The Cello

Theremin paced in front of the floor to ceiling window in his study. There was a girl at the usual post beside the door behind him, but to him she was little more than furniture. As far as he was concerned, he was alone. And he liked it that way.

He was still fuming from his conversation with Martenot. Insufferable, insolent man. How could he not see that they needed to protect themselves against the slimy creatures? Had it been so many years that he’d forgotten what it was like when they first attempted to conquer them?

Theremin stopped pacing and glared out the glass at them. The time on the screen had read 10:30pm. They would be asleep in their units. Passive. Unfeeling. But his nightmares would never let him rest as long as there was any human essence left in them.

He knew they thought he was going mad. They all did. He saw it in Martenot’s eyes. He was still fighting a fight that everyone else assumed had ended. But the fight was never over. How could they not see it?

They had pacified him against his slaves for too long. He would have the update. He would have guards. He would hire a hundred more of his kind, and buy more weapons. He would lock down the ship like a prison -- Like the prison it was.

He would not be overthrown in his own house.

“Come here,” He barked.

He heard the maid shuffle quietly to his side.

The rage in his chest burned stronger at her proximity. This human was like all the rest. He wanted to believe he’d taken the part of her that would ever oppose him. But had he? How could he know?

His fists clenched at his sides as he turned to look at her. Her face was empty, her gaze forward and blank. But it was a mask. He was sure of it.

Suddenly, he grabbed her by her shoulders and slammed her against the thick glass, shoving his forearm into her throat. She squirmed and gasped -- but only because he was depriving her of oxygen. Why wouldn’t she drop it?! How could she keep the docile mask?

He grit his teeth and held her there, his muscles quivering as she fought him. Just as her passive protest began to slow, he released her and she sunk to her knees, wheezing. He stood over her, his chest pounding, and his face hot.

He hated this miserable creature. He hated all of them.

She raised her gaze to him, looking mildly confused, and the man let out an animalistic growl. He slammed his fist into her face, and then another, and then kicked her again and again.

He would see what was beneath the mask, even if he had to kill her to do it.