Andrew Mackay - Pink Symphony

Streaks of pink blood the size of a rolled-up duvet jettisoned in all directions from underneath the elevator and splattered across the floor.

“Level ten. Engine and Payload. Have a nice day,” the female voice announced with a chirpy vigor. The elevator doors opened and released Jaycee’s severed, gloveless hand.

He grabbed it in his good hand and pulled himself into the elevator.

The flat surface panel lit up, requesting a level selection. He didn’t press any of the buttons. Instead, he looked at the complicated fusion of wires and metal rods jutting out from the wrist of his severed hand.

Tucked inside the trapezium of the hand was a small imprint of something .

Jaycee squinted at it at the text and moved it closer to his face. Then, a damning blow crept across his brain as he processed the information.

The logo of a company by the name of Manning/Synapse .

Jaycee blinked three times in succession. The text was still there in black and white – in more ways than one.

Jaycee let out an apocalyptic cry of anger and threw his useless hand against the ground, “Bastards!”

He kicked the elevator wall with his giant metal boot. He wanted blood, but had to expel the revelation from his mind.

“No, no, no…”

The elevator wall didn’t budge. He could have kicked it all day long without so much as causing a chink in the material.

He stomped his boot to the floor and tried to calm himself down, “An Androgyne? I can’t—”

THWACK !

He thumped the panel on the wall and shattered the screen. He’d taken himself by surprise with his own violent reaction.

Level Four lit up on the selection panel.

“Thank you,” the reassuring voice said, “Lever Four. Weapons and Armory. Please remain standing.”

The cage doors closed on a furious Jaycee Nayall.

The elevator shot up the delivery pipe, sending the ultimate – if imperfect and incomplete – execution machine to the top of the ship.

Wool, Tripp, and Bonnie entered Medix with a considerable amount of caution. The latter two members of Opera Beta were unsure of what they were about to see and braced themselves.

Wool walked over to Jelly’s bed. She encouraging her colleague’s eye line to the wondrous event that had taken place on Jelly’s bed.

“It’s okay, you can come forward,” Wool grabbed a blanket from an adjacent gurney and turned to Jelly, “Look at you. You’re cold.”

Tripp and Bonnie could hardly believe what they saw, “Jelly?” they said together.

“Oh, wow,” a joyous grin crept across Bonnie’s face, “It’s amaziant.”

“But, but—” Tripp shook his head and flew into cynical mode, “It can’t be?”

“I believe you,” Bonnie sat at the edge of the bed and pressed her fingertips against the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“It can be, and it is,” Wool pulled out the soft sheet and lowered it onto the back of an orange-white neck and shoulders, “She’s fine and healthy. Aren’t you, honey?”

A six-year-old girl-cat sat on the bed, shivering, with her arms around her bent knees. Several wires attached to her chest and abdomen sprawled over her arms, attached to a heart rate monitor.

This was no ordinary girl, though.

“Is that better, honey?” Wool smiled and placed the blanket over Jelly’s knees, warming her up and securing her modesty.

The girl ran the side of her face against Wool’s sleeve.

“Aww. You like that, don’t you?”

Jelly had evolved. How much so? It was too early to tell.

Her whiskers had shrunk but still vibrated with life. She retained her slightly elongated infinity claws. Very fine orange hair adorned her legs, arms, and face.

She looked more human than feline, not accounting for the whiskers. By all accounts, an astounding vision of beauty.

Tripp took a step forward and couldn’t help but stare, “In all my life, I... I don’t know what to say .”

“Then don’t say anything,” Wool whispered. “She’s had a rough day. I think she’ll need some rest.”

“Wool?” Jelly coughed inside her throat and ran her coarse tongue across her lips.

“Yes, honey?”

“Water.”

Her voice conformed to that of a typical six-year-old’s – relatively high in tone but with a discreet cat-like twist.

“She talks, too?” Bonnie’s eyes lit up with love in an instant. She pressed her finger to her chest and over-gesticulated her opening statement, “Me... Bonnie.”

Jelly ducked her head with embarrassment, “I know… you .”

“Wow,” Bonnie gasped.

Jelly’s cat-like ears slapped back and forth as she lowered the side of her face to her own forearm and purred.

Tripp made for the door in haste, “I’m sorry, I need a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

Wool passed by him with a cup of water, “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” he huffed, very unsure of himself, “No. I don’t know. Just give me…”

He didn’t finish his sentence as he walked through the door. Wool shrugged her shoulders and approached Jelly’s bed, “Here you are, honey. Some fresh water.”

“Mommy,” Jelly opened out her half-human hand, fanning her titanium claws out, “Claws. Sharp. Ouch.”

Wool giggled. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll set it down on the side desk, here. You can pick it up yourself.”

“Water,” Jelly added.

Tripp wandering around aimlessly in the corridor with his eyes shut. He muttered to himself at a rapid pace. Praying was beyond him. Most of the events he’d experienced since leaving for Saturn ran through his mind.

Discovering Alpha.

The escape from Alpha.

The loss of his best friend and captain, Daryl Katz.

The strange happenings with Haloo Ess.

News of what was happening on Earth.

The discovery of Pink Symphony – whatever it was.

He tried to make sense of it all. The answer felt so tantalizingly close yet nowhere near solvable. A frustrating experience aided little with what had happened to Jelly.

“Please, tell me this is all a dream,” Tripp crouched to his knees and ran his hands through his hair, “I want to wake up… I feel so alone…”

Jelly wiggled her nose at her own reflection in the glass of water.

Wool and Bonnie watched her sniff around the rim of the glass. A bit too close. Her head jolted back from the corresponding reflection of her nose in the glass.

“You’ve seen humans drink from a glass, haven’t you?” Wool giggled with affection.

“Yes,” she opened out her brand new human fingers and blew across her fur. Her metacarpal pad remained in the center of her palm.

She closed her fingers around it. The sharp underside of each infinity claw clinked across the glass as she tightened her grip.

“That’s it, honey,” Wool beamed and winked at Bonnie, “You’re doing so well.”

The bottom of the glass lifted away from the desk and over her lap. Jelly sniffed around the rim, ensuring its freshness.

“Now, put up to your mouth,” Bonnie pursed her lips and mimed knocking back a shot of liquid from a pretend glass, “You’ll have to make your mouth move. Like this.”

Jelly enacted what she saw. Her lips were new – she’d have fun with them for the next few hours until the novelty wore off.

The rim of the glass pressed against her bottom lip. She replicated Bonnie’s actions a little too literally. The water fountained down her sheet, going everywhere except her mouth.

“Oh no,” Wool moved forward and caught the glass from Jelly’s hand, “Here, let me take that—”

Jelly burst out crying as the water soaked through the sheet.