VD - Rally Part 3

“I know about being immortal better than anyone,” Morrigan says regally, laying her hand on her pale breast. “I was immortal before I ever came to this place. I understand the need to make things increasingly spicier. The amount of excitement must always go up. But there still have to be boundaries.”

“Wow,” you mutter. “This is not a sexy platform to run on.”

“That’s why you’re here,” she whispers. “My fellow demons, we need to open our minds to a new way of thinking. We need to at least consider that demanding that excitement go on and go up endlessly might not be realistic. And if we try too hard to achieve, we risk flying too close to the sun,” Morrigan goes on, sounding like a… real person who cares about the issues. Weird.

The thing is, you aren’t quite sure what she’s talking about. Maybe you should start reading the Demon News.

The crowd is not booing her, but they don’t love this. Trish looks at her with open disdain.

“We’ve had enough sexual revolutions around here that most of us have lost count,” she continues. “It’s hard not to view the next one as just one more. But it might not be that simple. It’s possible that the next one might have consequences for our society that we don’t anticipate.”

“But you don’t know for sure,” someone shouts.

“That’s right,” Morrigan snaps back. “I don’t. That’s why someone has to find out. And the one to find out probably isn’t going to be my opponent, because the robotics company is the biggest contributor to her campaign. I don’t think she has much incentive to look closely at what they’re doing.”

The spotlight switches back to Trish, who sneers.

“Outrageous,” she says, leaning on her podium and examining her nails. “We just want to have fun. Robotics to increase pleasure is old business. Nothing new. You mean to tell me that you don’t have a few vibrators somewhere, Morrigan?”

“I don’t have any that can think for themselves,” Morrigan retorts. “We have magic that can mimic anything, Trish. What the hell do we need with robots?”

“I don’t know why you’re asking me,” Trish fires back. Nobody’s paying attention to whose turn it is. “I’m not the spokeswoman.”

“You aren’t? Then what are those?” Morrigan demands, pointing at two figures standing in the shadows just behind Trish.

“What? Those two demonstration models that are labeled as promotional materials? I don’t know what they’re doing here,” is the reply. “Maybe your running mate could tell us?”

“Huh?” you say.

“You’re so ready to throw shade at the products designed by our hardworking constituents when you haven’t tried them for yourself?” Trish asks, turning the tables on Morrigan.