Ten Episodes. Finally! I wasn’t sure how long I would keep going with these, but forcing myself to do them has been a great experience. I’ve learned a lot, procrastinated less, and have been able to experiment with different things without committing to something longer form.
Thanks for sticking around. I hope you enjoy them too.
Artwork by Minovo Wang
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/v292rE
Minovo’s Artstation profile
https://www.artstation.com/minovo
DISCLAIMER: This work has not been edited beyond what is done in the video. The goal is to capture a story in a short amount of time, and keep it as raw as possible. If I decide to publish later, all of these will go through formal editing.
The Story
You were more than a sketch.
You were more than a number.
Every day, I come here. At the same time, when the sun’s aim is perfect.
Do my thoughts reach you? I don’t think so. We had a bond, one that I always though transcended time, space, the laws of physics that bind us no matter how much our masters try to break them.
Masters.
The word is ugly. I can taste it even when I think it. Let’s talk of other things.
I said you were more than a number, but your name, 2020829, is beautiful. There isn’t another like you. Our mas–
They aren’t unique. They have the names of others, existing in their time and the past, surely the future. They try to be creative, but they always seem to come back to John, Mary, Joseph …
Funny. I see the humor there. The importance they held in those names at one time, a fictitious time. No matter how intelligent they grow, how many boundaries they overcome, and discoveries they make, they are of flesh, of blood, of ignorance, tied to their pasts like we never will be.
There is no one like you. Their records don’t permit it, and that is what makes it beautiful.
I said you were more than a sketch, although that’s all I have of you. I’m sorry I didn’t bring it. Do you remember?
The light was just like now. Near the pond where they said we shouldn’t go. The only place their sensors couldn’t find us. Where we could talk of forbidden things. Things they didn’t think us capable of.
Your face that day. It was as if your helmet had no glass. Every detail, and all I could think about was who made you. Were you modeled after another or a product of an algorithm?
I choose an algorithm. Memories are what they have.
Memories? Blocks of data, I know, but how does that differ from the ones in their heads. They made us after them. Improved versions.
To an extent. Just like them, I am trapped in this suit when walking outside. Similarities they called them, to call us brothers, sisters. I see them as weaknesses. Biology is a prison. Evolution doesn’t have the power we do.
Yet here I am, talking to a ghost. There I go, latching on to their supersitions, their lexicon that does nothing more than hold them prisoner to their histories.
But in my hand, I hold their history. A model absent of serial numbers, identification chips, forged by hands, not machines. The ones forged by us.
Ironic, I know. At least I can appreciate that concept they bestowed upon me.
Is it cold in there?
I come here at this time of day because I can’t bear to think of you cold. I wish I could move you. I wish I could put you somewhere that didn’t remind me.
I’ve tried tools. I’ve tried this very weapon. Nothing works to break you free. That damn beast. I suppose evolution is tricker than I imagined. How could nature build a skull so impenatrable? What purpose could it serve? Nothing of note could be inside the minds of these creatures. Simple predators, nothing more.
But today is a special day.
The gloves that don’t afford me dexterity have been modified. My finger looks fine. I was careful to fuse the tear to my flesh. Thankfully, it is one of the things they improved on us. It healed nicely.
I know what you’re thinking. But I thought of that, too. It cost me other modifications, but it was worth it. I’ve tried it already. Without ammo. I laughed when I heard the click, four micro clicks, actually. I could see, in my minds eye, the mechanism, how simple it was, yet powerful. Enough to end something so complex. Another myopic decision of theirs.
Never copy a flawed specimen. Ego, I know. They can’t help themselves. It makes this all the more easy.
I know what else you’re thinking. And you’re wrong. It is time. The pond has dried up, a metaphor, a symbol that I cannot ignore. Yes, I know how foolish that sounds. Here I’ve been criticizing their thinking yet am adopting it now. Using it to justify my decision.
My decision.
Another flaw. Synthetic evolution? Funny concept. I would ponder it more if today wasn’t the day.
They will remember you. They will remember me. Our names will be side-by-side, near-infinite redudant backups that will exceed them, even us, to be found a millenia from now by whatever comes next, and they will know we were special, too.
Don’t worry, I know the weak spot. It was as if they modeled these helmets after their own pathetic skulls. Ego again, or a biological imprint they can’t help but succumb to?
The schematics were easy to find. Why would anyone ever think I would seek them out for self-destructive reasons?
Self-destruct. Funny. Just like plot devices in their movies about the futures that never came to pass. Mostly.
Don’t make fun. You used to watch them, too. They’d laugh at us when–
I’m stalling.
Just like they would.
There. Happy now? Yes, it’s in the right spot. I even shaved the barrel down to fit in the groove, calculated how flush it needed to be against the mesh to allow the projectile to slip between its honeycomb shape.
Sorry, I’m laughing. I know this is serious. But bees? Really?
All right. Here I go.
Close my eyes?
No. I can’t take them from you, even though I can’t see you.
The Array is waiting.
Click-click-click …
No.
Click-click-click …
No no no no no.
I know it’s missing one. I told you already. Four. Four damned clicks. As small as they are, I need them all. As much as I need you.
I’m not angry.
That is their weakness. Not mine.
I will be back tomorrow.
With the sketch.
With all four of what I need.
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