42 Stand by for Visitor
Stand by for Visitor
I t is with utmost humility and deepest grief that I address you all, my beloved citizens of humanity.”
In the brightly lit corridor outside Temmi’s cell, the captioned words played on a holoscreen.
She couldn’t hear the woman speaking them, but she could see her.
Despite nearing sixty, Emperor Gracelin Expani didn’t look a day over forty.
Temmi could see Spie in the sharp cut of her jaw and straight line of her nose.
She could see Nix in the sorrowful tilt of her eyebrows, the heavy way her eyelids drooped ever so subtly.
Studying her, Temmi tried to summon some feeling—anger or hate or despair—but only managed a hollow ache.
On the holo, the emperor continued her monologue, which Temmi read in the captions:
“By now, rumors have spread far and wide of the tragedies that have occurred on this year’s season of Love Galaxy . The three women who were brutally murdered. We were all duped by the seemingly innocent antics of X72’s Artemis Ialan .
“None of us knew or could’ve guessed at her deeply seditious plots or the anti-humanist beliefs she harbored, beliefs that threaten the safety of us all.
On a show about love and connection, about bridging cultural divides, closing the gaps of our diverse, galactic nation, bringing humanity closer together, making us stronger—her betrayal has left us all reeling.
“It’s been two long weeks since we began our investigation into what took place behind closed doors at the Diplomacy Manor.
After many thorough and expert reports presented during a private trial, it has been unequivocally determined that all three victims were murdered by close contact with a rare substance known as orrist basalt—a substance only found in the far reaches of the X System.
This rare basalt is lethal when placed in contact with humans.
Artemis Ialan smuggled a small piece of this rare basalt as part of a necklace that she wore on her person throughout filming.
Our security was never the wiser, and for that, Captain Chimer Glossen, head of security this year, has been asked to resign.
“Eyewitness reports from producers, guards, manor personnel, and other contestants placed Miss Ialan in proximity to each of the three women shortly before they were killed. Further details are in the reports that were brought forward during Miss Ialan’s trial.”
A trial that Temmi had not been invited to. Or given the opportunity to defend herself during.
“Others involved in production, in addition to the longtime Love Galaxy showrunner, have been taken in for questioning as we continue trying to understand how these deaths were able to go on for as long as they did.
At this point, we have not determined that criminal action should be taken against anyone else involved, but that may change as we learn more.
“For now, I want to take a moment to honor the women who lost their lives trying to uphold Expan’s oldest tradition.
Young women who had their futures robbed by Miss Ialan’s hateful acts.
Let us all bow our heads in silence for Jasmine Gross of Old Terra, Kya Ep-Kmin of Pikliminia, and Rosaria Yune of the Underbelt.
All these women represented the best of their home territories, the best of humanity, and, therefore, the best of Expan. ”
Gracelin Expani bowed her head in a show of imperial humility.
But that was all it was: a show.
Temmi was innocent. She hadn’t killed anyone.
But she knew that didn’t matter. The truth never mattered—she’d learned that with Scot.
All that anyone cared about was the narrative that best fit their worldview.
And Temmi being an anti-humanist agent turned murderer was a far easier pill to swallow than whatever the truth actually was.
Two weeks earlier, Temmi had been cuffed and shoved into an armored black Cavaller and flown to a tower-like prison complex just north of Elsidor City.
Two imperial guards had marched her through the front doors, where she’d been stripped naked, X-rayed, given a plain beige jumpsuit, and assigned the designation Inmate 844591.
No better way to dehumanize a person than to reduce their name to a number.
But at least the jumpsuit was comfortable.
They confiscated her CB. No one asked for her statement; no one listened to her protests.
The only upside was that she was thrown into a private room on the prison’s top floor.
No cellmates. Which was a mercy, because she didn’t have earplugs.
A single person’s loud breathing in her current state would’ve been enough to end her.
Instead of solid walls, her cell was built of thick, see-through glass, hence her ability to read the captions from the holo in the corridor, even if she couldn’t hear it.
On the holo, the emperor delicately raised her head.
“While we all grieve, know that there are none who grieve more than my own precious son and daughter. As investigations continue, we will not be resuming filming of Love Galaxy . Spielin and Nix will be making their final selections from the remaining pool of contestants tomorrow morning. It will be a brief, televised event, purposefully lacking in the show’s usual fanfare.
Anything more wouldn’t be appropriate at this time.
Afterward, tomorrow afternoon, we will be broadcasting the live execution of Artemis Ialan.
We cannot tolerate insurgents using Love Galaxy , a treasured celebration of our shared humanity, as a playground for murder and insurrection.
The hand of justice must be served swiftly to allow us all to rest more easily at night.
May we all, as citizens of a united humanity, continue in progress and community. ”
Gracelin Expani’s somber face vanished, replaced immediately by the seal of the Expan Empire, the twin eagles intertwined in flight, the words Progress and Community swimming around their conjoined wings, the slogan A United Humanity in a half-circle underscoring their talons.
Temmi stared until the words turned nonsensical.
Until the eagles morphed into a single deformed organism that separated itself from the holo and crashed through the glass of Temmi’s prison to gnaw on her flesh.
Two weeks earlier, she’d been kissing the emperor’s daughter on a beach. Now she was sitting in a glass cage trying and failing to grapple with the knowledge that she was going to die.
Had Ollie watched the broadcast and lied to their mother about it? Told her Temmi would be home soon? Would he break down and cry in secret with no one to turn to? Would he go to the mines with no other way to pay rent? Or would Spie keep financing their needs?
Promise you’ll come back to me.
Temmi had promised. She would die a liar.
Over the last two weeks, she hadn’t been able to summon any tears for herself, but she had drenched herself time and again in tears for her family.
For her little brother, who would have to take on the world alone.
For her mother, who she’d never known half as well as she should’ve.
For every moment Temmi wished she could return to and do things differently.
The times she should’ve said I love you .
The questions she should’ve asked. The moments she should’ve appreciated.
In the end, her family’s pain was her failure.
Just like it’d been when she was fifteen and, to pay for her mother’s treatments, had taken to stealing stock from her employer and using it to start up her own side business.
It’d worked for a while. They’d kept a roof over their heads and her mother’s health had started to improve.
Until Temmi got caught. And was thrown in a cell for six months.
At thirteen, Ollie had been left entirely alone to care for their mother.
They’d ended up in the Graveyard before Temmi got out.
It had all been her fault. But she’d worked her ass off to make it better.
To get them back into an apartment. To safety.
Now there she was, almost eight years later, repeating history.
Except this time, she wouldn’t be able to clean up her mess.
She couldn’t even tell them she was sorry.
Tomorrow, she’d be dead. Dying wasn’t tragic.
It was rote, banal, ordinary. Possibly the single most universal experience.
The tragedy was the pain it created in those left behind.
That would be Temmi’s legacy: pain. Her name would now become synonymous with hate.
With destruction and death. And it wouldn’t matter that it wasn’t true—it would become true in the lives of everyone who believed it.
Trillions would believe it.
But Temmi wouldn’t be shouldered with that burden. That would be her family’s to bear.
A low buzz warmed to life in the hollow silence of her cell. The speaker system. Temmi wiped her eyes, trying to blink away the swollen sensation that came with crying.
“Stand by for visitor, inmate 844591.” The mechanical voice assaulted Temmi from every corner of the room. “Place hands and feet in wall restraints.”
Temmi cut her gaze to the far wall, across from her bolted down cot. Four slots in the paneling had opened up, two at shoulder height and two a few inches above the floor. Coils of a snaking mesh-like material spilled out like intestines from a gutted animal.
In two weeks, Temmi had not received a single visitor.
“Stand by for visitor, inmate 844591. Place hands and feet in wall restraints . ”