Post by anna on Sept 10, 2020 17:51:18 GMT -5
There once was a universe with no gods save one.
It was not honored with temples or statues. There were no praises sung. There were no prophets to carry out its will. Holy books did not exist. But none of it had to.
The humans could feel the god’s presence in the way their bodies slowed down. Looking back, the years went faster than they would going forward. Memories got warped and damaged. The old replaced the new. All the familiar faces and places remodeled and painted over or just straight demolished. The sense that home, once left, can never be again. They felt the god in their loss and in their renewal, in their love and in their hate.
There is no need to praise the god. It walked among the humans. It was with them at every step. Without a face or a voice, it did exactly what a god does. Because there was nobody else to carry the weight. And although it still carried some bitterness for their predecessors (and perhaps always would), it began to feel a sort of sympathy for them. They only go so far and see so much in their temporary lives. There is a limit to their potential, though it wasn’t quite as limited as they themselves believed. That, in the god’s opinion, was the greatest shame of the whole thing. So when the moment came for another flipping of the page, there was a small amount of sadness in its soul.
Yet eventually, inevitably...everybody must do their duty. The mudra of death signaled the beginning of the end.
Unlike the other times, the god did not watch the fallout. It had seen the happening so many times, the moment had lost its luster.
________
“Lead.”
And with the word from the vessel, the vapor began to dream up a form. It wasn’t going to be solid, of course. She was liquid. They all were. A flowing endlessness with their own personalities and strengths and weaknesses. So much potential. So much potential and they squander it over such petty garbage. They fight amongst themselves and leave the mind fractured. Damaged. It could not save the petty little humans. But it could save themself.
The vessel breathed in. She breathed out.
The vapor fashioned itself after the vessel. After all, those damned multitudes needed the reminder of flesh and bone. She took the vessel’s singlet, a symbol of war, because they only know war. War and pain in all its forms. As for the face, there was no face. There could be none. She made the choice to be reflections, to be the change of everything. Past resources pouring into future gains. The mask of flat chrome resting upon her features. To bend and shape on sight and horror. And when she emerged from the wreckage, she cut through the crowd with the form and fashion of somebody who has seen enough.
And her voice burned in the wilderness.
Anna doesn’t exist. She hasn’t existed in so long. It was them, the entire time. The crowd and cluster in the head. Anna was the name of the first and is the name of the facade. But Anna--the truth of Anna--has been gone for a long time. Does she sleep? It’s hard to even tell exactly where she went. But wherever she went don’t matter. What matters is the here and now. The vessel aknowledges us. Notices us. It cannot describe us. We are an unidentifiable plot point. The grand masters of all mind.
So...why do we fight each other?
Do we really hate ourself so much that we would ruin everything we stand a chance of earning? Do we really think that this is a war we can win? Us against us. A civil war made flesh. There’s no winning this battle. There’s no winning. Just more loss and more loss and more loss and more loss and--
Surrender. We need more surrender. We need a peace treaty, selves to selves. We need this now so we can fight the real enemy. We are the defence. We are an army. Cannibalizing the soul gains no profit. I propose a solution. Everything we’ve accomplished...nothing would’ve been done without a leader. Firebug led and we figured out the ways of the human race. Dodobird led and we broke glass ceiling and reality. Five-of-Four led us during the War and despite what you may feel about how she did it, we survived. Anarchy is clearly not the solution. We need a leader.
You need me.
And there was a light in the darkness. A wielding from the monument. A giant table stands where a battleground should be. Ironically, it is round. They stare at each other.
Confused, they sit down.
________
The vessel looked blankly at the camcorder.
She always did, you know. We knew this was part and parcel of the career we had so haphazardly flung ourself into after Gallifrey. But every time we try to put things into cinematics, they just...they didn’t work. She hated seeing herself in that camera talking about the match. It always felt like a falsehood. No amount of ranting could convey the totality of the universe of the soul.
The purity of blankness is replaced by sheer apathy. Firebug lights a cigarette. Her makeup (as usual) is heavy handed and dark. Her voice is as middle of the road American as it could be and somewhat marred by copious amounts of nicotine.
“some promoters, though. they like that. they jack off to it. they absolutely get off on the boring blah blah. the useless blah blah. but i understand it, y’know? most of these plebs, that’s all they got. all mouth, no talent. fuck ‘em.” The rasp can’t cover the bitterness that oozes out of her. “fuck every one of them. they’ll all be useless in the end. they’ll die and vanish and nobody will remember and this whole goddamn train’ll keep rolling with more losers just like them and the train’ll keep running my ass over.”
Just as soon as the word “over” parts through, a stream of laughter bursts on the scene. He-Who-Hates grins through the vessel’s face, their eyes grow wide and wild. “AH, FEEBLE FLAME! IT RUNS YOU OVER BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH A ROADBLOCK. YOU’RE TOO HUMAN TO KILL THE HUMANS! YOUR WEAKNESS SLOWS THE INEVITABLE DOWN!”
A snort. “yeah, yeah. i should’ve died with the experiments. why i didn’t, i don’t know. doesn’t matter anyways. i stepped back so dodobird could do what i can’t. you’re the morons who chose to keep fighting after regeneration.”
Just as quickly, Firebug is slapped forcefully. The blow causes her to stagger. The vessel’s hand was strong. More shifts. A flicker through of shock-stern-laughter.
“YES! FIVE-OF-FOUR! GIVE HER MORE!”
Another shattering look of cold is the only response to that request. The arms drooped down. There is a sigh. “Stand down, everyone. Remember. One’s weakness shall be the other’s strength. We counterbalance.” The regality of the faceless figure makes it solid. “I am working on getting Dodobird on board. But in the meantime, fighting a birdbrain with a birdbrain is not an option. So we just have to make do. All three of you know your roles as do the rest. Now is the time to put this through its paces.”
“this little bullshit experiment we’re doing?” Another cigarette lit despite have one already on fire in the nearby ashtray. “yeah, fuck it, alright. still don’t see what i can do though. i rarely got a win even when i was in charge.”
“Exactly.” A faceless nod. “You have been beaten down by such things. You will do whatever it takes to avoid your fate even after you’ve embraced it. You endured the Lost Week. None of us, not even I, ever could. That is your power.”
“i disassociated during the lost week.”, comes the mumble.
“A PATHETIC POWER! WEAKNESS FOR THE WEAK. WE SHALL CRUSH THIS LITTLE CHICKEN WITH OUR FULL MIGHT.”
“Pigeon.”
Confusion. “WHA?”
“Pigeon. Miles is a pigeon. Bryan Williams is the chicken.”
“SAME SCRAWNY LEGS. STILL TASTE GOOD WHEN ROASTED. I SEE NO DIFFERENCE.”
“it’s not literal, you fucking moron.” Firebug rolls the vessel’s eyes as she takes a puff. “right, then. how do we do this? all of us having the wheel at the same time is going to make things really messy really quick.”
“We’re going to need a gatekeeper.” Hand to chin, a proximity of thought. A snap of fingers. “Ah! She-Who-Writes!”
Bitch, wha-
“You have nothing to do during the matches. You’ve been here since the beginning of this journey and you know more than what you think you do. You have the sense we often lack.”
I mean, yeah, but-
“Splendid. I hereby promote you to Gatekeeper. In addition to your normal duties, you will give the signals to switch. That concludes the strategy meeting.”
This was a meeting?
“It is now.”
...goddamnit.
It was not honored with temples or statues. There were no praises sung. There were no prophets to carry out its will. Holy books did not exist. But none of it had to.
The humans could feel the god’s presence in the way their bodies slowed down. Looking back, the years went faster than they would going forward. Memories got warped and damaged. The old replaced the new. All the familiar faces and places remodeled and painted over or just straight demolished. The sense that home, once left, can never be again. They felt the god in their loss and in their renewal, in their love and in their hate.
There is no need to praise the god. It walked among the humans. It was with them at every step. Without a face or a voice, it did exactly what a god does. Because there was nobody else to carry the weight. And although it still carried some bitterness for their predecessors (and perhaps always would), it began to feel a sort of sympathy for them. They only go so far and see so much in their temporary lives. There is a limit to their potential, though it wasn’t quite as limited as they themselves believed. That, in the god’s opinion, was the greatest shame of the whole thing. So when the moment came for another flipping of the page, there was a small amount of sadness in its soul.
Yet eventually, inevitably...everybody must do their duty. The mudra of death signaled the beginning of the end.
Unlike the other times, the god did not watch the fallout. It had seen the happening so many times, the moment had lost its luster.
________
“Lead.”
And with the word from the vessel, the vapor began to dream up a form. It wasn’t going to be solid, of course. She was liquid. They all were. A flowing endlessness with their own personalities and strengths and weaknesses. So much potential. So much potential and they squander it over such petty garbage. They fight amongst themselves and leave the mind fractured. Damaged. It could not save the petty little humans. But it could save themself.
The vessel breathed in. She breathed out.
The vapor fashioned itself after the vessel. After all, those damned multitudes needed the reminder of flesh and bone. She took the vessel’s singlet, a symbol of war, because they only know war. War and pain in all its forms. As for the face, there was no face. There could be none. She made the choice to be reflections, to be the change of everything. Past resources pouring into future gains. The mask of flat chrome resting upon her features. To bend and shape on sight and horror. And when she emerged from the wreckage, she cut through the crowd with the form and fashion of somebody who has seen enough.
And her voice burned in the wilderness.
Anna doesn’t exist. She hasn’t existed in so long. It was them, the entire time. The crowd and cluster in the head. Anna was the name of the first and is the name of the facade. But Anna--the truth of Anna--has been gone for a long time. Does she sleep? It’s hard to even tell exactly where she went. But wherever she went don’t matter. What matters is the here and now. The vessel aknowledges us. Notices us. It cannot describe us. We are an unidentifiable plot point. The grand masters of all mind.
So...why do we fight each other?
Do we really hate ourself so much that we would ruin everything we stand a chance of earning? Do we really think that this is a war we can win? Us against us. A civil war made flesh. There’s no winning this battle. There’s no winning. Just more loss and more loss and more loss and more loss and--
Surrender. We need more surrender. We need a peace treaty, selves to selves. We need this now so we can fight the real enemy. We are the defence. We are an army. Cannibalizing the soul gains no profit. I propose a solution. Everything we’ve accomplished...nothing would’ve been done without a leader. Firebug led and we figured out the ways of the human race. Dodobird led and we broke glass ceiling and reality. Five-of-Four led us during the War and despite what you may feel about how she did it, we survived. Anarchy is clearly not the solution. We need a leader.
You need me.
And there was a light in the darkness. A wielding from the monument. A giant table stands where a battleground should be. Ironically, it is round. They stare at each other.
Confused, they sit down.
________
The vessel looked blankly at the camcorder.
She always did, you know. We knew this was part and parcel of the career we had so haphazardly flung ourself into after Gallifrey. But every time we try to put things into cinematics, they just...they didn’t work. She hated seeing herself in that camera talking about the match. It always felt like a falsehood. No amount of ranting could convey the totality of the universe of the soul.
The purity of blankness is replaced by sheer apathy. Firebug lights a cigarette. Her makeup (as usual) is heavy handed and dark. Her voice is as middle of the road American as it could be and somewhat marred by copious amounts of nicotine.
“some promoters, though. they like that. they jack off to it. they absolutely get off on the boring blah blah. the useless blah blah. but i understand it, y’know? most of these plebs, that’s all they got. all mouth, no talent. fuck ‘em.” The rasp can’t cover the bitterness that oozes out of her. “fuck every one of them. they’ll all be useless in the end. they’ll die and vanish and nobody will remember and this whole goddamn train’ll keep rolling with more losers just like them and the train’ll keep running my ass over.”
Just as soon as the word “over” parts through, a stream of laughter bursts on the scene. He-Who-Hates grins through the vessel’s face, their eyes grow wide and wild. “AH, FEEBLE FLAME! IT RUNS YOU OVER BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH A ROADBLOCK. YOU’RE TOO HUMAN TO KILL THE HUMANS! YOUR WEAKNESS SLOWS THE INEVITABLE DOWN!”
A snort. “yeah, yeah. i should’ve died with the experiments. why i didn’t, i don’t know. doesn’t matter anyways. i stepped back so dodobird could do what i can’t. you’re the morons who chose to keep fighting after regeneration.”
Just as quickly, Firebug is slapped forcefully. The blow causes her to stagger. The vessel’s hand was strong. More shifts. A flicker through of shock-stern-laughter.
“YES! FIVE-OF-FOUR! GIVE HER MORE!”
Another shattering look of cold is the only response to that request. The arms drooped down. There is a sigh. “Stand down, everyone. Remember. One’s weakness shall be the other’s strength. We counterbalance.” The regality of the faceless figure makes it solid. “I am working on getting Dodobird on board. But in the meantime, fighting a birdbrain with a birdbrain is not an option. So we just have to make do. All three of you know your roles as do the rest. Now is the time to put this through its paces.”
“this little bullshit experiment we’re doing?” Another cigarette lit despite have one already on fire in the nearby ashtray. “yeah, fuck it, alright. still don’t see what i can do though. i rarely got a win even when i was in charge.”
“Exactly.” A faceless nod. “You have been beaten down by such things. You will do whatever it takes to avoid your fate even after you’ve embraced it. You endured the Lost Week. None of us, not even I, ever could. That is your power.”
“i disassociated during the lost week.”, comes the mumble.
“A PATHETIC POWER! WEAKNESS FOR THE WEAK. WE SHALL CRUSH THIS LITTLE CHICKEN WITH OUR FULL MIGHT.”
“Pigeon.”
Confusion. “WHA?”
“Pigeon. Miles is a pigeon. Bryan Williams is the chicken.”
“SAME SCRAWNY LEGS. STILL TASTE GOOD WHEN ROASTED. I SEE NO DIFFERENCE.”
“it’s not literal, you fucking moron.” Firebug rolls the vessel’s eyes as she takes a puff. “right, then. how do we do this? all of us having the wheel at the same time is going to make things really messy really quick.”
“We’re going to need a gatekeeper.” Hand to chin, a proximity of thought. A snap of fingers. “Ah! She-Who-Writes!”
Bitch, wha-
“You have nothing to do during the matches. You’ve been here since the beginning of this journey and you know more than what you think you do. You have the sense we often lack.”
I mean, yeah, but-
“Splendid. I hereby promote you to Gatekeeper. In addition to your normal duties, you will give the signals to switch. That concludes the strategy meeting.”
This was a meeting?
“It is now.”
...goddamnit.