SYSTEMATIC

Tiffany conveyed the vase to the table, cradling its base in her gloved hands. Arriving at her destination, she carefully placed the object in its assigned position, next to the waiting multicolor spread of tulips, pink and purple and blue. Hands now free, she hovered one over the flowers, selected one, placed it in the vase, repeated the procedure.

Behind her, the radio-unit burbled to itself. The Gems from the mobile clinked musically against each other in the soft breeze blowing in from the garden through the open glass doors. That breeze also brought with it the scent of more flowers, the trickling of water from the central fountain, and the sounds of songbirds, adding to the-

“Damnit!”

Tiffany slotted the latest tulip into place before turning, her hands folded neatly in front her apron, waiting to be deployed as needed. She raised her eyebrows.

“Madam?”

Madam was seated in her towering and well-padded chair, directly under the mobile, a stemmed goblet in one dark hand, her slender bare feet emerging from her silken robe to stretch out on the footstool. Jezebel and Lucrezia crouched on either side of the chair, as always on sharp-edged alert, their dangling tags and the spikes from their leather collars all glittering silver in the slanting afternoon light. Madam glowered, swallowed the last of the goblet’s contents in one quick gulp and deposited the vessel on the waiting tray-fixture. She flashed an distracted, imperious gesture at the radio-unit, which shut itself off.

“The Sirens won. Again.”

Tiffany formed a slight crease in the otherwise flawless expanse of her forehead.

“Madam?”

Madam rolled her eyes.

“It’s a professional sports team, Tiffany.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Madam traced slow deliberate spirals in the short-cropped bristles of Jezebel’s head as she continued in a sour tone.

“I made another bet with Melvin.”

Tiffany rotated this thought inside her own head and examined it along various axes before venturing a reply.

“Mr. Snively, Madam?”

“Yes. Mr. Snively. And he won. Again.”

In one fluid motion, Madam slid her legs off the footstool and rose to her feet. She unknotted the sash on her robe, peeled it off, and tossed the sparkling garment aside, revealing the gauzy wisps of fabric underneath, strategically positioned.

“And now I have to go have sex with him. Again.” Under her crinkled mass of jet-black hair, her eyes smoldered. “The little weasel-bastard has developed some kind of damn system. I just know it. And someday..” she pointed emphatically.. “Someday, I’m gonna figure it out, crack it, and then he’ll be in big trouble!” She stalked towards the exit archway, Jezebel and Lucrezia padding sleek and muscled at her heels.

As Tiffany watched them, she felt a strangely powerful compulsion to speak.

“Madam?”

Madam pivoted, framed by the archway and its edging of interlocking spirals.

“Yes, Tiffany?”

“If..” She saw Madam’s expression.. “..when you win a bet with Mr. Snively, what will the result be?”

Madam grinned, her teeth glittering almost as brightly as the spikes.

“He’ll have to come here and have sex with me! No. Strike that.” She wagged her finger again. “He’ll have to come here and have sex with us! Hah!”

“Madam.” Tiffany curtsied.

Madam and her two guardians vanished into the darkness and nothingness beyond the archway.

Tiffany retrieved the robe from amidst the thick swirls of the carpet, smoothed it, hung it on one of the waiting hooks by the archway. She collected the goblet, cleaned it, put it away. Only then did she make her way back to the vase, and finish assembling the tulips. Finally satisfied with the arrangement, she carried the vase to the waiting display-fixture nestled in its alcove in front of the mirror, inserted the vase into the gap, so that the fixture curled the various parts of its lower structure around it, made adjustments to the attached tresses of red hair so they framed the fixture’s curves more artistically. Perfection. She hesitated, eyed the mobile, then went to it, arranged her hands again and stared into the massed system of Gems.

Watched them turn and spin, around and around and around.

Glittering.

Pink and purple and at the center of it all deepest darkest blue.

Just barely

Touching against each other.

Along their

razor-sharp edges.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

Only when her gaze had been thoroughly devoured did she allow herself to think about what Madam had just said.

Mr. Snively?

Coming here?

To engage in sexual intercourse?

Something fluttered in the vicinity of her stomach, and her knees felt weak.

She tore her attention away from the Gems (only part of it was still there, part of it was always ecstatically and blissfully immeshed there, forever and ever), automatically confirmed that her own hair was pulled back into its tight blonde knot, that her frilly cap was on straight, and went to get the bucket and the sponge and the rubber gloves.

She wasn't entirely sure if she shared Madam's optimism, but..

If there was even the slightest chance Mr. Snively would be coming here..

she was going to start scrubbing all the fixtures and units even more thoroughly and often.

Scrub every last centimeter.

This time, she started with the footstool.