Marilik- Chapter Two: Llewellyn

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Tick. Tick. Tick.

All the amazing leaps forward in timekeeping technology, and this prick of a shrink decided to stick with the fucking analog. A cuckoo was bound to pop out and just make everyone’s day, Llewellyn could just see that.

“Good evening, Llewellyn,” the shrink said.

“Is it?” Llewellyn replied. The shrink was already used to this response.

“It’s been alright,” the shrink said.

“Not great though.”

“What constitutes ‘great’?” the shrink asked. Llewellyn scoffed.

“What a lazy question,” he shook his head. “They teach you that one in med school?” The shrink didn’t say anything. He just looked at Llewellyn, an irritatingly pleasant smile on his face. Llewellyn sighed and thought for a moment. When he decided on his response, he smirked.

“Sex with a movie star,” he answered.

“I thought that was just the one time.”

“It was, and it was great.”

“Fair enough.”

“Fair? It isn’t fair that you didn’t get in on that while I was.” Llewellyn’s left leg was tapping furiously. The shrink looked down at it. Llewellyn stopped.

“Are you going to take this seriously now?” the shrink said. Llewellyn nodded subtly. “Good. How are you feeling today, Llewellyn?” Llewellyn was still calming himself down from his outburst of sarcasm and faux self confidence. He looked intently at the shrink, then at the floor, sighing.

“Cold.”

“Cold?” said the shrink. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“That’s because it’s not, fuckface.”

“There’s no need for namecalling, Llewellyn.”

“Don’t treat me like a child,” Llewellyn said immediately after. The shrink stared quietly at him again. Llewellyn stared back. Coldly.

“Why do you feel cold?”

“Fucking Socrates over here…” Llewellyn mumbled. He shook his head, then thought for a few moments. “It’s kind of like Space. Nothing in it. Empty. No matter to conduct heat. Just… nothingness. I’m empty. By being empty, I’m cold.

“Oh, Llewellyn,” the shrink said, “we’ve had a few sessions now. I can tell you that you’re not empty.” Llewellyn cocked his eyebrow.



“Demon child!” the shrink shouted, running down the hall. “That child is a demon!”
The shrink brushed past Owen Graves, just on his way to sit in that same shrink’s office to wait for his brother. Llewellyn strolled calmly down the hallway a few seconds later. Owen looked at him with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Another one?” Owen said. “Christ, that was quick. What’d you say?”

“I was sitting there, he asked me a question, and I thought ‘What would Owen say?’” Llewellyn replied.

“You asked him if he had a daughter that’s into feet?” Owen asked. Llewellyn looked at Owen strangely. “What? Fair question.” Llewellyn shook his head and continued down the hallway.

“Jesus, you’re cold,” Owen said, following him.

“That’s what I told him,” Llewellyn said.

“What? That you were cold?” Owen asked.

“And empty.”

“Cold and empty? What did you get that from? An emo band?” Owen said. Llewellyn ignored the comment. “Could’ve asked him to turn down the air conditioning.” Llewellyn ignored him again. They kept walking down the hall, no clear destination in mind, in silence. After a few minutes, they heard rapid, heavy footsteps behind them.

“First Graves!” someone shouted. They turned to see a GeoConfederate marine running towards them. “First Graves. Your father would like to speak with you.”
Owen looked at Llewellyn. Llewellyn shrugged.

“I suppose he would,” Llewellyn said. He walked past the marine. Both Owen and the marine followed him down the hallway with their eyes.

“What’d he say?” Owen asked.

“Still trying to figure that one out.



Governor Derek Graves stared at his son, his expensive chair rotating slightly. Llewellyn sat laid back in his own chair, twiddling his thumbs.
“He called you a demon child,” the Governor said. Llewellyn nodded apathetically slow.

“So I heard,” he replied.

“Now why would he say that?” his father asked.

“Oh, you know,” Llewellyn said. “Just kind of showed him my horns.”

“What horns have you got?”

“The same ones that made Mom hate me for coming out feet first.”

“My son the comedian…” the Governor said. “What’d you say?”

Llewellyn sighed heavily.



“You’re right doc. I’m not empty. There is something. Something deep inside of me. Whenever I see a crowd of black people, it makes me put my hands in my pockets because I’m convinced they’ll try to steal something if I don’t. When I see a woman, it makes me not care about what’s going on inside of her head so long as I can have a say of what goes into it. Through her mouth. When I see a group of small children, it makes me wonder how long it would take to make all of their little heads explode with a handgun. I’m a monster, doc. More than you can handle.”

The shrink looked at him with a face that almost dripped with horror. He shout out of his chair, bolting out of the room and down the hallway. Llewellyn sighed. Time was up, he supposed.



The Governor’s mouth was slightly open, his eyebrows arranged in an awkward fashion.

“That’s the gist of it,” Llewellyn said, unfazed by his father’s expression.

“You cannot be serious.”

“And if I am?”

“This is going to get out, Llewellyn!” his father shouted. “Half of Unio is going to hear about this by tomorrow!”

“And then what?” Llewellyn asked. “What happens when everyone hears that the First of Unio, the heir to the Governorship of the GeoConfederacy’s most powerful state, is a homicidal, racist, misogynist? Hm? Nothing. The Supervaccine is supposed to stop those kinds of compulsions. Everyone knows that.”

“But your deficiency, Llewellyn.”

“What, you think they know about it?” Llewellyn said. “Christ, I didn’t even know about it until Uncle Daniel let it slip. You really think that people will believe that someone with as much genetic engineering as I’ve had would be imperfect in any way?”

The Governor stared at him. It was a common theme for the evening.

“Good luck with that one,” Llewellyn said.

“You don’t actually believe any of that, do you?” his father asked. “That bit about women shocked me a little bit. I couldn’t read the report past that.”

“Shame, I thought it had a strong finish.”

“Well if you keep saying things like that for the shock value, you’ve got a bright future in politics ahead of you.”

“You trained me well.”

“I certainly hope not,” his father said. “If that’s what you took out of my lessons, then you might as well be a child murderer.”

Llewellyn chuckled. His father shook his head with a smile.

“Governor Graves,” someone said from the doorway. Both Llewellyn and his father looked to see Sean Davies, the Governor’s Advisory Board assistant manager, or GABAM, with a holoboard in his hand. Llewellyn had always called him “Boom Boom” due to GABAM’s proximity to the onomatopoeia of an explosion. He lamented the day Davies would get a promotion.

“Yes, Sean?” the Governor asked.

“The Chancellor has given us a ready signal,” Davies replied.

“Thank you, Sean,” the Governor replied. “Has my good son arrived yet?”

“Yessir,” Davies chuckled. Llewellyn smirked as well.

“Alright,” Llewellyn’s father said as he got up out of his chair. “Llewellyn, let’s go.” The Governor followed Davies out into the hallway, Llewellyn in tow.

“So explain to me what this is again?” Llewellyn said.

“The quarterly GeoConfederate senate meeting, you should know that,” Llewellyn’s father said.

“So the same thing we’ve come to Luna to do for 17 years?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then, different question,” Llewellyn started. “Why am I going?”

“To see history, Llewellyn,” the Governor said. “Africa is receiving statehood today.” Llewellyn was unimpressed.

“I could just have watched it from the enclave,” Llewellyn replied. “History’s just as good on a Holoscreen.”

“It would be for you, wouldn’t it?” the Governor scoffed. “Since Unio was active in helping Africa meet statehood requirements, the Governor Elect asked that we pass the rights to them.”

“We as in all of Unio, right?”

“No, ‘we’ as in ‘you’ and ‘me’,” The Governor said. “You’re passing the Number rights to the Governor Elect’s son.”

“Fantastic,” Llewellyn said snidely.

“It’s not that hard, Llewellyn,” Davies said.

“It’s easy to say that, Boom Boom,” Llewellyn replied. “It’s difficult to say it in front of billions of people, however.”

“Nervous are we?” Owen, who had just caught up with them, jabbed.

“Nervous?” Llewellyn asked. “I was nervous when I took Juliet out to that one restaurant in Paris. I’m not nervous right now.”

“You know, considering the amount you talk about that night, it really looks like you’re trying to compensate for something.

“Owen, if you’d boned a movie starlet, you’d probably be able to talk about every individual second in detail,” Llewellyn replied.

“I didn’t need to hear that,” the Governor said. Davies looked at Llewellyn, a look of what seemed like a mix between admiration and “shut the fuck up” on his face.

“So who got Governorship?” Llewellyn asked, changing the subject from pre-marital sex to politics as smoothly as he possibly could.

“Work on your segues,” the Governor said. “Arthur Karim. A true genius.”

“The Somalian?” Owen asked.

“The very same,” the Governor said. “No one knows how he did it, but somehow he united a good 9/10ths of the continent and turned Mogadishu from one huge slum into a metropolis that out does a few European cities.”

“Imagine what he could do for us and Canada,” Llewellyn quipped. Davies looked at him again, this time with a pure “shut the fuck up” look.

“Not much,” the Governor replied. His tone had shifted from playful to dead serious almost instantly. “Bruce Comeau isn’t here for the good of humanity. If he wanted to help us all out, he’d go live somewhere in Andromeda.”

“Actually, sir, he lives there over recess,” Davies replied. “The Canadians set up a vacation colony on one of Zaresta’s tropical moons just for him.”

“When do we get our own planet, Dad?” Owen asked, half jokingly.

“When you can afford it,” his father replied.

The hallway ended after a few minutes of walking, opening up into a large room.
There was a lot of commotion and activity all around it. Several flashing lights on a large holoscreen that hung down from the ceiling directed crowds of people in different directions.

“That’s you two on the left,” Davies said to Llewellyn and Owen.

“Your mother wants us all to meet in the dining hall after the ceremonies to eat a family meal,” the Governor said. “Please don’t go wandering off somewhere instead.”

“Oh, you know us Dad,” Owen said. “Just a couple of wild and crazy kids up to no good.”

“I just don’t want anyone running away from you two screaming ‘demon child’ at the top of their lungs,” the Governor said. Llewellyn rolled his eyes, though he was still grinning widely. “There was a day and age when I didn’t have to worry about that sort of thing. I miss those days.”

“Are any of the Numbers shrinks?” Llewellyn asked.

“Not to my knowledge, no,” the Governor replied.

“We’re good then,” Llewellyn said.

“Conversation for another time,” the Governor said. “We’re going to have Sean’s assistant go along with you today. He’ll tell you all you need to say.”

“No Boom Boom?” Llewellyy asked.

“No, No Boom Boom,” the Governor said.

“Wait, so, Sean’s assistant,” Owen said, “would be the Governor’s Advisory Board Assistant Manager Assistant?”

Sean and the Governor thought about it for a few moments.

“Sounds about right,” Sean answered.

“So he’d be GABAMA?” Llewellyn asked, picking up his brother’s train of thought. Sean sighed, realizing what they were trying to do.

“Yes. GABAMA,” he replied. Llewellyn and Owen looked at each other with huge smiles on their faces. All of a sudden, Llewellyn started gyrating his hips, moving his arms in a piston-like fashion.

“At the Copa, Copa GABAMA, the hottest spot north of Havana,” Owen sang, drawing the ire of a few stuffy, important-looking dignitaries. The Governor stared blankly at his sons, the paternal body language symbol for “stop it, you’re tarnishing our families’ name”. They did as they expected they’d be told. Shortly after, a skittish man with slicked back hair and glasses scuttled next to them.

“I guess you’re Copa,” Llewellyn joked. Owen laughed. The Governor slapped him on the shoulder.

“What? No I’m Stuart,” Copa replied.

“Don’t worry about these two, Stu,” Sean said. “They call me ‘Boom Boom’.”

“Why to they…” Copa started.

“GABAM!” Owen shouted. Copa flinched dramatically.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sean said again. Copa calmed himself down. “If you could please escort the two to the Numbers box and give Llewellyn his lines.”
Copa nodded and took off for the Number box, not checking to see if Owen and Llewellyn had followed him. They both looked at Sean.

“He’s a bit… nervous,” he said.

“Miss you already, Boom Boom,” Llewellyn said. He and his brother walked towards the Number box as they’d done without an assistant countless times before. Copa had turned around and noticed how far behind they were after about three-fourths of the walk. He was now trying to push his way past a crowd of people trying to reunite with the two brothers.

Llewellyn could have told him to turn back around and meet them at the box, but it was strangely entertaining to see a man of Copa’s stature try to work his way through a crowd of galaxy-shiftingly powerful men surrounded by highly trained body guards. He and Owen had a laugh when Copa tripped over the Asian Conglomerate’s governor, landing on the Czechoslovakian foreign secretary. Neither was very happy with Copa. He eventually got to the two brothers, only after going past them at one point without even realizing. They were standing on one side of the Number boxes’ door.

“Mr Xiqhuo is very touchy about his shoes, Copa,” Llewellyn said of the Asian Governor Copa had just tripped over. “And I’m pretty sure Mr. Hradecky only likes to see his wife on top of him.”

Owen chuckled. Copa didn’t respond to the comment. It seemed he was a quick learner. The doors to the box opened. The three of them went in. There was a concierge in front of another door. He looked up as they entered.

“Welcome back First Graves, Second Graves,” the concierge said. “Is Mr. Davies not with you today?”

“No, it’s Copa today,” Llewellyn replied. The concierge moved his fingers over the top of a Holoboard, a confused look on his face.

“I’m not seeing a ‘Copa’ in our system,” the concierge replied.

“Townsend,” Copa said. “Stuart Townsend.” The concierge looked back through the holoboard.

“Ah, there we go,” the concierge said. “Stuart Townsend, Governor’s Advisory Board Assistant Manager’s Assistant. GABAMA?”

“Copa GABAMA,” Owen continued.

“Hottest assistant south of Havana, I suppose, though I’m not one to judge,” the concierge continued, much to the chagrin of Copa and the amusement of Llewellyn and Owen. “Well I think we were waiting on you. Head right in and mingle.” Llewellyn nodded and lead his broth and Copa through the door. The box was already occupied by several other people that looked Llewellyn’s age. There was very little chatter between all of them.

In a corner nearest the beverage area were the Russian Numbers. The two brothers Nikolai and Mikhail, First and Second respectively, towered over their sister Mishka, the third. They looked to the door when Owen and Llewellyn entered, giving them a brief, welcoming nod before continuing to talk amongst themselves. Across the room from them was the Belarusian first Aleksei Cherumayev. He, being his father’s only child, stood talking to a very leggy female companion, occasionally looking up at the Russians across the room with a spiteful glare. Their father’s hate for each other extended down to their own generation. They never spoke directly to each other.

Strangely enough, arguably the most bitter hatred between two States was shared by Unio and Canada. Despite that, Llewellyn and Owen were actually quite good friends with Canada’s First, Hailey Comeau. Hailey waved excitedly to get their attention. They noticed and walked over to the observation wall of the box where Hailey was standing.

“Oh my god I thought you two would never get here,” Hailey said. “I’m pretty sure Russia and Belarus are going to have a bit of a donnybrook before the ceremony starts.”

“Oh good. Dinner and a show,” Owen quipped. Hailey giggled, somewhat excessively. Llewellyn had always thought Hailey’s sole purpose in life was to get herself on top of Owen. Given how obvious she made everything and how raging Owen’s libido was, it was a wonder she hadn’t yet. Of course, Llewellyn always had the option to tell Owen how much she longed for him, but he much preferred to see her make awkward advances instead.

“Here is your speech, First Graves,” Copa, who had stealthily scuttled over to them, said, handing Llewellyn a holopad.

“Thanks, Copa,” he said, “and it’s Llewellyn, by the way.”

“With all due respect, First Graves, it’s Stuart, by the way,” Copa replied. Llewellyn chuckled. “We’ll leave for the floor level halfway through your father’s speech.”

“Thanks, Copa,” Llewellyn said. Copa stood in his place, noticeably furious. He sighed and turned around to walk to the corner where all of the other Number assistants were standing, all scrolling through Holoboards.

“Do you think we’re too hard on him?” Owen asked.

“He’ll get over it,” Llewellyn replied, looking through the speech. “Apparently both Zaki and Arthur Karim are very good friends of mine. We spent a summer together in Morocco.”

“How was that?” Hailey asked.

“So great I forgot I even went,” Llewellyn said with a laugh. As he finished the speech, the windows on the observation wall opened, revealing the enormity that was the Luna Megarena. It was setup as it always was for a GeoConfederate meeting. The floor was packed with seats, arranged in a circle around a large, intricate podium with a small area of what amounted to a stage in front of it. The arena seats around the floor were packed with journalists, dignitaries, and people from every state in the GeoConfederacy.

The huge lights on the ceilings above the arena seats dimmed, putting a focus on the floor. All of the state representatives of the states filled into their seats. There was a fifteenth section that was not present at the previous sessions set aside for the African delegation. The Number box started to slowly ascend to its place at the front of the middle arena seating ring as the Chancellor, a young Swedish man named Bjorn Samuelsson, took his place at the center podium.

“We call to order this quarterly meeting of the GeoConfederate senate,” his voice boom from speakers all around the arena. There was a loud round of applause from everyone in attendance. “Today, we will accept the fifteenth state of our Confederacy into our ranks. Without any further delay, we will open the floor to any objections.” There was a silence. After five seconds, the crowd erupted into cheer.

“With no objections, I, Bjorn Samuelsson, Chancellor of the GeoConfederate senate, accept the State of Africa as the fifteenth GeoConfederate state.” There was another roar from the crowd. The African delegation all stood, a few of them waving a newly-stitched flag bearing the newly decided seal of Africa.

Then came the boom.





AGAIN. COMMENTS/CRITICISMS NOT JUST WELCOMED, BUT ENCOURAGED.