The Eternal

An Hour Ago

“And cut to camera 3 for capture team establishing shot of Zoe Moretti.” A statue with a headpiece in his ear speaks, the look of a consummate professional. His marble facade does not betray a classical history, he looks like a man of the 20th century, just made completely out of marble, his lips unmoving as the sounds come out unobstructed. “We are currently about 20% above projected baseline ratings. We are outperforming Harem Hotel: Lot Lizards where they auction off old defunct sets with contestants of cancelled seasons sight unseen, trying to turn a profit. 40% above the marmoset season.”

“Cutting to main stage now. Clean transition, everything as planned.” A woman in a furry costume announces, before continuing, “Preroll for 4 is in editing, can we get that finished up? We are coming up on next commercial break.”

The statue slightly shifts as he looks at camera 8. “Camera 8s been down for 10 minutes, do we have an ETA on when signal is restored?” A potted plant on one of the switch stations answers. “Nope, rough signal area, some kind of jamming. Audio is still good. They called for backup a few times, but…”

Another junior producer steps forward, this one looking like an anime character and one of questionable quality given how they seem to cut to key frames with few tweens. “Should we switch to one of the backups? We still have Mei in the back pocket. And it’s not like Eleana’s some kind of key to the whole season. If we can’t even broadcast the capture, is this even worth the film?”

The statue shook his head, the motion looking quite jarring. “Well, we could but… This was going to be something that tied a lot of threads together. And, well, it felt like it could really bring the season together. ‘The one who showed Robin that it was ok being different.’ And orders from the planning committee say they are working on it.”

The anime character looks at the black screen. “Production always gets the shaft, and not the fun way.” He puts his hand to his headset. “Apparently, they are in negotiations.”
A Couple Rooms Away

“We got her, we got Elena!!” 7 producers stumble in, most more agile forms designed to chase and capture. Some humanoid, some very much not. The planning committee looks up, a bit confused as to why they would bring her here of all places. It was a large conference room, with various chairs and couches along with a few cots scattered around a large table, covered in planning notes. A list of challenges crossed out, a set of rough rules agreed upon while a few still bore question marks. A picture of a castle in the sky circled, while a jungle and a dimension made up entirely of mirrors were crossed out. This was the place most of the junior producers had congregated, a warroom to discuss all of the elements of the season, as they happened, the closest thing to a brain trust they had. A place to freely discuss ideas and opinions on the season, a place to plan and react and pivot if needed. A place a contestant would never be taken under normal circumstances.

“If you have her, put her in the chute. We can hold her until it’s her turn, remove her powers while under stasis.” The producer who was part of the planning committee, who took the shape of a pile of gold coins about 6 feet tall and about the same width around, said with a huff of indignation.

The spiderlike humanoid who had captured Ipheara who was part of the capture team spoke, “Oh well, we have her but… well we don’t have her, have her. She’s in here.” The spiderlike producer reaches back and is handed an item from a being of tentacles, who then rolls it on the desk. A bright green gem lingers there for a second, before it starts expanding. Another producer from the capture team moves surely, putting a glass over it. When the gem hits the sides, it seems to expand to fill the glass before stopping.

The planning committee groans, the coins commenting. “An infinitely compressible space? Let me guess, you tried to crush her house when you couldn’t get in, but that was all that you were left with. A geometric prism that can be as small as a few atoms, never breaking. Why would you think that you got her? If she can do that, a labyrinthine reflection is child’s play…”

The spiderlike producer holds his hands up, trying to ease the accusations before they really got rolling. “I mean, yeah, we got that. Tom is trapped somewhere in there already. But then she talked, said she was willing to negotiate. Said that she was thinking of going on a single’s cruise anyways, and this might be fun. Said she wanted to speak with the head guy in charge. When I said there was no big guy on this season, she said that I should bring her to the biggest meeting we can, so she could deal honestly.”

There are murmurs in the room at the odd circumstances. Negotiate? One of the other producers on the planning committee leans forward, “Wait, so she knows about…”

The emerald in the glass speaks in a woman’s voice, wisened yet chipper. “Harem Hotel? Yeah, I’ve seen a couple cultures that are really big fans. Human seasons were sort of boring though, so never bothered to stay current when I came back to Earth.”

Half of the producers descended again into murmurs of barely constrained frustration, “Even a human knows that their seasons suck. Not even the danger of a mate eating another mate! Or the anti-matter creatures who are sexually attracted to the matter creatures!” A creature that looks like a disco ball yells before being calmed down by the producers around them.

Slowly, the murmurs die down. The gold coins look at the emerald filling the jar, or at least lean toward it without fully collapsing. “So you know of us. And you’re in a place of security, one where we could probably get in, but only with about 2 years of hard effort. I’m sorry to have wasted your and our time. After all, if we knew you were a being of such power, we’d be more likely to make you a host than a contestant.” His tone was resigned, business-like.

The glass spoke again. “Now, now, let’s not be hasty. Did you not hear that fine young man from before? The sp’dahmon, I think it was. I’ve lived a long, long time. And the normal go on a date from a dating website, meet a tradesman whose wife left him, then cut it off after they were overly obsessed with money and their neighbor’s lack of care at mowing the grass after 3 dates? Boring. Having sex with the prince of a galaxy? Done it. Hang out at a dingy meeting of amoeba? Not as fun as you’d think. But a fun game where I follow the steps as they happen? That sounds, well, fun. Like the first time I did the can can.”

“But we can’t just have you enter as you are, the game balance would be ruined, if not the entire season when you break everyone out!” Another producer who looks like a hot Asian MILF interjects.

“And that’s why I’m willing to give up my powers. I’ll leave the various artifiacts I’ve gathered in here. At least for the course of the season, assuming that certain things that I’ve observed are true. If I’m in a position to get them back at the end, that’s fine, but if not, whatever. Give me a contract, and I’ll look over it.”

A wheelbarrow of paper is moved forward, only to disappear. “Hmm, yes, that’s what I thought. Light season, a few twists and turns, but ultimately more toward making this Mastress happy than breaking them into a sad drooling mess or some twisted vision of dominance. Jack’s the host, no plans of excessive eliminations or replacements. A few fun twists, some colorful japes, some interesting tfs. It sounds more fun than shuffleboard, I’ll tell you that much.”

Suddenly, a woman appears, and a couple of the producers shift away in fear. The woman is no fearsome creature, not even some vision of magical prowess like Gandalf. Well, she sort of looks a bit like McGonagall, in the fact that she is a slight, unassuming woman who would look more at home in a bridge studio than some grand meeting of the arcane. Her black hair has grey streaks, her body not quite frumpy, but not much more sexy than that. And her smile is large and welcoming. “Welp, I left all of my toys and knickknacks inside, just like I said. I also left my magic unbound. See, you can cut it, right at this source here, here and here.” She points to her ear, her shoulder and a place on her right upper thigh. “Try not to be clumsy with it, it should be easy.”

The stack of gold coins sighs before standing, the movement looking like a wave but always seeming to have the same height. “You know you might suffer identity death, right? We might not plan on eliminations, but tfs are no joke.”

The woman, Eleana Rosovich, merely shrugs. “My soul has already transmigrated to the heaven I found most pleasant. I’m more homonculus or simulacra now. I’ve long given up on saving humanity. Creatures of fear and hatred to any power they cannot worship, simping scared dolls to those who do so anyways. Jealous cruel things to any who share a different opinion or group, even those who value diversity shunning those who seek stability. And the creatures beyond, they also frustrate me. Beings that think they have the right answer, not the most interesting answer. Beings trapped in infinities, beings wrapped in pride and permanence. I’ve tasted every experience I could imagine. I’ve been man, woman, and every state in between and in negation. I’ve been Russian, Persian, First Nations. I’ve been green, blue, and a being of pure energy, and many other non-human forms. This… this just sounds like fun. Like doing a line dance or playing Bingo. No control, going to another drum’s beat. And if it’s my last ride, well, it was bound to happen eventually. And an ending seeking fun, that sounds like just the kind of ending I want.”

A hapless middle manager appears as Eleana snaps her fingers. The capture team breathes a sigh of relief, “Tom!”

Now

A woman walks onto the stage, appearing nonplussed. Jack is quick to introduce her, as he smiles in the form of a large muscular man dressed in flowing robes covered in a spider web pattern, a jaunty hat still in place. “And now, for our last contestant, could everyone welcome Eleana Rosovich, substitute teacher and grand practitioner of ancient magicks!”

“Jack, how are you doing? It’s been centuries darling.” She walks forward, hugging the host. The host looks a bit perturbed, before quickly shifting back into his normal appearance of unflappability. The smallish 5 foot 6 Russian woman of apparently 50 lets go of Jack before turning to the others. “I’m Eleana Rosovich, and I’m the 8th contestant. Oh, isn’t this exciting?!” She seems quite happy, too happy.

Jack straightens his robes, looking at her. Then he has a questioning look. “Have we met before? You seem sort of familiar.”

“Twice. Once in a Byzantine cellar, as the Mask of Many Faces, the Face of Many Masks as you were going back then in that mystery cult. And once when I was bumming through the Pueblo peoples, though I didn’t catch your name at the time. You’re pretty neat.” She says this as though she had mentioned that she saw him at Costco once. Even Jack is stunned, as she continues on walking in a powerwalk toward Robin.

“And you must be Robin. I never forget a star pupil. I subbed for your first grade Reading class, for half a semester while your teacher was out on maternity. I think I see a few other familiar faces, but they weren’t quite as studious.” She squeezes Robin’s cheek, before moving down the line. Robin for their part seems to have a similar reaction to many. Abject confusion mixed with a lack of the wherewithal to interrupt a person so quickly moving. By the time they had opened their mouth, she was already on to the Ipheara.

“A mothwoman!” She makes a series of barely perceptible screeches, leaving Ipheara looking confused. “I guess you don’t speak either the language of Sirius 3 or the spirit tongues of the Korun. Where are you from dear?” Far from being disappointed, this only seems to galvanize the gregarious woman.

Ipheara merely blushes, before stammering “... a video game… I’m from a video game apparently?” Eleana claps her hands. “Oh, how wonderful, so unique. Art is truly wonderful, isn’t it?!” She quickly moves forward, her joy seeming to grow greater every second.

When she comes to Itzel, Itzel bolts up. “You have telepathy!” Itzel says aloud. Eleana appears a bit embarrassed. “Oh, uh, not used to speaking for your species. Yes, I spent a few years around your neck of the woods. Your rituals and belief systems were fun to experience.”

Itzel blushes. “It must’ve been a long time ago… You told me, ‘My fine lady, your eyes doth glimmer like beautiful gems, your tentacles danceth most flagellatorally.’ I mean, thank you but English is fine…” Eleana chuckles. “Yes, it was… 150 Earth years? 200? I got back 100 years ago or so, but well, it’s sort of hard to keep track of time in Earth years when you are not on Earth, you understand?”

The woman who appears 50 moves past Zoe, going to Beverly. She holds up a hand, where a hologram of a beaver appears. The beaver makes various gestures with its whiskers while putting its head down in a submissive position. Beverly seems to respond, quickly mimicking some signals and showing answering signals to others. Eleana looks a bit confused at the end. “Wait, you speak English as well?”

Beverly smirks. “Of course, Beverly know English good.” Eleana visibly winces. Beverly continues, “Not good?” Eleana shrugs. “Not as bad as some young people I’ve taught. And sometimes knowing what you don’t know is more important than an English doctorate in my eyes” She pinches her cheek as well, living up to the grandma stereotype.

She appears to move past Nyx, only for her to stop. “Wait… You’re… Did I know your grandfather? Or maybe… No, I can’t remember. I’m sorry dear. I’m sure that we can have tea later… Actually, looking down the rest, I don’t think I can recognize the last two either. Well just think of me as a lovely little grandmother, and you’ll mostly have the gist of who I am. But not somebody who is on the road to death, but somebody who tries to experience every culture she can.” She giggles.

She sits down, before looking at Jack. “Oh, wait, did I step on your lines. I’m sorry, I really want to play the game, honest. No tricks, no double crosses, just a few harmless cantrips still left in my toolbag. I just get excited sometimes.”

Jack nods, before talking, clearly having been thrown off his game. “Ok, so, uh, this is Eleana Rosovich. She was born over 800 years ago, and has been every gender, including every step in between. She has visited the realms of spirit, gods, space, and has even witnessed quite a few seasons of Harem Hotel. The Mastress knows her from when she was their substitute teacher in 1st grade. Her confidence and her statement, “You can be what you want, don’t let others put a definition on you” inspired the Mastress to think beyond cultural norms, beginning a journey of self-reflection and honesty that led them to their current beliefs…”

“Oh, that’s adorable, I’m going to make you so happy, Robin!” Jack looks at her angrily, only for her to raise her hands in apology. “I’ll stop.”

“... anyways, as I was saying, she agreed to give up her powers, because she thinks Harem Hotel will be fun. And to be honest, that sounds fine to me.” Jack smiles before bowing. “I do intend to be ever entertaining.”

Zoe stands up at this. “Are you crazy? This isn’t fun. We’ve all been kidnapped. And you come in like some fairy godmother, only to hand yourself over? Once again, are you nuts?”

Eleana shrugs. “Probably. Also your family’s pizza sucks. I much prefer Italian pizza.”

Zoe looks around, before screaming and sitting in frustration.

Jack continues, trying to regain his normal flow after this very odd last contestant. “Oh, uhhh. So anyways, her paths will be Eldritch Being, Substitute Teacher, and Magick User. Feel free to suggest tfs. Stay tuned, we have a return to normalish programming with the rules and the tfs!”

Thanks to RoyalGambler for the image and Mothneb for hosting it, for I am a non-image having scrub

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