March of the Cybrids
We are the Cybrids,
marching in your head,
while you write your list,
of all the things you dread.
– Hyperion Sturm
A man and woman sat on the couch in the office of Empress Alexa. They were slight in build with androgynous features. Both were physicists, which caught Alexa Ivanovich and her brother Peter’s attention.
The scene through the wall of glass eclipsed the silence in the room. Overlooking the Bay, high on the bluffs, Mariah felt in the clouds for a moment.
The books stacked on the shelves looked like soldiers standing at attention. Mariah was curious. She reveled in the old library’s solitude. It was more a mausoleum for discarded human history than a place to enrich the mind.
Mariah sat in a chair in the reading section of the old library with the works of the English poet, John Keats. She found herself absorbed in the study of his poem, Endymion. She loved the thought of Hyperion’s daughter, Selene, Goddess of the moon, falling in love with the young shepherd, Endymion. Keats called her Cynthia. She loved Keats’ romantic retelling of the old Greek myth.
Shimmering eyes took in the man across the table. The waitress arrived with their meal. Gloria reached around Peter’s side and placed a dish in front of him. She touched his shoulder with her other hand as she brushed against him. Silk and soft skin brought memories of Gloria’s attention from other days back to Peter as he looked down to avoid Mariah’s questioning look.
The blue skies painted a mesmerizing backdrop for clouds billowing up over the bluff by the sea. The sound of surf and stone in an ageless rhythm soothed the two most powerful women in the Black Dragon Society. The women conversed in the garden seated next to each other on the wrought iron love seat. Their conversation was unhurried in a laconic tone without inflection.
Mariah never grew tired of looking out the glass wall of Alexa’s waiting room. The view from the window filled her mind with dreams as she looked out over the ocean.
Alexa gathered Mariah’s hair from around her face with her fingers and ran the brush through her hair. They sat on the floor, silk robes flowing loose over their fresh skin in pleats.
The orchestra captivated her. Music was a language all its own and Mariah understood it. As the symphony spoke to her in whispers and emotional shouts, she dreamed of living in the age of romanticism.
The nurse studied the health monitor at the foot of the Dragon Crèche and looked at the figure under the glass bubble. She felt a flash of anger thinking about the Cybrid getting the best care the Dragons could provide.
He sat at the table in the restaurant where he first met Gloria. Memories of her playful sultriness crept in his mind as he thought about how she played her part as his waitress and later moaned under his weight and dug her fingers into his back as he lost himself in her arms. He wondered how it came to mean so much that she would throw her life away.
End of Part IV