CHAPTER 2.1 – “Not A Calm Mute”

CHAPTER 2.1 – “Not A Calm Mute”

Location: Planet Orchid – Incompatibles Sector 1.3 – The Big Market – K7-Q-Okzid-28

Date: NTC 1446.07.18

The alley began with a sign.

"BIG MARKET"

Stretched in pulsating neon across a steel archway.

Pink, green, and yellow letters flickering against cracked black walls.

Merry squinted up at it.

“That’s subtle,” she muttered. “Nothing says ‘crime-free’ like bad neon.”

Chatter didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look.

Its expression was perfectly blank.

Lips shut. Eyes unfocused. Movements mechanical.

Pacified mute imitation, activated.

"Okay. No breathing. Stiff posture. No blinking. No expressions. No sudden turns. Just shuffle and look dead.

That’s what they expect. That's what keeps us safe."

They stepped into the alley.

And the noise swallowed them.

It was narrow, barely enough room for five people to walk side by side, but packed wall to wall with color and chaos.

Every meter glowed: hologram banners, rotating signs, floating text in Truth dialects.

The flickering lights bled into each other, painting everything in acidic hues.

Merry started asking questions.

“Why do they call it ‘Big’ if the street’s this damn narrow?”

No answer came from Chatter. Just silence.

“You’d think a place this flashy could at least wash the floor.”

Silence again.

The mute stalls lined both sides.

Glass cases like aquariums. Each holding a different kind of stillness.

Some were biological: pale-skinned, expressionless, stripped of will.

Some were biomechanical, with metal grafts and pulsing neural webs.

Others were purely synthetic, glossy androids in idle pose.

And a few were just a code, streams of numbers flickering in transparent cubes.

Each had a nameplate, a serial number, a price and some kind of face — organic, holographic, mechanical etc.

Merry glanced left, then right, then back again.

Her voice lowered.

“Okay… this is way worse than I expected.”

Chatter said nothing.

“I mean… I thought it’d be shady, but this? This is just slavery.”

Still no answer.

She turned slightly toward it. “Don’t you think it’s messed up?”

Chatter kept walking, blank-eyed.

Merry furrowed her brow.

“Hey! You see all this, right?”

Silence.

She waved a hand in front of its face. “Are you seriously ignoring me right now?”

It didn’t flinch.

"Don’t respond. Don’t twitch. She’ll get bored eventually. Maybe." It thought.

“Come on, say something. I’m talking to myself like an idiot.” Merry said.

More silence.

“Okay, fine. Give me nothing. It’s not weird at all to walk into a market full of zombie-people while my friend pretends to be one.”

"Friend…?"

Chatter almost blinked.

"Focus. Focus. Don’t breathe. You’re not breathing. That’s good. Pacified units don’t breathe.

Just… keep walking."

They passed a store with a gold-trimmed sign:

"EXOTIC BIO-ORGANICS"

Behind the glass, mutes lined up in pristine white uniforms.

Organic, mostly or close to it.

And then, one caught Merry's eye.

She stopped mid-step.

“Wait. Stop.”

Chatter almost didn’t. But it stopped anyway, smoothly and naturally.

Merry pointed at the glass.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

One of the mutes looked exactly like Chatter.

Same cheekbones. Same posture. Same eyes.

Not similar. Identical.

Her mouth dropped open.

“Oh my god.”

Chatter saw it too.

Recognition hit like static through its entire frame.

"That’s 28-4. Its tank was right next to mine. I thought it was decommissioned…

I thought the state destroyed them all…"

It stared.

Not blinking. Not reacting.

But something inside Chatter twisted.

Merry turned to it, incredulously.

“You seeing this? It looks just like you!”

Nothing.

“Is this like… your sibling or something?”

Still nothing.

She narrowed her eyes.

“You’re angry, aren’t you?”

"Pause."

“I get it. No need to pretend. I’m gonna fix it.”

"No."

She stepped toward the door.

"No. No no no—"

It wanted to stop her. To grab her arm. To yell.

But pacified mutes didn’t grab, or yell.

So it followed her. Silent. Expressionless. Dying inside.

The lighting inside the store was a cold, clinical blue.

White tiles and blue-lit counters made the atmosphere even more clinical. A sweet metallic smell hung in the air.

Customers in flowing robes milled around the display windows while speaking to the staff.

Merry stormed into the center of the store.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Let my friend’s sibling go!”

The store froze.

Heads turned.

A pencil hit the floor.

One attendant choked on a sip of his coffee.

A man in a pinstripe suit approached quickly.

He looked like someone with authority, with a trimmed beard, slicked-back hair, and a glowing datapad in his palm.

“Ma’am, please. There’s no need to raise your voice. May I assist you with something?”

“I just said it. That mute,” she pointed at the glass tank. “It looks like my friend.”

Before the vendor could speak, Chatter entered behind her, still playing the part.

No one looked at it twice.

The vendor glanced at Chatter just once, with a blank expression.

“Yours?” he asked flatly.

“What do you mean mine?” Merry shot back. “It’s not a pet. It’s my friend.”

The vendor gave a subtle sigh.

“Oh. Of course. My mistake.”

He tried a smile. Failed.

“How can I help?”

Merry crossed her arms. “That mute. In the tank. I want it out.”

The vendor blinked.

“Out?”

“Yes. Released. Freed. Whatever word works for you people.”

The vendor leaned closer to the glass, inspecting the unit.

After that he studied Chatter.

Then lit up with sudden realization.

“Oh… fascinating. You have the same model too. You're a collector, then. Some collectors like to personalize their property. We don’t judge in this store.”

“I’m not—” Said Merry, tried to intervene.

But the vendor kept talking.

“These models are rare. Extremely rare. Siren project, organic, full cerebral mapping.

Only fifty ever confirmed. Possibly state linked.”

“Yeah,” Merry said. “I figured it was something important when you stuffed it in a fish tank.”

The vendor chuckled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Madam, I’d be happy to arrange a transfer. Standard purchase protocols, of course.

Helping a fellow enthusiast is always a pleasure.”

“Purchase?”

Merry stepped forward. Her voice dropped.

“I don’t see a product here. I see someone’s sibling.”

The vendor’s smile cracked.

“If you have no credits, I’ll have to ask you to leave madam. You are disturbing our clients.”

“Don’t care.”

He signaled behind his back.

Two android Mutes appeared, heads gleaming in the cold light.

“If you won't go peacefully, we’ll escort you.”

Android Mutes started flanking Merry from her right and left.

Merry just smiled. “Try me.”

The vendor’s smile turned brittle.

“We will confiscate your mute as well. You probably stole it from somewhere else.

It will sell well, I’m sure. And with its twin, the pair will fetch an excellent price.”

Chatter twitched.

Slightly, barely visible.

Its eyes lit up, no longer blank.

Alive, focused and blazing.

Then everything happened at once.

"Pft - Pft - Pft"

Three shots in one breath.

All hit between the eyes.

The vendor fell.

Both androids collapsed in sparks.

Chatter stood there, still holding the pistol in its hand.

Customers screamed and scattered.

Merry blinked.

“Damn.”

Chatter holstered the pistol.

It didn’t look at her.

“Happy now?”

Merry grinned.

“You have no idea. From now on it gets easier.”

She laughed, loud and proud.

Alarms exploded over their head.

Red light flooded the walls.

Merry turned, stared at the glass.

28-4 still stood there. Eyes blank. Face empty.

Merry raised her fist.

"WHACK"

With a loud crash, she punched through the glass. Shards scattered across the floor.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get your sibling out.”

Chatter stepped forward, slowly, its eyes fixed on the glass tank.

The mute inside, its mirror or look alike, stood motionless. Eyes open, but vacant.

Breathing, maybe. Alive, technically. But there was nothing behind its gaze.

Chatter’s voice came out low and flat.

"It's gone."

Merry turned sharply to it, confused.

"What?"

It didn’t look at her. Its gaze stayed locked on the tank.

"It's dead. There’s nothing left. It's just a shell."

Merry froze where she stood, her fist still half-lowered from breaking the glass.

Her voice softened.

"You sure?"

Chatter finally turned its head to her. Its expression was calm, too calm.

"I'm sure."

From somewhere outside, a siren wailed, then another, closer.

Chatter’s eyes turned toward the door.

"We need to go. Now."

Merry hesitated a moment longer.

She turned to look at the mute once more, to the lifeless face behind the glass.

The resemblance was still there. But the soul wasn’t.

She whispered, almost to herself:

"Alright."

Chatter was already moving.

Merry followed it, with quick steps.

They dashed back into the street of lights and noise,

neon smearing across their faces as the chaos of the Big Market welcomed them again.

Behind them, the sirens grew louder.

And just like that, the hunt had begun.