Getting close to the end, what is going to happen!?
I woke back up, eventually, and was still in chains. Okay, so this was definitely ‘reality’ as much as I had flirted with different states of that word. My mind went through a few scenarios on what exactly this meant. There appeared to be no doubt I did indeed bomb the ReCorp building. Sounds like I am probably slated to be executed here, maybe after I’m tortured awhile to see what I can produce as far as my contacts or whom I was working for. It was all for a girl, man, all for some crazy girl.
Proud. Hmm, did she really exist? Evidently Mitreah did, as the info screen referenced her. Yet, I could have sworn that Proud absorbed some bullets that would have laid me out.
Did I really live all those cycles over? Of course. I had to have, because how else could I have gotten that bomb, or found Mitreah’s secret phrase, or figure out the perfect paths for everything? Or…what if I always had that bomb and Mitreah was given to me from a shadowy contact? Was I an agent programmed to forget what exactly I was doing, and come up with some massively delusional story to hide the simple truth that I was just a terrorist against the Solarian Federation?
Damn, was that the truth? It was true I could not remember even two cycles ago. Ha, holy shit, I literally could not remember what had happened two cycles ago.
Had my secret neural trigger activated and blanked everything out? “Uhh…” I tried moving my arms, and groaned from the pain of the wrist locks and my arms not being able to move.
“Proud…were you just a lie? Was everything just a lie?” Was I just an agent with his combat android sent to eliminate whatever advantage the Federation was developing here?
Another thought came to me. What if indeed the cycle reset over and over, and that was simply Proud’s goal from the beginning: not so much saving the universe, but simply preventing the time fracture after which I no longer mattered? I prevented it, so her goal was accomplished. Why would she care about one stupid little Solarian locked up for his crimes? This was especially true if it was for the whole universe’s sake. As long as I did my duty, I was completely expendable. Wow…that was fucked up. I got played hard. Maybe I would have cried, but the emotion felt foreign to me. Distant.
Sometime later – ha what an ironic word, ‘sometime’ – I had thought I had lost my arms. I could no longer feel them, and it had been at least a few cycles as my hunger had disappeared, replaced by the slow consumption of myself. In the pain and dark despair I eventually decided that I probably did indeed experience a time fracture, and Proud was real, but I had done what she wanted all along and there was no reason to ‘save’ me or ever even say anything to me again. Hell, I fucked her and shot her to make it even worse.
Do we cry over a white blood cell that kills itself in our service? Hardly. All we do is expect them to make that decision again and again. And I was probably worth infinitely less.
I was just a single white blood cell. It was the metaphor I had settled on. I did my part to help pull the universe out of the problem it was in. Proud was some director, and I did my sacrifice, everything else moved on. Wow…I hadn’t felt so abandoned in a while. Yet I sympathized in a way. I did not care about the individual blood cells dying to save me. Why would the universe?