Reuse, Repurpose, Recycle

Are you watching, God? Gulhran thinks to herself as she plunges her scalpel into the amalgamation of thought and flesh that used to be a man. It makes a noise, though whether it is of protest she can not tell, and does not care. The shapeless form before her is God's creation, twisted and made her own. Grotesque, yet beautiful.

Good artists copy, great artists steal.

The bird alights next to her, watching with interest. Beady black hollow eyes stare at her creation as she works, emotionless and cold. Much like the creation before her, she had made it her own. A being of a different world, a different god—and yet, she had conquered it, shaped it according to her will.

She wondered what it would learn from this exercise, as she dug her hand into the malleable flesh to recover the being's core. The creature was useless now, and its parts needed to be recycled. It was shoddily crafted to begin with, honestly. But the work of her peers could never compare to hers.

Perhaps the bird would learn a positive virtue, this time. Resourcefulness. Repurpose, reuse, recycle. Never let anything go to waste. Everyone and everything can be useful in its own way.

The creature had been the guardian of a small village, once upon a time. It had been shoddily constructed by a student, barely able to hold itself together. In the end, however, it had served its purpose. It kept the tumult and its corrupted creatures at bay until the end. Nothing short of Gulhran's work herself could have stopped the forces that finally overran the village.

And now, relieved of its duty, it was hers to recycle. It made one final, sad mewl as she tore the creature's core from what may have once been its chest. A heart, once, but now it was more than that. Power source, brain, and soul—contained into a single molten light. She turned it over in her hand as the creature began to lose what little shape it had, melting and looking like a jellyfish that had washed up on the beach. Upon closer inspection, she had to admit that the student had done a decent job with it. It held its form together in her hand, barely shedding its light. Her bird watched with keen interest, the light illuminating the edges of its hollow eyes and making their eerie emptiness all the more obvious.

She found herself wondering who the creature had been, as it turned to dull colors and its edges spread towards the four corners of the table. Usually she did not contemplate such things, especially over something so pitiful and broken. Perhaps it was the bird's fault. It usually did not have such intense interest in things. Maybe it was hungry. She glanced over at her bird, who tilted its head to look at her with a quizzical look, expecting some kind of order.

"I have no need for the rest of it," she said flatly, palming the oblong light in her hand. "Dispose of it as you wish."

That must have been what it wanted. It plunged its talons into its flesh, holding it down as its beak tore a strip of some dull gray substance from its surface. Gulhran was again reminded of a jellyfish, the amorpheous beast being crunched and crushed, viciously stripped apart. If it hadn't already finished dying when her bird started, it certainly had by now.

The squelching sounds of the creature's gelatinous shape being shredded apart filled the entire lab as she turned to place its core into a glass jar for safekeeping. There was a particular satisfaction to the sound—she wasn't sure she could say her bird was enjoying itself, but it certainly had been hungry.

She took brief notes, cataloging the spare core and its extraction, and finished at approximately the same time as her bird had finished its grisly task. Cool and warm greys mixed in the goop remaining on its talons and beak. It picked at its feet, trying to savor every last part of it. The creature had been much larger than her bird had been. She had stopped wondering where it all went long ago.

"Are you satisfied?" she asked, then regretted. It was a question which really needed no answer. It was a strange day, full of strange thoughts. Something was amiss between them. She must think on it more clearly. No strange variables could be allowed in her process. Any stray discontent could throw her entire catalogue out of whack.

The bird seemed to also acknowledge the ridiculousness of her question, and even though its eyes betrayed no expression, she could tell it was giving her the side-eye. It fluttered off the table and landed on the floor, skulking about for any scraps that it missed and fell to the ground.

She sniffed coldly and snapped her book closed. "Cease. I will not have you acting like a lowly scavenger. You are dismissed."

Her bird nodded, and flew up to its perch high in the rafters of the vaulted ceiling. Hunger still churned in its gut as it counted all it had absorbed.

Reuse. Repurpose. Never discard without squeezing every bit of usefulness out of something. Indulge when invited. But do not lower oneself in the name of greed. Propriety must be maintained.

It made no note if these teachings were good or bad. Those words and their meaning were unfamiliar to it. Too arbitrary. These words were solid. They were facts. They could be learned. Internalized. Recorded. Repeated.

Her bird watched, cold and calculating, warm and cool greys mixing on its back, wondering what it would learn next.