“It all started several days ago with a reflection brought by a situation of tension… uh, that phrase is cool! I should… I should write it down… somewhere.”
3 years for the journalism career, another 3 years for the higher degree mixed with internship as an editorial assistant, and to finish 1 whole year and a half as a collaborator in a night radio program. When Lucy looked back at her resume, great pride filled her inside.
Her life was the signal that although things get twisted along the way, if you work hard, make a daily effort and have good will one can achieve his dreams. Dreams like being a great tv presenter of a great television channel (or presenter of netflix or youtube, if there was something Lucy is not scrupulous).
Yep, exactly that dream.
“And after advertising our correspondent in Los Angeles, Phil Baker, will tell us the last minute about the great softball… regional game! Don't leave, the competition is sparking!”
Unable to endure the laughter at the attempt to hide the presenter to hide his concern, the camera made a hand signal before cutting off the transmission.
“I need your help, Erik! I can't find the name of the teams in any of these sheets! Stop laughing and help me, please!” Lucy cried as she began to quickly remove the photocopies with the news of the day... night. Dawn.
“For God's sake, Lucy! Nobody cares if you don't say the name! It's 6 in the morning, nobody is going to get up to watch the sports program of a local television that has no budget or for a telepronter! No one apart from drunkards, people with insomnia, drug addicts who started using soft drugs too early, night owls ...-”
“I get it, you don't have to continue with the list! And even then, even if no one sees us, I want to be able to say the name of these teams! This is my job and I am a professional, I want to keep even though-”
"Lucy" Erik stopped her by hitting the ornate desk to look like a television with both hands. “You are 33 years old, honestly the fact that you have been given this crap at your age and coming just from being a collaborator should already send you a signal of what this subsidized local television network expects from you”
"And that is ..." Lucy asked with some irony even though she was horrified to hear the answer. It was clear that Erik was not comfortable with what he was going to say, but since his "boss" had asked him the easiest way to cut the conversation was to say what they both knew.
"They expect you to be the bitter woman for not being able to succeed that she lives with her cats and that she takes care of the night programs so that they continue giving us the subsidies" And even knowing perfectly the answer, Lucy could not help feeling somewhat hurt by the words between teeth of her camera technician. “Sincerely with your age and considering how good you look -and as good as you look, I mean how well your two huge breasts stay- I think a lottery girl's salary would be more than enough to you and your cat live comfortably"
Silently and trying to maintain all possible dignity while pretending not to have heard anything, Lucy quickly arranged her dress in a vain attempt to take Erik's intense gaze away from her twins. First of all she was a professional, as terrible as the others were with her. "We don't have any photocopy with the names of the teams, right?" She tried to return to the initial conversation while again trying to ignore her surroundings, this case as her technician had just eaten half a cold burrito almost 2 bites.
“Fuck Lucy! If it is not written on any of those sheets I haven't printed it... but you know? Nothing happens either! Be sure to let Phil's fool talk while I keep your tits on the other side of the screen, we need to keep our audience awake for at least 15 more minutes!” Erik growled as he began to count to 5 with the fingers of one hand.
A countdown that although it was to indicate that they transmitted again, for her it felt like a way to shut her up.
(...)
20 minutes later, Lucy was already changed and in the kitchen of the studio. If there was something worse than having to make detours to avoid admitting that she lacked information, they were the mandatory extra hour after each program to deal with social networks.
Spilling herself onto the only clean kitchen table, Lucy closed her eyes pretending to die of something other than boredom. The remains of the dinner of the presenters of the night news and other day workers were still on the other tables and there would be at least 50 minutes before the cleaner arrived ... the smell, or rather the mixture of smells, was not nice to say it somehow.
“Fucking dayworkers and their normal schedule… fucking shit work… HEARTATTACK! And… dead…!” Lucy pretended to agonize as she stretched her arms until she dropped her hands on each side of the table. A stupid game without a doubt, but anything was worth wasting time while the coffee maker prepared the only magic potion capable of bringing to life such a shattered reporter/presenter like her.
After her second dead performance of the night Lucy found herself looking directly at the office phone. Something inside her wanted to call her boss and tell her all the macho and obscene comments that Erik had used against her ... that part also faked a heart attack by remembering the answer last time: "Answer him, face him, Don't let the thugs win!"
Between that nobody cared about her and that there was no other camera willing to do the early morning program, the most sensible thing was to let it happen again.
If somewhere the complaint led to Erik being fired, there would be no camera to broadcast her program ... and without a program Lucy knew that they would throw her feet in the street sooner than it takes to say Mississippi. The sound of the coffee maker woke her from her depressive lethargy, forcing her to get up with a movement as fast as her body exhausted by lack of sleep could. Without even bothering to use a cup, Lucy put the sugar directly into the coffee maker while returning to her clean table, less clean now that part of her makeup was stuck on the surface.
And while the 33-year-old hostess drank from her coffee maker, her nervous system forced her to move around and walk down the changing room aisle to pick up her bag now, saving 5 extra minutes that could be used to sleep. Not knowing how or why, Lucy stopped in front of the full-length mirror in the hallway. (or rather not wanting to admit the small suggestion that Erik's comments had left on her)
For her age, Lucy considered herself quite attractive. It was true that her reddish and curly hair was beginning to deteriorate a little ... or that her two proud, her slender and well-filled DD breasts had begun the natural process of losing firmness ... but still with a little daily gym, a little of wrinkle cream and a good hair removal of legs and armpits was more than enough to put the machinery back in good condition. The thought alone made her stifle a laugh so much that the coffee went on the other side, her body reacting naturally forced to spit. "Nor that there was anyone to teach the machinery!" Lucy said to herself laughing for exactly 17 seconds ... After which the reporter leaned her forehead against the mirror, the comment reminding too much of what her deceased mother was doing to justify not moving from the couch.
Following her example was the last thing she wanted and what had to be done to avoid it was clear. “Work even harder until you can look back and smile!” She said to herself, remembering the words of her also deceased father, much better words to follow. With a new motivation filling her up like never before, Lucy ran to her boss's office to leave the company's phone without a single mention on the red of the program (as always). Another race later the reporter stood in front of her locker ready to pick up her things and leave to start the next day with a new smile ... until when she opened the locker a cold hamburger fell on her head followed by several cold fries.
"Ohhh ... Again Erik had confused his locker... and again had forgotten some of the food he had bought in it... Yep" `
The motivation vanished instantly as the reporter removed the leftover food from her jacket, collecting her things to return home.
The way back was especially slow despite not having any traffic that prevented her from pressing the accelerator of her scooter. The reporter allowed herself to take a walk to return home just with the sunrise, hoping to turn the experience into some kind of poetic and metaphorical restart of her life.
What she wasn't expected instead was the high-end car parked in front of the door of her building in a disabled place. a car that she had never seen before in her neighborhood with a person sitting inside smoking ... and that made her feel a chill. "Please, not the insurance collectors, not now that I only carry the card on me and I have nothing loose at home..." She said to herself as she slowed down (even more), slowly pressing the button on the garage door as if that would make the door open more silently.
Of course the noise caused the driver to notice her presence, getting out of the car quickly and heading towards her cigarette still in hand. “Miss Lucy! You finally get home! It's very ugly to make your visitors wait, you know?" The presence of the young smoker dressed in an expensive suit calling her specifically was totally confusing and unexpected, so much so that for a moment she felt the need to pinch her cheek to make sure she hadn't fallen asleep in the studio. (Neither was necessary, the constant foot pain from wearing too high heels was more than enough)
"Do we know each other, Sir?" The reporter asked to see that the conversation was inevitable, mostly because the young man had planted quickly and skillfully between her and the door of her building. "Your face wants to be familiar for me ... but I don't know-"
“My name, Miss Lucy, is Gabe W. Ray. You worked for my father, Maxwell W. Ray, as a fellow a couple of years ago in our then only and great Alabama Spirit newspaper!”
"Ahhh!" With that extra information it was easy to locate the young man now almost 6 years older. All the exhaustion accumulated in her became elegance and good posture as soon as her mind realized that there was a minimal possibility of returning to work for Mr. Maxwell, the best boss of her whole life. “How are you, Gabe? You have grown a lot! What are you now, 22 years old? Oh wait, where are my manners?!” Lucy laughed nervously as she tried to accompany the young man to the door of her building. “Can I invite you to come in? I have tea and pastries bought yesterday ... but well packaged! With my nightly work I have discovered methods to buy hot foods and keep them-”
Before she could continue to wander, Gabe kindly declined the invitation as he grabbed her by the shoulders. “Miss Lucy, I have come her today for a work affair. Although the right thing is actually to say that I come to offer you one”
If the world were cartoons, both eyes of Lucy would have become bags with the dollar symbol. And even without being cartoons it was absurdly easy to read the greed on her face. "Well ... if your father believes ...-"
“My father is dead, Miss Lucy! Caput! Heart attack!” Gabe yelled laughing at Lucy's broken face, which went from greed to panic and sadness. “Don't worry, he died just the way he lived… between the legs of a mongrel with big curves. Let's get to the point, okay? My father has left me the whole company because I have a great plan to take Alabama Spirit to the top! We will be the next BBC and everyone will see it! And to start I want to recover my father's favorite girl for a special mission” Lucy felt flattered apart from even something horrified by the terrible news. Maxwell was always a great influence for her on the personal and work, to the point that he personally wrote the letter of recommendation that allowed her to be chosen for her previous work on the night radio. Lucy felt especially sad to know that another of the people who had treated her best had ended up in the same place as her parents, but if Gabe had personally come for her, the least was to listen to the offer. (Whatever it was would be better than the current well where it was currently inserted)
“And what mission is it? Because honestly as long as you don't send me to a country at war I will accept any job you offer me! Hehehe… That was a joke, okay? I'm not so desperate-”
"No, of course not!" Gabe smiled while round her shoulders with one arm. "Tell me, have you been aware of the news lately?" Lucy nodded without knowing what she meant and that was especially evident. "I'm talking about the island that has appeared out of nowhere in the Caribbean!-"
A drop of cold sweat fell down her forehead. “Yessshh… I've seen the news, I live in the same world as you. I have also seen that they have attacked the first military ships that have approached them with almost science fiction weapons ... and I have also seen that terrifying woman talking about a GODDESS!”
Gabe nodded smiling and excited, perhaps too much for the tension in the environment. “Well, you're up to date with the news of the year… of the decade! Wait! OF THE CENTURY! Like everyone else, you would have heard that woman so angry talking to us with the first real sign that telepathy is real and governments had hidden it from us. Her supposed Goddess wants us to send our best journalists to give two lucky media an interview with her! Well, an hour later, some encrypted messages reached the email accounts of the highest offices of the world's largest news networks. Messages with instructions on how to participate in the election ... messages that I have managed to get thanks to my contacts!”
"I am not-"
"Tsch! You are everything you want to be, Lucy! Today you are the host of a program used as a landfill, but tomorrow- or exactly in 10 days, December 26- you will be the first person to interview that supposed Goddess! And if this doesn't convince you, I have exactly what it will do” Gabe smiled as he pulled a folded note from his jacket and offered it to her.
Silence completely dominated the street illuminated by street lamps and the first rays of sun while Lucy read, read, read and reread the numbers written on it. Slowly she looked up to cross it with Gabe's, waiting for a horn and a cake on her face for having fallen for the joke. Instead, what she found was a warm sidesmile. “For every day, And that last amount is what you will earn for every 100 words you record of that Goddess or for every photo you get”
...
... ... ...
Present, Ferry in the middle of the Caribbean Sea:
“And that's why I'm here!” Lucy smiled, enjoying the sea breeze, rocking her perfectly groomed hair after 6 endless hours of hairdressing.
The soldier sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand, trying to put up with his uncontrollable desire to throw himself overboard. “Your... story is interesting and I am sure that character, Miss Lucy Crews, will look much better in the novel or the movie… but what I have asked you it's if you've eaten something in the last 24 hours. That ‘guardian of the Divine family’ requires us to ask it out in advance”
Lucy's heart broke at the same time as the eye contact with the soldier, a brief glance at the other journalists around her confirming the obvious: She had been ridiculous once more, just as the laughter behind her confirmed. “I… a hamburger. Alone, not even without bread. Ok no, with fresh cheese”
(...)
The ferry (renowned for the moment only by Lucy as the Trans-Jour 1) stopped a mile from the island along with the other 4 ferries, as planned carring out the transfer of journalists from a neutral vessel not annexed by any army (How the inhabitants of the island could discern that information was a total mystery to all the external organizations involved) to one of their own. The dawn sun created a certain overwhelming aura around the island, one that obviously didn't lack it.
Being so close and thanks to the height advantage that allowed her to get on one of the seats, Lucy could see how the island was even more threatening closely than in the photographs/videos she had consulted the days before getting on her beloved ship.
As if she had found before on one of her beloved rpgs, the island was surrounded by mountains so gigantic and rugged that it was impossible for them to be of natural origin, preventing them from clearly seeing the interior of the island (and as the soldiers had shown them, nor satellites or stealth drones had managed to capture images of the interior from the air). Each summit was also crowned by a kind of floating weapon / device that, as already proven, served as a defensive weapon with sufficient power to destroy the frame of the ships that approached to investigate WITHOUT damaging the humans inside thereof.
There was only one possible entrance between two of the mountains and just that they had just in front of them, a small port with a smaller beach from which 10 small boats had just left for the 5 ferries to take the chosen journalists.
"Gentlemen," the ship's captain said calling the attention of Lucy and the 24 journalists who accompanied her. “From this point ... you all are alone, they don't allow us to get closer. Be sure to obey and make a good impression, know that we will be here ready to attack at any time to protect you...” The captain was silent for a few seconds with his head bowed, searching or rather trying to remember the speech he had previously prepared. “This island represents one of the biggest crises that our world must go through since the cold war, so today you are not just journalists in search of the largest exclusive of our generation; Today you are ambassadors of our lifestyle, of our society and of-”
While the captain was still talking two of the boats arrived at the starboard of the ship, causing all journalists and soldiers ran to see the "floating yacht" as taken right from a science fiction movie. And if the shape of the ships wasn't enough, the floating robots that came out of each of the cockpit would be. "Captain Mason?" One of the robots uttered in a robotic and sharp voice.
"I was told that a ... border guard would come with you, where is he?!" The captain growled as the robots set about placing a walkway between the ship and the ferry. Slowly from the cockpit of the first of the ships came a much more human figure, a bald middle-aged man wearing a full-length tunic. “Here I am Captain Mason. Are these the journalists chosen?” The guard asked as he climbed onto one of the catwalks until he reached the middle. The captain decided to do the same, hoping to have him face to face to confirm it ... unless that would be impossible, since being both at the same height the incredible height of the guardian (almost a head taller than him) was clear. "Have you collected the information we asked for?"
"Of course, but I don't know how useful it will be ..." The captain growled as he handed over the notebook. “Paper sheets, cover and back cover of 100% recycled material as you requested”
"Utility? Caring for our world that we all share, do you think it isn't enough? By the Goddess, if asking for recycled materials it causes you so much confusion means that foreigners are even more ... than I expected” The guard smiled mockingly as he flipped through the pad quickly. “Well, without further delay, it is time for us to leave. Ladies and gentlemen, we must dont make the Matriarch Valeonor wait. In my boat there is room for about 12 people 12, and in the second 13 ... and seeing that most of you travel with cameras and technical equipment means that you are much more than we expected ... This happens for not being specific about that things. Dont worry, we will simply go something tighter than desirable” The guard spoke as he prepared to return to his boat, stopped by the captain who had dared to step forward to grab his shoulder.
"I'm very sorry Captain Mason, I had completely forgotten!-" The guardian apologized by turning back to the journalists. “As you know, the Goddess has asked for 125 possible professionals to carry out her first interview, of which only 2 will be the lucky ones who came to step on our private chocolate factory, if you allow me the analogy. The rest will be returned to your respective ferries after the selection with a bag of gifts and the luck of being able to have stepped on the same land as the Goddess when we embarked on this rugged trip full of surprise!" The guardian laughed as he released himself from the captain's reach, returning to his own boat but not before giving a smile of superiority to his homogeneous.
As if they were wild hyenas, all the journalists picked up their respective suitcases and rushed towards the ships between punches, shoves, shouts, bruises, bites and stomps. And where did they get their bags? Well, from under their seats, on which the lowest of them all had risen to try to have a better view and from which they shot down without mercy.
When the world stopped spinning for Lucy, the reporter held the bruised and stunned head slowly while looking for her own handbag ...Trampled.
Shattered as if a herd of wildebeest had passed over. "NO! NO NO NO!” She shouted, crawling towards her while the other journalists tried to continue crossing the catwalks to the small ships (perhaps something too small, the guardian in his charge thought). "My research team!" Elegant way to call her new tablet and mobile. “My toiletries, my ID! NO! WHY?!” Lucy stifled a desperate scream while noticing that her wallet was open and that could nit have happened by mistake. Looking up, Lucy looked at the rival journalists ... although all they found were heartless vipers willing to do everything to get the interview ... almost like being back in school.
One of those vipers slowly approached her, and just being close enough she could see that it was one of the floating robots. "Is something wrong, miss?"
“My things… that beasts have gone so fast that they have accidentally stepped on them! My wallet has been opened and they unwittingly took my identification ... and one of my old credit cards too”Lucy adorned the loss not expecting a robot to be able to see through the veiled lie. (lying in quotes, since what they had taken was not a credit card but an old library card).
And precisely for not trusting it was that she was so surprised to see how the robot placed a mechanical arm on her shoulders. “Sorry about what happened, can you identify yourself verbally? Full name and company you represent, please”
"Lucy ... Lucy Crews, represented the one and great Alabama Spirit news agency," Lucy said quickly in a last line of voice, having to stop for breathing exercises. (partly because of the desire to cry and partly because of the excitement of talking to a empathic, empathic-bot robot)
The robot began to whistle and blink abruptly and almost wildly, awakening the fear in her of being the first person to die by self-destruction of a robot. “Lucy Crews… ok, I have it on my internal list, Miss Crews. I am very sorry for what happened, we expected it to be something more organized without having to intervene… but seeing what my colleagues on other ships are telling me, we should have used a list of names in alphabetical order” Quickly and without Lucy getting to say anything, the robot picked up all her devices and helped her store them in her handbag, helping her to get up. "By way of apology I created a ticket so that now on the island my colleagues can identify you orally and replace all the electronic devices lost or damage, besides recognizing you by oral recognition instead of with your identity car"
Lucy was completely pale, not expecting even half the kindness of a human being, let alone a toaster with arms and propulsion system. "Wait a moment-"
"Nonsense" The robot insisted as his head turned 180 degrees to look at the ship. “The outside world is just as the Goddess had warned us, full of good people who, given an opportunity for success, return to their most violent, wild and petty reactions. I only hope that when we have to give back to 99% that they are not elected, the thing will not get too out of control ... For the moment if you are so kind, Lucy Crews, embark on the first boat please. As the guardian has said, making the matriarch Valenor wait is the last thing human, robot or even the Goddess herself should do”
Lucy didn't understand the joke of the robot, but out of courtesy of everything the reporter had received, she pretended to laugh all the way to the ship, where the concept of personal space became as superfluous as in the New York subway in rush hour.
(...)
And after a surprising 10 minutes of travel due to the unexpectedly high weight on the ships (something that nobody dared to mention but should have been planned), the 10 ships arrived at the small port of the island just at the same time as a few drops of morning rain began to fall on everyone present. Slowly and following the instructions of the robots, the horde of reporters prepared with their microphones, recording devices and their cameras broadcasting live on every social network known to man began to rise to the mainland. A small square surrounded by military-looking buildings served as the center of the port, and in turn a huge 20-foot-tall statue of a multicolored mineral that no one present could identify served as the center of the square.
Despite the crowd pushing each other Lucy managed to open a gap until being relatively close to the statue to photograph her well, although that action was only in the intention when the gigantic doors behind the port conquered not only the entrance to the island but her attention. Doors of a black and shiny stone each 50 feet high and 35 feet wide (or at least that is what the professional photography program of her new and not destroyed phone indicated), each door had a message engraved on what appeared to be pure gold.
"Y en las tormentas atronadoras
Y en las noches oscuras
Y en de sus guerras inútiles
Y en sus odios infantiles
Y aun más allá de las montañas
Y aun más allá de los mares y las estrellas
La luz de la Diosa seguirá brillando para protegerlos
Y nosotros la protegeremos a ella.
De: Leon"
"Interesting ... seems ... Latin?" Lucy thought out loud, which served to make another journalist shout in a very inelegant way. "It's Spanish, you idiot"
Deciding what silence would be much better, she decided to take advantage of her time in photographing everything, from the statue representing some kind of canine animal (between which the animals weren't her specialty and that the mineral from which she was made did not distinguish features beyond the shape didn't help either), going through all the military-looking buildings protected by another type of robots. And that cycle of photos was repeated 3 times until the sound of a siren at full volume put everyone present in tension.
And the deep but feminine voice that later sounded without a clear point of origin wasn't softer either.
“To all the candidates for the interview and ONLY THEM, present yourself in 4 rows THE MOST RIGHT AND ORDERLY POSSIBLE, FOUR ROWS FOR THE FOUR RED CIRCLES IN FRONT OF THE DOORS. If you are able to follow such basic rules we will get along, otherwise you can say goodbye to your opportunity ... and frankly, that would save me a lot of work, you know? Put yourself on the circle when the border robots tell you and if nothing happens, move away when they tell you. Hopefully in 10 minutes at most we can close this and go to breakfast, not with us just to make it clear”
And although technically they were following the rules, again the beasts woke up within the 124 journalists. Those who were alone were the first to be placed in the ranks, those who were accompanied didn't bother to inform their companions before running away. Blows, shoves, complaints and insults flew everywhere, many more than Lucy had ever seen and that in her university era were she always ended (in some ways not too pleasant at times) in all major fights.
Luckily she didn't need to place himself behind any of the ranks since one of the floating robots approached her. "Lucy Crews, right?" She nodded quickly, unable to avoid even being fascinated by the strange propellant that held them in the air for some kind of electrical energy. “Border unit C35 has warned that you have ‘lost’ your identification corresponding to your citizenship in the… United States of America. If you are so kind to follow me, please”
Of course there was no resistance from her, gladly following the robot as they jumped the line (tried in the process to ignore the screams and complaints to her). At the beginning of the row was the mysterious circle that the grumpy voice had mentioned next to another floating robot, a closer look allowed to distinguish a kind of tiny cables that covered its circle surface and crossed inside. The robots nodded to each other, the robot that had called her placing herself in her co-worker's position while the other tried to calm the spirits in the row of reporters.
The silence while they seemed to prepare everything was (at least) devastating. So, just as her mother had taught her, Lucy decided to try to get a smile from her metallic friend. "If it is some kind of balance test you can send me directly to the ship, I am totally incapable of holding more than 5 seconds on one leg!"
The joke was received by the robot with a few seconds of confusion followed by a beep of happy tone that moved her more than she should and that helped to cope with the annoying coughs on her back. “You have nothing to worry, Lucy Crews. It's just a small scanner and three quick questions, are you ready?”
“I was born ready! Wait,… yes, I was born ready for this!” Lucy responded quickly and with a big smile from ear to ear, standing in the middle of the circle.
"Well well. First question: Have you had sex relations in recent days? Please respond honestly and keep in mind that we are including ALL kinds of sexual encounters that include penetration or mixing of possible fluids”
Lucy said nothing, a small feeling of guilt was eating her inside and that surely had nothing to do with the giggles something too accusatory of nearby robots. “I have not had sexual encounters beyond momentary with myself in the last… 5 months. The last time was 3 weeks ago after a somewhat netflix movie and it was just ... with my fingers, I didn't use anything else. Happy? This is very embarrassing!" The robot said nothing more (to the relief of the reporter really), simply devoting himself to floating motionless. "I ... have I succeeded?"
“We will see that in a few moments. Next question: Is it true that in the last 24 hours your only foods have been a beef burger with fresh cheese and no bread ... and natural water? Not cool water, no juice... only natural water” And of course more accusatory giggles that wouldn't frighten her (not too much at least).
“When I get extremely nervous I usually eat little and sometimes I even forget to eat. That's right, everything is ... correct... but it's because there was only rye bread in the hotel! And I don't like it!-”
“Your tastes are unnecessary to me right now. Last question and be especially sincere in this one, please: Do you have family members alive? We care until 2 second grade family members”This time it was not a feeling of guilt that plunged her, it was one of sadness and longing. "I have a third cousin in Atlanta whom I called on his birthday and Christmas but nothing more ... I don't feel very comfortable talking about this-"
Before she could say anything else, a feeling of warmth overwhelmed her completely, the circle turning blue as an intense golden light emanated directly from the ground. The light bulb began to focus on her wrist, the light forming strange particles in the air that began to surround her wrist to cover it completely.
There was no longer any other laugh or throat, no shout or push not even in the nearest row behind her, who had focused all their attention on the intense light away from the crowd. All there was was an aura of disbelief and silence while Lucy studied the mysterious bracelet.And silently it was broken when the grumpy voice rang again throughout the square. "FINALLY! THE FIRST CHOSEN IN LESS THAN 2 MINUTES, IF WE GIVE HURRY, MAYBE ... who do I want to fool? I'm not going to arrive at breakfast time ... and it's your fault, stupid outlanders”
"Check it again, please" Lucy interrupted raising her voice as serious as she had ever been. "It is impossible, a mistake without a doubt," she said, trying to remain calm as the nerves began to pile up in the throat.
“You're… you're kidding me, right? Lucy Crews is your name if I'm not mistaken, are you kidding me Lucy Crews?!” The voice asked again each time with a more irritated tone. And seeing that the human refused to answer, the robots repeated the questions again. And again the light shone again. "Are you happy now?! Outlanders only bring complications, complications and problems! And I know that the Goddess has told me not to call you outlanders if not foreigners, but if you behave like children you don't deserve to be spoken to as adults!”
Just as Lucy feared the silence did not last another second, being replaced by cries of hatred and rage that called her from “Whore” through all the translations of the word to every imaginable language, from “Bastard” to the most complicated “Unsuccessful failure”, finally reaching those closest to her who had chosen to demand a second opinion shouting with a totally deafening volume. The situation was becoming so terrifying that she had not yet have time to understand that she had been chosen to interview the Goddess.
And of course the verbal aggressions became even darker when one of the journalists at the head of the next row ran out to grab her by the wrist, a mass of an old man with a strong French accent screaming practically in her ear. “YOU WILL NOT BE THE ONE WHO INTERVIEWED YOU, LUCKY BITCH! I KNOW THAT GARBAGE THAT YOU CALL JOURNAL, I WOULD NoT GIVE IT TO READ TO MY WORST ENEMY!”
"Stop Mr. Alistair!" The robots screamed as they surrounded Lucy and her aggressor. Alistair kept shouting louder and louder, while still holding his firm grip on Lucy's wrist so he could shake her like an old doll.“I DEMAND AN APPEAL AND THAT YOU ADMIT YOUR ERROR! THIS BASTARD WAS A FAILURE EARLY MORNING PRESENTER UNTIL A WEEKS AGO!”
"You're hurting me!" Lucy growled trying to let go without success. “We are colleagues by profession, right?!-”
“I HAVE BEEN 40 YEARS AS THE HEAD OF ONE THE MOST IMPORTANT NEWSPAPER OF MONACO, DON'T DARE TO TELL ME THAT A FAILED LIKE YOU IS A PROFESSION COMPANION! WHERE IS THE GODDESS?! I DEMAND TO SEE HER IMMEDIATELY!”
“Last warning, sir! Release the chosen one or we will be forced to use force!”The robots warned again.
“CHECK IT AGAIN, THAT BITH DONT DESERVE-” BANNNNNG!
A thunderous sound followed by a huge blinding flash completely interrupted all action in the square, all present howling in pain at the power of the noise.
No one understood what was happening, those who were no longer stunned had chosen to follow their instincts by throwing themselves to the ground to hide or cover themselves after others while their eyes recovered from the sudden blindness. Lucy was one of those who remained too stunned to understand what had happened and too blinded to open her eyes, falling on her ass to the floor. At first she didn't even feel fear, not at least until she regained all her senses and noticed a drop of too thick liquid falling down her nose. Her lips trembled slowly, faster and faster when one of the journalists near her screamed in terror with all his might.
All who had not yet opened their eyes like Lucy did it at once, just in time to see how Alistair's lifeless body (and without a head ... and without a neck ... or torso ...) fell from the back, the blood that it was in his legs dripping the place where seconds ago he had been screaming. The only thing left of the man who had presented the news of the county of Monaco for a half-life was his waist and legs ... and the right arm that was still firmly gripping Lucy's wrist for her utmost misfortune.
Cries of terror filled the square while the last laggards were able to understand what had happened. And between screams of terror a darkened figure leaped from the top of the giant floor doors to the ground, landing on one knee. "To think that you would be so stupid and unfortunate as to force me to stain the sacred land of the Goddess with your blood, Outlanders ... I will not say that I am disappointed because deep down I expected it from you" The owner of the grumpy voice said while she straightened and stretched out her arms calmly, taking advantage to keep a sort of revolver in the holster she had tied to her leg. And what a leg many thought.
Standing easily taking a foot tall to the highest of those present, the woman must be 8 feet tall or even more; arms and legs covered with muscles worthy of a bodybuilder who helped distract the look of her strange bright and shiny wihite mane (in a literal sense, her hair was emitting her own light) and her intense and sharp red eyes. It was more than clear seeing that the woman was not someone normal, her presence overwhelmed everyone present much more than the remains of the journalist's body.
Her attire didn't leave much to the imagination, a military-style top that left her stomach hard as iron and her abs out in the air, shorts that looked like they were going to break with the slightest step of how tight they were against her thighs and a sort of unbuttoned white raincoat hanging on her shoulders. "We regret that you had to intervene, Matriarch Valeonor" The robots apologized while Valeonor sighed and looked for a cigarette from her back pocket. "We've tried to stop this by peaceful means-"
"That's why I shot, units C31, C32, C34 and D1. I was tired of seeing violent idiots do things of ... violent idiots” Valeonor herself had to sigh for her failed analogy, lighting the cigarette just by lightly shaking. After a quick drag, Valeonor turned to the journalists present. “Lucy Crews is already here… Carmen Rodríguez, from the Mexican news channel‘ La primera cadena’” Valeonor shouted waiting for movement, and not seeing pissed her off even more. "Is itn't clear?! Carmen Rodriguez, introduce yourself here!”
Seeing that the situation was not with her, Lucy kept trying to take the dead man's hand off her wrist without much success; ignoring the steps behind her until they grabbed her by the shoulder. Turning in fright, she found a Hispanic-looking brunette offered her hand to help her up, a gesture she accepted willingly (trying at all times to ignore the blood that covered her almost completely).
“You two? Luckily, it was time!” Valeonor smiled as one of the robots stood beside her opening a compartment in his chest, a compartment that immediately the journalists understood that it was an ashtray. “My name is Valeonor, Matriarch, leader of the earthly armies of the Goddess Evangeline. I serve the Goddess directly, so don't waste your time and follow me. You have a couple of hours of medical checks and disinfections quite long” Valeonor started walking toward the huge iron gates, which opened… technically.
A small double door in the lower corner of both doors widened through which Valeonor crouched down to pass. Lucy and Carmen followed slowly while behind them nobody said anything, not a single voice until the doors closed completely again.