Saturday, April 2, 2022 Aqrabuamelu compound; Flushing, Queens, New York, United States

“So I don’t understand how orange juice fits into it?” Bahu said.

Ella shook her head impatiently, “Forget the orange juice. That was just from the movie.” She held out her hand for patience, “Sorry, it is late and I am tired.”

She took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“I can cast illusions, okay? I’ll cast an illusion of Kothin and tell Donna to go down to South America to get the item.”

Bahu sat back. And thought.

“Well, it is certainly no worse than any other plan we have come up with. But…” and she drew out the pause a bit, “it isn’t much better either.”

“Why?”

“Two reasons mainly.”

“First, how good are your illusions? I haven’t seen you do one.”

Ella had to admit, “They suck right now.” She concentrated and a vague image of what might have been Kothin in his true form or might have been a rock appeared in front of them.

“But you don’t see! I could barely do an image in front of me before. I will need to practice but I’ll get it.”

“Second, didn’t you say the drow assassin could see your magic tripwires? Why wouldn’t a drow see your illusions too? Your Donna is a drow. She will see it.”

“I have been practicing a lot with those tripwires and I figured it out.” Ella went and grabbed a piece of paper.

“I started weaving them into spiderweb shapes. And they lasted long and took less power. I realized that since I was drawing the line back and forth,” and she drew a squiggle on the paper, “was reducing leakage. And when I tie them off in a ‘knot’ of sorts, the leakage entirely stops and they fade over much longer periods.” She accompanied that by drawing a picture of a line with two curly-qs at the ends.

“I am betting the drow see the leakage.”

“And how will you prove it?”

“I figured I would test a tripwire or two on Donna to see if she sees them.”

“No, we have another test subject.”

They led Ella down the maze of tunnels into a room she had never been in before. Strapped to the table was… what appeared to be a side of meat. Ella stared at it, not processing what she was seeing, until it moved and moaned a bit.

She turned to the side and retched. And again. She felt light headed and had to sit down, she was trembling and couldn’t stop.

“Is that… is that…” her teeth were chattering.

“It is the drow assassin,” Bahu said quietly. “The drow cannot be broken, their programming to Utu-who-is-Ekerri is too strong.”

“But they can be driven insane in extremis, and… well in that insanity, they might think someone else is God. As a defense mechanism perhaps.”

Ella sat there and heaved up again. It splattered on her clothes, mostly clear liquid now.

“Get her some water and get her cleaned up.”

Someone, later Ella would realize it was Arcsa, gently put his hands on her shoulders and helper her up and out of the room. They took her to the showers attached to her bunker, and turned them on, heedless of Ella’s clothing.

The warm water soaked her and her trembling slowly subsided. She sat down leaning on the shower wall and let the water run down her. Arcsa sat next to her and held her close.

Eventually she calmed down. She didn’t think she would ever forget the movement of the bloody and raw body on that table, loose strips of skin hanging off of it, the white fibers drawn out to the side, which were nerves Ella realized. And those eyes, opening and looking around, the return to consciousness being a return to madness.

“If I am your goddess, I will forbid this sort of thing. You must know that,” she said firmly. An hour later. Maybe two.

Arcsa straightened up next to her. He had sat next to her the whole time and now his arm let her go and he stood up and turned off the running water.

“I know,” he said quietly. “Our only morality is necessity. We… we do not have our heart in the future, without children, and that lack has poisoned our souls.”

“I might have to go further. These sins. These horrors. One thing my people do is forget the ones that are inconvenient. It breeds hypocrisy and resentment in equal measure. Justice needs to be served.”

“Immoral actions for moral purpose require payment regardless. There is no mitigation.” Arcsa said, his voice sad with understanding.

Ella bowed her head.

“You will tie off magic in that room. And practice your illusions there. The drow thinks I am Utu. He will obey me. Some of the time.” Arcsa continued. The whiplash in authority was disorienting sometimes.

“I cannot take on your sins, Arcsa,” Ella pleade, “Another failure of my people’s thinking. That our sins can be washed off in a shower. These will be my sins on top of yours.”

“Yes. They will be. You must take them on.”

Ella looked at him. Could she be complicit in this? If she was a just person, what should she do? Should she try and kill Arcsa? Bahu? All the Aqrabuamelu? Free the drow?

And what about the cost of those actions? What would happen to the world? And were these the justifications of a monster?

“I don’t know if I can do this…”

“Inaction and retreat are choices too. And do not carry any special grace of their own.” Arcsa said gently.

Ella finally understood the true resolution of the famous trolley problem. You were damned either way.