯ Duke replied. ¡®They didn¡¯t talk. Nor were they hostile towards me in any form. I expressed my gratitude for their hard work and tried my best to be a model prisoner.¡¯


    ¡®A prisoner? The woman clicked her tongue. ¡®Oh, you aren¡¯t a prisoner. I¡¯d like your help. It¡¯s good that you know how to play with others.¡¯


    Duke frowned at that. If he felt confused, then he would show it on his face.


    ¡®You know, you ought to smile more. Being blunt to people doesn¡¯t lead to good results.¡¯


    Her grin wavered for a moment as her face became sterner in appearance.


    ¡®Yes. Thank you. I¡¯ll try and remember that.¡¯ Responded Duke. He sat up straight in his seat and gave her the brightest and happiest smile that he remembered seeing from a recording of video and images.


    ¡®Someone has done a brilliant job training and conditioning you. Haven¡¯t they? Either that or you¡¯ve self-taught yourself to respond to human responses in the right way. You do have a nice smile, and very clean teeth.¡¯


    ¡®Yes, ma¡¯am. Thank you for your compliment, ma¡¯am.¡¯


    He had the sudden thought that the woman knew about the rules that he was meant to follow. One of them had been not to talk about the rules it had been repeated twice by his mentor. He decided that it would be best not to talk about anything to her but to continue being polite and concise.


    Still, he felt something odd about this whole experience. If he wasn¡¯t under arrest, then why did the police need to handcuff him and bring him to the police station? An interrogation room was for criminals who were meant to confess their crimes. He didn¡¯t think that browsing for a chocolate bar of his choice in a convenience store would be considered a crime. Unless he stole it on purpose which he had not.


    The woman stepped up beside the interrogation room door and placed her hand on the metal handle. The door had been left open when the police officers had escorted Duke into the room, and it was presently attached to the wall with a magnetic lock.


    ¡®Would you prefer if the door is open or closed?¡¯


    Duke hesitated for a moment trying to think of the right answer before he opened his mouth. His answer ideally would placate her.


    ¡®¡­I don¡¯t have a preference thank you, ma¡¯am.¡¯


    This time . Her sudden shift in her facial expression made him feel uncomfortable. Had Duke made a serious error in social judgment again? He didn¡¯t want to ask the Professor for help. Not this time.


    He thought that he had said the wrong thing and that she would get annoyed as a result. He tried hard to remember the social rules that he had been taught, offending her wouldn¡¯t lead to a good situation.


    ¡®I don¡¯t like that you think that being non-committal is going to get any results.¡¯


    ¡®Ma¡¯am?¡¯


    Her grin faded away and she crossed her arms clenching her hands into fists. She stood firm by the open door. He tried to read her body language but found it difficult to work it out, she was either angry or frustrated. It was more likely that he had offended her in some way.


    ¡®Would you like some police officers to come in here and shout at you? Waving their hands, hitting the table, and getting angry. Does that sound good to you? It¡¯s easy to arrange.¡¯


    She waved her hands around in the air in front of her as though to show him an example of how an angry person of authority would behave in front of him. Duke felt confused at the display, he registered her actions as hostile but not with any actual intent behind them. Facial expressions and body language remained hard for him to process.


    ¡®We¡¯ve had reports coming in. From several different alleys in the next district across from the museum. Disturbing reports. The police called us to investigate because they¡¯d never come across cases like this. They feel disgusted even. Crimes against the natural order I heard one of them say.¡¯


    The young man dropped his gaze to the table. He found  people in the eyes for too long  uncomfortable experience. It was always harder to read their emotions and body language when you felt your soul was being stared into. He had to follow the rules that the professor had laid out for him. He owed her. She had saved him.


    ¡®Boy. ..¡¯