Red Pearls
When Pearl hears that her master, Cinnabar, is ordering a second Pearl, she is horrified.
She has been a good Pearl. An excellent Pearl, she would even say, if she allowed herself such pride. Why would Cinnabar get another? Has she failed in someway? Has she been lacking?
She is not being replaced, it turns out. Cinnabar is simply being promoted, and feels that it is only fit that a Gem of her station have two Pearls. There is a symmetry in it, she says. In fact, the Pearl she is ordering is an exact mirror image of her first, a clear sign of her satisfaction with the original.
Pearl is not being replaced. Pearl is glad of that.
But that does not mean she likes the New Pearl.
Symmetry is all very well— Pearl understands that, implicitly, because symmetry is beautiful, and if pearls are knowledgeable about anything, than surely it is beauty. But her duty is not just to stand at Cinnabar's side and look beautiful. She is useful. She sends messages, stores objects, provides light, displays projections. She does it all promptly, and efficiently, and with grace. Cinnabar does not need anyone else to do it for her; she is enough.
(She is… isn't she?)
And anyway, this second Pearl is a liability. She is so new, she hardly knows how to do anything. She stumbles over protocol, is slow summoning projections, does not know how to keep her toes properly pointed and her head carefully bowed. She does not know how to set her step to the correct tempo. It's infuriating.
(Pearl tries not to think about how, if the two of them are truly identical, she must have been the same way, at first.)
And it's terrifying, too. Because what if the other Pearl makes a mistake? A truly terrible one? Offends some great and important Gem with her ignorance? What if they both have to take the blame for it?
They're standing attendance outside of a meeting, one day. One on either side of the door, waiting for it to come to an end. If a Gem comes by looking for Cinnabar, they are to take her identity and message, and relay it later. Otherwise, all they have to do is stand there, perfectly still. A simple assignment.
And the other Pearl cannot even get that much right. Her eyes keep flickering. From her feet to the celling, up and down the hall, towards her duplicate…
(Of course, Pearl only notices this because she keeps stealing sly glances herself, but that's besides the point.)
Thankfully, there's nobody else to notice. Or to hear, when other Pearl says, "Excuse me?"
Pearl says nothing.
"Excuse me?" other Pearl says again, after a moment.
"Shhhh," Pearl hisses.
Other Pearl is startled, but when she looks around, double-checking they're alone, she persists. "Am I doing something wrong?"
Pearl narrows her eyes, but says nothing.
"Because… because I get the sense that you do not like me very much, and I want to know why."
She's clearly not going to be quiet unless she responds. "It doesn't matter if I like you or not. All that matters is our duty."
"I-" says other Pearl. "Yes, of course. Only… Only… You keep looking at me."
"You keep looking at me."
Other Pearl has no response to that, and so she falls into a blessed silence.
But she won't stop risking glances. Pearl makes up her mind. This needs to end.
"Listen," she says, keeping her voice at a careful whisper. "Do you truly wish to know why I do not like you?" Other Pearl nods. "Because I do not wish you to get us killed."
Pearl lets it all out in a torrent; how slow the other Pearl is, how clumsy, how inexperienced, how she can't keep pace. There's a danger looming over them, and she makes it perfectly clear, to this new and naive Pearl, what their fate will be should either fail in their sacred duty. The other Pearl listens, her eyes growing wide and shiny. Pearl sees embarrassment in them, and she feels a surge of victory. Then that embarrassment grows into fear, then terror, and that sense of victory is gone, replaced with something hollow.
(Well. It had to be done. The other Pearl needs to know.)
When Pearl is finally finished, the fear remains on the other Pearl's face, otherwise identical to her own. But there's something beneath it, something Pearl recognizes from within herself. Steely determination.
"Teach me," the other Pearl demands.
So Pearl does.
It's only logical. Pragmatic. If one of them fails, she risks bringing the other down with her. The other Pearl needs to be as perfect in her duties as she is. They need to be able to work together. They need to be symmetry in motion.
Whenever they are alone, they practice. Pearl begins by explaining their every duty, to make sure the other understands every element of the job. Then she leads her through each step; the exact protocol to use when taking a message or speaking to a Gem of a specific class. The different meanings to a specific bow or curtsy, and when to use them. How to quickly store and summon items from your Gemstone. How to create complex, intricate holograms for every occasion. They practice walking at the exact pace Cinnabar uses, until the new Pearl is able to perfectly match her master's step. They create plans and contingencies, so that if they are every asked to do different things, there will be no hesitation or uncertainty on their part.
The other Pearl learns quickly. Of course she does; she is an exact duplicate of herself. Still. It is satisfying to see her progress.
(Satisfying in a way Pearl cannot fully describe. Satisfying in a way unrelated to how it banishes the creeping fear she's held since Cinnabar first placed in an order for a second Pearl. Satisfying in a way that makes her core feel warm and bright.)
Cinnabar gets compliments for their performances, sometimes. In public, they appear unmoved by such compliments, but when they're alone, the pair will exchange proud smiles.
They do well in her duties, and so does Cinnabar. One cycle, she announces to them the greatest of news: she is being promoted! The ceremony will be very soon. She has been given a pair of bracelets— true bracelets, made of metal, not simply a projection of light— as a symbol of her new office. It will be their duty to present the bracelets at the official ceremony. The entire ceremony must be perfect, Cinnabar stresses. Anything else will not be acceptable.
The Pearls will need to practice.
And practice they do. The older Pearl is able of producing an exact holographic replica of Cinnabar to work with. The newer one carefully marks out the dimensions of the stage they will presenting on. Together, they work out a routine; a complex dance of twists and twirls around Holo-Cinnabar, as she makes her way to the front of the stage. When she reaches the very front, the two Pearls' gems begin to glow on their shoulders; they let the light hang, summoning the bracelets not with speed, but flourish. Holo-Cinnabar holds out her hands, allowing the two of them to slip a bracelet onto each wrist. At this point, Holo-Cinnabar raises her arms out towards the imagined crowd, which will surely roar with approval, while her Pearls bow deep at their master's feet.
It is a beautiful routine, they both think, and they seem to grasp it intuitively. By their fifth try, they can move through it without second thought, flowing like water, one step gliding easily into the other. The pair weaves easily across the stage, the epitome of grace. It feels so wonderful, being able to trust the other so completely, to be perfectly synchronised— and when the Holo-Cinnabar reaches the front of the stage, and their Gems glow as they summon the bracelets— well, the light doesn't fade, it just keeps growing brighter and brighter, filling the room, filling their minds…
The light fades, and Pearl blinks. She's confused. What happened?
She looks down at herself. She's holding both bracelets, one in each hand. That's not right. They're meant to go on the Holo-Cinnabar's wrists. She moves to do so, but something's wrong. The dimensions seem off. The holographic Cinnabar besides her is very small. Is it malfunctioning?
No… no, it's not just the hologram. The bracelets in her hands are smaller than she remembers, too. And the whole room is smaller…
… or perhaps she is simply larger.
She looks around the suddenly small room. She is alone.
"Pearl? Where are you?" she asks. There is a slight echo to her voice. She already knows the answer to the question.
She carefully places the two bracelets on the floor, and steps back. She runs her hands up her arms, to her shoulders; on each, she feels a perfect sphere of a gemstone beneath her fingers. She looks at them. They are both red. Identical.
"Fusion," she whispers, in her echoing voice.
She didn't know Pearls could fuse, did she?
(No, she didn't.)
How would anyone have ever found out? Why would anyone need a Pearl fusion? Who would have ever given any Pearls the opportunity?
Perhaps she— they?— she is the first.
There's a rush of something— amazement, joy, giddiness— but also fear, worry.
This almost certainly is not allowed.
"We can't stay like this," she says, and her voice is filled with sorrow.
Which is ridiculous. She shouldn't be sad. She's no different, not really. Pearl and Pearl are identical, after all. Nothing truly changed with the fusion. Nothing was created; nothing will be lost.
(But neither Pearl had ever felt like this before. So singular. So complete. So big.)
She can't stay like this. They'll be discovered. They still have to practice.
But perhaps, one day, the two Pearls— perhaps they'll create her again.
oOoOoOoOo
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