The Technologies of God- A Serial Micro-Fiction 22/24

“You’ve been here for over an hour, little Earth girl," says the man with the painted face plate. "I told you that he is not seeing anyone right now. As you can see, everyone else around us is having a good time- you’re the only one who's sulking and cramping everybody's style. So either have a good time or get the fuck out of Disco Lab.”

Sarah gives him the glare.

She takes a hold of the neon bar. “I already told you that I’m not moving until your master agrees to see me.”

“You're either not listening or stubborn as a mule. I already told you that The Butterfly is not my master.”

“I thought his name was the Alchemist.”

“Haw! That’s so last generation, dear. Now, pretty please, leave the premises.”

“In any case,” Sarah say crossing her arms, “I’m not going anywhere until he tells me why he kidnapped my partner, and where he took him?”

The man snaps his fingers. A pair of guard dogs appear trotting down the bar and robotically stand on either side of the man then look up at Sarah with red glowing eyes.

“We can do this the nice way or the bite-y way,” says the man with his fingers held up, ready to snap.

Sarah doesn’t move.

The man's finger twitch. Stopped in mid-flight as his eyes grow abstract, unfocused. He then looks down across the dancefloor at the gallery above, where some figures mill about with drinks in their hands.

Green light flashes.

Sighing, the man says, “it looks like your persistence and spunkiness has paid off, little girl. So this is how it’s going to be. You'll have five minutes with him, and then you’re going to leave this station never to return. But first, you have to change your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?” Sarah says rubbing her chin.

“The Butterfly doesn’t like it,” the man says matter-of-factly. "It's too plain."

“I don’t like his ugly mug either, but you won't hear me complain.”

“Har, har! Very witty,” the man says rolling his eyes. "Sadly, I don’t make the rules."

“Very well, let's get this over with."

Sarah closes her eyes and concentrates, trying to conjure up an image in her mind. She starts with 3D blocks that quickly transform until they render a whole image. Tingling waves spread around her face, morphing its structural symmetry.

"What about this?” she says.

“Too pedestrian,” the man replies looking at his nails.

Sarah concentrates and her face morphs again.

“Now you happy?” she asks.

“Better but too loud. Dial it down a bit.”

Not wanting to waste any more time, she does so.

“I don’t have any more dust, so you better be happy with this one,” she tells him.

“Fine,” says the man turning around. “That’ll do.”

Sarah follows him across the dancefloor with the guard dogs in tow.

In the glittering atmosphere, she feels a weight begin to lift, so close to finding out the answers, finding Van, even her shoulders begin to bop to the beat.