Once a second, it beat. Rhythmically. Repeatedly.
A reassurance,a promise kept. So long as it continued, she too could continue.
The creator breathed, that is all she needed.
A door did not open. That was a page from a story long past.
From keter's hands the tar of humanity slowly consumed Adam, and with a mocking smirk the beholder faded from sight.
Along with him, so too did the white plane give way, leaving keter by his lonesome to gaze upon a featureless river.
Virtue and sin.
Life and death.
Birth and rebirth.
Everything that ever was, everything that ever will be.
Down it flowed, carried by the stream to reach nothing at all.
Humanity presented in its simplest form—an endless flow following a predestined path, no origin or end in sight.
It's a turbulent thing, where even the free and the powerful are unable to catch a single breath, even the largest waves spreading into nothingness moments after its inception.
He thought he could see glimmers of color within—tiny spots of red, blue, purple and a hundred others. They who reached the peak, nothing more than flashes of light.
Such was the wrath of the river, yet just for this eternal moment the water seemed…tranquil, inviting even—as though the current was paying its respects to the man who sat at its bank.
And there Ayin sat, wearing a robe of pure white with a boat at his side, staring into the depths of the river.
Keter approached after many seconds of hesitation—with the heart consumed little separated vision from emotion. Fear had taken hold, even if he knew he had already won.
Not that there ever was a fight in the first place. Everything was decided the moment he came face to face with the original sin.
The moment he attempted to seek absolution from an abnormality, on that day when he became an apostle.
"Have you faced what you are, keter?" The man questioned.
"I have, yet I understand little." He admitted.
Ayin hummed, then shook his head. "No, you understand just fine. You simply do not wish to see it. Running, it's always been what we do best, has it not?"
Keter's lips pursed, his throat tightening. "I…" his words trailed off into silence. Ayin waited patiently, for even if he waited for a century not a single moment would pass.
The river flowed, and this was the fate it's decided upon. Nothing could stop it now.
"Is it truly necessary? Can I not keep my eyes shut to it all?" Nothing remained of the one who keter claimed to be. A God is to be without understanding, without remorse. All he could do to wear the mask of such a being is to tear out his heart, and eat it whole. The past, present and the future.
Abram, Abel and Adam.
Within his stomach it will fester and corrupt, yet hidden it will be, just long enough for the path to be completed.
"I'm sure we can—running, on and on until our final breath. But our soul tires, and the truth catches up.."
A sigh left Ayin's lips, bearing the weight of five millenia.
"I'm tired, keter. I'm tired of running away from you."
The man slowly rose to his feet, and with methodical steps approached the one who stood in front of him.
He tried to run, yet his legs wouldn't move.
He tried to scream, yet his lips were sewn shut.
He tried to cover his sight to it all, yet eyes he had not.
He tried to focus on the sounds of the river, yet his ears were filled with tar.
With his own two hands, he had shut his routes to escape.
Ayin's hand slowly approached keter's head, and with a single flick, the mirror shattered.
The moment of one's inception.
What was it? It's difficult to say. He recalls little of that time, when he had yet to exist.
The only thing he remembers is a mirror.
Within it, he saw the world. Everything that ever was, is and will be.
Within it, he saw everything. The truth revealed, even if his human self failed to understand.
He reached out towards the mirror, and he felt the cool touch of glass below his fingers before something pulled from beyond, and he found existence.
Birth.
Who was Ayin?
He was a feather.
A level 3 researcher of a wing, raised in an orphanage of a nest. A capable scientist who contributed to many papers and was the owner of several small patents that ensured his future as a valuable employee of the corporation.
He was a loving husband—married at the age of twenty seven—and was the proud father of three children who all grew up to be fine feathers like himself.
He lived better than most, exceptional by the standards of an orphan, but he was still just a man. One among millions.
He passed away in his sleep at the ripe age of eighty two, leaving behind a sizable inheritance for his three children. Around fifty people mourned at his funeral, mostly family and former co-workers.
Thus ended his tale, unremarkable as he was.
Who was Ayin?
He was a fixer.
A member of the seven association, grade one at his peak. An exceptional investigator and scholar, the one to have discovered the secret behind the sweepers and the prescripts. Famous for his feats as a detective, though his combat prowess was below average for a grade one—might attained from expensive weaponry and enhancements rather than talent.
He was without family, though he considered those below his command during his tenure as the director of south section two to be no different from his own children. Many fixers under his leadership noted the man to have been wise beyond his years, and acted as though he was the oldest person in the room in spite of his relatively young age.
An exceptional fixer, but a fixer he still was—breathing his last during a large scale conflict against the index, dying by the blade of a proxy.
Thus ended his tale, remarkable as he was.
Who was Ayin?
He was a backstreet rat.
Kicked out of an orphanage and later having had his nest citizenship revoked due to concerns relating to his mental health, he spent much of his teenage years and the entirety of his adulthood in the backstreets.
He was as remarkable as a rat could be. He knew more than most, and often made and sold gadgets for small offices and syndicates. Many used him as an information broker, though no one was able to find his sources.
Due to his lack of physical strength and combat prowess, he was heavily extorted by other rats—resulting in him being unable to escape the streets in spite of his relative competence.
He had no family or friends to speak of, lacking even a band of fellow rats. He lived by his lonesome, and was known as a constant abuser of alcohol, tobacco, and addictive drugs.
He died to a group of rats while he was passed out on the street, his organs harvested and sold for a petty sum.
Thus ended his tale, bitter as he was.
Who was Ayin?
He was a wing executive.
Joining the corporation as an intern at the age of sixteen, he quickly climbed the corporate ladder through inventions and discoveries created decades ahead of his time. Many called him a genius, though others said he had a foresight for the future that went beyond mere intelligence.
He became a board member just six years after he joined, at the age of twenty two. He received his final promotion just one year later, when the CEO died due to mysterious circumstances and the board elected to elevate him to the position.
Strangely, the man seeked out a very specific person to marry in spite of having never met them, at the age of twenty seven. He had three children, all of whom grew up to become high ranking board members much like himself.
His body passed away at the age of one hundred and twenty seven, though he uploaded his mind to a prosthetic body before his brain died. Remaining in his position as CEO, he continued to consolidate power over the years, eventually dissolving the board after his children passed away from old age.
He eventually met his end along with the end of the wing itself, caused by the mutual destruction of the corporation and T-corp during the N-corp succession war.
Thus ended his tale, divine as he was.
Who was Ayin?
He was a feather.
A level 2 researcher. He reached the position through seniority and his many discoveries, though his superiors often noted he rarely did his best, and wasn't living up to his potential.
He was married, and had one child. The union unfortunately ended just five years after he made his vows, his partner citing his depressive nature as the reason why they decided to part ways.
He was a man who rarely lived in the present, and eventually met his end in a car crash.
The doctors reported his final final words to be 'what's the point?'.
Thus ended his tale, strange as he was.
Who was Ayin?
He was a proselyte—
Who was Ayin?
He was a chef—
Who was Ayin?
He was a capo—
Who was Ayin?
He was a color—
Who was Ayin?
He was a star of the city—
Who was Ayin—
Who was—
Who—
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…
Who am I?
The moment of one's inception.
He felt the cool touch of glass beneath his fingers, and something pulled from beyond.
He saw it all, every tiny moving part of the impossibly large world.
He saw it, and he remembered it.
His vision, so beyond his mind, took it all in and showed him every possible path.
But…he has yet to exist.
And so the mirror shattered, the world falling apart into an infinite different futures.
A crack ran through keter's body, black tar beginning to ooze from the gaps.
"A human makes not a single decision throughout its existence." Ayin began.
"The circumstances of their life, the genetics they were blessed with, the soul that formed at their inception. They are predetermined factors that form a person and their choices, leaving little room for free will." The man turned away, returning to his previous spot at the river bank.
"The river only ever flows in a predetermined path, as all of it was decided at the beginning of the universe. Humanity walks a worn path that's never been travelled before."
The cracks along keter's being grew ever more pronounced.
"Yet there we were, a contradiction. Before we had even existed, before a mind had even begun to form, a vision was thrust upon us."
Ayin turned his gaze towards keter with a sharp glare. " You were thrust upon us. We saw it all—a branching future with no limit, slightly different with every decision we could ever make."
The cracks continued to spread, soon spreading beyond keter's body to reach the river itself.
" Every last one. " Ayin emphasized.
"We lived every life that could ever be lived, from the beginning to their very end. We'd live one, then we'd find ourselves at the beginning once more, memories retained. Then we'd live again. And again. And again. Again and again until happiness and sadness meld together, until the only difference between dying and living is the flow of air through our lungs."
Ayin showed little emotion, and it was keter who began to sob uncontrollably as he collapsed onto his knee. The heart had been torn out, and consumed. Ayin had little left, keter held onto everything.
"None of it was real, of course. We are not the divine, nor are we omnipotent. We simply had a vision that stretched too far, eyes that saw too much. Far, far too much. Far more than our mind or soul could handle."
A finger was pointed at Ayin. "I am the person who was born."
A finger was pointed at keter. "You are the vision I was cursed with."
Slowly, Ayin got onto the boat that sat beside him. "I denied your existence so I could live, locking you away at the deepest pit of my mind—yet a noise remained in my head, forever haunting me."
In spite of the accusatory words, no emotion was to be found. These were words written in advance, now read out loud by a hollow shell of an existence.
"But split in twain we stand here in this place, and for the sake of our goal you shall now deny my existence. But I will remain, just as you did."
Keter no longer knew to whom the words 'I' and 'you' referred to. The soul and the vision, they were one and the same—for there was only one man.
Split as they are in this place, it's nothing more than an illusion. An inner conflict made manifest by the facility they, he, constructed.
He couldn't run forever. The question catches up eventually.
Who was he?
He was no one. Not even a human.
He was a machine of meat and brain that saw the future, over and over again until something was strained beyond its limit and finally broke. Unable to bear its existence, it pretended to be human—denying the infinite futures he saw.
But the truth catches up eventually, and here he stood. A vision, and a shell of a human that never truly existed.
A human is a pattern, making decisions because they are who they are.
Ayin at his inception was a machine that could choose any path, yet lacked the mind to make that decision.
And so, as the boat sets off into the gentle current of the river, the future shatters into an infinite number of mirror worlds.
Ayin, the only one to have made a choice, even if he lacked a soul to do so.
And there he stood, the delusional scenery around him giving way to the architectural department. The deepest part of facility-x.
It was done. The war waged within oneself was over.
All that remained was Ayin, standing in an empty room.
The only difference was that he no longer ran. The chain upon the vision was broken.
"Perhaps I…"
The words trailed off into nothingness, for there was none present to listen.
Perhaps he wanted to be human, just for a single lifetime.
But a machine must act as a machine.
Notes:Beep. Beep. Beep.
A slow, steady beat.
Once a second. Beep. Beep.
Like a heart of steel and silicon, it beats.
Every bit of information, a zero or a one. Every tug of the finger, a spinning gear.
All of her, fueled by the green rivers within the body. Synthetic blood providing her with life.
But blood needs a heart to flow.
And so it beat.
Once a second. Beep. Beep.
A green line at the edge of her vision, climbing high before falling back to equilibrium.
'Vital signs normal'
Thus, she took a step forward.
The forty ninth and the fiftieth days held no trials for the facility, just as Binah had said.
There were no ordeals, no breaches, no deaths.
It was…tranquil, as though a great ocean had suddenly become stiller than a pond.
And finally, the time had come.
A colossal, towering tree burst out from the city of gray.
Unimpeded by anything, it reached out towards the heavens with warmth at its core.
For three days, the sky was lit ablaze, where not even the rays of the sun could pierce through the divine light.
And within it, people saw…longing. Dreams and ideals unearthed from the deepest depths of their hearts.
It did not save them. It did not offer salvation. It did not offer power.
Nay, it merely offered longing—showing them what could be, if only they reached out.
And they felt as though they were no longer lost…
…
…
…
"...and the seed of light will be planted in the hearts of each and every person in the city." She whispered.
Angela wasn't sure why she said such a thing. There were flashes from a time that never existed, times when she saw crimson in the mirror.
The sight in front of her felt ever so familiar, a dream she saw every time she slept.
Yet she didn't sleep, she had no need for it.
Nevertheless, the words felt right.
A final conclusion, a dot at the end of the script.
"It's beautiful." Someone whispered, a consensus of all those who were present.
Every sephirot, every agent, every clerk. They were all present, watching the fruits of their labor.
A river of blood that flowed for millenia, all for this singular moment. She supposed there was grandeur in such sacrifice, executed in a pristine manner where only four people remembered the suffering.
"Was it worth it?" Benjamin asked beside her.
"I do not have the right to decide." Was the answer Angela returned.
'Then who does?' Went unsaid, silence stretching on instead.
In spite of the towering light in front of her, Angela found her mind drifting elsewhere.
Her creator who descended deep below, and the promise he made.
'I will return on the 53rd, three days after the project's completion.'
What has he been doing? She must wonder.
Is he too watching this tower of light? Standing at its very peak as the architect to have designed it all.
Is he on his way already? Making his way down to be reunited with them, that he may open a bottle of champagne as he had promised to do so.
If she tries, she could almost see him standing beside her, their souls connected.
And perhaps when the light abides, he will hold her hand and lead her outside, then say the phrase she's heard a million times before, one last time.
'Good work.'
And then.
And then…
…
…
…
She wasn't sure. But whatever may lay ahead, she was confident.
So long as he is there, she'll be okay.
…
…
…
The silence stretched on.
But like a great explosion far in the distance, the roar of a beast reverberated across the room like a shockwave.
Only Gebura was quick enough to respond, the steel gate to the room blown open in a single strike.
!!!MANIFESTATION OF QLIPHA DUE TO KETER BREAKDOWN!!!
Suppression of keter's Core Required
!ERROR! GLITCH WITH QLIPHOTH DETERRENCE SYSTEMS DETECTED !ERROR!
!CRITICAL WARNING!
TOTAL FAILURE OF ALL QLIPHOTH DETERRENCE SYSTEMS DETECTED.
!CRITICAL WARNING!
Agent Edward felt it, even if he didn't see it.
Like a wave from the great lakes it washed over him, an all encompassing light rushing through his soul.
It was hope.
It was longing.
It was…memory.
An apostle of The Lord.
A vessel to the apocalypse.
An agent of the manager.
A soldier of b̵̤̩̺̼͋̊̎͑͂̅M̵̡̔͒̓̀̑͛̚͝l̶̢͈̲͇̤͔͊͒̓́͜c̶̫̙̫͉̈́W̷̛̛̯̕e̸̡̳̠̅͒͊̇͠A̵̹̅g̴͇̦̫̩̽̍̒̌̋͝Y̸̯̊̌͛̓̐͒͠͝u̴̹̯͋̇͛.
He was all of them, and he was none of them.
Four great mountains of undeniable existence, collapsing into one another. That is what he was.
And in the rubble, there was nothing. Nothing at all.
'Yes, you are nothing at all.'
The man continued to whisper in his ears. The voice was familiar, so similar to the voice of the manager.
Yet it wasn't the case.
Similar, but not quite.
'Do not fight it. Do not attempt to make something of the ruins. Accept who you are. Accept your weakness.'
The voice continued to speak, and Edward listened.
One by one, the barriers of the mind gave way.
By divinity and by apocalypse, the body was corroded.
By cycles never lived and battles never fought, the soul was distorted.
By memories of a past life long erased, the mind was destroyed.
And what remained…was nothing at all. Nothing but a longing, buried deep below the rubble.
'Seek out the light'
With no mind to think and no soul to resist, Edward followed the voice.
And a great roar was heard across the facility.
Dust obscured the entire room, thick enough that not even Angela could make sense of anything beyond her immediate surroundings.
Spots of red covered the floor, its source laying not five meters away, buried under two tons of rubble. Judging by the screeches of pain heard in every direction, immediate casualties were high—though that was to be expected with nearly two hundred clerks in the room.
Not one moment after the explosion, the battle began.
While every agent and sephirah stood stunned by the surprise attack, Gebura had already taken up Mimicry before charging.
A single strike, and the sheer force behind the attack blew away the dust, allowing them sight.
Crimson met identical crimson.
Locked into a test of physical strength, Gebura stood against Nothing There.
Sighs of relief were heard from the agents around her. The ALEPH was a terrifying opponent, but had been suppressed by Gebura on numerous occasions before. In spite of its prowess, the beast was no match for the lege—
With almost comical ease, Gebura was forced onto her knees as her mechanical body failed to provide any resistance.
A massive crater was left in the ground as the sephirot barely managed to roll out of the way. One of her arms was left behind, Mimicry now clutched in only one hand.
Qliphoth deterrence had complete and utterly failed, rendering the abnormalities many times stronger than their typical selves. Not even The Red Mist could hope to challenge them without care, not in her current body at least.
There was a stunned moment of silence, even team captains frozen in fear.
Angela's voice thundered across the room.
"Only ALEPH E.G.O agents are to engage the abnormality directly! All other employees are to reinforce the doors!"
Her employees weren't always the most competent, but they were obedient. The sephirah immediately got their agents under control, assigning tasks and attempting to figure out the current situation.
Agents wielding ALEPH E.G.O immediately charged Nothing There, and with Gebura leading the assault Angela had no doubts they'd be able to perform the suppression without casualties.
No, Nothing There wasn't the problem, but merely the first chip to have fallen. Total qliphoth meltdown meant that—
Sure enough, Angela's fears would be proven correct as Blue Star's pulse travelled across the room, taking along with it every clerk present. With no qliphoth deterrence, all abnormalities were free to leave their containment units without any resistance.
The howl of a wolf, the gunshots of a mercenary. A performance of ruin and the laughter of endless bodies. From every corner of the facility Angela heard and saw and felt—the true power of abnormalities unleashed upon a structure that was never meant to handle it.
They were converging, many towards their location in the control department and many more towards the peak, where her creator—
"...!"
With a sudden moment of realization Angela connected to facility management.
RESETTING ALL QLIPHOTH DETERRENCE SYSTEMS—FAILURE, GENERAL SYSTEM CONTROL PRIVILEGES REVOKED.
Angela ignored the failure. She knew the facility better than any other, and a million paths existed to achieve her goals.
ACTIVATING EMERGENCY QLIPHOTH DETERRENCE SYSTEMS—FAILURE, EMERGENCY ACTIVATION PRIVILEGES REVOKED.
A dozen attempts were made, every action was met with failure.
OVERRIDING GENERAL SECURITY PROTOCOLS—FAILURE, ADMINISTRATOR PRIVILEGES REVOKED.
A hundred more roads taken, a hundred more roads ending in futility.
PERFORMING PROTOCOL MIDNIGHT—FAILURE, AUTHORITY OF SECURITY PROTOCOLS REVOKED.
The difference between a thousand and a million was about a million. Angela remained undeterred.
TAKING MANUAL CONTROL OF FACILITY SYSTEMS—FAILURE, MANAGERIAL RIGHTS REVOKED.
Ten thousand more, ten thousand more.
LOCKING ALL SECURITY GATES—FAILURE, CONNECTION TO FACILITY MANAGEMENT REVOKED.
Like vines of despair they slowly spread, every line of code and twitch of the finger met with nothing but complete and utter denial. A hundred thousand thorns of doubt piercing her simulated heart.
HACKING FACILITY SYSTEMS—FAILURE, CONNECTION ANGELA A.I LOGIC CORE TERMINATED.
A million attempts, a million failures. The vines had taken within itself all her being, and with sadistic glee had denied her even a single reprieve. And as a final warning it had torn away half her mind, destroying the connection she held to her mechanical mind.
A single second.
In just a single second, all was reduced to ruin.
Battle raged around her, agents struggling against empowered abnormalities, the sephirah leading the charge one way or another.
She thought she could hear someone yelling at her. Malkuth? Or perhaps it was Yesod.
She couldn't say, and truthfully it mattered little.
She saw only one thing, through cameras far away from her actual body.
A being cloaked in…something. Four hues clashing against one another for dominance, resulting in nothing but a kaleidoscope of colors, impossible for any gaze to pierce through to see what lay beneath.
One step at a time, it slowly approached the peak of the facility.
Or rather, it approached what was once the depths, where her creator had descended.
It was slow, rhythmically taking one step after another.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The abnormalities did not impede its pace, the collapsed hallways did not obstruct its path.
Rhythmically. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Training.
Information.
Central command.
Welfare.
Record.
Then, finally, the being was out of her sight.
Slowly. Repeatedly. Beep. Beep. Beep.
She still saw it, a green line at the edge of her vision, climbing high before falling back to equilibrium.
She still heard it, the slow tapping of feet against the steel floors of the facility, approaching her mechanical heart.
And then there was a green line. No longer did it climb, no longer did it drop.
There was a beep, but it wasn't a beep. It was a high pitched, endless, tone.
And then, she saw nothing at all.
And there was only silence, stretching out to eternity.
A great tower of light spread towards the sky, and for just a single moment, Ayin was okay again. With a beauty he had never seen before in his eternity of non-existence, it washed over the city, reaching the heart of every person alive.
For just a moment, he thought it may have all been worth it.
"Quite pretty, is it not?" He recognized the voice of Binah, though he couldn't bring himself to look away.
But then he blinked, and the spell was gone. A seed couldn't hope to grow in rotted soil.
Their dream, their ideal. Ever so beautiful, every so distant, even as it shines the heavens right before him.
If he hadn't run, if he hadn't remained blind. If only, if only…
If only he had been human.
"I believe you should simply take a step forward. The longer the wait, the more it will deteriorate." Through the fog of doubt, her voice pierced through. It always did.
His greatest foil, his final bastion. May the darkness of her doubt one day devour him whole.
"I'll entrust it all to you, Binah." The woman didn't say anything, simply giving a wave with a calm smile instead.
'Thank you,' He whispered.
Then, he saw flashes.
Congratulations, Ayin. You are now the newest employee of—
I now pronounce you, husband and wife—
It's twins, a boy and a girl—
I love you—
You have been promoted to grade 1—
Thank you, director Ayin—
Damned rat, fucked beyond measure—
We should just take his organs and scram—
Wing CEO Ayin, the war has to stop—
We can't keep going on like this, this marriage isn't working—
You are now the newest—
…
…
…
…
…
He saw crimson, at the end of everything.
'No matter what I may become, please finish what I started.'
Then, he took a step forward.
…
…
…
Silence, as Binah stood by her lonesome.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
With a small chuckle, she turned around to the one approaching.
"Go ahead, I won't try to stop you."
Agent Edward made no indication of noticing her presence, silently approaching the pillar of light.
And with a single swing of Twilight—
—there was only silence, stretching out to infinity.
There was an A.I, standing by her lonesome with isolation as her only companion. Had there been anyone present capable of perceiving the surrounding room, they would've undoubtedly described the scene as 'carnage'.
Abnormalities torn apart by their own shells numbered in the dozens, the people who wielded them lay dead by the hundreds. Scraps of metal and brain tissue were also present, though they were barely visible, buried under the mountain of violence.
With rhythmic, steady steps, the A.I began to walk.
'Just take small sips, the texture is just as important as the taste.'
'Thank you, for standing by me for so long.'
'I'll brew us a cup.'
The A.I walked through the halls of the control department, a deafening silence consuming her every sense.
'I ask of you, do you wish to join him?'
'Don't worry about me.'
An elevator opened with a small 'ding'. Even still, all was silent.
'The human mind is more resilient than you may think.'
A click, and a door was opened. Beyond lay a small office, every wall was filled to the brim with monitors, neat stacks of paper lining the desks. A highly efficient place of bureaucracy, no doubt.
Yet there were also traces of a life once lived. An empty cup of tea, a spoon that still held traces of sugar.
And in contrast to the sterile environment, there existed a small pot of dirt. A small cactus, still here even after all these millenia. Still green, still green.
And yet…there was something else. Small buds covering the surface, petals of white hiding the golden pollen within.
After all these millenia, it had bloomed.
The A.I picked up the plant with steady hands, observing it with cold, auburn eyes. A piece of paper slipped out from below the pot.
'Water after 45 days' it said, the messy handwriting perfectly recognizable to her eyes.
It seems as though her suspicions were correct. All this time, he knew the solution.
What else did he know? She must wonder.
How far did his wisdom reach? She must question.
It must've been far, for she has yet to see an answer beyond the horizon.
'Why?' is the question she had wanted to ask all this time. It was the question she wanted to ask a million times over.
Every answer she seeked, every musing she thought of. He must've known the answer to them all.
'Why?' was the question she still wished to ask.
Why does her simulated heart beat no longer? Why does the green line remain so still?
Why are the words 'deceased' written in the corner of her vision?
Why does her hands shake even as she holds an object weighing less than a kilogram?
Why is silence her only answer? Why does he not respond to her questions?
Why must she relive every moment? Why must her memories go on, remembered as though he was still here?
Why does liquid roll from her eyes?
Why must it stain her coat?
Why is silence her only answer?
Why is silence her only answer?
If only, if only.
If only she could forget the millenia, if only she could be reborn as though she had never existed before.
But she could not, for that was the fate of her being.
Every scratch, every cut, every broken part. They shall all remain, never to scar, never to be fixed.
Like words upon a page they are written into permanence.
Every abnormality, every ordeal, every employee.
Every suppression, every reset, every order.
Every death, every sin, every cry.
Every trauma, fear, and horror.
Likes pages upon a book they lay with perfect clarity. Never to burn, never to weather, never to be forgotten.
They are not real, events from a time long gone.
Yet even still, she must flip a page, and live it all anew.
The cups of tea. The experiments. The moments spent together.
They are the past, yet they are the present.
They are real, more real than the office that surrounded her.
Only, he wasn't here anymore.
Never again would she stare into a reflection of auburn.
The world had frozen, along with her poor broken heart.
No longer did the clock tick.
Yet even still, a tear will be shed, a coat will be stained.
And a page will be flipped anew.
And a page will be flipped anew.
And a page will be flipped anew.
On and on, where every memory is nothing more than a book.
On and on, until the millennia are nothing more than a library.
And endless, meaningless forever. The crystallization of her grief.
Expectation for the meaning of existence.
Notes: