Masks
Requiem of the Moth S03 C05
Content warnings1
Yun has always been an early riser. It’s only when he leaves his quarters and the corridors are silent that he realises how early it is. He was talking with Usira about clan politics and more late into last night. Not in the habit of trading so many words at a time, his head is pounding as if he’s had too much algae wine but he’s also too worked up to sleep.
He returns to his quarters for breakfast. As he is nursing his second cup of tea, Usira emerges from the bedroom.
Yesterday, Usira was imposing with his hair up, bejewelled, and the amethyst ring on his finger. Today, he’s wearing the same clan robes but his hair is only half up, with messy locks cascading down his back. No jewellery. It’s the first time Yun sees Usira this casual. It’s magnificent.
He stands. “There’s something I want to show you. Come.”
“What about breakfast?”
Already reaching for the door, Yun shrugs. “Take a plate. I’m not squeamish about eating at the table.”
He doesn’t look back but listens to hurried steps until Usira has caught up to him. “Where are we going?”
“Wait and see.”
Yun debated this decision long and hard. The workshop is his sanctuary, the one place where no one disturbs him, where he can be himself. But Usira is to be bonded to a Noe, after all—knowledge of puppetry will be as crucial to him as the rest of his education. He’ll never be able to animate puppets himself but he should be familiar with the theory.
When Yun opens the door, Usira takes one step inside and freezes. His gaze takes in the whole sun-blasted mess: two sooty but sturdy metal worktables, crates bursting with limbs, racks and shelves of fingernails, jewel eyes, paint cans, brushes, cogs, wrenches. Rolls and rolls of scribbled blueprints. Leather aprons and spare tunics on a stand in the corner. The large fireplace, where Zhiva is stacking wood.
To give his hands something to do, Yun clears the nearest tea table of empty cups so Zhiven can set down the tray he’s carrying: a fresh pot of ginger tea, two cups, the cookie plate.
When he turns, Usira is lingering by the first worktable, staring at Yun’s latest work. “I was wondering how they were made. People talk, you know. No one has even touched them. There were whispers about bringing corpses back to life.”
Yun grins. He’s always enjoyed a good tale. “We get away with a lot but snatching the dead from the Deep where they belong? Not even I’m that bold.”
Ignoring the fresh tea in Zhiven’s hands, Usira nods at the puppet. “Can I touch it?”
“Of course.” Yun steps closer and sips from his cup. He takes the fact that Usira hasn’t bolted screaming as a sign of success. While the other man runs his fingertips over smooth shoulders, hair, cheeks and rosy eyelids, he explains: “The parts are manufactured by contractors but I assemble everything here. I don’t trust anyone to see their faces beforehand and keep quiet about what I’m doing here. This one is finished as far as construction goes.”
“It looks just like her.” Usira shakes his head in disbelief.
Yun kneels on the opposite side of the table, caressing the puppet’s head, playing with its hair. “And when I animate it, it will move and sound like her too.”
“How…” Usira bites his lip. “Are you allowed to tell me?”
Yun grins at him. The flickering fire light casts Usira’s face in shadow—meaning his own is probably illuminated in orange, highlighting his scars. As usual, however, Usira meets his gaze straight on. “This is my realm. I can do whatever I want in here. I only ask that you don’t speak to her or me until I’m done.”
With Usira’s glacier gaze prickling on his skin, he fishes the script out of a knot of notes, finds the mark where he stopped yesterday, and whispers the last lines in the puppet’s ear. It doesn’t stir. There’s no way of testing for flaws in the script—he can only program the puppet once. Finally, he whispers the phrase that breathes life into the shell.
A middle-aged woman opens her yellow eyes and sits up. When Yun speaks, she focuses on him. “I am your master, my word is law. I will begin instructing you now. Whenever I ask ‘Do you understand?’, say yes to indicate you have understood and internalised my instructions. If you have trouble understanding or internalising any instruction, say no instead. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” the puppet says.
Zhiva stokes the fire twice before he’s run through initial instructions. Usira’s stomach is growling like a disgruntled lougi but he looks on until Yun gives him permission to speak. Then he opens and closes his mouth several times. “I don’t know what to say. It’s a wonder.”
“I am the best, after all,” Yun drawls, even though the awe radiating from Usira is doing something funny in his chest. While they share the snacks and tea, he makes the puppet walk around the workshop. She won’t be needed for a while yet but it’s good that Usira knows what’s coming.
Before they exit the workshop, Usira touches his shoulder. “Thank you for showing me. I understand that you don’t invite others in here and I’m honoured to be the first. I’ll keep the knowledge close.”
“The Deep take you if you spill our clan’s best-kept secret.” Yun opens the door and gestures for Usira to lead on. “I instructed Zhiva and Zhiven to admit you at your leisure. For now, back to politics. We’re going to have the bonding ceremony as soon as possible to give my dear relatives no room for protest. It will be an extravagant affair, of course, befitting my social standing and titles.”
“I’m not ready,” Usira squeaks.
Yun doesn’t contradict him. “Learning manners and etiquette will be your focus for the next four twists. I hired tutors in clan history and social education for you. Mistakes will be inevitable as you’re new to our customs but with any luck, we’ll be able to prevent huge blunders. Try to learn fast but keep socialising too. You can’t afford to live like a shut-in.”
Usira shoots him a doubtful glance. “You live like a shut-in.”
“When I can afford it which is most of the time. Don't believe I haven't paid a price for my freedom.” When Usira keeps spearing him with those glacier eyes, he flashes his teeth. “I'm the honourable Vessi. I'm also the Noe treasurer. I work myself to the bone for my illustrious clan. It just so happens that the nature of my work allows me to indulge in these shut-in tendencies.”
Usira sighs. “Someone has to pick up the slack.”
Watching his profile, Yun can tell that the former moth catcher needs confirmation. “Don't worry, Usira. You were a negotiator before all this, speaking for the Isvalri. Once you've memorised the details of your new role, it's not that different. Rilan already likes you. Unlike me, you're good with people.”
“If you say so...”
“I do.”
They’re lost in thought. When they reach Yun’s quarters, they spot someone standing by the door: a boy in servant’s tunic. “My lord, this humble one is here to deliver a letter to you.” To Yun’s surprise, he isn’t looking at him—but at Usira.
“The sender?” Usira asks.
“Lady Pai Rilan.”
As soon as Usira takes the letter, the boy turns on his heel and jogs off.
Yun smells the vanilla scent on the paper where he’s standing. When the door to his quarters is shut behind them but Usira keeps staring at the letter, Yun gestures. “Go on.”
“You do it.”
Yun waits, giving him time to change his mind, before he opens the letter and reads by the fire. He laughs. “What did I tell you? It’s better for this sort of thing to happen sooner rather than later but… this must be some sort of record.”
Usira plops onto a floor cushion and buries his face in his hands. “Not helping.”
“It seems that you’ve angered the sender of one of the social invitations you turned down. A certain Meruun Zao.” He snorts. “Not the first Meruun with egotistical tendencies I’ve encountered2. It must be a family trait.” After seeing Usira’s face, he continues: “He’s telling everyone who will listen that the Noe are developing delusions of grandeur, aiming for Vesilim, but that their bonding a dirty commoner into the clan proves their lowly origins and that they shouldn’t be given any official positions and robbed of their council seat.”
“How many problems can this Meruun Zao create for us?”
“Given that he’s treasurer and acting right hand to clan head Varisei, I wouldn’t dismiss him out of hand. On the other hand, Meruun can be considered a mid-tier clan at best.”
“He’s slandering your name… our name. The clan won’t be happy about this, not that they were happy about us before.” Usira runs a hand through his hair and straightens. Yun ignores how deliciously mussed he looks with a few more strands escaping the knot and focuses on his glacier eyes instead. They’re bright. “What can I do to fix this?”
Yun grins, throwing the letter on the sofa. “I shall take this opportunity to demonstrate my next lesson: We have others do the dirty work for us whenever we can get away with it.”
Author Notes
First, the most important question: Did you catch the Ghost in the Shell reference I managed to squeeze in?
Second, this is one chapters that I rewrote from scratch after changing direction and plotting out the rest of season three. Originally it was just Yun and Usira talking at the breakfast table before the courier arrives with Rilan’s warning. Boring! I like this version much better, mainly because of the foreshadowing. Who does the puppet look like? Any ideas?
I’ve wanted to give the Noe puppets a more important part in this story for a long time—now it’s finally happening! With all the discourse around AI and consciousness, it even feels… dare I say it… timely. I can’t claim I planned that when I first started thinking about this story, it’s more that the themes and questions I’m thinking about at any given time end up surfacing in the fiction I write. Requiem, too, is a time capsule of the interests and opinions I’ve been holding over the last few years of writing it.
What’s your opinion, do you believe puppets (AI) could develop consciousness or not? And what would it look like? How would it behave? I’m not an expert by any means but I hope you’re enjoying my portrayal.
Classism, mention of scarring