Taken from the Damned Pages of The Aqueous Transmission By MIKE EYE
Episode I. / Chapter 8
AFTER SOME TIME, THE MOTHER OPENED HER EYES TO REVEAL THE now Full-Moonlit night sky. It was the rank stench that had awakened her. She propped up in sheer revulsion as she found herself breathing in rancid whiffs of a what she recognized undoubtedly as a lethal concoction of rotting carcasses, burning diesel fuel, and discharged battery acid. She turned to vomit but had no food to spew.
It was dusky out, with a sharp, shimmering sheen from the Full Moon up above that remained fixed over black death surrounding Magdalena.
There were no stars.
It was eerie. She lifted her head, saw that she was completely naked, noticed she had been sleeping on pieces of filthy, indiscernible scraps, and that sludge lay strewn about in disorderly fashion, upon the surface from which she lay, and spanning in all directions as far as her Eyes could see. The whole left side of her body was incredibly sore. She shifted her body in a quick panic. Perplexed as all Hell, she sprung to her feet and pounded on the side of her head with her fist to try and shake this horrid situation from her.
She prayed she was dreaming.
She remembered nothing of the crash landing, or the encounter with Solaria. The last thing she remembered was gazing out of her space-pod and bearing witness through fluorescent lights to massive clouds of smoke rising up from a doomed Earth into the heat of the night. And she could recall everything special that came before that, of course, most recently of which was the sacred milking of Fletcher Munsin, a most masterful performance she had so deviously executed with the sole intention of executing a perfect balance of extracting the Highest possible yield of germ, with the greatest amount of style, with the Highest impact of suffering.
Also vividly engrained in her memory was the ‘gutsy’ act she had ‘pulled’, the rock-solid grip she had had on a certain consecrated viscera of Fletcher Munsin as she ferociously ripped it out of his horrid, everlastingly afflicted carcass.
She remembered that.
Her empty stomach still churning, a flustered Lina grew more and more nauseous, and coughed several times, her mouth watering. Looking around at the blackened wreckage, the woman tried to see if she could spot her ship anywhere. Filthy fumes whirled about around her as she continued coughing. Her Eyes were Watering.
“Okay…” she said aloud, trying to steady herself, the back of her throat filled with spit. “So I made it to the surface somehow.” She fell to her knees, dry-heaving forcefully. She spat.
“Where the Hell is my ship!?” she cried, stumbling to her feet. Looking rapidly all around her, to and froe, back and forth, the woman became more and more frantic, trying to figure out where she was and how she had gotten there. Her mind was a motionless blank. She fell iller and iller.
Then she noticed her knapsack on the ground beside her. “Yes! Okay, there’s my bag,” she said with a smidgen of relief. She snatched it up. Inside, she saw Amrita. Lina dropped the bag down on its side rather roughly on purpose as to awaken the thing from its sleep-mode.
The robot cat strolled out the bag nonchalantly. “Well hello there, gorgeous,” it muttered, glancing up at the woman, its aluminum whiskers bouncing along with its Head as it tilted it up to look at Magdalena.
“Heavens!” exclaimed the android, as it then shifted its glance to look around. “My, my. You were indeed correct. Our surroundings are entirely demolished!” The thing continued to look around. “And entirely oxidized! Lina, I am detecting three-hundred-thirty-three toxic chemicals in the air. You must urgently seek an alternative oxygen source for your own personal safety.” Amrita cocked its head. “I notice you are not adorned in your precious garment, the most lovely glistening drapery of the unique exquisiteness of yours truly,” it overstated with a melodramatic bow.
“MY DRESS!” she shouted, almost forgetting she was still nude. “If I can find my dress, I’ll be fine.” Lina gripped her head with both hands, applying pressure to her temples uncomfortably, searching around frantically for her dress. Nowhere could Lina find her dress, or her spaceship.
Then she knelt down on her knees, coughed, and stared straight at Amrita, deadpan. “Rita! What has happened to us!?” she asked meekly. “Search your memory banks for recent occurrences!”
“Processing,” said Amrita. “Within a past undisclosed amount of time, I recall you severely injured.”
“Severely injured?” said Lina. She looked around over her beautiful, dark naked body. She neither saw nor felt any injuries of any kind. “Really?” she said, perplexed.
“Yes. It was the same day that my circuits felt strangely drawn to a beheaded body upon the bed of yours truly. It had intense energies emanating from the blank space of where the man’s Head had been. Frequencies even I could ‘feel’. They ‘uplifted’ me.”
Lina gaped at Amrita in astonishment. “Severed Head? Whose Head?” She tilted her Head slightly, the confusion she felt intensifying.
“Fletcher Munsin’s Head.”
“Fletcher Munsin’s Head? His Head was detached?”
“Yes, ma’am. It was the most peculiar thing, especially seeing how ‘fond’ of the dead man I had become.”
“How did he lose his Head, Rita?”
“I do not know,” said Amrita.
“Do you know what happened to the Head?”
“I do not, although I remember you searching briskly about for it. It was strange. Although you never located his head, I could… (Rita paused for emphasis) ‘feel’ it watching over us somehow, and it was still somewhat alive.”
“What a peculiar thing that is to say, Rita. Especially for the likes of you!” She shot the bot a half-smile.
Amrita’s face formed a mechanical smile. “You’re beautiful,” it said, “I love you.”
The Mother grinned slightly.
Gazing up at the sky for a clue, Magdalena locked her Eyesight upon the lone Luna up Above, and in doing so, was struck with a most intense sense of déjà vu. She brought her Head back down.
“Rita, what could you logically interpret from Fletcher Munsin’s energies?” she felt compelled to ask.
“A supreme sense of all-knowing wisdom,” replied Amrita. “The forces were insatiable to me.”
Lina clenched her teeth in rage and released a tense growl. “That motherfucker!” she blurted out, kicking some debris aside. “Rita, are you equipped with the knowledge that a male orgasm, if linked up properly with the Earth’s axiatonal and ley lines through Lunar fission, can have the ability to trigger a nuclear detonation upon Earth’s surface?” She barely knew what she was talking about. She felt almost as if someone or something else was speaking for her.
“I have never heard of such a reaction.”
“UGH!” snarled Lina. She coughed. “Look at this!” she screamed, spinning around with open arms. “Everything is FUCKED! It’s a disaster EVERYWHERE! All my hard work—GONE!! WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO NOW!?” Her throat tingled.
Lina plopped back down hopelessly upon the dark, wretched Earth, pouting and feeling discouraged beyond belief.
“What else do you remember?” she asked the feline android after a while, most desperately.
“The next instance I can recall,” said Amrita, “was you stuffing me into your knapsack. A short while after that, I heard you screaming for Solaria to help guide you from the burning ship.”
“What!? The ship was burning?!”
“Yes, my love. But we somehow managed to make it out in One piece. I wasn’t sure you would be able to do it, but thankfully you ‘pulled through’.”
“Okay, do you remember how we escaped the pod?” asked Lina earnestly, more hyperactivity guiding her intonation.
“I am not certain. From that point onward, I went into sleep-mode until you woke me up just now.”
Lina grew more frustrated. She scowled.
“Okay,” she said after a brief moment, trying her hardest to compose herself. “Do you have any idea how long you were in sleep-mode?”
“No.”
“Okay, well do you remember anything else, Rita?”
“Processing … Oh yes, One more thing, my love. Besides you being all bruised and battered, I vividly remember you treating a deep gash in your forehead that took a fair amount of time to stop bleeding.”
Lina reached up to her forehead. She could feel no gash of any kind. “Really!? When did I have this ‘gash’?” she asked the bot mockingly.
“Just before we escaped,” replied the android blankly.
Lina sat flustered. She coughed a few times. And that’s when she caught sight of her trusty spear laying amongst the wreckage.
“My scepter!” she cried. “I remembered my scepter!” With a slight smile spreading over her face, Lina went over to grab the lance. She looked at its ravished surface in dismay. “Damn,” she said. “I must’ve used this thing for something extra fierce!”
Lying on the ground close to where she found her spear was a dome helmet covered in dry blood.
“Damn, look at this thing!” she said, picking it up. She flipped it over to its front and, feeling déjà vu quickly tingle up the back of her neck, saw three perfectly circular, clear smears in the dried blood caked over the dome.
“That’s odd,” she said as she dropped the helmet. “I wonder if that was mine. Hey Rita, do you remember me wearing my dome helmet?” she asked.
“I do not recall,” replied Rita, “although I do remember the powers of your lucid dress diminishing significantly.
“Hmm,” thought Lina in dismay.
The nausea again overcame her. Lina remained utterly confused. She bent to the side and dry-heaved forcefully.
“Lina, unless you find an alternative source of oxygen, you will die within One hour.”
“Oh, man!” Lina uttered in between gasps. She gagged. “FUCK,” she exclaimed, again falling to all fours. She felt dreadfully weak.
“Hey! I see something glimmering over there,” said Amrita, pointing with its mechanical shiny paw toward a small shimmering light source in the near distance. The two headed toward the glow.
Approaching the surface where Solaria’s gifts lay waiting to be gathered, Magdalena knelt down and paused in wonder. She wanted to examine the items thoroughly before she touched them. The ball of light was glowing brightly, hovering just above the surface, its center as alluring as Solaria’s. The precious stone was about the size of a ping-pong ball, looked dark-red and grey in color, its surface perfectly engraved with an upside-down triangle. It didn’t look like anything too special but Magdalena could feel a fervent force of archaic energy resonating from the stone.
She noticed a tiny hole in the top of it. She reached into her bag and pulled out her loyal hemp cord. She cut off a small piece of it with her dagger, snatched up the special stone, and strung the cord through the little hole like clockwork.
Just as she was about to place the pendent around her neck, Lina watched the hemp and stone slowly vanish from her grasp.
She blinked in astonishment.
Then she glanced down at her chest, felt around her neck, and realized that she was already wearing the very stone she had just examined, without ever getting a chance to put it on.
She then reached out to slowly touch the ball of light and, in doing so, it just as soon opened up and wrapped itself around her hand before encircling the whole perimeter of her body, forming a protective barrier of light two inches from her dark, silky skin. Within moments, her lovable translucent dress had slowly reappeared over her. Her whole body felt pleasant and warm. And the nausea was already subsiding.
“Ahh, there’s my dress!” said the fortunate woman cheerfully. “Hell, yes!” she exclaimed, feeling revitalized. “I wonder where these items came from…” she inquired emptily at the sky, instinctively, yet unconsciously, knowing exactly where they had come from. “Thanks for spotting these things,” she said to Amrita.
“I am happy you have found protection,” said the android.
“So you have no idea at all how long we’ve been here?” the Mother asked her pet, still rather confused.
“None whatsoever. I do apologize, my fair lady. Time is difficult for me to comprehend. Especially when I am in sleep-mode.”
“Believe it or not, it is for me too!” remarked Lina. “Especially when I’m sleeping!” She grinned.
Woman and android began strolling atop the wreckage without having any particular, conscious direction.
DARK ESOTERIKA 
Reblogged this on 《 DARK 💢 ESOTERIKA 》 MIKE EYE Blogs the Subconscious.
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