I Don't Seem So Bright in a Well-Lit Room

Chapter Fourteen

Though not known for his patience, The Node did enjoy being groomed, and groomed very meticulously. It gave him time to reflect, and it made his armoured power suit shiny and smell of tar and roses. When he had Vrume T'cha T'cha, the best barber and machine detailer on Lyme Node working on him, he felt the weight of the entire known universe lift ever so slightly off of his burly metal shoulders.

Vrume was a class act, too. He knew all the right things to say without sounding like a kiss-ass yes-man. He was the only one The Node would let wag a finger at him.

"You haven't been taking care of this chassis!" Vrume would say, wagging a finger.

"Well, I have been busy. I am the ruler of the universe, you know..."

"Well maybe you ought to spend a little less time worrying about the universe, and a little more time worrying about yourself, no?" Vrume would say wagging a finger.

"Yes, yes. I know. Sometimes I think the whole of everything would just fall apart without me though..."

"Well better the whole of everything than that sweet chassis of yours!" Vrume would say, wagging a finger.

Vrume won him over years ago by not only giving his almost bald head the best haircut it had ever had, but by shooting two of his own assistants on the spot for applying too much finishing wax to his chest plate armour. He had even splattered one of the assistant's brains in The Node's face. Being such an innovative genius, Vrume then turned that bloody grey matter into an exfoliating facial mask that had him looking almost days younger (everybody said so).

Over the following years Vrume would end up killing so many assistants in front of The Node for even the slightest of mistakes that the job had become a death sentence for criminals, because no one in their right mind would apply for it voluntarily. Once convicted, they would go through rigorous "beauty school" and "machinery restoration" boot camp training so that they might last even a few days assisting Vrume before inevitably getting shot between the eyes.

A whole new industry had to be created, combining beauty school and machinery restoration training into one skill set. No one could say that The Node didn't have a part in creating new jobs for a suffering workforce. Of course, anyone that tried to unionize was sentenced to become a student and end up as an exfoliating facial that would make him look (almost) days younger. "The teacher becomes the student becomes the exfoliating facial mask" as it were.

As much as The Node loved Vrume, General Kendra Eppie loathed him. Even when The Node would get Vrume to style the wee shock of fuchsia hair on top of Eppie's head, Eppie longed for a day Vrume accidentally shot himself, or wagged his finger at the wrong time.

Eppie had the sneaking (and paranoid) suspicion that Vrume talked trash about him when he wasn't there, which was most of the time because The Node liked privacy when he was with Vrume and his disposable assistants. (He liked to emerge from his chamber with a "ta-dah!" post-groom razzmatazz.)

Eppie also had the sneaking (and paranoid) suspicion that everyone was talking trash about him all of the time. He had once felt that way on a planetary level, and that was part of the reason he had his whole planet destroyed.

Eppie had created a few jobs of his own. He had created a very secret Secret Force that was secretly trying to dig up any dirt on Vrume T'cha T'cha. So far it had come up empty handed, mostly due to the fact that none of that Secret Force actually did anything. Eppie constantly forgot to check up on them and was far more lenient on his assistants. The bi-monthly check up was always the same:

"Find anything?"

"Nope."

"Keep looking!"

"Oh, yeah. Of course. Right on."