I trail after the Empress and her son while they take a stroll through the city gardens. I carry their bags behind them, straining at the weight, struggling to keep up with their unburdened steps. Inside the bags is a folded-together mini-gazebo for a picnic as well as picnic foods in a freezer. They are well-prepared for a day out in town. They even brought me. 

"The garden is really beautiful," the Prince comments. 

"So it is," the Empress agrees, looking around at the exotic and colourful flowers casting light all around. "What's your favourite one here?" 

They continue talking. And once again, I try not to listen. But I can't help it. It cuts me so deeply, how I'm not a part of this. How I'm not a part of their bonding, a part of their love, a part of the connections that they share. Despite being so close to them so much of the time, there is always an invisible line between myself and the masters. I will never truly belong, except in the role of the servant. 

I swallow down the lump forming in my throat. The lump constantly forming in my throat. I fight past the grief, past the loneliness, past the anger. Past the overwhelming and all-consuming loneliness that haunts my every moment, every heartbeat, every breath. I fight the bitterness on my tongue. And I stay silent, stay passive, stay in my place. 

I suppose I should not complain. They feed me. They clothe me. I'm not part of the family. No matter the fact that I live in the palace along with them, no matter the fact that I see them every day. I am not really a part of this family and they don't have to treat me as if I am. They don't have to include me in their conversations. They don't need to talk to me. They're under no obligation. I should be grateful for what I have. 

After all, the Prince is right, all that us monsters deserve is death. And the Empire doesn't give us death. It gives us life. And for that we should be grateful. 

My arms burn and I make sure to not let anything drop, straining and struggling to not trip over myself and make them scream at me. I have not messed up so far, but I need to be sure to not mess up ever. That would inconvenience my masters. And I cannot inconvenience my masters. Not only would they yell at me, but they deserve so much better than a clumsy slave that trips over themselves and causes chaos. 

"I have to say, mother," the Prince is speaking, "the flora from the lower planets is rather beautiful."

"They are beautiful when they grow under the Empire's control and protection," the Empress replies, "as all things are."

The Empire's control and protection. I suppose I should be grateful for the Empire's control and protection. They maintain the peace. They protect the weak. They protect all the planets under them. And all they ask for in return is our obedience and tribute. I suppose I should be grateful. I know I should be grateful. But for some reason, it's really, really hard for me to be grateful. 

The sun shines on the golden hair of the Empress and the Prince, and it blinds me. 

———

The Emperor is walking down the long corridor lined by clear cells, housing all sorts of monsters. Beside him walks the Prince, and behind both of them trails me, as silent as the prisoners behind the glass walls. 

"The Empire protects all those who need protecting," the Emperor explains to his thirteen-year-old son, who is three years older than me. "We stop dangerous criminal monsters from hurting loyal monsters and from hurting our people."

The prisoners all around look terrible. They have metal gags around their mouths and most of them are covered in scratches and bruises. Many of them are banging their heads, their hands, their bodies against the unyielding glass of their cells. They're being tortured. They're torturing themselves. I know how it feels. 

"These monsters in these cells," the Prince begins, "what crimes have they been brought to heel for?"

"Mostly they have tried to defy the Empire and they have tried to weaken our rule over and our hold on the other planets. I'm sure you know why that is dangerous."

"Yes, sir," there is a smile in his voice. "If we are not able to rule over the lower planets, if we are not able to care for and protect the lower planets, then there will be nothing to stop them from descending into chaos and turning on each other."

"Absolutely, my dear son." The Emperor's words send a strange pang through my heart. "Without our protection they will descend into war. There will be chaos. Bloodshed. The strong will overpower the weak. The stability of the galaxy will crumble. And our own great and civilized planet will fall into ruin."

"So have all the prisoners here tried to fight the Imperial Forces?"

"Most of them have, in petty and squalid little rebellions. But some of them have tried to steal back their power sources. Of course, they didn't succeed."

"What will happen if they have their power sources?"

"Then, my son, they could focus their magic in whatever direction they wanted to, rather than only being able to use it as an energy source to power our machines and technology. We all know, that if they have this sort of power, that would spell the end of what we've oh-so-carefully built."

"How can we be sure that they will not be able to access the power sources that we have confiscated from them?"

"Because, my son, remember, the power sources are surrounded on all sides by the void, except for the tunnel that only we have control over. And remember, nothing can get through the void. The void destroys all life that touches it."

"I will protect the artefacts in your inventory, father, I promise."

"It is impossible to take the artefacts without annihilating yourself and them, for all that connects the power sources to the rest of the galaxy is an easily retractable tunnel. Still, I am sure that you will do much to protect the power of the Empire."

———

I wake up. I am groggy and tired, but I used odds and ends I found to make myself a small alarm and I have to wake up now or else the masters will get mad at me. So I pull myself out of the rest of sleep, out of the glorious nothingness, the emptiness, that sleep brings. And I force myself, shaking internally, to face a new day. A new day full of the old horrors. Full of the old strains. Full of the old loneliness and the hatred and the misery. 

I drag my feet to the small sink in my room, a room which is more of a closet really, and wash my face with water and brush my teeth with a bit of toothpaste. I go as fast as I can, so that I may have a few moments to myself when I'm done. I never have time to myself. Except deep in the nights, when the darkness cloaks everything. But night is far, far away and now I have to face the day. 

I finish brushing and I sit down on the floor of my room. It's a tiny room, just big enough for me to lie down in. It's a sparse room. All I have is a thin, ratty blanket, a worn-out sheet on the floor, an old and thin pillow, a sink, and a squatting toilet. It's nothing. But still, in the early mornings, when no-one is telling me what to do yet or where to go, it's mine. 

There are times, when the family is asleep, when I am awake, when I can think my own thoughts, without anyone looking at me, without anyone looking through me, without anyone expecting me, without anyone judging me, without anyone completely disregarding me. I treasure these times, because they are the only times when I am at least a little bit my own. I am at least a little bit free. I am at least a little bit able to escape the drudgery of the life that has been forced upon me. 

Not that I want to be free. No, no. Of course not. I know my place and I know why it's important for myself and everyone else to stay in our places. I could never dream of rebelling. I could never dream of seeking more freedom than the family is willing to give me. But I treasure the little bits of freedom that the family graces me with nonetheless. 

I pull myself up and drag my heavy feet to the breakfast table so that I can lay out all the foods that the family will eat for breakfast. They have many hearty meats and thick stews and strange and exotic fruits from all around the galaxy. They eat food flavoured and seasoned with all the finest genetically modified spices. And everything they eat is so rich and so full of taste and flavour. 

Once I'm done, I apply the temperature-regulating force field over the food to keep it all exactly the right temperature and to keep it fresh and moist and good. It's an easy bit of technology to use, you just have to take pictures of the food and the disk will judge for itself what the optimal conditions for the food are. Still, it's stressful nonetheless, because I have to make sure I get everything right. I always have to make sure I get everything right. 

Now it's time for me to eat my own breakfast. Which is not something I am looking forwards to. I walk to the kitchen and get out the jug of tasteless thick liquid out of the corner under the counter. I pour a glass out and I force myself to down the disgusting mixture that is not quite solid and not quite liquid. I know that it has calories, even if it's lacking on the nutritional side. All I really need is calories. I don't really need nutrition. 

I glance out the window for a second, and all I can see is the shining gold of the palace. I wish there was something else out there. 

———

It's night time. It's finally night time. All the family is asleep. The Emperor. The Empress. The Prince. And I am supposed to be asleep as well. And it is during this time when I am supposed to be asleep that I feel the most alive that I ever feel. It is during this time when the whole world is quiet that my own heart can finally be loud. Loud and undeniable and undeniably mine. 

Not that I'm hurting my masters. Oh no, I would never hurt my masters. I'm good. But I am rebelling against them a little bit. In a way that doesn't matter. In a way that doesn't hurt anyone. In a way that is just, simply my own. The only thing in this life that I have for myself. The only thing in this life that I can find myself in.

I slip through my door and pad my way down to the library, magic thrumming in my blood. I have so much magic inside me, and it still flows through me even after the draining of energy from my body. All the pain, all the terror of that horrible machine that harvests energy from my being, it all cannot seep the magic from me. And that magic demands acknowledgment, demands release. It demands an act of rebellion, however small and meaningless. 

I arrive in the library, darkened to blackness. My own ugly darkness is unnoticeable here. Unseen here. I get tomes from the shelves. And oh so tenderly, oh so gingerly, I open them up, everything around me and inside me going still for the moment where breath becomes air, where yearning becomes truth, and fire becomes light inside my shivering soul. 

Holograms spin to life from the pages of the books in front of me. Holograms that teach me much about the universe. History, politics, technology, science, everything that a royal would need or want to know in order to run the Empire. So much knowledge, right at my fingertips. 

And I learn, and I learn, and I learn. 

Everything is so entrancing. I get to use my mind, I get to challenge myself, I get to test myself in all sorts of ways. I get to think creatively and solve problems. I get to find out how things work. And I get to find out how I can make things work. I can overcome difficulties and reach understandings and epiphanies. I can use the mental energy I have inside myself, the mental energy that has built up and built up over the years, that is just aching for release. 

Throughout the whole process I make sure to keep an eye out for anyone's footsteps, for any voices, for any hints that the family might be awake, that anyone might be coming for me. I know that if anyone finds me, if anyone at all finds me, and sees me then I will be dead. I will be quite literally dead. 

But even this towering, looming danger isn't enough to make me stop. I'm just too curious. I just love knowledge too much. I'm just madly in love enough and nothing, not even death can make me stop seeking this. It's too enticing, too entrancing, too absolutely exhilarating. I might be a slave, I might be a slave and a monster, but I can learn things. I can learn things and I will. 

After hours have passed, I close all the books and secretively return to my room. I sleep so that I won't be too awfully tired in my day tomorrow. 

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