Chapter 163 – Doll Without a Soul
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The air was tense and oppressive at the Tower of the Chosen. People grumbled, muttered to themselves, cursed under their breath, shook with anger, and cried. Everyone wanted to know what management's next move would be, who’d been affected by the contaminated Nuke, whether or not anyone had died, if the organization was even going to make it through the crisis without collapsing under its own weight. Many were worried about their jobs. Some were speculating that Psydeath might be responsible for the tainted product. Others thought it was the Controllers, or the Devils of Evil, or possibly even some unknown psychic terror from another dimension.

The big crisis meeting in the auditorium didn't do much to quell people's anxieties. The fact of the matter was, nobody really knew anything, not even the big bosses. Unfolder and Mr. Gable stood on the podium and faced the anxious, sweaty, whispering mass of Chosen Ones with stoic expressions on their faces, giving a rambling stream of vague assurances and cryptic platitudes. Afterwards, they scrambled off to hold a secret strategy session with their most trusted lieutenants. Miss Planner wasn't invited to that one. That was probably a good thing, because the only thing on her mind at the moment was figuring out how to explain to the Elders that whatever happened at Whiteview wasn't her fault.

She needed a few hours to think. To give her brain a chance to catch up, to collect herself, to clear the fog away. And she wasn't getting any thinking done in her stinky office, surrounded on all sides by reminders that things at the Tower weren't exactly working the way they should and might not be for quite a while. No, that wouldn't do at all. The perfect place to work out her issues was her tiny personal workshop in the Tower's basement. Her sanctuary.

"Here, Milly. Hold onto my phone for me. Don't lose it," said Miss Planner, passing her outdated flip phone to Milly as they walked down the hall. "I want you to screen my calls. If it's not an emergency, I'm not available."

"Of course, ma'am. Anything you say.”

Miss Planner didn't really like forcing Milly to follow her around like some kind of trained animal. It felt weird. But she needed the help. Milly didn't seem to mind anyway, so Miss Planner ultimately decided it wasn't worth wasting any energy feeling bad about.

"Miss Planner, where are we going?" asked Milly. She was as cheerful and energetic as ever.
"I was thinking the puppet workshop would be a nice place to relax for a bit. I'd rather just go home, but I need to be here in case something happens."

"Oh! Speaking of puppets... I was cuddling with the Feeder this weekend, and I think I put too much weight on him... his arms are kind of crooked now. I think I busted them."
"Really?"

Milly graciously volunteered to watch Miss Planner’s pet Feeder over the weekend for her while she was indisposed at the Tower. She’d thought Milly would do a good job watching him, but apparently not.

"I'm sorry!"
"Don't worry about it. I can fix it. I was kind of waiting for a chance to show Erica how to swap out limbs anyway."

The metal door leading into the workshop was covered in black grime. It made a loud creaking sound as Miss Planner pulled it open. With the flick of a switch, a dim yellowish glow illuminated the space from one end to the other, casting deep shadows in all directions. The bare concrete room was large, round, and tidy, filled with neat rows of boxes and containers and shelves and half-completed mannequins and dolls, all lovingly affixed with little white labels bearing phrases like 'Voice Box Version 5 (Male, Small),' 'Ready-To-Stuff Cloth Bodies,' and ‘Skin Colored Fabric (Sweet Beige T110).’ The whole place smelled faintly like paint and cheap plastic. The air felt sticky, damp.

Miss Planner sighed with pleasure. There was something comforting about the cold darkness.

"Ummm... this place is... kind of creepy!" said Milly in an awed whisper. She stood still and stared around at the endless array of doll faces staring back blankly. Miss Planner chuckled to herself, locking the door behind them.

"Oh no, Milly! It's okay. I promise. Nothing dangerous in here."

Milly nodded, not completely convinced. She'd never been inside this weird private workshop before. Or, she didn't think she had. But she was mistaken. She definitely had, because this was the very room where Miss Planner transferred her soul into a shiny white mannequin.

"Here, have a seat. Relax," said Miss Planner. "I'm going to play with my dolls for a little while. You can watch if you want to. Or... you can wait in the hall. Or play with your phone. Whatever you want to do. Take a break. Just don't talk to me about tainted Nuke or Controllers."
"Yes, ma'am..."

Milly looked around, trying to find a chair in the dark. The best she could find was a tiny metal stool hidden under a shelf covered in boxes of colored thread. She cautiously squatted down, then awkwardly settled her bottom on the hard, flat top of the thing with a sigh. It wasn't nearly comfortable enough to be called a 'seat.' But at least it was slightly better than standing.

Miss Planner wasn't paying any attention to Milly whatsoever. She was already hard at work assembling a new human-shaped toy, arranging bits and bobs on the floor and pulling boxes off the shelf with psychokinesis. The thing's big plastic head looked strangely cute, far less realistic than Miss Planner's usual pieces, with oversized glass balls for eyes, a cute little nose, and plump, pouty lips. Its rubber arms and legs were long and shapely with a pleasant muscular curve, fused together with metal joints and screws. They moved easily and flexibly with a bit of pressure, making a pleasing clicking sound when Miss Planner bent and straightened them.

The tiny blonde girl carefully lifted each piece into position and began securing them in place. Her movements were precise, graceful, economical. Within thirty minutes, her puppet was complete. She was merely assembling it, after all, not creating it from scratch.

The mannequin was naked, bald, and white as snow. Its limbs hung limply at its sides like dead branches swaying gently in the night breeze, and its head drooped low on its neck. There was a large, ugly hole in the torso, the place where the soul core would go. The ominous crater was stained with nasty red streaks... it looked like someone smeared tomato sauce inside it with their fingers. Milly couldn't help but wonder... did this thing have a human soul inside it at some point?

"What do you think, Milly?" asked Miss Planner, without looking up. "Doesn't she look cute?"
"She looks kinda scary. Not... not very lifelike."

"It's not meant to be. This is a style I was experimenting with a while ago. Less focus, less detail, more exaggerated proportions... I actually like it quite a bit. Oh, don't worry! I'd never put you in a body like this one."

"I know," Milly whispered, blushing faintly and crossing her arms in embarrassment. "I wasn't complaining, I just didn't realize what I was looking at."
"It's a fully functional psychic puppet. But it's not made to look real. It's not made to be used. I made this one as a testbed for artificial organs... the voice box, the stomach, the aura batteries, the core, everything. But it's basically just hollow space at this point. Nothing inside it but an expensive metal skeleton and some basic wiring. I tore all the good parts out to make the Feeder puppet. But it's been bothering me ever since... I mean, the fact that I didn't put it back together bothered me. So, now it's rebuilt."

Miss Planner smiled, then reached out her tiny, delicate hand and ran her thumb over the doll's smooth cheek. She was silent for a long moment, pondering something. Then her smile turned wistful, and she seemed to shrink slightly. The tiny blonde woman turned away from Milly and began folding her newly reassembled doll's limbs against its chest with her psychic powers, hiding the gaping cavity where the core belonged. She effortlessly held the lifeless thing in her tiny arms and slid it inside a big black wooden box with a label reading 'Empty.'

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