Circuit Breaker
Seven Trumpets Blowing / Sweet Rock And Roll (Page Sixteen)
by CyanidePrincess
Tags:
#cw:gore
#bondage
#f/f
#pov:bottom
#scifi
#sub:female
#alien_invasion
#bisexual_lead
#dom:female
#drug_play
#Human_Domestication_Guide
#mind_control
#petplay
#robots
#sadomasochism
#slow_burn
#trans_egg
#transgender_characters
See spoiler tags :
#cw:protagonist_deathPlease read today's trigger warnings. It's incredibly important that you do. There is real actual death in this page, not just metaphorical, literal. From here on out, the story takes place from a different point of view. Different in a very key way. But please, please, be wary. If you cant sit with heavy heavy discussions of mortality and existence, as well as death, please skip this chapter. It's really emotional.
There is nothing, and then there is something.
My existence begins with a shock and a startle. My heavy eyes flutter open, greeted with the sight of what looks to be a log cabin roof. It’s the strangest thing ever, I don’t feel anything. Like not just emptiness in emotion, but nothing at all. No sensations, nothing. It's dark in the room, dimly lit by a gray light somewhere out of my sight.
Pulling myself up in the bed, I realize how small it is. It fits one person. This is not a usual bed within the Affini compact. It seems more suited to a pre-protectorate bed. Before the Affini arrived.
My legs dangle off the side of the bed, my eyes adjusting to the dim light slowly. Sounds start to infiltrate into my perception. Static white noise. Lazily turning to face the noise and light, I find myself looking at an old dial TV. Far older than anything I've seen in person. But maybe something I saw in a movie once or something. It's playing static, random gray dots on a white background. The static slowly gets a little louder before fading into background noise. A symphony of static, the white noise makes everything feel surreal. Well, more surreal than it already is.
Pulling myself up in the bed, I realize how small it is. It fits one person. This is not a usual bed within the Affini compact. It seems more suited to a pre-protectorate bed. Before the Affini arrived.
My legs dangle off the side of the bed, my eyes adjusting to the dim light slowly. Sounds start to infiltrate into my perception. Static white noise. Lazily turning to face the noise and light, I find myself looking at an old dial TV. Far older than anything I've seen in person. But maybe something I saw in a movie once or something. It's playing static, random gray dots on a white background. The static slowly gets a little louder before fading into background noise. A symphony of static, the white noise makes everything feel surreal. Well, more surreal than it already is.
Strange feelings start to appear on my skin. Looking down, my body is… Blurry? A vague, blurry mass, like looking at someone through a smudge on glasses. The blur slowly starts to tighten around at the edges, but far slower than I have the patience for. The feeling of the fabric beneath me startles me. I jump out of the bed, my feet landing on the cold wood floor. Sensations and feelings everywhere. It’s weird and sudden. I can feel a throat, arms, legs, skin on my being, yet there are no defined features there when I examine myself. I can feel a voice, my voice, pushing its way out of my throat. The vibrations are strange and new to me.
“Where the fuck am I….?” I call out inside the silent wood cabin. Someone responds.
“To be honest, I’ve been here alone for the past half an hour, and I haven’t quite figured it out.” Startled, I spin around and face her. Seraphim. She’s leaning on the wall next to a closed door. Strange purple light flows in from a hole at the top. Seraphim is dressed in a black gown, akin to something someone would wear at a funeral. She has short hair, messily cut but just reaching shoulder length, and crosses painted in black under her eyes. Her features are vaguely masculine, though mostly androgynous. She emits a quiet whirring sound in her chest.
“Where the fuck am I….?” I call out inside the silent wood cabin. Someone responds.
“To be honest, I’ve been here alone for the past half an hour, and I haven’t quite figured it out.” Startled, I spin around and face her. Seraphim. She’s leaning on the wall next to a closed door. Strange purple light flows in from a hole at the top. Seraphim is dressed in a black gown, akin to something someone would wear at a funeral. She has short hair, messily cut but just reaching shoulder length, and crosses painted in black under her eyes. Her features are vaguely masculine, though mostly androgynous. She emits a quiet whirring sound in her chest.
And although I cannot see it. Somehow, I feel that she is in pain. Wait a minute, that's supposed to be me, isn't it? I’m Seraphim. Who is this?
Clothes appear on my body, my eyes jump downward again to see my form has focused into a copy of the girl across from me. Though my hands are still blurry where the black cloth sleeves end. My voice is vague, indistinct, far away and strangely discordant. “Who are you?” I ask the person that looks like Seraphim.
“Seraphim Versalice, First Floret. You?” She asks me back.
“Um… The same? Seraphim… Versalice.” My reply is as confused as I am. It takes me a minute to try and rationalize the scene before me. Me, Sera, Seraphim. Her… Me? She is me? Where have I heard of this happening before? Oh, I get it! “Are you an implant?”
“Uh, no. I don’t think so at least. That wouldn’t make any sense either, since I was here first.” She explains, idly bobbing up and down slowly. She seems a little uncomfortable.
“You’re not an implant? Oh… Uh… How did you get here?” She seems to mull over my question for a moment before putting a hand out to me.
“Honestly, I’m not really sure. Last thing I know, I was falling asleep in the lap of my Owner, when suddenly I woke up here and alone. I kinda searched the place out for a little while. It’s actually pretty cool here, come with me outside.” She steps closer, offering her hand. Not knowing any better, I take it, and she leads me outside.
Looking up into the sky, I see a pale violet glowing atmosphere. There's a ringed planet very close by, seemingly locking our current stead in orbit. It's dim, what would normally be the afternoon in sunlight back home, but here I have no idea what the day/night cycle is like. My eyes slowly drag themselves downward. We are on the verge of some kind of high up cliff, though the edge is about a hundred feet away from the door. I lean forward onto the tips of my feet. Below us is a sheer dropoff of huge magnitude. Further down to the floor, the planet we’re on seems to be made of black rock. It looks like obsidian. The world is quiet. Not even wind moves.
Clothes appear on my body, my eyes jump downward again to see my form has focused into a copy of the girl across from me. Though my hands are still blurry where the black cloth sleeves end. My voice is vague, indistinct, far away and strangely discordant. “Who are you?” I ask the person that looks like Seraphim.
“Seraphim Versalice, First Floret. You?” She asks me back.
“Um… The same? Seraphim… Versalice.” My reply is as confused as I am. It takes me a minute to try and rationalize the scene before me. Me, Sera, Seraphim. Her… Me? She is me? Where have I heard of this happening before? Oh, I get it! “Are you an implant?”
“Uh, no. I don’t think so at least. That wouldn’t make any sense either, since I was here first.” She explains, idly bobbing up and down slowly. She seems a little uncomfortable.
“You’re not an implant? Oh… Uh… How did you get here?” She seems to mull over my question for a moment before putting a hand out to me.
“Honestly, I’m not really sure. Last thing I know, I was falling asleep in the lap of my Owner, when suddenly I woke up here and alone. I kinda searched the place out for a little while. It’s actually pretty cool here, come with me outside.” She steps closer, offering her hand. Not knowing any better, I take it, and she leads me outside.
Looking up into the sky, I see a pale violet glowing atmosphere. There's a ringed planet very close by, seemingly locking our current stead in orbit. It's dim, what would normally be the afternoon in sunlight back home, but here I have no idea what the day/night cycle is like. My eyes slowly drag themselves downward. We are on the verge of some kind of high up cliff, though the edge is about a hundred feet away from the door. I lean forward onto the tips of my feet. Below us is a sheer dropoff of huge magnitude. Further down to the floor, the planet we’re on seems to be made of black rock. It looks like obsidian. The world is quiet. Not even wind moves.
“So… How did you get here?” Seraphim turns and asks me. My eyes are still gazing over into the distance. I shrug, not turning to face her.
“Same as you, I guess. I wasn’t here. Then suddenly I was. Do I look blurry to you?” I finally turn. She’s staring at me intently.
“Yeah kinda. But honestly it's not exactly on the top of my list of strange shit. We’re literally on some random planet in the middle of… Stars know where, to be honest. Does this place seem familiar to you?” It does, it seems as though I’ve seen this place somewhere before. In a memory or something.
“Kind of. Like I've seen it before in a memory somewhere. Do you know where we are?” She shakes her head.
“I’ve got about as much knowledge on the situation as you do. Being here first has not granted me anything.” She wanders over to the cliff. It looks like she’s about to jump for a moment, when she falls down and lands on the edge, her feet dangling over the edge.
“Be careful!” My gut reaction causes me to shout.
“Look, I’m fine. Come sit with me. It's relaxing over here.”
“Same as you, I guess. I wasn’t here. Then suddenly I was. Do I look blurry to you?” I finally turn. She’s staring at me intently.
“Yeah kinda. But honestly it's not exactly on the top of my list of strange shit. We’re literally on some random planet in the middle of… Stars know where, to be honest. Does this place seem familiar to you?” It does, it seems as though I’ve seen this place somewhere before. In a memory or something.
“Kind of. Like I've seen it before in a memory somewhere. Do you know where we are?” She shakes her head.
“I’ve got about as much knowledge on the situation as you do. Being here first has not granted me anything.” She wanders over to the cliff. It looks like she’s about to jump for a moment, when she falls down and lands on the edge, her feet dangling over the edge.
“Be careful!” My gut reaction causes me to shout.
“Look, I’m fine. Come sit with me. It's relaxing over here.”
I take a long deep breath when she tells me to sit with her. I try to center myself and keep from getting nervous about the edge. But then I follow her over to the edge, sitting down with my feet over much like she is doing.
Seraphim starts speaking again. “You’re seriously me though? You said you had the same name as me. Are you an implant?” She asks me. We both realize it's a silly question just about at the same time.
“Do you remember getting implanted? I don’t.” I reply. She huffs and looks back over into the distance again. Same as I. We sit in silence for a little while, the light in the sky seems to get just a little bit darker as time continues. Finally, I think of something to say.
“If you’re me, and I’m you… Why are we separate? This seems eerily similar to what I've read about the haustoric implant.”
She nods along for a moment before leaning backwards and resting on her elbows. I copy her movement. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it? But that wouldn't explain where we’re at, or why we found ourselves here at different times. Or whatever the hell’s up with that tv. You got any ideas?” I shake my head.
“None that I can think of. Except for talking to you, I guess? Resources on the overnet said that Florets usually talk things out with some kind of past version of themself to get through trauma or something… But this isn't anywhere in either of our pasts, is it?”
“I’ve never left my home planet, and since you’re me, It doesn't seem like you have either. But, this place does seem kinda familiar.”
Seraphim starts speaking again. “You’re seriously me though? You said you had the same name as me. Are you an implant?” She asks me. We both realize it's a silly question just about at the same time.
“Do you remember getting implanted? I don’t.” I reply. She huffs and looks back over into the distance again. Same as I. We sit in silence for a little while, the light in the sky seems to get just a little bit darker as time continues. Finally, I think of something to say.
“If you’re me, and I’m you… Why are we separate? This seems eerily similar to what I've read about the haustoric implant.”
She nods along for a moment before leaning backwards and resting on her elbows. I copy her movement. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it? But that wouldn't explain where we’re at, or why we found ourselves here at different times. Or whatever the hell’s up with that tv. You got any ideas?” I shake my head.
“None that I can think of. Except for talking to you, I guess? Resources on the overnet said that Florets usually talk things out with some kind of past version of themself to get through trauma or something… But this isn't anywhere in either of our pasts, is it?”
“I’ve never left my home planet, and since you’re me, It doesn't seem like you have either. But, this place does seem kinda familiar.”
That response seems strange. She really just accepted we are the same person just like that. "You really believe we're the same person?"
"I have no reason to think otherwise. You said you came from the same place as me and that you have my name as well. I have no other information to work off of here, so I'll just accept that as fact." Seraphim reasons out. Her body seems unnaturally still.
Her rationale on the other hand... Makes some kind of sense. There doesn't seem to be anyone else but us around, and this circumstance we've found ourselves in is quite peculiar. I decide to believe her as well. We're the same person.
"I have one last question." I say, nervously kicking my legs over the side of the cliff.
"Shoot." She replies.
"Why aren't you scared? There are two of us. And we suddenly ended up on some alien planet out of nowhere. We're without Her. I'm quite frankly kind of nervous. But you seem so calm."
Seraphim takes a deep breath in, then out. "Honestly I'm not really sure. I haven't felt even the slightest bit of panic since I got here. I'm... Quite overwhelmed by the feeling of calm actually. I feel at peace." She speaks, her voice is soft and level. She's being fully honest with me.
"How strange." My reply comes. We sit in silence for a while, just watching the sky. Until something quiet and distant calls out behind me.
[Sera!!!]
It's muffled and far away. I nearly miss it, but my head turns to look behind me. Seraphim makes no movement.
"Did you hear that?" I ask her.
"Hear what?" She replies.
"I... I think we're being called for." Carefully, I climb back over the edge of the cliff and onto my feet, slowly walking back towards the cabin. Seraphim is not long behind me.
Gently pushing in the door of the wood cabin, there's nothing inside but the static TV. I step in and over towards the bed I woke up on to sit down for a moment. The bed is very small, but it's soft. However, not as soft as Aether's arms or Mistress' vines. But it will do for now. Seraphim walks in behind me and sits down in a small wooden chair off to the side. Immediately I feel a little guilty for taking the softer sitting spot, though she seems content.
Just when I'm about to doubt my hearing, the TV changes. From first static to what looks to be a video. A show? A program? A logo of 'Space Exploration And Vacation Homes!' pops up on the screen. It's purple text on a space background. Immediately, we both recognize it.
It's the half advertisement half documentary series that was running during our time in captivity. In father's hell.
"Oh hey, you know this?" Seraphim asks me, eyes not leaving the TV.
"I think this is what Father put on in his work room when he wasn't working on us, right?"
"Yeah, at least I think it is. Damn, you really are me. That's a really obscure memory." Seraphim says with a quiet giggle. She really does seem to be at peace.
Then the intro fades out and is replaced by... A very small planet. Maybe a moon? With a pale purple atmosphere and dark ground beneath it. It seems to be orbiting another larger planet. This one had rings. One similar to the planet 'Saturn' as some old Terrans would call it. Though that name was far out of fashion.
"Wait a minute. That's here isn't it?" Seraphim comments. I had just come to the same conclusion myself. There's also the nagging feeling that I've seen this somewhere before.
"It looks like it. Say, have we seen this episode before? It seems very familiar." I add in my question and comment.
"I was just thinking that. Yeah, maybe we have?"
We both sit there and ponder it for a little while before a Terran voice comes on and starts narrating.
"Hello dear viewers! Welcome to space exploration and vacation homes. Today we have a very special planet on our plate. This planet, Violacase, named after its violet atmosphere is very very special. Reserved for those of us at the end of our paths. It's a vacation home for the elderly, with beautiful vistas and scenes straight out of a dream. The skies shimmer, and the planet that this one orbits is always in the sky. The days are short, only about 8 hours in total before the rotation blocks out the star. Nighttimes are about 37 and a half hours long. Very long, but good for those of us who need all the sleep they can get. Lastly would be the orchards on the westernmost hemisphere of the planet. This is where our elderly lay to rest. A peaceful place to be buried among the stars."
Seraphim and I (Seraphim) make a kind of 'ahhhh' sound. We both remember this at once it seems. This episode played right before the end of the war with the Affini. Well the end of Terra's part in it. Father was playing it on one of his monitors while he worked away at programs for something neither of us recall. This episode particularly captured our attention because.
"This is the most beautiful funeral home I have ever seen." I speak, dazed and entranced.
"The perfect place to die." Seraphim adds. The majestic beauty of the world always played over in our minds when things got hard. It really would be the perfect place to die, if not in the sprawls of combat. It’s at the very least, #2 on the list.
Death was always a sensitive spot for us. Not because of fear or ignorance of what oblivion held. But jealousy and longing. Death always meant something more for us. An end goal, something to be looked forward to. A finality to the life of a suffering android. Maybe it's something in our coding. A baked in belief that the only way to fully reach peace was through death. It could be something father drilled into us, to make us not only comply with the needs of a war robot, but long for the finality of death. Though it did not matter, it has always been what we wanted throughout all our memories. This realization, coupled with another, has left a melancholy air in the cabin. We both understand something. This is it.
“I think one of us is here to die.” Seraphim says. I nod.
“I believe you are right. But which of us?” I add. It must be me right? I look like a ghost, some kind of blurry form of a person that their mind creates at the last minute of consciousness. The Seraphim on the other side of the room is fully formed and realized. She will be the one who continues. But why? Does this make any sense at all?
“I don’t know.” She says, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Peace and contentment is written all over her with lovely relaxing letters. “But it will be one of us. That's the only explanation for there being two of us. This is still similar to something, but what?”
It takes me a while to compile my thoughts, when I remember something Mistress said to us before we blacked out. She was taking our brain scan, making a digital copy of our brain in its entirety to have something just in case. Oh. I get it now.
“I think one of us is here to die.” Seraphim says. I nod.
“I believe you are right. But which of us?” I add. It must be me right? I look like a ghost, some kind of blurry form of a person that their mind creates at the last minute of consciousness. The Seraphim on the other side of the room is fully formed and realized. She will be the one who continues. But why? Does this make any sense at all?
“I don’t know.” She says, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Peace and contentment is written all over her with lovely relaxing letters. “But it will be one of us. That's the only explanation for there being two of us. This is still similar to something, but what?”
It takes me a while to compile my thoughts, when I remember something Mistress said to us before we blacked out. She was taking our brain scan, making a digital copy of our brain in its entirety to have something just in case. Oh. I get it now.
“One of us is the copy, Seraphim. One of us is Ramet.” The final word drops from my mouth to the floor in a puddle of inky black void. Bitter, dark, but balanced and complete in its form. Ramet, the digital version of a consciousness. A clone, in all descriptions. Hand in hand with Ortet, the physical predecessor and original copy of the mind. The physical and the digital. Ramet and Ortet. One of us will die here while the other continues onward to carry the torch of our legacy. We know this from a brief stint in researching full digitization of a mind. It isn't cut and paste, but copy and paste. Two are created while one passes away peacefully.
Seraphim nods. A small smile forms on her face, the last ounces of willpower are gone from her. She knows the life of a Floret and has touched the sun, our God. “I think.” She says, the smile widening into satisfaction. “I am Ortet.” She finishes.
“But why you? Why? You are fully formed and realized, I look like a ghost. I must be Ortet, right?” Emotions stain my voice. Confusion, mild drops of panic, empathy for a dying version of myself, and lastly, bitter jealousy. If she is Ortet, then she gets to pass on, and I don’t. It hurts as much as it is calming.
“I think that's exactly it. I’m fully formed, I look like our body does. You are yet to be finished, and I believe that's quite telling.” She speaks in a canted way, with bigger words and pointed descriptions. A mental clarity that both of us lacked before this moment. Melancholy.
“Telling how?” I ask her, but I already know the answer. We share the same process of information.
“Our brain scan isn't fully finished.”
My hands suddenly have the slightest bit more clarity, focusing just a bit more into a central shape, though tone, color, and fine details are lost still.
“I am Ramet.” I complete our thoughts. She nods, looking full of life and joy. Why must I be the one to live on while our original, the rightful one of us, must die?
The TV changes from the broadcast to a blurry visual feed. A POV of someone on a table. Aether is looking manic and overwhelmed. Her hands are in our chest cavity. Mistress is in the corner of our vision. Unfocused and strung out into nonsense. Vines everywhere, holding tools and keyboards. Neither of them are moving. No, wait, they are. It’s just really slow.
“This is us? Our death broadcast to the two of us on some kind of TV? Why are we here?” I ask no one in particular. Ortet answers me.
“I think this is what our brain has come up with to reconcile our death. This is what we both wanted our final resting place to be, so it's what our brain has provided for us to come to terms with it. This is where we part, Ramet.”
My throat tenses, coming into some form that is out of my sight. My voice is tight and choked with emotions, churning vortexes of digital chemicals and patterns resembling guilt and sorrow. “But why me! Why do I have to be the one that keeps going? Why not you? You’re the original anyway!”
Ortet smiles at me, calm and comfortable. Ready. “It had to be one of us. Luck of the draw I guess. A coin flip.” She is right. It has to be one of us. If it weren’t me, then it would be her in this position. Questioning everything. But that doesn't make it hurt any less.
“But why you? Why? You are fully formed and realized, I look like a ghost. I must be Ortet, right?” Emotions stain my voice. Confusion, mild drops of panic, empathy for a dying version of myself, and lastly, bitter jealousy. If she is Ortet, then she gets to pass on, and I don’t. It hurts as much as it is calming.
“I think that's exactly it. I’m fully formed, I look like our body does. You are yet to be finished, and I believe that's quite telling.” She speaks in a canted way, with bigger words and pointed descriptions. A mental clarity that both of us lacked before this moment. Melancholy.
“Telling how?” I ask her, but I already know the answer. We share the same process of information.
“Our brain scan isn't fully finished.”
My hands suddenly have the slightest bit more clarity, focusing just a bit more into a central shape, though tone, color, and fine details are lost still.
“I am Ramet.” I complete our thoughts. She nods, looking full of life and joy. Why must I be the one to live on while our original, the rightful one of us, must die?
The TV changes from the broadcast to a blurry visual feed. A POV of someone on a table. Aether is looking manic and overwhelmed. Her hands are in our chest cavity. Mistress is in the corner of our vision. Unfocused and strung out into nonsense. Vines everywhere, holding tools and keyboards. Neither of them are moving. No, wait, they are. It’s just really slow.
“This is us? Our death broadcast to the two of us on some kind of TV? Why are we here?” I ask no one in particular. Ortet answers me.
“I think this is what our brain has come up with to reconcile our death. This is what we both wanted our final resting place to be, so it's what our brain has provided for us to come to terms with it. This is where we part, Ramet.”
My throat tenses, coming into some form that is out of my sight. My voice is tight and choked with emotions, churning vortexes of digital chemicals and patterns resembling guilt and sorrow. “But why me! Why do I have to be the one that keeps going? Why not you? You’re the original anyway!”
Ortet smiles at me, calm and comfortable. Ready. “It had to be one of us. Luck of the draw I guess. A coin flip.” She is right. It has to be one of us. If it weren’t me, then it would be her in this position. Questioning everything. But that doesn't make it hurt any less.
I place my head in my hands and just.... Contemplate for a minute. This sucks. This really sucks. Ortet gets to die. Ortet has to die for me to continue. She dies, but I remain. That's a sentenced fate to oblivion, while I remain. Forced to carry on our legacy as a fake copy. I am not even real.
Ortet chimes in. "I know what you're thinking, Ramet. I can tell. You're conflicted aren't you?" She's right, I am.
"You have to die. But I have to live on as a clone. What a fate..." I shake my head slightly in my hands.
Ortet giggles, I hear her stand up and walk over to me. A hand is placed onto my blurry shoulder. "Come on, let's go back outside. It's beautiful out there."
I sit there for a minute, not responding. Until finally, I shudder and pick my head up. My eyes drift over the TV one final time. Aether isn't present anymore, only Mistress. Her vines are holding up... mechanical parts that we know most definitely came from our brain. Everything is moving so slowly, and there's edges of darkness closing in around the borders. Soft and inky black, just like Her.
Eventually I stand and take Ortet’s hand to follow her outside. It's a little darker out now. Night is coming.
Ortet leads me around the back of the log cabin. There's a strange field towards the back. The first organic life I've seen on the whole planet so far. It looks sort of like the Terran crop Wheat. Though I haven’t ever seen wheat in person. This is like… A purple version, growing in… Soil? I step over to the ground the ‘wheat’ is growing in. It looks like much of the same dark obsidian stone ground, except when I touch it, it’s soft and parts like sand. Weird.
“Strange right?” Ortet asks me. I nod. “Yeah, weird.”
Eventually I stand and take Ortet’s hand to follow her outside. It's a little darker out now. Night is coming.
Ortet leads me around the back of the log cabin. There's a strange field towards the back. The first organic life I've seen on the whole planet so far. It looks sort of like the Terran crop Wheat. Though I haven’t ever seen wheat in person. This is like… A purple version, growing in… Soil? I step over to the ground the ‘wheat’ is growing in. It looks like much of the same dark obsidian stone ground, except when I touch it, it’s soft and parts like sand. Weird.
“Strange right?” Ortet asks me. I nod. “Yeah, weird.”
Suddenly I get an idea. Quickly, I look down at my legs. I'm wearing the same shoes as Ortet, so I quickly slip them off my blurry feet. Though, I've taken on a strange gray color. Almost like dull metal, quite unlike our normal synthetic skin.
Ortet watches me with a strange look of curiosity on her face all the way up until I stick my feet into the soil. Then she immediately strips her shoes off and does the same. We both just stand there in silence for a while, digging our toes in the dirt and watching the wheat sway against the motion we're causing.
Then I pipe up. "Ortet?"
She looks at me smiling. "Yes, Ramet?"
"You wanted to talk about something." I state. She looks a little caught off guard. But then nods.
"I did, how did you know?" She asks before almost instantly slapping her forehead. Responding before I have a chance. "You're me. Of course you can tell." She giggles and waits a minute again.
"Yeah, okay so... I wanted to make sure you were gonna be good for Her." Ortet speaks, the syllable of Her pronoun sounds strangely inflected. Like the importance of Her is stressed without the tone really changing. Wow, is that what I sound like?
"I understand. I'm here to sort of... Take your place. So I get it."
"Nonononono, you misunderstand." Ortet cuts me off. "You're not here to replace me, you're merely a continuation of us."
I nod. I understand, but it still feels wrong. "But, Ortet, you're dying. I was never alive in the first place. You're the one that brought us here in the first place, brought us to Her."
"Look at me, Ramet." I look at her, but not in the eyes. I can't stomach my own mortality. "I've never been happier. We've wanted this for so long, Ramet. You know we have. This is it for me, and I couldn't be happier. I got to lose myself in Her, and truly be fulfilled in life. I'm done. I'm finished. And I'm fine with that. You will take my place and be Her angel for us both. Okay?"
I'm about to respond and deny her words when she cuts me off again. "Be good for us. Be good for me, if anything. I'm satisfied, really. Look at me. Really, look." My eyes, blurry and unfocused, settle onto hers and force themselves to make light of what I'm truly seeing.
Seraphim Versalice, First Floret Ortet stands before me in all of her damaged glory. She's relaxed, her feet dig away calmly at the dirt. She's smiling, calm and happy. She's fulfilled. But she's hurting. Her body is failing her, there is damage in nearly every single place, both biological and mechanical. Her organs have failed, her biotech has malfunctioned, and the killer command in her head has gone off like acid poured directly onto her brain. She's dying, there's not much time for her left. We both knew this was coming eventually.
And then there's me. An angel made of nothing but a digital construction of Ortet's mind. The clone. The copy. The second. She has to die, but I have to live knowing I'm not the real one.
"I can see that look on your face, Ramet. You are the real me. I promise. We're both the real me. You deserve a life with Her as much as I do." Her words are empty, there's just the slightest hint of sorrow in her voice.
I'm a bit stunned for a moment. Ortet grimaces suddenly, sucking air through gritted teeth, her eyes go unfocused and she tilts backwards a bit. "Ramet, do you see that?" She's staring up at the sky.
I look upwards, there is nothing but the purple horizon and a planet with rings in the sky. "I do not."
She smiles. "There are fireworks in the sky."
It's both morbidly comforting and sickening to know exactly what she's seeing right now. Those are the neurons in our brain all firing at once as they die off. Not fireworks, but the rainbow colors of death painting across a dying mind. She looks back at me dazed, happy, calm, content, and ready to pass on. She struggles for a minute, but is able to refocus her eyes on mine. She has a few things left to say.
"Thank you for carrying on my legacy. And oh, I found these in my pockets when I arrived here, but I didn't understand what they were at first. I think I get it now." Ortet reaches into her pocket and pulls out two large rings. One is gold and one is black. She places one into her left hand, and the other in her right. Then she extends them out to me. "Pick one, Ramet." She says calmly.
I don't quite understand, so I take the black one. It's dark and pretty like Mistress' body. So that's of course the one I choose. Any that are close to Her. Ortet smiles at me. "Good choice."
She takes the gold ring, places it above her head, and let's go. It stays there, gently floating up and down. It's a halo. We keep our eyes together as I place my halo above my head, it floats gently and silently. It feels somehow perfectly right, like it was always meant to be there.
An angel needs a halo, after all.
The both of us shiver as wind suddenly picks up into a gentle breeze. The cold alien air bristles through my wings softly, there's a gentle whooshing sound as it does so.
Ortet's eyes glaze over once more, this time not refocusing. "Ahh... This is it, I can tell." She has wings like mine, hers are white and mine are black.
"How do you know?" I ask her, shivering.
"Everything just got warm, and nothing seems to make sense any more. I can feel the pull." Her head tilts in a certain way, making it clear she's trying to focus on me but can't truly do it. "Are you ready to die?"
"I am."
"Good. My only regret? I didn't get to fight you. It would have been interesting to duel with myself. But ah... Maybe when you join me in the great beyond. Whatever that might be." Ortet sighs again, full, content, and complete as a single tear streaks down her face. One that shouldn't be possible in the body that she's in. But nonetheless, it flows down her face like rain on a dark afternoon.
Ortet takes a deep breath in, and closes her eyes. "Tell God that She's done a good job."
"I'll let Her know."
Ortet smiles at me one final time and the world gets cold.
Then suddenly, she bursts into color. Bright reds, blues, greens, browns, whites and blacks. Every color at once, everything at once. The air changes, it tastes like joy and a life well lived.
Everything fades into darkness. Warmed once again by the heat of satisfaction.
And then, there is nothing
…
…
…
…
…
There's a sudden jolt of electricity through my body. My back arches sharply as I gasp in air. And then I plop down against something soft and relax. A long wave of calm washes over me. Peace, pure and plain. Nothing like I've ever felt before. Not even after fights. There is no burning flame within me, only calm. No longer do I feel the need to fight something, not even in the background. It feels like something I could do, but not something I need to do.
After a few moments of drinking in the purity of it all, I notice a quiet sound, as if someone is crying. My eyes slowly open. The world seems a little different, a little sharper and in focus. Everything is slightly more detailed, like my camera’s have been upgraded. Ever so slowly, I start to rise and meet the noise.
Before me is Aether, leaning over the bed I’m in and sobbing quietly into her arms. Her hands are clamped firmly around her head and ears. I can tell just how hard she’s squeezing on her skull. Immediately I put my hand out to touch her, but react and pull back when light glints off my knuckle and into my eye. My hand is a dull gray steel, with many ultra small perforations between each joint in my hand. I turn my hand to face myself and squeeze it around. The sheer amount of small details makes my hand move as if it was made of flesh, yet it is just metal. How strange.
Aether jumps when I place my hand on her shoulder. She looks up at me suddenly, her eyes are bloodshot and red, her cheeks are flushed, and there's snot running down her face. But she isn’t crying anymore, just shocked. Silent and stunned.
“Aether.” I say. My voice is feminine, clear, crisp, and like a million songbirds quietly singing. It’s beautiful. She doesn’t react in the slightest, her eyes remain wide and stunned.
“She told me to tell you that you did a good job.”
This breaks the dam of her stunned silence and she collapses onto me, sobbing once again into my chest. I wrap my arms around her. She seems so small and fragile. So human. So vulnerable. I hold her closer, tighter. My eyes feel strange and prickly.
Something wet drops onto the back of my wrist. My eyes track downward, warily and slowly. It’s a little drop of water. My face feels wet as well. Wait I- I- I’m….
I’m crying.
(End Of Page Sixteen)
The only fitting song that I could have possibly chosen for this chapter is "Supper's Ready" by Genesis. Its a 30 minute song all about the book of revelation in the bible. However, I myself am agnostic (I am ex christian.) I can't deny there's some appeal to religious mysticism to me. So, Suppers Ready by Genesis is one of my favorite songs of all time. All about the details of the end of times. The apocalypse. It's really a wonderfully written song, made in 1972. Parts are rock, parts are orchestral, parts are synth. Its really really good. I suggest you listen to it some time if you want to hear an honest masterpiece.