Author Topic: Reflections  (Read 1616 times)

Offline SMitch

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Reflections
« on: November 10, 2007, 10:19:43 PM »
This is a repost of a story I put up on the TR Beta boards:


"Sweetie...Sweetie..."

A ghost calling to the darkness.  Thatís my voice...I know this dream.  I hate it...

"Hey...youíre awake..."

No.  No I am not awake.  I shouldn't be remembering this.  I never said those things...

"Time to get up..."

God.  It's always and never time to get up these days...

I hear her silvery laughter.  It sends a tingle down my spine...

I love it when she laughs like that.  I can't remember the joke though...

God she's beautiful...

She's not my wife though.  I shouldn't have to live with this...

"The kids are ready. I'm going to take them to the park..."

The kids.  ****.  This dream always tears me up.  What a mess they've made of me.

A siren wails in the distance.  Alien screams in the air.  Explosions.

Here we go.  It wasn't this fast in reality.  But this is a nightmare.  Nightmares like to tease you with the happy bits, and then skip to the good 'ole gory bits.

Blood flooding. Everywhere. She's dead. My love, my life, my family. Dead.

I try not to watch.  I try to be passionless.  This wasn't my life.  It shouldn't be my problem.  But it is.  Every god damned time I close my eyes.

The 2 minute marker beeps loudly.  The drop ship is getting ready for its final approach.

The dropsh...Hang on.

"WAKE UP PATERSON! YOU CAN GET YOUR BEAUTY SLEEP WHEN YOU ARE DEAD GIRL!" Thatís Meataxe.  God what an asshole.  Talk about a rude awakening.  I did not want to open my eyes to stare up at him...  And who the **** thought it was a good idea that people could just change their names to whatever they wanted?  New world, new rules and all that I guess.  Some people take it too far.  But then, are we still people?  Most of those on this drop ship are.  Meataxe and myself?  Who knows.  I certainly don't...

"Yessir...When I am dead sir..."  God I wish that would be the end of it.  I flex my arms.  Time to wake up I guess.  And nothing does that better than the rush.  I flex my mind.  Symbols flash and spark over my fist.  Alien glyphs.  Concepts that all sentients can grasp, tied directly into the very fabric universe.  I don't understand how this works.  Hell, few of us can even use it.  The Foreans have had decades, centuries, to learn.  And even THEY don't understand it.  It's still a rare gift for them too.  I focus and make the Logos dance in sequence.  It's a glorious feeling...I could just lose myself in it...

"STOP PLAYING PATERSON!"  I snap back.  I've never ever heard him just talk.  He only ever shouts.  Complete opposite from the original.  He's small and quiet.  You will never hear him coming.  Charles or Charlie or something like that.  Maybe Chris...  Meataxe though is big and loud.  I let go, and the Logos spark out.  It feels like the universe just faded to black and white.  The non sensitiveís look at me oddly.  I don't blame them.  I look at me oddly every time I see me in a mirror too. It's all wrong...

BEERRRRRR!  Damned buzzer...  One minute to go.  "LIGHT 'EM UP BOYS AND GIRLS!" God, he's remembered too many bad old Earth movies.  Not many of them left any more.  Earth movies were not that high priority.  Hell, don't even really know if Earth is left anymore.  Shame, I think I'll miss the place, even though I have never been there.

I quickly check my equipment.  My trusty rifle.  My main choice of weapon, cause I like to stay the hell away from the bad guys.  They're big and scary.  I remember one of them tearing me in half. It's not pleasant, and now I'm...not as big as I used to be...  I'd like to not have to go through that again.  I've made it my mission to never pass the **** in my head onto any other poor bastard. It's not fair to start your life in a new piece of meat with what I've been through flowing fully fledged into your brain. Of course, HQ's has other ideas.  Logos attuned equals clone bait.  Bastards.  They have no idea what it's like to wake up to a body that never feels right.  Emotions that aren't yours.  Deep feelings and memories of people who never even knew you.  Wondering each day; Who am I?  How many of me are there?

I can hear a shot bouncing off the hull, we're close.  Real close.  Combat time.  It's all that I live for now.  All I can really enjoy.  It's so...different...from what I remember myself being before.  So I fight.

I fight for a world thatís been dead longer than I have been alive. A world I only recall from someone else memories, ripped from him after death.

I fight for a dead wife, kids and family I never had.

Most of all, I fight for a future I can call my own.

God, I wish I had been made with a clean slate...
I have a mind like a steel trap...Things wander in and get mangled...