Archive of Our Own ^beta

– L’anima umana (e così tutti gli esseri viventi) desidera sempre essenzialmente, e mira unicamente, benchè sotto mille aspetti, al piacere, ossia alla felicità, che considerandola bene, è tutt’uno col piacere. [...] tutti i piaceri debbono esser misti di dispiacere, come proviamo, perché l’anima nell’ottenerli cerca avidamente quello che non può trovare, cioè una infinità di piacere, ossia la soddisfazione di un desiderio illimitato. [...] Il piacere infinito che non si può trovare nella realtà, si trova così nella immaginazione, dalla quale derivano la speranza, le illusioni. [...] La malinconia, il sentimentale moderno ec. perciò appunto sono così dolci, perchè immergono l’anima in un abisso di pensieri indeterminati de’ quali non sa vedere il fondo ne’ contorni. –

– Lo Zibaldone, Giacomo Leopardi

Rough translation (I tried my best) → – The human soul (and thus all living beings) always essentially craves, and aims solely, albeit under thousands of aspects, at pleasure, that is happiness, which if we think about it, is one thing with pleasure. [...] As one can see, all pleasure must be mixed with displeasure, because as the soul tries to obtain it, it greedily searches for what it can’t find, that is an infinity of pleasure, that is the satisfaction of an unlimited desire. [...] Infinite pleasure that can’t be found in the world, one finds it in imagination, from which hope and illusions stem from. [...] Melancholy, the modern sentimentalist etc. therefore is so sweet because it submerges the soul in an abyss of undetermined thoughts of which the soul can neither taste the bottom or the contours. –

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In a tiny corner of the world, a small idyll has been deftly nurtured by the hands of one of Nous’ favorites.

In its stillness, this aseptic and purely artificial planet is luckily unknown to the greedy designs of the IPC. It floats outside of time, trying to emulate the vastness of the absolute. This huge colorful multi-layered rock is nothing but the playground of the greatest biologist in the entire Universe. Species breed freely, specimens undergo step-by-step grafts thoroughly overseen by their sole caretaker, food chains are overthrown each time a new creation makes its entrance in this land with no law, altering the ever changing ecosystem. It’s primal and senseless chaos, a re-awakening of the lowest instincts. But nevertheless, every year the plum blossoms bloom at a set date and wither likewise. Even in unevenness, there’s linearity. The mad biologist has made the mistake of realizing that, and now life holds no meaning to her anymore. 

Such a shame.

Even then, after all these years of studying, the essence of existence still remains unknown to her, and the answer keeps prolonging far away at the end of this ever-stretching tunnel. She refuses to believe this notion, the meaning of the world can’t be so anticlimactic: life can’t simply be an effect without cause, for something has prompted even the littlest protozoan to come to life, but what? 

Existentialism turns into a hollow feeling she can’t fight. It just eats away at her while she tries to find a reason for the one answer that is still out of her reach: ‘Why are we alive?’

The mad biologist’s name is Ruan Mei and she inhabits the sole house on that self-sufficient planet. A biographer could sum up her life in not many lines, for although she has become one of the greatest scientists to be ever alive, no one knows a thing about her or her research. She’s secluded from everything and everyone, her presence evanescent like a cloud. There, she mulls over in her head, absent from this world’s intricacies, detached from her own body even, distant and callous to her needs as a human. She goes days without eating or sleeping, studying the structure of divinity through the little and definitely lacking mediums she has. 

The cage of flesh she’s trapped in and her unconditional rationality makes it difficult for her to abstract and reach the Aeons’ ways of existing and thinking. Yes, because that is what the nature of her thinking has turned into. If biological life holds no more truths to find, then what comes right after will be the answer. 

But things are not as easy as they may sound on a superficial level.

She has tried countless times to dissect and visualize the principles behind Beauty, but Idrila is ephemeral and unreachable, not made of chemicals or governed by bodily processes. Idrila doesn’t respond to carrot and stick experiments: the cultivation Ruan Mei has created of her in the Simulated Universe is impossible to understand. Idrila is an idea, a human concept that has ascended to divinity, and the frustration Ruan Mei perceives in being unable to grasp it yet makes her head spin and her chest feel tighter. She’s the one who created her, after all! It’s preposterous not to be able to understand one’s creation, and that goes for all the other Aeons she has programmed.

It’s when she loses herself in these mental spirals that she feels at her lowest. Now, it’s one of these moments. For this reason, after a sudden scene of usual mental distress, she has decided to retire herself in her laboratory. 

The blank yet acrid smell of alcohol and medicine makes her feel better. Everything is so white in there, it helps her restless mind relax. Understanding the knot her fears have formed in her heart is the first step to overcome them. So now, to keep her mind busy, she’s dissecting a living creature in a small terrarium she built. This little critter she has splayed in front of her belongs to a self-sufficient glucose based species, yet its skin keeps falling apart and unfolding. On the operating table, she’s tearing the tissue with her scalpel. Doing so, she aims to understand the core of the issue. The skin is frail and it molds easily like fondant, so soon on her blue gloves it’s all sugary and sticky and white, and the creature’s blood glistens in a pure white neon as well.

“What a mess…” She huffs to herself, more bored than annoyed. “Now, why would its dermis be so fragile? The reason lies somewhere in here… let’s investigate this further.”

A gramophone in the room plays the timeless music of a famous composer. It carries the scent of death but also renewal and new possibilities, because Ruan Mei treasures both past, present and future alike. There’s no discovery without preceding wisdom after all, and she finds the sweetest sentiments in emanations of perfection like the fine arts. To be true, everything that is harmonious manages to turn her heart tender. Her entire house has been built based on the golden ratio for this very reason: flawless, manicured to the littlest detail, from the size to the antique furniture.

If she can’t enjoy life anymore, she’ll at least try to maintain a degree of constant perfection around her, so that it may soothe her melancholy and turmoiled longing.

She’d love to keep working on the embroidery piece she’s been crafting as of late, or keep perfecting the jelly recipe made with plum blossoms and freshly macerated apricots she’s been trying lately, but her hands are occupied with another issue now. She has to solve the problem in this creature’s DNA if she wants to introduce it in the wilderness. She’s sure that, if she dissects the DNA, she’ll be able to find the nucleotides responsible for the properties of the skin and modify the string in no time, but she has a lot of things on her mind already. It’s difficult to keep calm and work in situations like this, especially when her most recent experiment is going to emerge soon. Even a cold and calm woman like her would break a sweat when an Emanator of Propagation is being incubated deep beneath her home, in her secret laboratory. This is her second attempt, but it’s bound to work this time. She knows it will. The specimen could either live for no more than 2 minutes or live and destroy her planet if she doesn’t manage to contain its power. It's only the size of a larva for now, but it's working, its heart beats, and it grows, it keeps growing. She has changed its tank two times already, the prior ones too small to contain such a humongous being. The offspring of a god, a rather intricate concept: alien organs to study, abstract properties to rationalize, so many unanswered questions… but if it broke loose, who knows what damage it could cause. Her own planet would be swallowed up in a single day, and then her lifelong research would have been all for nothing.

How bothersome: her hands are trembling and she feels a sudden raise in her heartbeat too. She clutches at the hems of her lab coat, fishing in the pockets to find some sweets. She takes a rose-scented tablet of sugar and tries to relax, sucking on it slowly. Under her gloves, her fingertips are so battered by bites that her nails have been ruined. She feels like a prey, achingly waiting to die.

Still absorbed in various emotions, like a blessing, a dear friend comes to visit her and grabs her out of her pit of doomed mulling over.

The sliding doors open and the biologist halts on the spot, scalpel still in hand. She smiles politely at the wall in front of her when she hears the sound of wood hitting her shiny floor behind her.

A sassy dwarf has interrupted Ruan Mei’s work. Her voice chimes annoyed in the empty room. “Wow, this place smells like garbage. And you gloat about living in a self-made paradise?”

“I would be lying if I said I’m happy to have visits, as the thought of human company is anguishing rather than pleasing. Luckily, I have grown numb to your presence.” Ruan Mei looks low, at the mess in her hands before quickly cleaning herself with a handkerchief. She pulls it out of her pocket, soiling her tailored dress. “Guests may visit my abode at the times that will be communicated to them. That refers to all guests, even members of the Genius Society. Sudden visits are what I hate the most.” Her eyes become sharp.

“Even for dear friends?” The voice is eerily sweeter than what Ruan Mei is used to hearing. Herta is definitely plotting something.

“Define ‘dear’ and ‘friend’.” The genius biologist finally puts down her scalpel and turns gently, hands joined at her waistline. She swears Herta is staring at her hair for some reason. “Is something wrong with my hair?” She swiftly threads her fingers through long locks.

“I like the blue bow tied in it. I might steal that idea but do it with a purple one.” Herta points out. 

“Go on. I’m notorious for being a trendsetter.” 

“Oh, yes. I am sure you’ve set a trend for the number of consecutive days spent without human presence outside of yourself. You like playing god so much? I respect it though. I can imagine this feeling of absolute power and control may act as a panacea to you, one who is always surrounded by mediocrity.” Herta rolls her eyes, speaking with evident sarcasm.

“What do you want, Herta?” Ruan Mei asks, expression unreadable. “Troubling yourself to visit a ‘dear friend’ as you speak, that certainly must beckon the collapsing of our universe.”

Herta huffs. “I don’t have time to waste, so I’ll cut it short. I have an offering for you.”

“You mean a gift? Gifts shall be received in the room designed specifically for-”

“Look, I don’t have time for your weird mannerisms and obsessions. Your etiquette annoys me, freaks me out, and I just want to catch up with my coworker who hasn’t answered a single one of my texts and calls for fifteen days straight. I just wanted to remind you there's a meeting in a few weeks. Unlike Lloyd, I know where you live, so I paid you a visit to check on your condition.”

Ruan Mei’s eyes widen, her lips falling slightly apart. She’s in such awe for mere basic human empathy. She’s hopeless, but she is aware Herta is no better than her.

“Why the surprise?” Herta asks, annoyed.

“It's astounding how you would sincerely care so much for someone other than yourself to go as far as to visit them. I’m in a state of daze. I’m sorry, I might faint. Give me a breather.” Hand on her mouth, Ruan Mei looks really moved, way more than what should be allowed. She’s evidently mocking Herta.

“Stop this. I do have empathy sometimes.”

“You do?” Ruan Mei stabs again with the fake surprise.

“I’m not getting empathy lectures from you of all people. If anything you should take them from me. So anyways, accept my gift.”

Herta stalks her way in front of the woman. She’s so small in this form, just like a kid. There’s something pitiful about the fact that there’s a geriatric woman that refuses aging behind the body of that little girl. With joined hands and crestfallen head, she offers a present: it’s a small purple sachet. A small flower is embroidered on it. Ruan Mei has never seen such a flower, so she remains stunned for a second before picking the bag with two fingers. She studies it with attention.

“I managed to get my hands on an endangered species of flowers. I know you care a lot about your garden and your compositions, so I wanted to show you my gratitude for helping me out with the project. Also, I didn’t want to come here empty-handed, as that would have been bad-manners, or however you define trivialities like these.” Herta has shrunk even more now. Her foot spins on the ground and her eyes trail the immaculate tiles of that laboratory.

Ruan Mei loves Herta. Although she doesn’t know of this ‘love’ many speak of, Ruan Mei feels genuine comfort whenever in Herta's presence. She’s grown to indicate this feeling as the so-called ‘love’. In this world of apparent discord Ruan Mei has grown numb to, Herta is the true and only definition of nonlinear chaos. She’s a mystery, an uncrackable code, a self-destructive and cheeky anomaly that follows not a single one of the teachings she professes to believe in. She’s always brief, callous with her words and doesn't feel remorse for any of the questionable things she carries out. She speaks of morality, of the weight of one’s actions, yet she does not care in the slightest when it comes to herself. Sassiness incarnate, it wouldn't be the first time Ruan Mei has struggled to smother a snicker in Herta's presence. Her jokes and her attitude are a true show, and she's sure even Herta feels happy when others laugh with her. Seeing her smile soothes her headaches and fears. But even then, Herta is always shrouded in mystery, unreachable like the Aeons because of those puppets she uses, because of her weird and dismissive behavior that doesn't let anyone truly in, blocking Ruan Mei at the doorstep of her heart. Not even the biologist has seen Madam Herta's true body yet. 

She asks herself: will she lose interest in Herta once she finds out who she really is? The idea pains her, so she puts it to rest for now.

Holding the sachet, her fingers probe the form of little seeds in it. “Thank you.” She hums, then puts it in a small pocket of her white lab coat, treasuring it.

“Consider it as a token, cordiality at best. I know you fancy these little rarities, so I deemed bringing you one as a gesture you would have liked. Remember: few weeks, meeting, fate of our project. Ok, my work's done. Chop chop now, show me what you’re doing now. I’m interested in your absurd projects for once.” Herta rushes at her side, jumping on top of the operation table, only to flinch at the gory sight before her.

“Are you ok?” Ruan Mei asks, confused.

Silence.

Then…

“I don’t think it really matters, but more importantly – Elias Saias once said that the self is an elaborated mass of senseless sensations. Let's break down this statement. What does the ‘Are you ok?’ sentence mean in the light of what Elias said?” A robotic reply resounds from the marionette.

“You will not use your automated mode with me. Come here, Herta.” Ruan Mei commands, looking sharply at Herta's face. The small girl looks as if she’s having an internal crash, like a computer needing an immediate backup to work properly again. Soon, colors flash back on that wooden face. How amazing. Those puppets are an impeccable work of craftsmanship, even able to emulate human emotion. Ruan Mei wonders daily how it would feel to dissect and study one to understand its principles.

Herta stutters when she finds the words to speak. “Ar- Are you heartless, a monster or both? I presume both.” Herta asks, still trembling.

“I’m just conducting research. You’ve seen death before, stop trembling.”

“This is not death, this is a cruel murder scene I am not getting involved with. It had such an adorable face too- how can you dissect something so pretty and cute while listening to Vivaldi?” Herta asks, beyond dumbfounded.

“I can, apparently.” Ruan Mei answers blankly, uninterested. When Herta still looks shook, she genuinely gets worried. “Are you ok?”

“No. I’m going now. Have a great day and keep up the good work.” 

The puppet jumps off the table to leave, but is swiftly halted by hand that catches her mid-air.

“Small.” Ruan Mei remarks with a blank face.

“I am perfectly fine for a girl my age.”

Ruan Mei struggles to stifle her laughter. “A geriatric woman in the body of a little girl… that's an oxymoron.” 

“An elegant and poised woman who keeps her laboratory with a splattered dead animal inside. That's an oxymoron too, if you ask me.” Herta looks smug, still held in the air by Ruan Mei's tight grip.

“I get carried away when doing research, you should know it by now, but it's probably your narcissism that makes you forget things about others.” Ruan Mei states the truth plainly.

“Doesn't change the fact this place is a biohazard dumpster with all kinds of dead creatures and the walls could melt if you splashed one of these concoctions at them.” Herta swiftly points at the beakers, filled with all kinds of chemicals and the like, all resting on the table in a long straight line right in front of many petri dishes harboring who knows what bacterias inside.

“...I usually tidy up at the end. Don't worry.” The biologist smiles softly, finally dropping the puppet to the ground. 

Herta lands perfectly. “I'm not worried- ok, fine. I don’t want to know what ‘tidying up’ even is.” She inhales sharply. “What were you doing to this poor creature?”

Ruan Mei looks down at the creature again, her hand caressing its lifeless squishy body. “I’m creating glucose-based living beings. They will be geniuses, more intelligent than any living being. Yet, many problems have risen during my experimentations. Case in point.” She pulls at the skin and it stretches immediately. “The dermis is not consistent enough yet and peels off easily. Luckily they don't feel pain. I think. They don't scream or shout so I presume they don't have pain receptors.” She then peels the skin off, uninterested. It spreads thin on her fingers: it’s sugary and glittery.

“That is very twisted and cruel, also the way you’re holding that critter's skin is weirdly morbid.” Herta backs off a step, her stance in a fight or flight mode.

“Is it?” Ruan Mei tilts her head, looking puzzled at Herta.

“I keep forgetting I work with a sociopath.”

“Now, now… I have a mirror in my bedroom if you want to look at one.”

After some silent awe, Herta asks “... You rarely joke. Did something good happen?”

Ruan Mei halts in place.

Has something good happened? She mentally retraces her inconspicuous day in the span of five seconds.

…

It has.

“I felt lonesome, but now I have some company. Thank you, Herta.” She smiles tenderly, folding her arms.

Herta takes a while to process what she just heard, but when the realization sinks in, she fatigues to keep a straight face, rather preferring to let her eyes trail elsewhere. Nonetheless, she displays a prideful position when she answers. “But isn’t it obvious? You’re in my presence now. It’s just my intrinsic perfection at work. People would kill to meet me, an Emanator of Nous.”

“...Sure, Herta.” Ruan Mei’s lips flash a tender smile, barely perceptible.

“Sure, alright!” Herta sneers and huffs, flipping her hair with an unnecessary dramatic flair. “So, back to this creature, what can you do to end its suffering?” Herta asks, sparing it a pained and disgusted glance as white and sugary blood keeps oozing out of its small body.

“Each life is a delicate and mesmerizing work of embroidery, Herta. I know how to unthread and deconstruct every single one of these frames of perfection and reconstruct them according to my needs, but it takes time to figure out the process.” Ruan Mei laments.

“By time you mean ten seconds? I’ve seen you solve problems way bigger than this.” Herta frowns, hands at her sides. “Unless… is there something wrong?”

Ruan Mei breathes before putting her hands on the desk, framing the creature between them. “... my work has been spoiled by personal troubles I’d rather not disclose at the moment. I need time to unwind and put my mind to rest. You certainly know this better than me, do you, Herta?” A quick glance to the other genius makes the latter almost wince before slightly nodding in understanding.

“I understand. Then take all the time you need while you make this poor thing bleed out on your table.” Herta smirks. “So, what do we do now? What do you usually do to take your mind off things? I usually go and see what Asta is doing. She’s very entertaining to say the least.” Herta thinks to herself. “I wonder what Asta is doing. Has she paid our expenses yet?” She murmurs.

“You seriously make that poor girl pay for our entire project?” The biologist asks, disconcerted.

“She’s smart and rich. For what other reason should I have welcomed her aboard my ship?”

Ruan Mei’s gaze is so powerful in judging Herta that the girl goes still. “... so what do we do?” She asks with a little dread creeping up in her body.

“You don’t fancy embroidery so that’s out of our possibilities. I'd ask you to watch a pièce with me, but you'd fall asleep one minute in. The study of life has stopped interesting you two decades ago and so has poetry… Do you want some pastries? I have defrosted a batch of very precious apricots from a faraway planet and have made small tarts with them. The custard is a balance of sweet and zest, perfect to awaken the senses, while the crust has been baked to guarantee a perfect crumbling sensation when chewed. Little worlds of equilibrium and harmony, savory marvels meant to be experienced in a single moment. Just like plum blossoms are carried and treasured by the wind, one treasures the quality of these windows to purity one calls pastries.” Ruan Mei explains politely and light-headed, only to realize that “Oh… what a shame. You can’t eat them in this form. If only you could drag yourself out of that room of yours for once.” She smiles deviously. “I’d love to eat pastries with the real you one day. Bonding over food releases many chemicals in the brain that ensure what many call a ‘good day’.”

She has touched a very delicate spot for Herta. She knows that. She shouldn’t be pushing too far that boundary, but she can’t help it: she’s just so curious about Herta, curious as to why one of the greatest geniuses to ever exist will never appear in public or show her real face. The secret to her immortality intrigues Ruan Mei to no end as well.

For many years Ruan Mei has known this woman, and it’s slowly been getting under her skin how she still hasn’t gotten a chance to greet her personally, without any layers. She feels untrusted, unwelcome in Herta’s world. But then again, she’s been cultivating monstrous lifeforms away from everyone’s eyes for a long while now, and she only joined the Simulated Universe project only for her own gain and nothing else. As if she would know better when it comes to trust and transparency.

Herta sighs heavily, hands at her sides. “You always speak in such an insufferably long way, always wasting my time with your fruitless euphemisms and flights of fancy.” She halts in place, face absent, before she finally raises her head and answers “Ok. One day, I promise we’ll meet.”

Surprise flashes in the biologist’s body. She feels light. This is unprecedented. Herta has always brushed the topic off. But this time, she has taken it seriously. How weird. “You promise?”

“I promise on the pearls your mother bequeathed you.”

“You can't do that. It’s not something that belongs to you.”

“I have too much stuff, but I need all of it equally.”

Ruan Mei rolled her eyes. “... you have achieved immortality, you know that I’m not immortal, right? That day must come sooner than later, hopefully.”

“I know. I seldom make promises, because I never remember any of them. Too much hassle, you know me. But this time, I’ll make sure to remember.” Herta stands with pride, her face a smug smile. “I am a genius. I’ll lower myself to remembering such trivial matters.”

“Thank you, Herta.” Ruan Mei’s thanks are thoughtful, truly. In her heart there’s some fear, but also expectation. She feels better now that she knows she’ll meet the real Herta one day.

“Will you judge my pastries as well?” Herta suddenly asks. “When we meet, I mean.”

“...your what?” Ruan Mei tries to process what she just heard. Herta and cooking are a… peculiar association.

“My pastries. I can try baking as well.” A glint of enthusiasm shines on Herta’s face.

“I’d rather not.” Ruan Mei shoots her answer straight like an arrow, its cold head piercing right through Herta’s pride. “I have a sensitive palate. If you treat the ingredients like you treat your spaceship, I think I’d go into a coma, and poor Screwllum can’t do all the work by himself.”

“That was insensitive and unnecessarily mean!” Herta pouts. 

“That’s what the truth is sometimes, isn’t it?”

“I just need practice, and I assure you I've been practicing.” Herta tries to fight back.

“It's ok, everyone has weaknesses, even geniuses like us.”

“I think the face-to-face meeting will come later than sooner then.” Herta spits back out of pure spite.

“Fine, then I’ll simply barge in your gigantic junkyard, find your room and drag you out myself.” Ruan Mei’s eyes narrow, her brow furrows as she scrutinizes the face of the sassy creature in front of her. Even when so short, when they banter, Ruan Mei feels at her same height. They really complement each other well.

“Good luck with that. It’s a secret place no one, not even Asta, has access to.” Herta gladly accepts the challenge, transported by this spirit of sudden rivalry. “So what do we do now?”

“I’m going to find you.” Ruan Mei’s voice is concise and set. “Rest assured.

“That sounds weirdly scary. I might melt from fear if you stare at me like that.” Herta jokes.

“Melt.” Ruan Mei utters. Her hands cup Herta's cheeks. “Warmth. Temperature…” A flash of genius strikes her and soon a renewed will spreads in her body as the gears in her head start to turn.

“What? You've reversed into an infant now? Not even proper sentences anymore? Just words and primal sensations? Pitiful.” Herta mocks the biologist, avoiding the funny feeling of her face being cradled so gently.

“You're cute, Herta.”

Her words flutter gently in the air, making Herta flinch as if a phantom has just caressed her. How fascinating. She’s never seen her this flustered over some words. Even through a butchered and imperfect medium like oral language, people display the most various and raw reactions. How curious.

“Why are you flustered? Your puppets can blush… who would have thought.” She crouches to reach Herta's height. The Madam's face is richly pink in two oval-shaped dots. She really looks like a proper doll. “What hides in the intricacy of your being, puppet Herta? Stop looking at the faraway nowhere and tell me.”

“An-Anyone would be spacing out after… after what you said! You can't just say something so far-fetched and discontinuous like that! What was the basis behind that statement?!” Herta asks, face looking impassible and demanding.

“Ok, no. You need to stay very still and let me measure your temperature levels now. Stop moving.” The biologist's fingertips glow in a soft blue light as she strokes Herhans wooden cheeks. They’re icy, delicate, like Ruan Mei herself. The biologist is left in still awe when she finds warmth circulating in Herta’s limbs, as if a heart fueled her body. Her beating is regular, and there doesn't seem to be any knot in any of her circuits. Herta doesn't like the treatment though.

“You can't just tell me to stay still after saying I'm cute! Stop wasting my time with this!”

“Hush. It's incredible how your puppets have a cardiovascular system. Is it remotely controlled? Does it emulate your real body temperature? Is there a liquid similar to blood inside these artificial cavities? Is the real you as hot as your puppet at this moment? It’s a remote sensorial system… how fascinating… Is this system synesthetic? Can you pereceive two or more things at the same time? ”

“Ok ok ok too many questions! Slow down!”

“It has piqued my attention, I need answers now. I just had a flash of genius: the problem behind the creatures’ dermis peeling off may be due to high temperature levels during their conception.”

“And how would I be of help to that!?”

“I’ll find out while studying you.” Ruan Mei sighs. “Now, sit down.”

"This doesn't make any sen-"

"Sit."

“Ok, ok… but let me compose myself first-”

“I give you thirty seconds. The genius will flash by if I don’t act quickly.”

“How thoughtful and generous… wow, thirty seconds…” Herta rolls her eyes.

“You’re wasting time and drawing air for naught.”

“That’s my phrase.”

Ruan Mei’s examination is up-close and personal. It’s evident, even from afar, that Herta’s puppet body is a marvelous piece of craftsmanship, but the more Ruan Mei explores it, the more wonderful it becomes. She has always wanted to study one of Herta’s puppets, and being actually able to touch it with hand now is an honor to her. Herta has never been the type to open herself up with others, not to mention spare some of her precious time for anyone but her ideas and whims. What’s even crazier is how she’s letting Ruan Mei handle her so freely. She genuinely believed that Herta would have shrugged it off, called her a fool and nothing would have turned out of it. She was not prepared for Herta to allow her to do whatever she wants.

Herta has never been like this before, but Ruan Mei just stays silent and keeps working, because she’s not letting this occasion pass on now that she finally has it.

“These fake bodies are so articulate, it’s astounding. They portray all bones and ligaments on a one to one scale.” Ruan Mei has been spouting statements to herself for what feels like hours. After having Herta sit, she has knelt down to be at her height and has started her inspection nearly immediately, starting from the hands. She’s even taken off her gloves to taste with her skin the quality of Herta’s marionette. The wood is smooth, warm, soothing, simply a sensorial masterpiece. Ruan Mei loses herself in admiring such perfection and wonders if she could create a wooden-based creature herself. A walking bonsai would be an elegant addiction to her garden. Fixating animal cells and plant cells to work together in one single being. It would be challenging, but not impossible.

“You look happy.” Herta says with satisfaction.

“Of course I am happy.” Ruan Mei immediately answers. “I’ve been craving to learn more about your puppets since the moment you approached me to take part in the project.”

“Really?” Herta is genuinely surprised.

“Yes.”

“You could have just said so.”

“I would have never dared wasting Madam Herta’s precious time with one’s foolish wishes.” Ruan Mei jokes, but it’s not far from the truth.

“I have a scale of things I find interest in.” Herta admits smug, like a child explaining the toys they like in precise order. “You’re pretty high up on the list, alongside some other things like Polka Kakamond’s whereabouts, Curios and some other trivial things I’m currently working on. For you in particular, I’m interested in your life. Your existence is a mystery to me. You’ve never told me anything about who you are or what you want to gain from the project.”

Ruan Mei flinches slightly at the mention of her desires, so she quickly sighs and tries to change the subject. “Your list is unreliable at 75%. You lost interest in your spaceship the moment you dumped your entire inventory in its cargo hold.”

“My list is unreliable at 60%, thank you.” Herta promptly corrects her, but doesn’t say anything about the spaceship remark. “Anyways, you can ask away. We can exchange information. I love exchanging information.”

The dots connect in Ruan Mei’s mind, Herta’s designs are now clear, and the biologist knows what this girl is doing. “So you’re letting me study you in order to gain something out of me? At least, that is what I gathered from this, for you would never ‘waste your time’ like this.”

“You could say that. Life's a game of lose and gain, but I’m also trying to get your mind off your ‘things’. It pains me to see someone like you ponder over such petty problems. I’ve seen you repopulate planets left deserted from eons ago. I’m not used to watching you struggle.”

Ruan Mei doesn’t reply, she just keeps studying Herta’s arm.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, start asking some questions!.” Herta persuades her to speak.

“But I have no questions. All I wanted is right here in front of me.”

Ruan Mei is sure she sees Herta flinch, but the girl is quick to recover herself. “We-Well then I’ll be the one making some questions.” Suddenly, Ruan Mei finds Herta’s face inches from hers, nearly scaring her. “My mind is ready to absorb. Let’s start with question one: Why do you like the hermit lifestyle?”

“Unlike you, I loathe human interaction, but I believe that you already know that.”

“Yes, because no sane human being would live here, at the edge of this universe’s fabric.”

“I suppose not, no, but look how beautifully life thrives here.”

“We’re underground and this feels like a morgue.”

“You’ve come here from somewhere, haven’t you? The surface, perchance?”

Herta rolls her eyes. “Next question. What is the objective of your studies?”

“Trespassing the only law all life bows to.” Ruan Mei answers without much emotion. She is now too much interested in completely dissecting Herta’s puppet arm on her desk. At her side, Herta keeps speaking, standing up just to sit on that white surface.

“You want to become immortal? I’ve done that already. I can give you my-”

“Sorry if I sound harsh, but although your achievement is beyond remarkable, what you’ve done is reductive compared to my ambition. I wish to create ultimate life forms and understand the ultimate principle behind life itself. My creations will be ubiquitous, timeless, endless. One day, I won’t have to preserve plum blossoms in resin anymore to seal their beauty through all eternity, for they will never wilt again, and so won't I.”

“... A high achiever. Well, all people in the genius society are madmans, so I don't know what I was expecting…” Herta ponders while her head is being unscrewed. Ruan Mei gazes in the gap of Herta's now open neck, staring in an abyss of wires.

“Your head is remote? You can keep talking?” Ruan Mei cradles Herta’s head, asking both questions with slight stupor on her face.

“You unscrewed my head thinking I'd stop blessing all that exists with my beautiful voice? That would never happen. I would never let that happen.”

“... continue with your questions.” A faint smile paints Ruan Mei's lips, as she puts the head down on the table. It makes Herta think, makes her marinate in her own mind for a bit. Ruan Mei is having fun, she's enjoying this moment. It's a rare occasion and it makes Herta proud because she has managed to amuse the object of her attention. How lucky she is.

A little shiver runs down her real body, back on the spaceship, where her skin rots away from light, afraid of living and feeling the light of the stars.

The puppet resumes her impromptu questionnaire, trying not to think too much.

“Why do you live here?”

“It's beautiful and quiet. Life blooms untainted by mankind here.”

“When did you find interest in biology?”

“I was little. I was on a journey with my mother in No Man's Land. The ancient creatures we discovered there awoke something that was slumbering within me, an atavic call for wisdom.”

“Yeah, been there, done that… but I have more than six hundred interests, so I don’t know if I can relate. What's your craziest experiment?” Herta then asks, wide-eyed.

Ruan Mei winces imperceptibly before lying and completely omitting how she has recreated an Emanator of Propagation in Herta’s space ship not even five months prior. But well, she isn’t technically lying when she says “My craziest experiment must be… recreating #8 Lambda in my laboratory. He smiled at me.”

“You recreated that bag of bones?!”

“Yes.”

“You're insane!” Herta says in a choked whisper, laughter bubbling up from her synthetic throat. “I wish I was there. Where is he now?!”

“Dead.” Ruan Mei says wistfully. “He couldn't bear living again, so he took his own life in front of me.”

“Wow. That would be something he would do… Wait- the fact he remembered his previous life means that the soul does exist, since you called it back into a new body for him- ha! Who would have thought? … but on which plane does it exist then? Is it a wave? A solid? Both? Is transmigration a canonly acclaimed phenomenon now then?” Herta mulls over the freshly received information. “These questions will need further study later. What are you doing by the way? I told you you could study my body, not disassemble me!” She asks while Ruan Mei unscrews her head, cradling it with her bare palms. They’re very close.

“I’m witnessing your beauty. I seldom find occasions like these, to look at you so closely, so I’m burning your image in the back of my head for years to come to never forget you.” Ruan Mei speaks lightly, but there’s a hint of mischief in her voice, a tinge of sarcasm she knows Herta won’t catch on because the girl is just so self-absorbed.

“Oh but you would never forget a face like mine. Beauties like me bless this world only every one thousand years.” Herta grins proudly. She hums. “Why would you ever forget me anyways? We will meet for many years onward now. You’re not going anywhere soon. We have a contract.” There’s a hint of desperation the more Herta speaks, as if she’s trying more and more to assess the obvious, an irrational response made to eradicate this weird doubt that Ruan Mei has planted in her head: ‘Why would Ruan Mei ever forget me?’

“I guess we do have a contract...” Ruan Mei utters softly as she smooths her finger tenderly over the silky surface of the wood, feeling electricity burst in small sparks under her skin. It’s an electrifying feeling, arousing and powerful as it spreads thin on the sweat of her fingertips. She loses herself in the feeling of Herta’s synthetic rims, of her hair, so silky and thick to the touch. Biology and mechanical engineering combined, Herta-puppets are miracled treasures that Ruan Mei would study for days on end. For a moment, she forgets she would lose everything she has if she were to become an aeon.

“Are you going to kiss me now?” Herta asks sarcastically. She’s literally so close to the biologist that she can lose herself in Ruan Mei’s colorful eyes. They’re so vivid, so full, but always craving more. That’s what Herta feels when she stares at her. She’s unhappy in this life.

“Do you want me too?” Ruan Mei asks, tilting her head.

“Yo-You’d take that into consideration?” Herta asks shyly.

“With the real you, maybe.”

“And what does that mean!?”

Ruan Mei doesn’t answer. She slowly rubs her fingers on Herta’s forehead. “Do you feel this?”

“Yes, I have receptors everywhere in my puppets. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to interact with anything- and NO. I can’t feel pain, so stop tormenting my cheeks! I’d never add pain receptors! What am I? A masochist?!” Ruan Mei dejectedly lets go of Herta’s cheeks, a pout growing on her face.

“Are you seriously sad over this?”

“I wanted to hear you beg me to stop.”

“Why would you?!”

“Because you’re so obnoxious sometimes when we work that I want to set your puppets on fire.” Ruan Mei says without an ounce of regret. 

Suddenly, a moment of genius flashes in her eyes and she looks possessed, restless.

“Oh, I know those eyes, and I am now donned with the pride of having been the midwife to your enlightenmen-” Before finishing her self-congratulatory sentence, Herta’s head is  unceremoniously tossed on the table. She luckily lands on top thanks to a pendulum system she added to her body. “Ho-How dare you?!”

“Hush.” Ruan Mei commands. Her hands are enthralled by reason as they handle the creature’s body. On a micro level, she’s deftly reconstructing the creature’s DNA, unbinding the helixes that compose it, dissecting the nucleotides and altering the genetic material to her needs. “At birth, these creatures are subdued by unbearably high temperatures. At the end of this process, their skin results fragile, crumbly, and that’s because the sugar that is contained in their bodies doesn’t melt.” She quietly mutters as Herta stares on the side. “I simply need to use another material as glue and reduce their body temperature. Honey should do, as it’s a bioproduct and has low water levels. It should synergize well with the variety of sugar I used.”

Once done with her meticulous work, with her cold touch, she begins to sew the tissues that were falling apart. Her fingers only need to slide across the soft skin to make the body anew. The blood evaporates as she commands the cells to re-awaken. 

“This creature is not dead… Have you based its bodily processes off those of a tardigrade? Or a similar creature at that…” Herta asks bewildered as she sees the small critter drawing small breaths.

“Correct.” Ruan Mei smiles at Herta, as if the latter has just gained a gold star for guessing the right answer. “Tardigrades are the most resilient creatures in our universe. Their hibernation capability is fascinating, so I decided to grant my creatures’ that possibility as well. Their job is to look cute, graceful and adorable at all given times: with tardigrades' genes, they can function even in the most dire condition.”

“You’re a mad woman.” Herta exclaims. “Can I get one of these cuties back to my spaceship?” She shamelessly asks.

“No, for you’d leave it to rot in the cargo hold the moment you get tired of it.”

“You’d do that too, though, wouldn’t you?”

“Touchée, dear Herta.” 

Soft laughter fills the air in this mundane scene. “Wait a second, does it understand human language?”

“It will one day.”

“Oh so we're safe for now?” Herta asks, relieved.

“Pretty much.”

“Good. I don't want to give it trauma. At least not involuntarily.”

“Huh…”

Ruan Mei really feels as if her and Herta were true good friends, bonding over the silliest things. She feels at home, she feels as if she was with her mother again, but her mother is gone now, like the plum blossoms she has treasured every year until now. 

There is only Herta here, but it still feels like a reward. Getting to rest in her company is appreciated, something that Ruan Mei would have never thought of admitting.

Her fingers tremble as laughter bubbles up in her throat. At her fingertips’ mercy, the creature resurrects in front of her eyes as she holds it gently. Its eyes blink before finally opening its mouth in awe. It smiles above at its creator, seeking love, but Ruan Mei does not have compassion for it, nor empathy. All she sees is Herta. She seeks her expression, her opinions, her praise. Ruan Mei wonders if Herta is proud of her for solving the problem, if there will be a reward now since she has solved the problem in under three minutes.

It’s silly, it’s unbecoming, it’s terribly childish, but it’s ancestral and natural and written in her core: the need to satisfy and the need to be loved. It makes her feel impossibly small, yet also as vast as the universe, because the dread she feels as a human goes beyond all notions, all patterns, all logic, and so does this love she has trouble understanding. Now that her parents are gone, no one is there to give her what she needs, but maybe Herta will. 

She’s been imprinted to be like this, to need more the more she works and studies. That may also be the reason behind her existential call for greatness, to belong to something bigger, purer, absolute, something that will finally make her feel whole.

How weird.

As the newborn critter cries for love, for acceptance from its creator, Ruan Mei's attention lies elsewhere: her eyes plead for compliments, wide and dear. She asks to be rewarded, to make her work worthy of the time she has wasted on it.

Herta studies the biologist, analyzing the picture in front of her as if it was a portrait. When she sees the near desperation in Ruan Mei's eyes, hysterical and subtly foolish, Herta feels nothing but sorrow, because she understands too well this atavic need to be loved unconditionally, and she knows to what lengths men are willing to go to obtain it. Ruan Mei is selfish, but she doesn't condone it.

Herta is the most selfish between them anyways.

Be it because of genuine pity, be it because she sees a painful reflection of herself in the girl in front of her, Herta decides to play this game with no winners and no losers. 

“You did an amazing job, congratulations.” She simply states with a proud and smug grin, and somehow Ruan Mei's smile becomes sweeter.

“Thank you.”

Once the biologist is done reconstructing Herta's body (Ruan Mei has defined the activity as enlightening and unique), Herta believes that some fresh air is due after all that dilly-dallying inside, so she proposes a walk in the garden. Ruan Mei opposes it at first. 

“Visitors may not have access to the garden whe-”

“I do not care. To hell with your weird obsessions.” Herta cut through, not wanting to hear opposition and dragging Ruan Mei out by the wrist. In a competition where both parties are geniuses, where both parties believe to unmistakably stand in the right, where no one is up to debate anything lest debilitating their thesis, the only way to win is to affirm one's ideas first, with utter firmness. Herta is more seasoned in this. She has never listened to anyone, always by herself, always alone in her head. That way, she is safe. No one can betray her or talk over her like this.

The garden is nice, Herta thinks. “The garden is nice. Good job.” Therefore Herta says, because compliments are good for the spirit and she feels extremely generous today, so she shares the limelight with her friend, who is in need of comfort and compliments apparently.

“Thank you.”

Their conversations sprout here and there as they linger in peace and artificial perfection, flowers that have been manicured to be the prettiest, to show the brightest colors and hang with the thickest petals. This little corner of the universe harbors timeless beauty trapped inside unworthy mortal shells. Were these in marble, everyone across all ages would have been able bask in their beauty, that beauty that surrounds the scientists, as far as the eye allows to reach. Roses, lilies, carnations, oleanders and the like, they all paint Ruan Mei’s garden with calculated attention, forming an elegant composition worthy of a museum. Light kisses these buds with warmth, and the place looks inundated by the divine when the wind blows and petals get carried away. Death always awaits, even in beauty.

The sound of heels is made of sharp clacking and it resounds in the air as they walk. Ruan Mei looks ahead at the sky. In her arms, she cradles the small critter from before. Her touch is hollow, like that of an uninterested step-mother ready to send her puny stepchild to boarding school. “It's for their best,” she tells herself, but it's actually “for her best”, for although she has married science, she isn't fit to be the mother of its children. She could learn to be one, but it isn't worth the effort. Attachment will make her wither faster, like on the day when her parents left her. 

Love is bothersome, she doesn't need it, nor does she need to understand it. Ruan Mei's existence lulls between these two far opposites: opening her heart again, or letting it dry out.

Sometimes, while being with Herta, with her friends, she loses herself in wishful thinking: what if she opened up about herself? What if her relationship with Herta could be deeper, not as superficial as it is now? She explores this possibility, even when she knows the pressure would be unbearable. Herta had asked her but a few personal questions earlier and she was already quivering inside. That is enough proof she isn’t ready to drop her mask yet.

Because of this constant uneasiness, because of this fear for humanity that haunts her, because of what she has lost when she was way younger, the past likes to barge in her head sometimes, like growing winds that paint every nook and cranny of her heart in blue, raising the carpet under which she usually hides the dust of memories. The wind always comes to destroy. Maybe it means no ill will, but it makes everything fuzzy, comfortingly round yet infinitely hollow, and the things she will never get back flash before her in the form of bubbles, like her mother's sweets or her father's hugs. 

Sometimes, when eating sugar, it takes her moments to be sucked into memories. Melancholy licks with honey the scars life gave her, but no matter how sweet the ointment is, it will never be enough to soothe the bitterness she feels.

In these ephemeral questions, in these passing trivialities, in the end, only something remains constant: the great emotions that stir her heart at the mention of Aeons.

“Nous’ head is so big you could play giant bowling with it. Maybe I should find a way to pursue this idea…” Herta mulls over. 

Of course Herta would have no respect for anyone, not even for the Aeons.

“Please don't.” Ruan Mei sighs dejectedly.

“If one day he decides to float between my space station and the Blue, I certainly will. He'd be blocking the view to my homeworld.”

“Still…isn’t that too much?”

“Fine. That's too much, yes.”

“That's a relief.” Ruan Mei huffs.

“Just a little kick will be enough then.”

“Not what I meant.”

Their conversation flows. Around them, bees thrive as they collect pollen from countless flowers, and Herta appears to stick close to Ruan Mei's legs every time one flies by. She looks like a scared child, but too prideful to address her fear.

“Don't be afraid of bees. These small cuties are the genesis of all floral life. Without them, the world wouldn't be as colorful and beautiful as it is.” Ruan Mei's words are dry, as if she's expected to say these truths being a biologist, when in reality, she doesn't care at all. “Besides, you can't even get stung. Your real body isn't here.”

“I prefer to observe life from afar, in the comfort of a warm place. I like to see things rather than to experience them.” Herta's grasp on Ruan Mei's dress loosens slowly. There's a concerned look on her face, one Ruan Mei is surprised of. Herta seldom shows these sides of her. “Entomology is a fascinating topic, I won't lie. Many Curios originated from the influence of Tayzzyronth in this universe. I thought that going in your garden would have helped me cross the physical barrier, but I'm still… slightly flustered. If it was the Simulated Universe, I wouldn't be afraid of anything, but this is real life. Even an Emanator of Propagation wouldn't scare me there, but bees make me wince here. Pathetic.”

“Herta…” Ruan Mei's tone is wistful, while guilt creeps inside her throat. It’s vicious and deadly, viscous like oil, and it makes even the most limpid air smell like iron. Funny, how she’s cultivating an Emanator right that second.

“These are things I have to solve on my own.” Herts speaks, chin up. “If we have to meet one day, I have to make some effort and be ready, don't I? So that you don't see me crawl away in fear the moment we meet.”

“Are you… afraid of me?” Ruan Mei asks surprised.

“I'm afraid of people, I'm afraid of rain, I'm afraid of the sea, I'm afraid of the stars, I'm afraid of life.” Herta admits. Sunlight makes her face shine brightly, framing it nicely. She almost looks like a real person, Ruan Mei believes. “There's not much to see in my room. It's empty, fit to hold someone like me, who's scared of everything. When I'm alone, then no one can hurt me.” Herta smiles, but it’s not sweet, it’s not bitter either. It’s plain, tasteless, forced. “I know the you that talks to me through my puppets wouldn’t hurt me, but would the you thas met the real me do the same thing? No one can tell, and it’s a quantum paradox I can’t solve. The real me isn’t as interesting and intriguing as you think. I am Herta, member of Genius Society number #83. I like leaving around my thesis papers, addressing pointless orders around and I love speaking of a commitment that I’ll never truly pursue. That’s what Herta is. That’s all there is to it, even beyond this boundary. Would you still like me then?”

“Yes. I am sure.”

“Do you have any proof to back your thesis?” Herta’s fists are tight by her sides.

It takes some contemplation, some silence, for Ruan Mei to finally say “Yes, because you and I are the same.”

Herta’s face is unreadable. “Huh. Maybe you do understand… or maybe you don’t? I don’t want to know. I don’t need to know. I trust the ‘you’ I know through this layer.”

‘I understand all too well’, Ruan Mei thinks but leaves unsaid. She has never wanted to be closer to Herta than now, to meet the real her and hug her, feel the similarities in their beings, study the complex layers of her fear to help her out, to heal her tortured heart. 

Herta, someone who has achieved immortality, someone who refuses to abide by nature's laws, someone blessed by Erudition, someone whose lifespan is so close and so similar to that of an Aeon. Ruan Mei is in love with Herta, with her form, with her as an abstraction, with her as a whole. Herta is the key that will help Ruan Mei achieve Aeonhood. If she wants to succeed, she must meet the real her one day. But her work purposes are only part of that reason: Herta needs a friend, needs a companion. Ruan Mei wants to be that for her, needs to be it.

A fragment of melancholy has formed in that garden. It longs for something no one in this world understands, but it turns all things rounder and softer, like a dear embrace. Life stops aging in that small space, breaths last as eternity itself, rationality fades and the atavic sense of death is swift to follow: all that remains is boundless empathy, humanity.

In that fragment of the universe, plum blossoms have stopped wilting, and they shine oh so brightly in color. Herta has made this possible and Ruan Mei is ever so grateful for letting her taste a glimpse of her research's goal. If all she needs to feel absolute is confiding in someone, she might as well become a sociologist, Ruan Mei thinks to herself. But her dream is far too great to abandon it now, not when she has made so much progress.

“I promise, and I'll promise again and again, until you will feel sure. I won’t change my current attitude towards you once we meet.” Ruan Mei swears, her words carried away by the breezes that caress the land. Herta offers her nothing more than that plain smile again, as if it’s the only thing she’s grown able to give to others other than a look of scorn or her usual presumptuous attitude. 

A spirit of sadness now dwells in Ruan Mei’s body, like water unable to be processed, occupying her stomach and making her feel discomfort at every step. Her lips suddenly speak of this blue humor that pesters her: “Remember when you asked me to pose each other questions before?”

“Yes I do remember. I'm not yet senile nor do I present signs of premature Alzheimer's. That would truly be a disgrace, given my gargantuan intellect.” Herta immediately returns back to her boisterous usual self.

Ruan Mei smiles slightly. “What do you think is the meaning of life?”

“Life, you say?” 

“Exactly.” The biologist halts in place, staring at the two moons that float around her planet. They're so close to the surface that they can be seen even during the day. The critter in her arms squirms to be released when something catches its attention: a bright purple flower where many bees are swarming off to. It leaps out of Ruan Mei's cradling arms and jumps off to smell it, brimming with curiosity as it mewls happily. The biologist looks sad. “Life has stopped meaning anything to me. There's nothing more to discover, nothing more to study, nothing more to find out. My presence here is deprived of purpose, because life holds its meaning only in death. Death is a constant, everything else is hopeful speculation for us humans.” She is careful with her words, trying to keep her fears to herself as much as she can. 

“Well if that isn't a fresh sweep of joy.” Herta rolls her eyes sarcastically.

“I'm sorry for spoiling the mood.”

“Nonsense. I am just joking.” Herta grabs Ruan Mei's hand before gently guiding her at that small flower's feet. Herta’s knees are wobbly, struggling, but then she finally manages to overcome her fears and crouches, bringing Ruan Mei down with her, making her screech. “Sorry. Not really though.”

Ruan Mei stares at her with disappointment, but Herta just huffs and looks ahead of them. Now crouched, they both notice the little critter is still nose-deep in the flower’s stamen and, when it comes out, its muzzle is painted with pollen, but it looks so happy, like entranced by the most beautiful dream. Watching it roam around to an even bigger flower, Ruan Mei's heart sinks further, because she does remember a time when she was just as ecstatic about life, but it's all gone now. All that remains are bittersweet memories about her parents, about melting sleet and homemade pastries, about what she used to be and what she will never be again.

Herta looks intently at the flower in front of them. Her hand dares caress the petals, prompting a nearby bee to take flight and so she flinches, but she stays solid in her crouching position, not backing out. “Life, huh? For me… life is a discovery. A century ago, I would have never imagined I would have even reached my current age, I would have never imagined collaborating with anyone at all in my studies, but here I am taking part in group activities, or namely getting worried over my socially inept coworker.” 

“That's the two of us.” Ruan Mei chimes in with a condescending tone.

“True, but now that's not the issue, is it?” Herta sighs. “Life is… difficult, therefore people are difficult. They're like unsolvable puzzles to me: the more I try to understand them, the more stupid and idiotic I feel. I have tried countless times to put off these barriers and feel, but I've always been hurt in the process. I remember the time when others used to tell me to ‘toughen up’, to learn ‘how to live’, that I was acting ‘spoiled’, but honestly- I prefer to act spoiled than to deal with all this. Interactions are tedious, pointless, not genuine. People like to play with you, to test you, so you have to outwit them. People like to be cruel for no reason sometimes, just because you're better than them, so you have to crush them with your superiority to feel safe, even when you don't want to. Every time I've tried to establish a dialogue with life, I have also always realized it had been a soliloquy all along, but only after receiving the umpteenth hurt. So I have shunned everything out: my research is the only thing keeping me alive, my brain is my only friend, numbness my only companion in the white room I live in.”

Her fingers delve in her brown hair, so silky and thick, but fake like everything about her. “I've built this body to experience life with a layer, to not get hurt, but I'm nothing but a fool. You ask me what life is? I hardly understand it myself and I probably never will. I try not to dwell on these topics, because they make me feel miserable. What I do know is that I do enjoy your presence, Ruan Mei.”

The biologist winces out of her trance. Too absorbed in Herta's words, only now does she realize the girl has been looking at her this whole time. “You… do…?” Ruan Mei tilts her head, bewildered.

Herta smiles, part of her usual attitude shining in her eyes again. “... I'll be frank with you. I am willing to feel again, but I don't want another betrayal. Life is more exciting lately. Ever since I've started this project, I've slowly been coming out of my shell. I've been speaking with my workers more, I've been trying to listen to them and understand their needs. With you, Screwllum and Stephen, it's fun to program the Simulated Universe. When we're on call, it makes me really happy, I won't lie. So, just tell me this: do you value our friendship? If not, I'll go my way, you'll go yours, and we'll act as if this never happened. We'll continue working like mere coworkers.” Herta's jaw is straight, her hands now clenched tight as she raises back up, looking down at a still crouching Ruan Mei. “Please, tell me. Together, maybe, we can find out what living means, or at least, that’s what I’ve been hoping for…” Herta’s eyes trail away, flashing a curious shyness given how brazen and open she usually is. It is really all just a facade then, Ruan Mei realizes. This is a side of the true Herta, the Herta that stays locked inside her room all day, for all of her life: insecure and frail Herta, hurt Herta. Her frame looks weaker too, her position more mellow and slimmer like a wisteria flower, ready to be swept away by the wind.

Discovering this new person, the insecure side of the Madam, Ruan Mei is more sure than ever that she won’t chase her friend away. 

“I want to make our friendship last, so yes. Let's find that answer together.” 

Herta is surprised. It’s silly. No one should be surprised when to such an obvious question there’s only such an obvious answer. Even then, Herta can’t help but be a little shaken. 

She will let Ruan Mei be her last attempt once again. Maybe, it will work this time.

“Thank you, Ruan Mei.”

They talk and talk, let their hearts speak out and it’s about the littlest things. They reach the wilder side of that nature, that grows unhinged and raw. The sky is blue above them when they walk in seas of the tallest grass, brushed by the sweeping winds. They let their minds rest for just a breather, embracing peace. Their bodies shape the weeds as they lie down and look up at the rushing clouds. Their voices are small whispers compared to what surrounds them.

…

“My mother used to make soups with all kinds of herbs when I was little.”

“Were they good?”

“Not- exactly… but they were very nutritious.”

“I’m appalled by the fact you actually consume anything aside from sugar.”

…

“Do you like Wisteria flowers?”

“You mean the ones on my puppets’ hats? In my homeworld, they represent values like youth and love. I have no time for that sentimental stuff, however. I just wear them because they fit well with my outfits.”

“In other words you like them.”

“That’s not-”

“Your eternal bodies, adorned with symbols of budding youth. How beautiful.”

“…This is said ‘sentimental stuff’, but yes, you may call it that. Whatever pleases you. I guess this ‘romantic’ side of yours is what makes you so interesting to me.”

…

“Do you ever get lonely here?”

“I could ask the same to you.”

“Yes, but I’m surrounded by people daily, while you…”

“It does get lonely, but I have our usual voice calls.”

“...You’re right.”

…

“I like sweets as well by the way.”

“You do? What sweets do you like?”

“Why do you sound so cheerful all of a sudden?”

“Humans are selfish creatures. They’re happiest only when something they’re interested in is brought up in conversation.”

“... I guess I like tiramisu.”

“An excellent pick! A multi-layered chest of flavors, made with pure and fresh ingredients like soft cheese, eggs and coffee. The coffee beans have to be grinded thoroughly so that the water can garner their rich scent and taste, but one must compensate with the right amount of sugar. Three spoons are more than enough for me personally… am I bothering you?”

“Are you serious? We’re having a conversation. Please, keep talking. It’s nice to hear your voice.”

“Then, if you insist.”

“I didn’t insi- whatever.”

“You’re smiling.”

“Jus- Just keep talking already…!”

…

"Your hands earlier... you bit your nails-"

"Please, let's talk about something else."

"...Ok."

...

“The wind is nice.”

“You can feel it?”

“Barely, but it’s more than enough for now.”

“Will it ever be not enough?”

“Probably? But I’ll find out the more I stay here with you like this.”

…

“I have some relatives on The Blue. They’re probably descendants of my old family. I haven’t visited in a long time.”

“Do you miss them?”

“No, why would I?”

“Fair enough.”

“Do you miss your parents?”

“... A-Ruan would have, but Ruan Mei doesn’t.”

…

“I wish I could touch this grass in person.” Herta has fistfuls of weeds of all sorts in her palms. “It feels so fluffy and thick.”

“You can. I’m sure you will be able to one day.”

“I wish you could tell me more about yourself. I know you’ve been trying to avoid some of my questions earlier.”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Truly.” Herta's gaze is set. She's very serious, even in her tone.

“The day we meet, I’ll tell you.”

“I’ll make sure it comes sooner than later.”

…

“I will kiss you then, on that day.”

“You’re still thinking about that…?!” Herta asks, surprised.

“Of course I am. I never forget anything, let alone promises.” Ruan Mei huffs.

A silhouette brings some shade on Herta’s face. Her eyes, closed until now, open to find Ruan Mei inches from her face. A small kiss is left on her forehead. Her lips are soft, or at least that’s what the receptors tell Herta. Also, it's thoughtful, but concise and elegant, so undeniably like Ruan Mei.

Herta understandably freaks out. “Wha- What?!”

“That’s practice. That’s how my mother used to kiss me back when she was alive.” The biologist smiles. Her lab coat almost creates a tent as she hovers above Herta.

“Ok, that was literally a heart attack. Don’t do that again. At least tell me before doing anything-”

“Where’s the excitement in studying cause and effect scenarios where the experimentee knows what will happen beforehand?” There’s obvious mischief in her grin. It annoys Herta, but also amuses her. Being able to always fascinate her, that’s a skill only Ruan Mei has. 

Even then, she’s ticked off now.

“That’s it. I'm going to pluck your lilies.”Herta raises on her two feet with a huge leap and starts to head back, where Ruan Mei’s garden is.

“Don't you dare spoil my floral compositions!” Ruan Mei shouts, a sliver of panic shines in her voice.

“Try me.”

The clouds gather above them as they rush back to the place, filled with happiness, shock, fear, excitement, with so many chemicals being released in their bodies. In those fields kissed by shade and light, feeling the grass beneath her feet, Ruan Mei finds herself thinking again, finally reaching an epiphany.

Ruan Mei knows that science will never betray her. In the safety of her self-made haven, she's ok. Nothing can haunt her, nothing can go the wrong way when she's there to direct it. Everything there abides to her rules, to the unwavering temple that is her steel-hearted will, to her name, that is her birthright and heritage. Ruan Mei is alone in her research and probably will always be, but she knows she doesn't need anyone else to reach her goals. 

Life is nothing more than a game of locks and keys. Once you figure out the right combinations, you can bend all this world's principles to the rule of your whims, of your curiosity. If DNA is a play, Ruan Mei is the playwright, but that is all worthless when curiosity has all but withered. Wonder was fertile back then, now it's all wilted like plum blossoms at the end of Winter. Behaviors are aprioristic ways of interacting that can be easily mapped out. Once you realize an apple falls when it's ripe, you know when it's the perfect time to catch it. Pheromones are released yearly in certain species of animals to secure their reproduction. Everything is nothing but a linear ‘consecutio’ of input and output. Organic life is a set of predetermined quantities that mix together through patterns in this entropy we call existence, and when you crack its code, all becomes uninteresting.

Ruan Mei is a woman that has grown picky with her food. She seldom finds happiness in eating, refusing its very concept lest it's sweets she finds under her hands, because they make her slow rotting sweeter, more bearable. Callousness has since long made its way into her once tender heart. The fate of life does not concern her anymore. She longs for the day she will no longer be human and her existence will finally be crowned. This moment is transitory, meaningless to her, and it prompts nothing but suffering. Few things bring her joy as of late, but that doesn't mean the thought of leaving them behind does not anguishes her, but then- finally becoming what she has been craving to be from the beginning - it outweighs all that is dear to her.

A humdrum life breeds nothingness, just miserable days that carry a sense of dissatisfaction. It’s the haunting shadow of those who are passive, the fading image of something that could be, but that fails to achieve being, that stays out of reach. Ruan Mei fills these monotonous days with poetry, embroidery, exotic delicacies and beautiful music, but with the looming desire for greatness hovering over her head at all times.

Ruan Mei knows everything, yet she knows nothing of what she really desires. That is her greatest flaw. Her flesh has bored her, her peers have bored her, nature has bored. She's been betrayed by her own head and her love for biology has become a curse to her, but she still needs to know what lies beyond all that. The divine remains untouched by her thinking, abstractions such as Elation, Beauty, Equilibrium, Nihility: to her relief, and for her inability to understand them yet, these still manage to awaken her sense of wonder, but also make her doubt her capabilities as a scientist. 

The land she steps on is full of hollow colors, all butchered together to reflect what she aspires to: perfection. What shines bright and pure are the stars she agonizes to speak with: the absolute. 

Ruan Mei is a liar. She dislikes others’ opinions, yet pretends to care, when in reality, all she does is subtly forcing her own ideas on others, because she fears confrontation. She dislikes love, because it’s a concept that is difficult to grasp. She dislikes those that profess knowing what love is, because she fails to understand its basis, its meaning. It doesn't make her feel inferior, just not whole. Love is the burden someone decided to inflict on her, love is what this world has come to proclaim as the feeling of all feelings, the harbinger of happiness. Yet it can’t be classified, it can’t be understood, it can't be ‘dissected’ into fewer intelligible pieces. It drives her insane, because society has given her this flaw, the stigma of a person incapable of loving.

But that theory has recently been debunked.

Ruan Mei now realizes she used to know how to love; she simply allowed herself to forget how to do that, be it out of survival instinct, be it out of mere negligence. Luckily, there's a glint of light right at her side to remind her just of that: it’s a small yet rambunctious, contrarian and obnoxious presence that keeps her mind entertained. Oh, how she loves Herta.

Ruan Mei is sure that if she were to become an Aeon, if she really transcended humanity one day, her only concern would be to bring Herta with her. She's grown so attached to her presence around her that immortality would feel a curse without her. She fears the possibility of forgetting Herta, Screwllum and Stephen. 

Time ticks by, her skin decays day by day, and one morning, like a plum blossom, she will wither and drop dead to the ground too. If she doesn’t want to stay worthless in the history of this universe, she has to act now. Therefore, there are two questions she will trouble her genius over: rediscover what love is and find out what lies beyond the concept of life. 

Her life will be the thesis, her body the proof of her works and experiments. She will become immortal one day, cut the strand that inevitably connects the womb to death; and she will grow to love the most beautiful things like Idrilia did, reach unchanging balance like Xipe, float aimlessly like IX, witness the immanent world like Fuli. 

When that happens, she hopes Herta will still look at her when gazing into the faraway cosmos from the comfort of her spaceship. Then, one day, she will greet Herta properly, with all the cordialities the Madam dislikes so much, so that she will know it's Ruan Mei she will be speaking with. 

Ruan Mei will tempt her with nice words, with her newly acquired wisdom, with one of those equivalent exchanges that Herta is so fond of. Then she will join hands with her and beg her to follow her. 

She hopes Herta will say yes.

One day, she will stop keeping the plum blooms so dear, but she will never stop holding close in her heart all that Herta has blessed her with.