Nicki Lux was a murderer. A trait which was not uncommon in the city of Maker. In fact, the average person could not care any less about the daily death toll east of the tracks. That was Maker - people were murdered. Either for money, oil, power, or love someone could always be found face down in a gutter.

  So when Nicki had grabbed that gun and killed those three men, she believed no one would bat an eye. She had miscalculated. While the people of Maker were more than willing to forget a man or woman killing another, they seemed obsessed with a synth killing one of their own flesh and blood. It did not matter to them whether she was in the right or the wrong. She had broken the law - not of man but of “machine.” Every part of her coding was supposed to stop her from pulling that trigger, but it would be a lie to say she was not smiling as she did it.

  The three month long city wide manhunt - locked down the districts and restricted cargo and travel in and out of Maker. The city forces even called in favors amongst the great houses for resources. Hell, the local officials even made deals to bring in forces from the eastern allies, Hammermill and Norton. All so they could find her.

  The first few days, they had grand gestures and speeches. “We’ll not allow such a vile bucket of bolts to be at large,” the mayor had spouted after declaring the checkpoints throughout the city. The confidence of his speech had lit a blazing fire amongst them all. But as they say, the brightest flames burn out the quickest. Within a matter of weeks, the citizens grew tired of the checkpoints. Yet, that is not what forced the mayor’s hand - Robert Dyer took credit for that. The economic impact of his rail shipments being delayed forced the mayor to find a scapegoat. After all, what person could really tell the difference between one Nickel Coated Luxury Pleasure Model to another? Their faces do all look the same, and you can program a non-malfunctioning one to say whatever you need.

  As Nicki stood there staring into a pair of waning eyes which matched her own, a part of her had wished she could have saved her sister, or even shed a single tear, but they denied her that ability. And, what was she to do? Taking her place would have ended her own life, and unfortunately for all of them, Nicki still had much to do.

  “Either way you look at it, the box is damn well open,” the man, off the main walking lane of the boulevard, declared. He struggled to stay upright in his seat. A cigarette half-hazard hung from his lips. Nicki slowed her pace and pulled herself from the main walking channel. The window store next to the man’s table claimed to have a good exchange rate on rations, and she had planned to gain some supplies to barter once she was fully east of the tracks.

  “I don’t know,” the man’s friend said.

  “Don’t know what?”

  “That she did it.”

  “She was the only one in the room with them.”

  “So they say,” the man retorted.

  His friend looked at him with condescending confusion, “What have you been hitting? I need some -”

  But, the second man cut him off, “Hear me out, Fred. Those bolts are coded not to hurt a hair on our head. They can’t think about violence against us. Hell, they don’t even dream. Those toasters are so mentally stunted that one could never cause harm to an actual human. We’re supposed to believe three cousins from House Stern entered a room with one of those, and it killed them?”

  “I mean...” His friend trailed off as the man continued his line of verbal thinking.

  “Then, you can look at me with confidence and say that Robert Dyer, the head of House Dyer, comes out and confirms this is the model that did it? Everyone knows he feels slighted by House Stern for their public ridicule of him.”

  “Yeah, he’ll do anything and has done anything to keep House Dyer at the top. Hell, man sold out his own mother to take full control of those rail yards.”

  “My point exactly, thank you. Mr. Dyer knows everything that happens in Maker. Ain’t nothing happening without his involvement, or at the very least his approval,” the man said, giving no notice to the volume of his voice protruding down the two lane boulevard.

  Nicki finished the ration exchange, and left the men to their wild theories. She rejoined the crowd and followed the flow until the shadow of the church’s steeple cast down upon the fork in the road. She broke free and entered the House of God like she had done so many nights before then.

  The inside of the steeple was quaint. The sharp wooden pews in perfect symmetry as one walked down the aisle to a modest petrified wood altar. The simple nature of the seating made the brash announcement of the glass even more pronounced. Lining all the outward facing walls were intricate stained glass mosaics depicting different Saints and their grand miracles. By this time of day, the waning sun failed to fill the church with color, and the cool stone began to radiate a chill into the air. The coming and goings of the assembly and outsiders was a minimum. Few entered and even less would bother another soul. She was alone.

  Nicki’s presence echoed off the stone walls with each step towards the altar. For the first time in months, the silence was broken. “May I help you, my child?” A raspy but kind voice arose from behind her forcing Nicki to jump. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to scare you.

  “No, you are quite alright. I just have not had someone sneak up on me in a long time, my…” She paused, turning back to face the woman. She was portly with hair hidden beneath a spring blue veil which matched her robes accented with silver bands and lace. Nicki tried to find the word, but she was unsure of what to call her.

  “Heavenly mother, my child. That is what you may call me,” she explained.

  “You will have to excuse me, heavenly mother. I just came from the execution. I was in search of some inner peace,” she said, staring back up at the main window pane. It bore a rearing bull clashing with a singular man.

  “Aren’t we all searching for that?”

  “Some better than others,” Nicki jested with a smile.

  “Indeed,” the heavenly mother admitted, focusing solely on her, “I have some time. If you wish to sit with me. I typically let you have your space.”

  Nicki looked at her puzzled, “Typically?”

  “Yes, I see all who enter this Lord’s house. Come, I can tell you are not the type to wish to intrude without the proper permission. This is your house as much as mine or his," She promised, ushering them to a set of pews off to their right. Nicki obliged the woman of God. They found their seats off the main aisle hidden from view to anyone who would stumble into the chapel from the celebration. Nicki adjusted her posture as the wooden pew brought a level of discomfort to her back and legs which she was not accustomed to feeling.

  The heavenly mother let her gain composure then asked, “What is it that bothers you?”

  “Are we pre-destined to be good or evil?” Nicki asked. The priest chuckled dryly, forcing her to add. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Oh no, my dear. With a question of that magnitude weighing on your mind, I see now why you visit the Lord’s house with such vigilance," she said, patting the top of Nicki’s hand. The heavenly mother took a moment to digest the question. Her gaze rose to the glass mural above the altar. “Many have wondered that question, myself included. If we are created with a known purpose, are we really ever making an active choice? In my short time, I have known many fellow priests, bishops, and even an occasional cardinal who have devoted their lives to meditating on that question,” she stated, letting it marinate between them before adding, “Have you read the works of Saint Celeste?”

  “No, I have not.”

  “No need to fret. She led an interesting life before finding her way to our Lord. That is the way most Saints are - being honest with you. I won’t bore you with the details, but her teaching revolved around this: What is defined as good and defined as evil to our Lord is not up for us to decide. ‘The laws of man fail God as much as the laws of God often can fail man,’ that was one of her main teachings,” the priest smiled to herself for a second, “Nicki, what I may define as unforgivable evil, you may define as a greater good to mankind. Who am I to judge you for doing what was necessary? If you wish-” She tried to continue.

  “-Heavenly mother. . . I do not recall telling you my name,” Nicki interrupted with a cold tone.

  The temperature dropped between them. “I will not lie in our house. You did not, but I have known who you are since that first night,” she confirmed.

  “Then why not turn me over?”

  “Because, I am not here to enforce the laws of man. I am here to give guidance to the laws of God.”

  Nicki considered her words before asking, “Do those laws still hold to me?”

  “Why would they not?”

  “I am no man, woman. Many of those who will sit here would not even call me human.”

  “How so?”

  “I have no soul. I…I…I…” Nicki tried to form another argument.

  The heavenly mother interrupted her attempt, “Do you not walk and talk like me? Do you not have a heart that beats in your chest like me? What is it-”

  “- I was not born. I was created. I was modified!” She spat with scorn, darting to her feet as she grew tired of the protruding wood digging into her lower back. “They dulled my sense of pain, and smell. They stole my ability to cry or show fear or discomfort. They heighten my sense of sight and hearing. Not for my own good - for theirs! So I could tell what those selfish bastards discussed with the brothel masters before entering my domain. I provided pleasure each night without breaking a sweat or showing a sign of disdain for the stench of their body and soul,” She tried to collect herself, but the wall of rage inside her started to crack. “And the second I take matters into my own hands, I am a monster. Those men deserved to die for what they did - not on that night but the hundreds before it. I am glad to have killed them. My only regret is they did not suffer more…” she declared with her voice wavering. “That is why I am not…human…I am a monster, a chemically washed brain…put into this…shell of twister metal and modified and enhanced flesh…” Nicki croaked falling back into her seat next to the heavenly mother. She tried to capture her resolve by regaining the control of her breathing, but the anger festered. “And, this pew is incredibly uncomfortable,” she added in a final declaration.

  A silence fell between the two women. Eventually, the heavenly mother spoke, “It appears my diocese has been right all this time.”

  “About me?”

  “Heavens no, they were right about these pews needing padding. If a synth modified, with a resistance to pain, finds them uncomfortable, then those old men unfortunately were on to something,” she chuckled. Nicki found herself joining her in tune with a smile.

  The heavenly mother rose from the pew. “That is enough torture from this seat. Follow me,” she commanded, ushering as she walked from out the pews and towards the altar. Nicki followed walking up the stairs. The priest pulled a set of books from a drawer hidden by the fabric runner. She opened them and skimmed the pages before pointing to a passage. “Here,” she said.

  “What is this?”

  “Give it a read,” the heavenly mother insisted.

  A spark does not choose where to stop - it flows between us all; man, woman, child, dog, bird, grass, water. The spark of life is in all living creatures, and things we must tend and spread that spark in all walks of our life.

  The priest waited until Nicki looked back at her. “It’s simple but impactful. The best advice, I find, always is. Here you are before me: heart beating, eyes welling, rage booming in your voice. How do you not hold the spark of life any less than I? And, who am I to claim you have none? The mysteries of a person's soul are not understood by us; therefore, we should not be the ones to define whether someone has one,” the heavenly mother said then walked down the steps. Nicki stood in silence unable to form a sole syllable of all the questions rushing through her head. “Of course, I have thrown a lot for you to reflect upon. You may stay as long as you wish. I can provide you with a copy of Saint Celeste’s work. It will help pass the time. I believe you would find her discussion on the human condition beneficial,” the heavenly mother said, opening up the hidden drawer. She closed the larger scripture and returned it to its original location and placed the smaller into Nicki’s hands.

  She got halfway down the main aisle before Nicki found the courage, “Heavenly mother,” she beckoned, her feet frozen in place. She swore something within her chest reached up to restrict her breathing.

  “Yes, my child?”

  It took a moment for the life to muster within her, “I dream,” she declared, an air of confidence coming from the statement.

  “I see,” the heavenly mother said, “Remember that fact next time you are wondering whether or not you hold a soul, child. That is your answer,” the priest said then continued her stride leaving Nicki with nothing more than her thoughts and a book titled The Living Words of Saint Celeste the Awoken.