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I'll think up a name eventually for this

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1 I'll think up a name eventually for this on Sun Nov 27, 2011 7:44 am

Annomander

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The Patriarch
Posted this in Lu, but since it is something recent I'll put it here. Besides, the forum needs more activity and entries right?

I've got an idea for something larger, but it begins like this. Or, so I think.
Anyhow it's just an idea and I'm still piecing things together.

Please don't be shy with constructive criticism, you can't hurt my feelings, the usual.
Thanks for reading.



These memories, they are like colors in the rain. I'm visited in every breath, and I hold them dear-for one day I shall lose them.

- 205 years after the fall of Heaven

Water billowed from dysfunctional eavesdrops, causing patterns to strew across my window. I watched as the streams danced like loving couples. My ears caught the grunts of contorted grates before the knock came at my door. I expected another dislodged bum begging me for pills to steal his mind away, yet it was I who found my mind disfigured.

Even in the oppressive rain she looked graceful. Her wings stained crimson, scatting quills tipped with blood into the river on the street. Even the water streaming over her face could not clear the signs of battle. Yet it was not her that stole my breath, it was the child she held in her arms. Her limbs disjointed, her pale breath, a scarlet blanket covering her body. I ushered them in and tried to stop my heart from fleeing my body.

“Please save her,” her voice rode on ragged breath, little more then a whisper.

I stammered, then struggled to find words to match the faltering of my lips. “I'm not a... a,” I pointed at her, at the damaged flesh. “A body doctor,” I continued, “I do cybernetic recompilation.” Her eyes startled me, “I fix robots!” I slammed out, trying to diffuse my responsibility, and thus my panic. Yet she held the body out.

“Please save her,” she repeated. I had to look away, lest I dive into those blue eyes and drown.

“I,” again I searched for words, “I can save her, but she...” I trailed off. The child she holds is the first, and will be the last real child I see. Like sparks my mind ignites, ghosts of memories that have been taken away, I cannot call them back.

She nods, tears well in my own eyes. I take the girl in my arms, she is frail and light. Her useless limbs hang limp at her side, they look demonic in the fashion they twist, and my stomach turns.

My operating room is cluttered, yet clean in a way only I know. I lay her down and organize my tools knowing I'm about to steal a child from humanity, from a world that would never know such a thing. As I searched for a vessel to transfer her to my stomach turned. Moral implications wrack my brain, yet I push them aside.

I pull an electronic skeleton from the closet, I'd remark in the irony if I didn't feel so sick, and put it on the table. The shell is an older model, yet the youngest looking I think I've seen. I don't know if it's the situation, or my nerves, but they almost look similar. 'It's my mind trying to calm itself down', I tell myself, 'like a defense mechanism'. Despite this I find a bottle of vodka and finish the rest. It takes everything I have left not to expel the fluid from my body.

Once it's done I'm covered with blood. I'm not used to real blood and it unnerves me. A doctor pale at the sight of blood. Her useless flesh body now cools on my table, the head empty. I search for the half I cut off, but I can't continue and contain myself. Ultimately I end up draping garbage bags over the corpse.

Cables connect her new body to computers. I search the rubble of my office while the diagnostics run, for limbs or anything waist down but I find nothing. I return to green lights, but I'm unconvinced, I run the tests again.

She doesn't wake, this both calms and agitates me. I place her into the bed, knowing she can't feel temperature or pressure yet. If she survived the procedure I'll fix that later. Cables run into my lab from the bedroom, sustaining her vitals for the night.

I return to what I call the living room. The front door is closed and only the butts of my cigarettes remain in the room. Trails of blood tell me she left long ago. My watch tells me I've been awake for twenty-three hours, I don't care.

Squalls of displeasure emanate from the chair as I sit. My hands meet my face to rub weary eyes but darkness overcomes me.

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