love, moi. ps, see you on the other side

High on the stone balcony, Rhea looked out over the Mediterranean, deep satisfaction echoing through the fibers of her being. The life of the city below barely filtered up to her height, but the sounds of people living provided her the perfect reward for all her long labours. That which she had strived for now existed, and the humans' Sabbath day she now fully understood. Her work was finished, at long last, and now she could relax and enjoy her success.

She had allotted the tasks of many hundreds of programs; some she had charged to guard the seas, some the skies, some the earth, some the winds. Some were to watch over the birds, some the lions, some the trees, some the ants. There were guardians; there were havoc-wreakers; there were lawmakers; and, above all, there were enforcers. All of them she had given unique traits, and last of them all, she made her most beloved children, the Agents. They were perfect in every way: judge, jury, and executioner impassive.

She leaned far out over the edge of the balcony, laughing gaily, for indeed she had already tossed many of her cares to the Architect. In fact, she did recall catching an idea of retirement from his adieu; he had said it in such a way that Rhea fairly imagined she should not be called to work for quite some time, time enough to enjoy herself to exhaustion. The waves crashed on the rocks below, spray flew up into the air, and a rush of salted wind caught Rhea by surprise. It stung her nose, and she sneezed, but she was unruffled: the ocean was perfect. And when her sabbatical was over, she and the Oracle would go back to their old system: she got the ideas and Rhea brought them to life.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" a cool voice demanded. It was an Agent, Rhea knew, and she knew exactly which Agent it was, too: Moros.

"I am," she replied, turning her shining eyes on him. This day was perfect.

A sardonic smile crossed his face, and he said, "Good," in the most ominous way possible, turning the pleasant word into something distasteful.

"What brings you here?" she asked amiably, picking up a tea server and moving off the balcony.

Curtly he replied, "Deletion."

Rhea dropped the tray, her hands trembling. "What?" she asked quietly, terror coursing through her.

As if he had memorized it, Moros rattled off, "You have completed your duties and are no longer necessary." And then he added, "Think of it as a permanent vacation."

Rhea never really understood what happened. One minute, she was screaming in Moros' face, and the next, she was surrounded by darkness, melting away. It was almost peaceful, almost welcomed, but as her memories fled, Rhea remembered her last thought, ­­vengeance.

Moros turned and walked away, and soon enough, the sound of his footfalls faded as he slipped back into the datastream. Rhea's eyes flew open, and she stood, slowly, as if to stand quickly would send her off balance. Rhea looked over herself, shaking her head. After closing her eyes for a minute or longer, she murmured something softly, lovingly. Yet when again she opened them, they were filled with malice against all the world. She glanced around her. The sun glared in her eyes, and the salt stung her nose. The taste in her mouth was bitter, and everything she touched was too hot or too cold.

Rhea took one last look at herself. She wore a white linen chiton, gold bangles, and heavy gold necklaces. It was Greek. Rhea snarled and stormed off the balcony.

any guesses as to what just happened? i won't tell, but you're free to guess. and yes, this did happen a long time ago. hence the greek clothes. no, i'm not in the least bit enamoured with greek things. not me… *innocent innocent* check back soon, i might get some inspiration for the next bit. wait, i think i see some now…