Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The boy, beautiful boy, drew their attention as he lounged on a box in the oily passage.
They glanced at him. Eyes suspicious, telling brains and meditronics they should stop and challenge him. But his silky black carelessness, his rare slimnity, turned their distrustings into little mouth curls. Too few boys postured like that anymore. Too little beauty floated un-besmirched in the uber-oiliness. Molecular heaviness choked everything. The everything, everywhere, not slimnity.
Oh, he loved playing them. With his legs just so. With his neck just so. His illegal mutterer under an armpit transmitted just below their detectors. The pulsings dazzled their meditronics just enough to make them blink slowly like that. To lull them into cozy thinking, even when they were trained not to wander loosely in the brain.
His didn't finger the test device he carried. He didn't toss it around in his palm, daring them to see, although he was that confident. What would the High Operatives do with him once he grew into a full man? When his malicious ballets were not so young and ele-gorgeous? Look how easily he infiltrated. How these women and men both thought about touchings rather than security and sniffing. Let them watch him work back at the Black House monitors. No one could doubt his worth. They probably lip-smacked now with eagerness to see their tasty new weaponry about to be deployed and proven.
The boy marked his target entering the hall, ending his playness.
The MojoMajor with his entourage.
They neared, and the boy knew that the MojoMajor would not be so blinky-eyed with his slimnity. That man's brain wanderings were long put into starvation.
So the boy's hand flashed out the cube. He breathed on it with his breath, and it registered agency and awoke.
With a mind-flit here, and a swoop command there, the device flew and slapped onto the ceiling. Ballet indeed.
The cube activated. No delay.
Oh yes. What a rainbow rain.
Very ele-gorgeous indeed.
As were their twenty millisecond screams.