Chapter 3

Sitting on nowhere—or rather, sitting on a seat so dark that it blended seamlessly with the darkness and made it look like he was sitting in the void—Roberto twirled his thumbs around one another, hunched over and brought with him all the weight of the Universe on his shoulders.

The god was pensive. He had been relieved of the obligation of wearing that tight-fitting black unipiece, but he kept it one. He quite enjoyed it. For once, it was good to not think about his body at all. Merging seamlessly in the dark. No longer a body, but just a face. No longer a tool, but an actual individual. A person, so to speak.

«I should be sad.» The giant thought. He wanted to voice these thoughts out loud, but he trusted nothing. When still inside that prison, he knew he was being seen. Every tiniest pump of his bloodstream within his thinnest vein was being monitored, and he wanted to give his Master none of his individuality. None of his hopes, thoughts, and dreams.

«I should be sad.» He repeated, and in thinking so he touched his enormous chest with a hand. Underneath the tonnes of muscle in that pec alone, an armor mightier than the hull of any ship, he felt his mighty heart throb, and in throbbing it warmed his palm, and in its warmth he felt it, he knew it that he had it inside of him: a mind. A will. A soul.

«I feel so bad right now. These beings ... the things they asked me shouldn’t be asked of anyone. Not like this.» He sniffed. His manner was like that of a wild feline mama who’d just lost her cubs: she was dismayed and yelping in pain, yet she could not be said to be “crying.”

He wanted to cry. Wanted, but maybe couldn’t. «I should be sad, though all I can feel right now is ... peace. Understanding.» No. These were not really the right words. It was... «Acceptance.»

Come what may, it would still be the greatest thing that had happened or would ever happen in his life. Come what may, good or bad, he would embrace it. And by embracing it he would honor it fully.

A fissure opened up somewhere unseen in the room. The darkness hid it perfectly, but the sounds didn’t escape the titan’s mighty ears.

“Seedmaker Roberto.” A box appeared before his face. Even just ten feet away from him, it was almost completely invisible against the dark. “Are you ready?”

The beast rose. “Yay. It’s been ten minutes, after all, and my mind is clear.”

The box rose to meet his eyes. “Ay.” A white rectangle beamed behind it. Now the boxy outline of the Communicator was the clearest it could possibly be against the blinding white light from the passage behind it. It stood as a perfectly black, smaller rectangle against the bigger, perfectly white frame.

The box spoke. “Seedmaker Roberto. You shall be transported to your destiny by teleportation.” There was an audible wince. Even in his most subtle frown, Roberto was almost as loud and bombastic as when he was in his studly form tearing through the bodies of hundreds of females. “We understand you might be reluctant to this method, but we assure you: the technology is much improved now. No more teleporting each limb to a different part of the galaxy.”

“Well, that’s comforting.”

“Was this sarcasm?”

“It was.” He frowned again. He had just the sweetest smile budding on his face, and this smile was quickly undone. “I am not in bad spirits. Let me have some fun.”

“You will have your fun in the loneliness and fastness of the paradise planet.” The box gave it a slight pause. “Your paradise planet, should you fulfill your mission.”

“Hmm.” Roberto stood ready. Through his posture, massive and broad and expansive, he let the box (and whoever else was watching) know that, upon command, he would be inside the room beyond that white portal in one second, and ready to work and fight to the best of his Masters’ expectations. “Please continue.”

“You shall be teleported to your location. Alas, the planet is far too distant to be reached through any other means. Also, as efficient and reliable as our teleportation technology has gotten, we still cannot guarantee you what you would call a “safe landing.” Given the distances involved, you may end up on the planet’s atmosphere, even its low orbit, and it falls on your Seedmaker genes the task to survive the fall and carry on your duties.”

“My genes are invincible,” Roberto answered without a waver. “I am not going to be transported inside the planet, will I? I mean ... literally inside? Deep into its core by accident, by any chance?”

“No. We can calibrate the machine for this.”

“Good, good. I can guarantee my survival in orbit, even some minutes deep in space, but there isn’t much I can do if you transport me to the flaming core of a planet, with tens of thousands of miles of digging above me. Invincible, am I? No, not really. Just close enough.”

The box seemed indifferent to his comments. For someone who just ten minutes ago was insistent upon business-business-business, Roberto was the one now in the talky, cheery mood.

If he was inquired about it, he would be honest: «I’m happy!» The thought sizzled in his mind. «If I weren’t so strong, I would be jumping up and down like a child right now.»

He tried very deeply to keep a stern, neutral expression—but here and there slivers of smile budded in his face. He wasn’t expecting it, but feelings rarely follow a person’s intent: the anxiety of freedom was getting to his heart! He was singing songs of liberty without having even stepped out of the darkness yet—and he loved this!

“Please step inside when ready.”

Roberto was slightly off by the instruction. “That’s it? No more instructions?”

“Is there anything else you would like to add? We understand you want to be out as soon as possible, and whatever had to be discussed was discussed ten minutes ago in the Circle.”

“You are correct. Hmm. Perhaps just a couple of questions, of ... clarifications before I go?”

“What would you like to know?”

“What am I carrying with me?”

“A priori, nothing. You have your body. Your Seedmaker’s genes. This is more than enough for the full might of any intelligent species.”

A flame burned on Roberto’s breast. He answered the box with a kind nod. “Indeed they are. I would like to request, however, a couple of things.”

“Name them.”

Roberto thought better and corrected himself slightly: “Well, I think only one thing: a small bag or container; really small, understood? At least for my size. No more than, hmm, my forearm in width, if I had to give some measures. A small, portable bag with enough casual clothing of good variety.”

“Casual clothing, you say?”

“Comfortable, light, easy to put on and take out. No hassle. Also, very chaste clothing.” He looked down at his own massive being. That black, smooth unipiece had quickly grown on him. “Like this one I am wearing, but perhaps not too uniform or too restrictive.”

The box stood quiet for a moment, and then came its voice in a clear tone of curiosity: “That’s a unique request. It shall be granted, of course. However, may we know the reason for it?” It approached Roberto slightly. “You’re a Seedmaker. Exposure does you as much harm as flecks of space dust would do the hull of our strongest spaceship. Why the need for clothing in a Paradise without anyone to judge you for it? Are you ashamed of your own form, by any chance?”

It was Roberto’s turn to have a pause and skip the beat. “Indeed.” He uttered them: his thoughts. In speech he uttered the words of his thoughts unfiltered, no longer caring about his privacy, for freedom ... oh! Freedom was so close! So within his grasp! “I have grown a little nauseated by my form. Not that I find myself “unappealing” or anything like that. It would be foolishness. Instead ... I’m just tired. Tired of being a sex machine. Tired of being seen as one.”

“As said: no one will be on the planet to judge you for it.”

“Oh, but you don’t know that. The entity I’m tasked to eliminate...”

“Eliminate if you must.” The box corrected him. “Contain it and bring it to us if possible. “Neutralize” it: by all possible means peacefully, if you can, and only then, if all else fails, through violence, if you must.”

“Understood. Still, my point is: this entity might be a living creature. A sentient being. Whether female or male, it will be able to see me. The planet is no longer untouched.”

“Why would this be a problem?”

He shrugged. Boom! “No real problem. Just my preference, if I can make it known. I no longer want to be seen as a sex machine. A breeder. Even by a potential enemy.” He gestured to the box, in which he felt something of an impatience, a sense of absurdity growing. “I know, I know. Let me remind you that I am not a machine. I’m not logical. I’m dreams and insanities, just like most living creatures are. So, in this final moment in your arms, I ask of you: lend me a little understanding, alright? A little ear for my ... dreams and insanities. Or the little quirks that come from them.”

The box stood still. Eerily so. For the most of the times, it wobbled here and there, up and down, as if constantly trying to fix itself around a single point in space, but lacked the fine-tuned coordination to do so.

Now ... it stood still. Something was going on inside its “mind”—that is, inside the mind of those behind it—and eventually, once the silence became a little too uncomfortable for Roberto’s liking, it voiced its mind: “Seedmakers aren’t supposed to be like this.”