The Garden of Light and Darkness - Part 7

After walking quickly across the garden, we're finally out of sight and can pick up the pace. Line leads the way. Through rooms and swirling corridors we go. Once I inadvertently walk straight into a corner and barely catch myself. Both reaction time and balance are worse than they strictly should be. The drink has gone to my head. Must be the bubbles.

"Hurry!"

Line grabs me and pulls me onward. Has one of them gotten hurt? I hope it doesn't involve permanent mutilation—but why would that require secrecy? Surely it can't be something as serious as a suicide attempt? The faces of Kajsa and Berit flash through my mind, blinking with unease. Kajsa's blinks brightest. She's the one I'm most worried about now.

We reach a bathroom door near the children's bedrooms. Line stops and looks at me.

"It's here."

I yank open the door and am about to step inside when I'm shoved from behind. Staggering into the harsh bathroom light, I see Kajsa sitting on the closed toilet lid, with Berit standing beside her. Their heads turn toward me simultaneously. The door locks with a click.

Berit points at her friend.

"She's scared. You'll have to comfort her."

Meanwhile, Kajsa flips up the toilet lid, fusses beneath her sheer pink dress for a moment, then pulls down her pink panties. She hikes up the translucent chiffon and lowers her bottom onto the seat. Before the fabric settled, I saw the full curve of her rounded hips. I'm aware of Line leaning knowingly against the door. Ahead, Kajsa's outstretched hand finds mine. She looks up at me with the roundest blue eyes imaginable and gently squeezes my hand. Her red lips part slightly.

It’s impossible to say how many breathless moments pass. Blonde. Blue. Red. I melt into color and beauty, sensuality and impropriety. In the altered landscapes of honeyed intoxication, another insight comes to me. Form and color and energy merge—I understand they are one. This revelation is accompanied by the sound of a faint trickling stream.

"Ah," Kajsa sighs. The stream intensifies, seemingly filling the entire room. Her blue eyes glaze but don't waver, and she exhales a long, feminine "Aaahh."

My face flares like Vulcan's forge itself and must be glowing just as red. I realize that I am short of breath and that my lips are trembling. The steady grip on Kajsa's hand is anything but.

A final trickle, then another, and the stream gradually diminishes. "Ah," Kajsa concludes peacefully.

"Now you can wipe her," Berit commands.

This is what they want. No matter what I do, I've been outmaneuvered. I can't feign indifference because I'm already completely off-balance. Whether I act like a rigidly formal autistic person or parade my passion makes no difference—the outcome remains the same. I'll be laughed out of the room, and they'll have their revenge for whatever crime they've decided I committed. Unless... I escalate the situation and give them more than they bargained for. Mercury is my guiding god, so the realization of what I must do comes in a flash and enters the world that very instant.

Sucking on an imaginary pipe in the corner of my mouth and cackling a lecherous old man's chuckle, I set my persona into motion.

"Aye, grandpappy's gotta have control of the young cunt, y'know!" It's one of those extinct dialects now reserved solely for comedy. Though truth be told, all Norwegian dialects are dead. "But ev'ry time I visit the children's room, it reeks o' fish. Hope her mum don't notice now!" With that, I grab under Kajsa's thighs and tip her backward. She lets out a cry, but follows the movement all the way down. Her legs rise, completely exposing her sex. Fascinatingly, a small stripe of golden-blonde pubic hair crowns the top—though I've no time to linger. The most precious commodity in the universe: blonde cunts. Why must Berit shave hers? She's in second place. I tear off sheets from the roll and fold them double. Kajsa gets wiped, the paper discarded. This repeats several times.

I can only imagine the gaping expressions of my audience. Kajsa is overwhelmed but seemingly resigned. Well, she clearly tolerates everything, given how her friend treats her. First as an object of defense, then as a weapon, and now a victim to the world's most unrestrained man.

"Gotta wipe every trace of where grandpappy has been!"

I seize a slender arm and yank hard. Poor Kajsa topples forward into a standing position. Her neck is squeezed as her head is forced downward. Being so pliant, she nearly folds over on herself.

"Bend and plow, young-cunt!"

Fresh sheets are pulled from the roll and I give her a few wipes. Then... my palm lands on a small buttock, and I shove, hard. Not hard enough to smash her teeth against the sink, but she staggers uncontrollably a short distance, bracing herself against the basin. Some instinct must have kicked in, because she parts her legs slightly, arches her winged back, and stands expectantly with her underwear lowered past her knees. I waste no time following, seized by the same impulse. The airy fabric of her fairy dress is flipped up. Fingers and nails dig deep into the milk-white flawlessness of these perfectly heart-shaped buttocks. Everything lies exposed before me. The symmetrical lips of her contracted sex, flesh-toned outside with vague hints of pink within, and the slightly darker butthole above.

"YEESsss," I snarl, sinking my fingers deeper. All my deepest dreams are coming true. I'm about to lose my virginity to a girl wearing a fairy dress and fairy wings. Wonder if they'll bounce? Now's the moment to slip it in quick, before she changes her mind. What happens afterward doesn't concern me. I just want to take what I want. The cosplay outfit is secured at the fly with a cord-wrapped stick. One hand moves down to loosen it.

Sharp nails strike the hand still clenched around a girl’s milk-white rear.

"That's not happening! Stop!"

Berit's nails strike hard enough to draw blood from the back of my hand.

"You two can leave now," I say. "Unless you plan to line up alongside her."

"As if!" Berit exclaims.

"Let them keep going," Line says from the other side of the prey I’m about to claim. "This is actually kind of fun!"

My exaggerated buffoonery must have had an effect on her. Even in this situation, it seems interesting.

Berit moves over and places her index finger lengthwise against her friend's face.

"One more word from you..."

Good thing those hussies are busy with each other. At last, my fly is open, and I prepare for the decisive thrust. But those ever-watchful nails return, sharp and painful. Enough to force partial retreat.

"Tuck that trunk away! No fucking happening here!"

"That's not your call to make!"

"Oh yes it is!"

Kajsa simply stands there, motionless. Her flame-haired companion kneels and presses her cheeks against her friend's delicate backside. From there she smiles invitingly and yanks the dress down hard.

"The candy shop's closed, you see!"

"What have I done to you?" I groan with a despair I've never known before.

"Nothing! That's the whole point!"

Kajsa slowly straightens up and begins to turn. The hypnosis I'd cast over her is slipping away.

"OUT!" Berit declares. "You're not welcome here anymore. OUT!"

"You're unbelievable..."

My nemesis turns toward the other two.

"You know he's not one of us. Why should he get anything for free? So I demand it...! OUT!"

Absurdly, the other girls take up the chant.

"OUT!"

"AWAY!"

"SHOO!"

They all point theatrically upward with each "OUT!", sweeping their arms as they shout "AWAY!" and "SHOO!"

As one, they march toward me, brandishing these banishing gestures.

"Wait..."

I ignore the threat of pointed fingers and sharp nails, pushing past them. There I put my bleeding hands into the sink, letting pink-tinged fluid mingle with water and soap. When I turn, Berit is still standing right in front of me. My dripping hands are raised to her burning hair, to be wiped against those flames that have become a being in becoming, as if to extinguish them. This is the Age of Aquarius after all. She doesn't resist, just stares straight at me. I try making eye contact with Kajsa to no avail. No sympathy from Line either. Not one of us—those must have been the magic words.

"AWAY!"

"OUT!"

"SHOO!"

In disbelief at this ritualistic performance, I back toward the door. Why the hell won't it unlock? I don't want to be here among these furies.

"SHOO WITH YOU!"

Finally the damned thing unlocks. I step over the threshold and grab hold of the door.

"YEAH! YEAH! I GET IT NOW!"

The door slams shut with full force right in their faces, the bang reverberating through the house.

"Auntie?"

I have to close my eyes and grimace in pain. When I turn, of course it’s one of the children standing there with the teddy bear tucked under her arm.

"Why are you making so much noise?"

An orange stripe appears across one eye. The stripe opens.

Randgrid Nøtterøy:

Are you handling this?

I select one of the answer choices by blinking.

Øyvind Tranøy:

Yes.

The orange stripe rolls back and disappears. En route to the bedroom, I bend down and scoop the little one up. She still clutches her teddy and is winged as I hold her. Now she's lowered gently onto the bed where she belongs at this hour. Her wings are carefully folded aside, making her look almost like a butterfly resting on its back.

"I was just arguing with some of the big girls."

The blanket is tucked carefully around all sides—first around the teddy so she'll accept it, then around her.

"But why were you arguing?"

A fair question actually. I do my thinking in advance. It's not like I need to pray to the gods for this one.

"They're not quite ready to accept my dominance yet."

"What's dominance?"

"It's... like what you have with Aunt Randgrid."

The child grows thoughtful. Then her eyes light up.

"Oh, like that!"

I've reached her—proof of my great communicative abilities. Next comes emotional connection, which I interpret as getting people to do what you want without threats.

"Time to sleep now dear child. The hour when your eyes should be open has long passed."

My lips seem enormous compared to that innocent forehead. There they are set down, and there upon a kiss is placed.

"I want Aunt Randgrid to kiss me goodnight too."

"She already did."

"But that was then, not now! It has to be now, otherwise it doesn't exist!"

A shiver of fear runs through me. Am I in hell or some pagan paradise? When did such wisdom begin pouring from children's mouths? One thing is certain—I live amidst transformation in a transformed place.

"Very well, child of night. You shall have your great now."

I make sure to leave the door slightly ajar as I leave the room, so her insistence on 'now' won't close in on itself and turn into something else. In the hallway, I find the bathroom door unlocked, and sure enough, they're all still in there when I open it. Every soft-haired head turns simultaneously in my direction. What do girls even do together in bathrooms all the time? It's beyond comprehension.

"Come here," I hiss. "Or I'll snap each of your little necks and string you up like chickens!"

They stare at each other for a long moment, disbelief in their eyes and their mouths agape. Demonstratively holding the door wide open, I witness what will become my handmaidens marching past. Once inside the children's room, my accomplices spring into action. From every conceivable angle and direction, our faces are pressed toward the little girl, who is showered with kisses in a chaotic flurry. We pause just as she expects a big smacking kiss on the cheek, only to surprise her with one she never sees coming. The tot squeals with delight. Do the unexpected, and they'll adore you. Midway through this outpouring of affection, the orange stripe reappears. I let my little attendants take over and observe the text scrolling rapidly:

Situation: Possible assault

Perpetrators: Group of females

Ethnic profiling: Not target group

Pattern recognition: Not assault. Signs of affection are being displayed in social group-event

Commitment to action: None

In case direct intervention is deemed necessary, lights will turn on and blink rapidly, and a sonic blast of 130 decibels will be directed at target individual or group for 5 seconds. If assault does not cease, the sound wave will be increased to 160 decibels for a further five seconds. If assault continues, a sound blast of 180 decibels will be committed indefinitely as long as target individual and group are in range. Electric jolts, stink bombs, blinding lasers or gunfire unavailable on this platform. Note: A sonic shield will encapsule child(ren). At 180 decibels, shield won’t be sufficient to prevent hearing damage. View more about regenerative ear cell treatment here. View more about treatment for psychological shock here.

Contact listed intervention services (Automatic)

Local police unit (not recommended): Negative

View more about why contacting the police is not recommended here. View more about legal advice for alleged murder here.

Insurance security service (not recommended): Negative

View more about why unarmed security guards might not be enough to stop a house invasion here.

WeShootIntruders Inc. (recommended): Negative

View more about your hired mercenary group here. View more about helicopter and armored deployment here. View more about our free disposal of bodies here.

EvacuateTheCountryNow Inc. (not yet recommended): Negative

View more about relocating to a zone outside the EEC here. View more about waiting for transportation at pickup point before the terror unit arrives here. View more about economic implications and future employment here.

In the endless stream of information that my generation is trained to process rapidly, something interesting appears:

Contact listed guardians

Randgrid Nøtterøy

Status: Legal guardian

Condition: Armed

Contact: Negative

Iselin Skjærvold

Status: House owner

Condition: Armed

Contact: Negative

Øyvind Tranøy

Status: House resident

Condition: Unarmed. Present at location

Contact: Viewing display

Administrative rights: Limited

View more about administrative rights here.

I blink into the last menu. I want to test it and attempt to shut down the invisible guardian.

ACCESS DENIED

Rights to system has been denied by: Randgrid Nøtterøy

View more about sending an appeal here. View more about your current rights of access here.

System status: Monitoring

Situation: Pending

So she doesn't trust me. How interesting. Well, that will change. I'll make sure of it.

The girls continue their loving onslaught. It probably comes naturally to them—they’ve even opened the little one’s nightgown to get at some bare skin to kiss. Eventually, even the squeals of delight begin to fade, and tiredness takes over. It’s simply too much. A whole day of running around like a wild horse, taking in more impressions than such small senses can cope with. That little brain will soon be switching off. Just as we intended.

"Auntie says my bedtime is nine o'clock. When's your bedtime?" the sleepy toddler asks.

"Much, much later, if at all," says Line.

This is difficult to comprehend, and the child's brow furrows.

" Auntie also says I get to stay up a quarter of an hour longer every time I have a birthday. So you must have had way more birthdays than me."

"We've blown out a few more candles," says Berit. "If we got any cake."

"But I don't understand... what's a quarter of an hour?"

"It's one fourth," I say.

"What's one fourth?"

"It's one that's four. Like you."

Communication, my friend.

"Oh, like that. Imagine you hardly ever have bedtimes."

"Get old enough and you'll have bedtimes again, you'll see," says Kajsa.

As her eyes begin to droop and she sinks down helplessly with her teddy, she still manages to say something revealing. A chubby hand reaches toward me.

"He wants to be your daddy. He said so. So you'll probably get bedtimes too."

In the bedroom's stillness, all soft-haired heads turn toward me. I lock eyes with Berit. It would be a triumph, but I realize I've also blushed.

We gently close the door as we leave the scene of the crime. Best let no sounds penetrate. Soon a new day comes, and she won't remember wanting the door left open just a crack when she comes charging out.

Now that there are no little witnesses around, I can once again be my uninhibited self. Right there in the hallway, I grab the girls around the waist and maneuver them into a little circle where I can subject them to a brutal group hug.

"Thanks. I told you I'd make the nursery smell like fish, and now it does—since you've been in there! HA HA HA!"

The young ladies are shaken vigorously with my arms slung over their narrow shoulders.

"Asshole!" says Line.

Nevertheless, I kiss the brunette right on the cheek. Then it's Kajsa's turn. The blonde's cheek is kissed. As usual, she doesn't resist, and I almost feel guilty for being so vulgar with her. Her nature is probably far too sensitive for that kind of talk.

I release my victims and approach Berit. Just as I lean in to plant a smack on the redhead's cheek, she turns at the last moment, and our lips meet. My eyes widen in surprise while hers remain closed. She has a firm grip on my hips, prolonging the kiss. She's passion fruit and passion in one package.

"See you later, handsome," she says, releasing me.

I walk away somewhat unsteadily. I don't know what I was doing or what I was even supposed to do, nor do I particularly care.