//Another report from the pilot of SLUG Des Icebreaker.//
I met Vetr today. I finally met the creature I had been fighting against for months.
The light was green and Icebreaker had been brought out to one of the ice-skating rinks where they play hockey. I'm not exactly sure where it was -- they only tell us the locations when it's relevant and it wasn't relevant right now -- but I could see the stadium seating and the ice that had been just recently cleaned.
Through the SLUGs speakers, I could hear singing. Someone, a young boy, was singing "Winter Wonderland." The speakers cut out after a few seconds, however, and a warning light appeared. My phantom leg throbbed.
I took two steps forward in the SLUG and there he was. He was wearing a gray hoodie and doing figure eights in a pair of ice skates. I could tell from the way his mouth moved that he was still singing, but I couldn't hear it. I thought his eyes would be black like those children he remade, but they weren't. They were the bluest of blue.
He stopped doing his figure eights and looked at the SLUG called Icebreaker and then waved. The camera made it seem like his motions were shaky, pixellated -- but perhaps that wasn't the camera, perhaps that was how he simply looked. If I had been there in person, would he have looked unreal, like he was simply an image projected into the air? Was he real at all?
At that moment, I didn't care. This was my target. This was my chance.
The saw blades on the edges of Icebreaker's arms were already in motion. I pushed him forward, ready to take a run at Vetr, when another warning light appeared and the motion of the SLUG's legs stopped.
I felt my phantom leg grow cold. Something was wrong. The others hadn't been like this. They hadn't controlled the cold like this. Icebreaker was trapped, its heat quickly draining away from it. I watched the internal temperature gauge. The legs had already frozen in place. The sawblades started chipping away at the ice, but it would take too long.
The cameras caught Vetr skating towards the SLUG. He was still smiling, but the distortion was worse on his face now and his smile seemed grotesque.
I activate the grenades. The ice around Icebreaker's arms is too much, I know, the grenades have no chance of being let out. They jam in their launchers. And then they explode, causing Icebreaker's arms to be destroyed, shrapnel from them raining down on the rink. All of this only causes Vetr to laugh.
Icebreaker's arms are gone, but not it's electrical charges. I fire two at Vetr and he catches them, 200 joules of electricity running through his body. He convulses and I watch as his face distorts even more, his skin cracking.
Then it stops. He holds the charges and then drops them. They had done nothing.
My phantom leg feels so cold now, I can hardly stand it. The feedback is too much. This needs to end. I break the glass over a button I hoped I would never use. The pilots call it the "Star Trek" button, but it goes by another name: self-destruct.
The arms of Icebreaker are already destroyed. The charges in his legs go off first and then it's torso, scattering shrapnel throughout the rink, but never hitting Vetr. He stands there, in the middle of the destruction, like the Devil frozen in ice.
The head blows last and then the feed and signal are over. My leg is gone and I don't know if I will ever truly feel it again.
I don't know if I want to, not when the last thing I saw was that monster on the ice, his pale grin making my blood run cold.
//They have retrieved the SLUGs parts and are currently rebuilding it. The pilot has not yet stated whether he wishes to continue piloting, although he still attends to mandatory therapy sessions.//
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Goddamn Snakes!
My name's Runno Yumiko, Japanese pilot of the SLUG DES Mongoose, a SLUG designed to fight EMF Naga, which are lesser versions of EMF Medusa. They may not be as powerful as actual EMF's but someone has to take them down since they are plenty in number and a nuisance.
The other pilots are too busy to deal with these, hence why they send me in and my class 2 SLUG. On my first day there was already a drill, which frankly didn't surprise me. I mean Naga's are pretty vicious things and like stated are everywhere like the snakes they are.
Naga's are sort of half-snake, half-human creatures, like the ones that I studied in history when talking about ancient Greek mythology.
"This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF activity. Code Naga."
That was the first time in my entire life that I literally sprung out of bed. I went to the gear chamber as fast as I could and it didn't take me long until I was ready for action.
"SLUG DES: Mongoose is in play. The Gears are turning. Please enter the Chamber. Good luck."
I enter my suit and am really pumped for this. Growing up in Japan, all I really felt like doing with my life was being a SLUG pilot. It just seemed like the most noble thing one could do, fighting the EMF to protect humanity.
It didn't take long for Mongoose to be on the scene, where several Naga's were waiting for me. I couldn't properly see them but I think they were at least 60 there. It was in the middle of a desert and the Naga's were already hissing at me. Once I manage to get a good viewpoint I start beating them one by one, killing some of them. A few think it to be a good idea to try to inject Mongoose with poison, which of course doesn't work...idiots.
I look around and see one of those big cacti, it looks steady enough to withstand a bit of pressure. So I simply pick it up from the ground and start beating them with it which seems pretty effective.
My SLUG is about the size of a tall human, which is the perfect height for the things I'm dealing with. One of them managed to damage my arm a little which hurt like hell. I simply took it and became even angrier at them for being so god damn annoying. I activated my sword and started slashing through them one by one which worked until one of them took around the sword and broke it with its tail, then proceeded to push it through Mongoose's shoulder.
It had already been like 55 minutes and the system was warning me to get out of the chamber. But I took this personally. I wanted this bitch to suffer, so I took the sword piece out and threw it as fast as I could in the Naga's direction which sliced it in half. Then I walked up to it and slowly started to take it's skin off in one continuous motion, enjoying watching it squirm on the ground...in pain in it's final moment's alive.
But this was the last one and it had been 59 minutes, so I stopped and got out of the chambers.
Freaking Naga's
I swear to god, I want to kill each and everyone of them and that's exactly what I intend to do.
The other pilots are too busy to deal with these, hence why they send me in and my class 2 SLUG. On my first day there was already a drill, which frankly didn't surprise me. I mean Naga's are pretty vicious things and like stated are everywhere like the snakes they are.
Naga's are sort of half-snake, half-human creatures, like the ones that I studied in history when talking about ancient Greek mythology.
"This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF activity. Code Naga."
That was the first time in my entire life that I literally sprung out of bed. I went to the gear chamber as fast as I could and it didn't take me long until I was ready for action.
"SLUG DES: Mongoose is in play. The Gears are turning. Please enter the Chamber. Good luck."
I enter my suit and am really pumped for this. Growing up in Japan, all I really felt like doing with my life was being a SLUG pilot. It just seemed like the most noble thing one could do, fighting the EMF to protect humanity.
It didn't take long for Mongoose to be on the scene, where several Naga's were waiting for me. I couldn't properly see them but I think they were at least 60 there. It was in the middle of a desert and the Naga's were already hissing at me. Once I manage to get a good viewpoint I start beating them one by one, killing some of them. A few think it to be a good idea to try to inject Mongoose with poison, which of course doesn't work...idiots.
I look around and see one of those big cacti, it looks steady enough to withstand a bit of pressure. So I simply pick it up from the ground and start beating them with it which seems pretty effective.
My SLUG is about the size of a tall human, which is the perfect height for the things I'm dealing with. One of them managed to damage my arm a little which hurt like hell. I simply took it and became even angrier at them for being so god damn annoying. I activated my sword and started slashing through them one by one which worked until one of them took around the sword and broke it with its tail, then proceeded to push it through Mongoose's shoulder.
It had already been like 55 minutes and the system was warning me to get out of the chamber. But I took this personally. I wanted this bitch to suffer, so I took the sword piece out and threw it as fast as I could in the Naga's direction which sliced it in half. Then I walked up to it and slowly started to take it's skin off in one continuous motion, enjoying watching it squirm on the ground...in pain in it's final moment's alive.
But this was the last one and it had been 59 minutes, so I stopped and got out of the chambers.
Freaking Naga's
I swear to god, I want to kill each and everyone of them and that's exactly what I intend to do.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Munroe Incident Investigation File #01
INTERNAL AFFAIRS INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT FORM
DATE OF INTERVIEW: July 6th, 2023
NAME OF AGENT: Gillock, Allan
NAME OF SUBJECT: Cordwood, Phillip
SUBJECT RANK: Lieutenant Colonel
SUBJECT DEPARTMENT: EMF Incubus Response Unit Utterson
SUBJECT OF INTERVIEW: Investigation into events occurring on May 5th, 2023, in Munroe, South Carolina.
TRANSCRIPT:
AG: Colonel.
PC: Agent.
AG: Has the General told you why I'm here?
PC: He doesn't have to. I've known IA would get wrapped up in this since it happened. Somebody's got to take the blame for it.
AG: I'm just here to gather facts.
PC: Right. The blame game comes later.
AG: Colonel, please. Just let me ask some questions.
PC: Ask away. I've got nothing to hide.
AG: If you say so. The first question: what was your relationship with Sergeant Lanyon?
PC: The same as it was with any other soldier under my command.
AG: There was nothing out of the norm about your relationship whatsoever? Despite the fact that he was the pilot for SLUG Unit Utterson?
PC: Not unless you count some extra attention. Lanyon was a soldier like all the rest. I had to make sure that he was in perfect condition at all times, which meant that I was almost constantly referring him to medical for minor issues. But he didn't get any sort of special treatment, any more than anyone else in the unit did.
AG: Then how would you describe his attitude towards his role within the unit?
PC: He was a soldier. That's about all there is to say.
AG: I'm going to need more information than that, Colonel.
PC: [Sound of a sigh.] He would talk about how much he hated the work, and how much he wanted to go home, how horrible the conditions were, and how he despised his co-workers. But when things came down to the wire, he loved the life, and he wouldn't have traded it for anything.
AG: And how do you know that?
PC: Because that's the way it is for all of us, Agent. When you come down to it, we're all here because we can't imagine not being here. Because we know that we're here defending people who can't do it for themselves. It's a calling.
AG: Right. That's enough, I think.
[A grunt, followed by the sound of papers shuffling.]
AG: Were you involved in the screening process which selected Sergeant Lanyon as the pilot for the Utterson unit?
PC: Of course I was.
AG: Why did you select him over the other candidates?
PC: He had the experience. He was a policeman and a SWAT officer.
AG: And why did this make him an ideal pilot for a SLUG unit?
PC: It wouldn't have, if it were any other SLUG. But we're talking about Utterson here, Agent. You have to know the specifications.
AG: Assume that I don't.
PC: [Another sigh.] Utterson's a caliber one, Agent. Human size. Human shape, in fact. It's not a bipedal tank like the rest. It's designed for... finesse, I guess you could call it. Specifically, city use. Urban pacification. Lanyon was a SWAT officer. He knew the job.
[Sound of papers shuffling.]
AG: I have here the hardware specifications for the Utterson unit, Colonel. The full specifications.
PC: Mm.
AG: They took quite some digging to find.
PC: I'd imagine.
AG: Were you aware of the full specifications of the Utterson unit prior to these events?
PC: No.
AG: I find that highly unlikely, seeing as you are the officer in charge of the Utterson response unit.
PC: I'm not an engineer, Gillock. I didn't go down there and demand that they made it to order. It's gear tech. It might as well be magic to me. They made it, I used it, I didn't ask how it worked because I didn't care and wouldn't understand it if I did.
AG: You never suspected?
PC: No.
[Ten seconds of silence.]
AG: Did Sergeant Lanyon exhibit any unusual behavior prior to the events? Signs of stress or mental trauma, related to use of the Utterson unit or otherwise?
PC: Nothing. Nothing outside of the parameters set by medical, at least, or I'd have heard about it. You'd have to talk to them for more information.
AG: You didn't monitor-
PC: Agent, I run a unit of over three hundred people, encompassing everything from foot soldiers to forensics to engineers to quartermasters. I do not have the time to monitor everything that happens in this unit, even if it does involve our SLUG pilot. Medical was instructed to inform me if Lanyon was starting to crack, but otherwise to handle it themselves. Talk to the chief medical officer.
AG: I'll do that.
PC: Right. Now, did you have any other questions, or can I get back to work?
AG: There are more questions, Colonel, but I'll need to speak to the rest of the staff involved first. Be ready to meet with me again.
[Recording ends.]
PC: Agent.
AG: Has the General told you why I'm here?
PC: He doesn't have to. I've known IA would get wrapped up in this since it happened. Somebody's got to take the blame for it.
AG: I'm just here to gather facts.
PC: Right. The blame game comes later.
AG: Colonel, please. Just let me ask some questions.
PC: Ask away. I've got nothing to hide.
AG: If you say so. The first question: what was your relationship with Sergeant Lanyon?
PC: The same as it was with any other soldier under my command.
AG: There was nothing out of the norm about your relationship whatsoever? Despite the fact that he was the pilot for SLUG Unit Utterson?
PC: Not unless you count some extra attention. Lanyon was a soldier like all the rest. I had to make sure that he was in perfect condition at all times, which meant that I was almost constantly referring him to medical for minor issues. But he didn't get any sort of special treatment, any more than anyone else in the unit did.
AG: Then how would you describe his attitude towards his role within the unit?
PC: He was a soldier. That's about all there is to say.
AG: I'm going to need more information than that, Colonel.
PC: [Sound of a sigh.] He would talk about how much he hated the work, and how much he wanted to go home, how horrible the conditions were, and how he despised his co-workers. But when things came down to the wire, he loved the life, and he wouldn't have traded it for anything.
AG: And how do you know that?
PC: Because that's the way it is for all of us, Agent. When you come down to it, we're all here because we can't imagine not being here. Because we know that we're here defending people who can't do it for themselves. It's a calling.
AG: Right. That's enough, I think.
[A grunt, followed by the sound of papers shuffling.]
AG: Were you involved in the screening process which selected Sergeant Lanyon as the pilot for the Utterson unit?
PC: Of course I was.
AG: Why did you select him over the other candidates?
PC: He had the experience. He was a policeman and a SWAT officer.
AG: And why did this make him an ideal pilot for a SLUG unit?
PC: It wouldn't have, if it were any other SLUG. But we're talking about Utterson here, Agent. You have to know the specifications.
AG: Assume that I don't.
PC: [Another sigh.] Utterson's a caliber one, Agent. Human size. Human shape, in fact. It's not a bipedal tank like the rest. It's designed for... finesse, I guess you could call it. Specifically, city use. Urban pacification. Lanyon was a SWAT officer. He knew the job.
[Sound of papers shuffling.]
AG: I have here the hardware specifications for the Utterson unit, Colonel. The full specifications.
PC: Mm.
AG: They took quite some digging to find.
PC: I'd imagine.
AG: Were you aware of the full specifications of the Utterson unit prior to these events?
PC: No.
AG: I find that highly unlikely, seeing as you are the officer in charge of the Utterson response unit.
PC: I'm not an engineer, Gillock. I didn't go down there and demand that they made it to order. It's gear tech. It might as well be magic to me. They made it, I used it, I didn't ask how it worked because I didn't care and wouldn't understand it if I did.
AG: You never suspected?
PC: No.
[Ten seconds of silence.]
AG: Did Sergeant Lanyon exhibit any unusual behavior prior to the events? Signs of stress or mental trauma, related to use of the Utterson unit or otherwise?
PC: Nothing. Nothing outside of the parameters set by medical, at least, or I'd have heard about it. You'd have to talk to them for more information.
AG: You didn't monitor-
PC: Agent, I run a unit of over three hundred people, encompassing everything from foot soldiers to forensics to engineers to quartermasters. I do not have the time to monitor everything that happens in this unit, even if it does involve our SLUG pilot. Medical was instructed to inform me if Lanyon was starting to crack, but otherwise to handle it themselves. Talk to the chief medical officer.
AG: I'll do that.
PC: Right. Now, did you have any other questions, or can I get back to work?
AG: There are more questions, Colonel, but I'll need to speak to the rest of the staff involved first. Be ready to meet with me again.
[Recording ends.]
Monday, July 29, 2013
The Beachhead
I still have one of the old newspaper articles somewhere in my room, with photo of the whole crew standing in front of our SLUGS. The camera guy took it the day construction on the Beacon was finally finished, and things in Nod began to stabilize.
Setting up a base inside EMF Nod had been one of the brass’ top priorities after the SLUG program started. We needed to show the public that we weren’t just playing on defense; that we were capable of striking back against the monsters attacking us. And what better way to do that then to build a research outpost right inside of one of them?
I don’t understand all the details behind it, but somehow we managed to set up and maintain a doorway into Nod long enough to start shipping materials in. Those were the hectic days. Trying to build a manmade structure inside a living city that constantly changes itself sounded impossible. It nearly was. We were running almost constant combat shifts, trying to hold back the City long enough for the engineers to ship in the necessary Tower tech and build the Beacon. Skyscrapers would grow out of the concrete as the ground opened up beneath us, and hordes of those shadow things tried swarming us. To be fair, SLUG DES Block Buster did most of the work. All those guns on it aren’t just for showing off. SLUG DES Theseus and my Urban Ranger’s job was to tag in and hold the line while Block Buster’s pilot recovered. Spending the full allotted hour in a SLUG, with only a two hour break in between, over the course of three full days definitely isn’t very healthy. It’s a surprise we only lost four pilots to the mental strain.
Once the Beacon was built, things calmed down considerably. The geography in the immediate vicinity stopped changing all the time, allowing for a real facility to be built. But an end to the chaos meant the big show was over. The news crews left for fresher stories. Block Buster’s pilot was reassigned to a field that needed him more desperately, leaving the SLUG sitting in its hangar gathering dust. When construction finally finished on the facility, there were no cameras to memorialize the event. The researchers got to work running experiments, trying to understand this place. There’s been no progress so far, but you gotta hope. As for me? I kept doing what I’ve been doing since the start. Holding the line.
Setting up a base inside EMF Nod had been one of the brass’ top priorities after the SLUG program started. We needed to show the public that we weren’t just playing on defense; that we were capable of striking back against the monsters attacking us. And what better way to do that then to build a research outpost right inside of one of them?
I don’t understand all the details behind it, but somehow we managed to set up and maintain a doorway into Nod long enough to start shipping materials in. Those were the hectic days. Trying to build a manmade structure inside a living city that constantly changes itself sounded impossible. It nearly was. We were running almost constant combat shifts, trying to hold back the City long enough for the engineers to ship in the necessary Tower tech and build the Beacon. Skyscrapers would grow out of the concrete as the ground opened up beneath us, and hordes of those shadow things tried swarming us. To be fair, SLUG DES Block Buster did most of the work. All those guns on it aren’t just for showing off. SLUG DES Theseus and my Urban Ranger’s job was to tag in and hold the line while Block Buster’s pilot recovered. Spending the full allotted hour in a SLUG, with only a two hour break in between, over the course of three full days definitely isn’t very healthy. It’s a surprise we only lost four pilots to the mental strain.
Once the Beacon was built, things calmed down considerably. The geography in the immediate vicinity stopped changing all the time, allowing for a real facility to be built. But an end to the chaos meant the big show was over. The news crews left for fresher stories. Block Buster’s pilot was reassigned to a field that needed him more desperately, leaving the SLUG sitting in its hangar gathering dust. When construction finally finished on the facility, there were no cameras to memorialize the event. The researchers got to work running experiments, trying to understand this place. There’s been no progress so far, but you gotta hope. As for me? I kept doing what I’ve been doing since the start. Holding the line.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
The Judge of All the Earth
//This report was given to me to broadcast by the pilot of SLUG DES Pardoner.//
I have a statue of Lady Justice on my desk, with her blindfold and scales. It was given to me as a joke, but sometimes I look at it and wonder. Justice is supposed to be blind, but most often, it has many eyes. For some people (celebrities, banks, the rich), those eyes look at them favorably; for others (the poor, the oppressed), those eyes look unfavorably. Justice, instead of being blind, sees too much.
I was born in a poor family. We could barely afford rent and food each month, we got all of our clothes from Goodwill and never threw them out. At school, we got free lunches; we would eat the greasy slice of pizza they provided and the milk, but save the snack pack (or carrots, when the school decided they would become more "healthy"). Our refrigerator became a repository for any free food we could find and we were hesitant to throw anything away.
When I graduated high school, I signed up for the army immediately. It was the only way I would be able to get money for college -- I had good grades, but not good enough for a scholarship. Life in the army was tough, but I didn't have to worry about where I was going to find my next meal or if I could afford a new shirt when my old one ripped. It gave me security, if not safety.
And then an IED exploded and I got shrapnel embedded in my spine.
I got a pension from the army and a medal, but I lost any security I had in the future, mine and my family's. I would lie in bed all day and watch TV, wondering how exactly I could support anybody.
And then Ma'at appeared. The Tower had fallen a few years ago and EMF activity had slowly been on the rise. Countries were scrambling to get any pieces of the Tower they could find and when I was still in the army, we were getting rumors about some new program involving some new types of drones.
Ma'at, however, was not one of those EMFs that widely showed up in the wake of the Fall. After reading its MO, I understand why: it's a more personal EMF, not really one that appears to large groups of people. Just a singular person, really. And if one single person sees something, but nobody else does, how do you judge if it's real or if they're just crazy?
Well, one day, I guess Ma'at was feeling jealous of the others, because he made a splash. A big entrance.
It was one of those trials that crops up every few years that really shows how broken the justice system is. The defendant was guilty, sure as shit, but the jury acquitted him. There was some loophole or something and they announced he was "not guilty" and he and his attorney shook hands and smiled. And then one person at the back of the courtroom stood up and he had this, I don't know, aura about him. He raised his hand high and yelled, "Let the scales fall from your eyes!"
And the courtroom went nuts. That aura he had seemed move across the room and soon everyone in the audience was standing up and shouting, their voices unintelligible, sounding more like animal noises then actual voices. They surged forward, their hands outstretched. They killed the defendant and his attorney and all the jurors and the judge, too. They tore them to pieces. And afterwards, the man who had started it all, the one whose aura seemed to radiate outward, whose eyes were bulging and bloodshot, said, "We are justice. All sinners will be judged. All sin is equal before us. We are the judge of all the earth."
After that, the engineers set out building SLUG DES Pardoner. When they finished, they asked me if I wanted to pilot it. And I said hell yes.
Pardoner doesn't work like other SLUG Units. When Ma'at resurfaced again and they tested it out, they found that whatever aura caused those people to go crazy wouldn't go away with the death of the man who started it (or the subsequent deaths of everyone possessed by Ma'at . The aura was intangible, immaterial. It would simply travel on towards the next host. They tried capturing it, but the aura couldn't be contained.
They tried refining Pardoner. They looked through some of the more exotic materials pulled from the rubble of the Tower. Materials they didn't even understand, made from stuff they couldn't comprehend. What they came up with, they dubbed "Penance."
Ma'at can show up anywhere: boardrooms, schoolyards, suburban neighborhoods, the slums. And when it does, a light in my room turns red and I roll my wheelchair down the hall to where my Gear Chamber is. Sometimes, if it's really urgent, people will push my wheelchair for me, but they know I don't like that. And then the light above the Chamber will turn green and it'll be my time again.
Ma'at knows me now, I'm sure of it. There will be a riot and it will be at the center and Pardoner will show up and everyone touched by Ma'at will pause. I have made the god of guilt pause and I find myself glad. When I show up with Pardoner, it pauses and it knows what comes next.
Penance isn't a gun or a sword. Penance is a chain. And when I meet Ma'at I wrap Penance around him and any other bodies it has and it is drained into each link of the chain. Each link absorbs a piece of Ma'at and when Pardoner returns to home, they take the links and put them away. Somewhere deep and dark, I hope. And they install new links, rebuilding the chain each time.
So that's my story. I have to send some money to my family now. I'm glad I could help.
I have a statue of Lady Justice on my desk, with her blindfold and scales. It was given to me as a joke, but sometimes I look at it and wonder. Justice is supposed to be blind, but most often, it has many eyes. For some people (celebrities, banks, the rich), those eyes look at them favorably; for others (the poor, the oppressed), those eyes look unfavorably. Justice, instead of being blind, sees too much.
I was born in a poor family. We could barely afford rent and food each month, we got all of our clothes from Goodwill and never threw them out. At school, we got free lunches; we would eat the greasy slice of pizza they provided and the milk, but save the snack pack (or carrots, when the school decided they would become more "healthy"). Our refrigerator became a repository for any free food we could find and we were hesitant to throw anything away.
When I graduated high school, I signed up for the army immediately. It was the only way I would be able to get money for college -- I had good grades, but not good enough for a scholarship. Life in the army was tough, but I didn't have to worry about where I was going to find my next meal or if I could afford a new shirt when my old one ripped. It gave me security, if not safety.
And then an IED exploded and I got shrapnel embedded in my spine.
I got a pension from the army and a medal, but I lost any security I had in the future, mine and my family's. I would lie in bed all day and watch TV, wondering how exactly I could support anybody.
And then Ma'at appeared. The Tower had fallen a few years ago and EMF activity had slowly been on the rise. Countries were scrambling to get any pieces of the Tower they could find and when I was still in the army, we were getting rumors about some new program involving some new types of drones.
Ma'at, however, was not one of those EMFs that widely showed up in the wake of the Fall. After reading its MO, I understand why: it's a more personal EMF, not really one that appears to large groups of people. Just a singular person, really. And if one single person sees something, but nobody else does, how do you judge if it's real or if they're just crazy?
Well, one day, I guess Ma'at was feeling jealous of the others, because he made a splash. A big entrance.
It was one of those trials that crops up every few years that really shows how broken the justice system is. The defendant was guilty, sure as shit, but the jury acquitted him. There was some loophole or something and they announced he was "not guilty" and he and his attorney shook hands and smiled. And then one person at the back of the courtroom stood up and he had this, I don't know, aura about him. He raised his hand high and yelled, "Let the scales fall from your eyes!"
And the courtroom went nuts. That aura he had seemed move across the room and soon everyone in the audience was standing up and shouting, their voices unintelligible, sounding more like animal noises then actual voices. They surged forward, their hands outstretched. They killed the defendant and his attorney and all the jurors and the judge, too. They tore them to pieces. And afterwards, the man who had started it all, the one whose aura seemed to radiate outward, whose eyes were bulging and bloodshot, said, "We are justice. All sinners will be judged. All sin is equal before us. We are the judge of all the earth."
After that, the engineers set out building SLUG DES Pardoner. When they finished, they asked me if I wanted to pilot it. And I said hell yes.
Pardoner doesn't work like other SLUG Units. When Ma'at resurfaced again and they tested it out, they found that whatever aura caused those people to go crazy wouldn't go away with the death of the man who started it (or the subsequent deaths of everyone possessed by Ma'at . The aura was intangible, immaterial. It would simply travel on towards the next host. They tried capturing it, but the aura couldn't be contained.
They tried refining Pardoner. They looked through some of the more exotic materials pulled from the rubble of the Tower. Materials they didn't even understand, made from stuff they couldn't comprehend. What they came up with, they dubbed "Penance."
Ma'at can show up anywhere: boardrooms, schoolyards, suburban neighborhoods, the slums. And when it does, a light in my room turns red and I roll my wheelchair down the hall to where my Gear Chamber is. Sometimes, if it's really urgent, people will push my wheelchair for me, but they know I don't like that. And then the light above the Chamber will turn green and it'll be my time again.
Ma'at knows me now, I'm sure of it. There will be a riot and it will be at the center and Pardoner will show up and everyone touched by Ma'at will pause. I have made the god of guilt pause and I find myself glad. When I show up with Pardoner, it pauses and it knows what comes next.
Penance isn't a gun or a sword. Penance is a chain. And when I meet Ma'at I wrap Penance around him and any other bodies it has and it is drained into each link of the chain. Each link absorbs a piece of Ma'at and when Pardoner returns to home, they take the links and put them away. Somewhere deep and dark, I hope. And they install new links, rebuilding the chain each time.
So that's my story. I have to send some money to my family now. I'm glad I could help.
Friday, July 26, 2013
A destructive mind.
I used to hate bugs... My brother used to torture them.
He tortured more than just bugs though... As he grew up he turned to bigger and bigger things. Eventually he was arrested when his victims started to get too big, too recognizable, too human.
I don't know why they contacted him... Maybe they thought they could control him. Maybe his destructive tendencies could be useful. They were partly right. They gave him a big mech and told him his job was to kill bugs. I imagine that must have made him very happy. He pilots something called a SLUG... His specifically is named Kill It With Fire. A fitting name. It's a destructive machine for a destructive man. It was created to fight something they call Kheper. An army of bugs. Intelligent, deadly and infinite. My brother fights an unending war against what is historically the most resilient and numerous army on earth. He loves every moment of it. He started out killing bugs and worked his way up to killing what is essentially a god in the form of a swarm of bugs.
It is with some pride that I can say I don't think there's a better man for the job than my brother.
There's really only one problem. These SLUGs are piloted through some technology I don't really understand. It allows my brother to control Kill It With Fire from the safety of a place called Central Command. When the call goes out my brother is brought to something called The Gears. It's from here he controls his SLUG. Pilots aren't allowed to remain in The Gears for more than an hour due to safety reasons. My brother doesn't quite understand this. The first time he piloted his SLUG they had to gas him to take him out. The second time he'd found someway to neutralize the gas and they had to go in and force him out with some difficulty. Eventually they realized how dangerous it was to keep it going like this and so they contacted me.
I was brought in to control my brother. He listens to me. When he's called to The Gears I accompany him. They created a special seat for me that allows me to see what he sees when he's fighting. This allows me to make sure he doesn't cause too much collateral damage and allows me to be there to guide him out when time is up. It's a system that works pretty well and I can't say it's not nice to get to see my brother again.
When he's not on duty he's confined to his room and I usually stay with him and we talk or play games or something.
I keep him calm and focused and he kills bugs and keeps the world safe.
He tortured more than just bugs though... As he grew up he turned to bigger and bigger things. Eventually he was arrested when his victims started to get too big, too recognizable, too human.
I don't know why they contacted him... Maybe they thought they could control him. Maybe his destructive tendencies could be useful. They were partly right. They gave him a big mech and told him his job was to kill bugs. I imagine that must have made him very happy. He pilots something called a SLUG... His specifically is named Kill It With Fire. A fitting name. It's a destructive machine for a destructive man. It was created to fight something they call Kheper. An army of bugs. Intelligent, deadly and infinite. My brother fights an unending war against what is historically the most resilient and numerous army on earth. He loves every moment of it. He started out killing bugs and worked his way up to killing what is essentially a god in the form of a swarm of bugs.
It is with some pride that I can say I don't think there's a better man for the job than my brother.
There's really only one problem. These SLUGs are piloted through some technology I don't really understand. It allows my brother to control Kill It With Fire from the safety of a place called Central Command. When the call goes out my brother is brought to something called The Gears. It's from here he controls his SLUG. Pilots aren't allowed to remain in The Gears for more than an hour due to safety reasons. My brother doesn't quite understand this. The first time he piloted his SLUG they had to gas him to take him out. The second time he'd found someway to neutralize the gas and they had to go in and force him out with some difficulty. Eventually they realized how dangerous it was to keep it going like this and so they contacted me.
I was brought in to control my brother. He listens to me. When he's called to The Gears I accompany him. They created a special seat for me that allows me to see what he sees when he's fighting. This allows me to make sure he doesn't cause too much collateral damage and allows me to be there to guide him out when time is up. It's a system that works pretty well and I can't say it's not nice to get to see my brother again.
When he's not on duty he's confined to his room and I usually stay with him and we talk or play games or something.
I keep him calm and focused and he kills bugs and keeps the world safe.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
The Evidence of Things Not Seen
//I was given this report to broadcast by the pilot of SLUG DES Feedback. Shortly thereafter, she killed herself. This is, unfortunately, not an unusual occurrence.//
Human beings are functionally blind. We can only see a fraction of the electromagnetic spectrum -- there are so many wavelengths that we cannot see, so much that is invisible and intangible to us. Things that we must take on faith.
I was never religious. Before the Fall of the Tower, I was an agnostic and after, well, I tried believing, but I just couldn't. When I learned about the EMFs, about what they did, I couldn't believe in a God that would create these things, these monstrosities.
Little did I know, I was only looking at them with my limited vision, my human sight. It wouldn't be until further tragedy that I was able to truly see them. To see them for what they really are.
I have osteosarcoma. Bone cancer. There's swelling and pain and sometimes the pain gets so bad I want to end it and sometimes the pain goes away. I was in the hospital, surrounded by that antiseptic smell, when they arrived and asked if I wanted to be a part of this project, if I wanted to pilot something called a "SLUG." I asked why me. They said there was a risk of death and usually people who were already terminal didn't care about that risk.
"Sign me up," I said.
Training was tough. Some days I couldn't even stand up, but they would wheel me to the Gear Chamber and I would take these ten minute lessons on how to use it. My SLUG was called "Feedback." They told me I would be fighting something they code-named "Melpomene."
"This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF activity. Code Melpomene."
My heart would leap out of my chest every time I heard that. I would walk or limp to my Gear Chamber and silently await for the green light.
"SLUG DES Feedback is in play. The Gears are turning. Please enter the Gear Chamber. Good luck."
I would open the door, take a deep breath, and then enter. When I first piloted Feedback, it was the most amazing experience I had ever had. Not because I was controlling a big robot, no; it was because Feedback came with special capabilities.
The HUD comes on and I twist the controls. The view surrounds me, a complete 360 degree panorama of everything that Feedback sees. I twist the controls again and the panorama changes -- and now I can see something else, something no human has seen before.
I can see the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Everything is laid out before me in colors my mind could not have comprehended before, but somehow the Gear Chamber is letting it comprehend, is letting me see. I can't describe the colors -- they are somewhere between and beyond regular colors and some colors are clustered together and other colors are spread apart and everything is bathed in these magnificent impossibilities.
Feedback has been placed in the center of a shopping area. I don't know how they got it in there, but they did. Nobody else is around, so they must have already evacuated everyone.
And then I see them: the Melpomene, the small distortions on the spectrum that grow larger. This is why Feedback has this special sight -- so it can see them. They are normally invisible to the naked eye, manipulating sound and light. They are creatures that live in hidden frequencies.
I flip a switch and the active noise cancellation speakers come on. I see the color and I try to match it with the Melpomene -- once my noise is the complete opposite of theirs, I can wipe them out.
They know what I'm doing. They twist and let out a sound that would surely burst my eardrums if Feedback had transmitted it to me. I continue to twist the knob, trying to find the correct frequency to cancel these creatures out.
And then I find it. They realize it, too, and I see them change their own frequency, the color turning from one impossibility to another. They move through the spectrum like a fish swims through water.
I try to find their frequency again, but they're changing again and again until they are a color similar to white, but not white. It's a color that pulses and I can feel it even from a hundred miles away. What is this frequency?
My leg throbs in pain and then suddenly it stops. I can't feel the pain anymore, it's gone. And I realize: this is the frequency of healing. If they can hurt with a sound, surely they can heal. They have healed me. I look through the HUD again and the color of them makes my eyes water.
The twenty minute warning goes off. I need to leave the Chamber soon. But I can't take my eyes away. I want to be fully healed. I want to be like them, free to see the spectrum and beyond all the time, free to move through it. (My therapist warned me something like this might happen, that it was just them messing with my head, but I couldn't hear any voices, nothing felt wrong.) I ignored the warning and kept staring at them until the ten minute warning blared and my leg arced with pain.
I emerged from the Chamber into a squad of medics. They gave me painkillers, told me that I should get chemo, but I refused. The Melpomene had taken it away and then given it back. Why? Just to show they could?
I had failed in my mission. I had a talk with my superior and with my therapist. There's surveillance of me in some sort of trance. I told them the truth, but they didn't believe me, didn't believe I had been healed.
I wasn't let back into the Gear Chamber. I heard they are looking for a new pilot. That's okay. I'm not sure I would be able to do anything if I encountered the Melpomene again. When I saw them in that not-white light, they looked...radiant. And I knew: to them, we were the monsters with our ugly physical bodies and ugly voices. All they wanted was to show us something new, but we are blind to them.
I don't think I want to live in a world where I am blind like that. I cannot live in a world with such drab colors, such empty lights.
Human beings are functionally blind. We can only see a fraction of the electromagnetic spectrum -- there are so many wavelengths that we cannot see, so much that is invisible and intangible to us. Things that we must take on faith.
I was never religious. Before the Fall of the Tower, I was an agnostic and after, well, I tried believing, but I just couldn't. When I learned about the EMFs, about what they did, I couldn't believe in a God that would create these things, these monstrosities.
Little did I know, I was only looking at them with my limited vision, my human sight. It wouldn't be until further tragedy that I was able to truly see them. To see them for what they really are.
I have osteosarcoma. Bone cancer. There's swelling and pain and sometimes the pain gets so bad I want to end it and sometimes the pain goes away. I was in the hospital, surrounded by that antiseptic smell, when they arrived and asked if I wanted to be a part of this project, if I wanted to pilot something called a "SLUG." I asked why me. They said there was a risk of death and usually people who were already terminal didn't care about that risk.
"Sign me up," I said.
Training was tough. Some days I couldn't even stand up, but they would wheel me to the Gear Chamber and I would take these ten minute lessons on how to use it. My SLUG was called "Feedback." They told me I would be fighting something they code-named "Melpomene."
"This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF activity. Code Melpomene."
My heart would leap out of my chest every time I heard that. I would walk or limp to my Gear Chamber and silently await for the green light.
"SLUG DES Feedback is in play. The Gears are turning. Please enter the Gear Chamber. Good luck."
I would open the door, take a deep breath, and then enter. When I first piloted Feedback, it was the most amazing experience I had ever had. Not because I was controlling a big robot, no; it was because Feedback came with special capabilities.
The HUD comes on and I twist the controls. The view surrounds me, a complete 360 degree panorama of everything that Feedback sees. I twist the controls again and the panorama changes -- and now I can see something else, something no human has seen before.
I can see the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Everything is laid out before me in colors my mind could not have comprehended before, but somehow the Gear Chamber is letting it comprehend, is letting me see. I can't describe the colors -- they are somewhere between and beyond regular colors and some colors are clustered together and other colors are spread apart and everything is bathed in these magnificent impossibilities.
Feedback has been placed in the center of a shopping area. I don't know how they got it in there, but they did. Nobody else is around, so they must have already evacuated everyone.
And then I see them: the Melpomene, the small distortions on the spectrum that grow larger. This is why Feedback has this special sight -- so it can see them. They are normally invisible to the naked eye, manipulating sound and light. They are creatures that live in hidden frequencies.
I flip a switch and the active noise cancellation speakers come on. I see the color and I try to match it with the Melpomene -- once my noise is the complete opposite of theirs, I can wipe them out.
They know what I'm doing. They twist and let out a sound that would surely burst my eardrums if Feedback had transmitted it to me. I continue to twist the knob, trying to find the correct frequency to cancel these creatures out.
And then I find it. They realize it, too, and I see them change their own frequency, the color turning from one impossibility to another. They move through the spectrum like a fish swims through water.
I try to find their frequency again, but they're changing again and again until they are a color similar to white, but not white. It's a color that pulses and I can feel it even from a hundred miles away. What is this frequency?
My leg throbs in pain and then suddenly it stops. I can't feel the pain anymore, it's gone. And I realize: this is the frequency of healing. If they can hurt with a sound, surely they can heal. They have healed me. I look through the HUD again and the color of them makes my eyes water.
The twenty minute warning goes off. I need to leave the Chamber soon. But I can't take my eyes away. I want to be fully healed. I want to be like them, free to see the spectrum and beyond all the time, free to move through it. (My therapist warned me something like this might happen, that it was just them messing with my head, but I couldn't hear any voices, nothing felt wrong.) I ignored the warning and kept staring at them until the ten minute warning blared and my leg arced with pain.
I emerged from the Chamber into a squad of medics. They gave me painkillers, told me that I should get chemo, but I refused. The Melpomene had taken it away and then given it back. Why? Just to show they could?
I had failed in my mission. I had a talk with my superior and with my therapist. There's surveillance of me in some sort of trance. I told them the truth, but they didn't believe me, didn't believe I had been healed.
I wasn't let back into the Gear Chamber. I heard they are looking for a new pilot. That's okay. I'm not sure I would be able to do anything if I encountered the Melpomene again. When I saw them in that not-white light, they looked...radiant. And I knew: to them, we were the monsters with our ugly physical bodies and ugly voices. All they wanted was to show us something new, but we are blind to them.
I don't think I want to live in a world where I am blind like that. I cannot live in a world with such drab colors, such empty lights.
The Peacekeeper and the Warrior
In a world like this; where violence is a daily occurrence, it's the little things that keep you going. Getting to sleep in late, cigarette breaks, and even being able to walk outside without there being an EMF attack can make your day. But SLUG pilots don't have time for these luxuries.
"This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF activity. Code Ares."
Of course it has to be me. The minute I get a chance to relax it's my turn. Despite my reluctance to go I rush to my Gear Chamber and get all of my equipment on in less than three minutes.
"SLUG DES: Peacemaker is in play. The Gears are turning. Please enter the Gear Chamber. Good luck."
Just like every single other SLUG in existence, Peacemaker is named as an in-joke referring to the EMF it was specifically designed to destroy: EMF Ares, the representation of war and brutality. Since the creation of SLUGs it has become far more powerful, as if it is fueled by the carnage that occurs every day. Fortunately I have one major advantage.
As Peacemaker walks through the city, I see the aftermath of Ares' latest attack on Philadelphia. It's victims were beaten to death, mauled, and were even choked to death from the smoke Ares' emits. Hundreds of lives were lost, all because of one of the monstrosities known as EMFs. The creature took advantage of my shock and disgust and lunged itself at Peacemaker from behind, causing it to collapse.
This, combined with the fact that it has taken a form that is the same size of Peacemaker, suggests some kind of intelligence. But unlike the other EMFS, Ares' lacks any intelligence. It is nothing more than a mad dog who's actions are dictated by it's instinct to destroy. And that is my greatest advantage over it. Which is only more evident by it's appearance, that of a wild animal made up of smoke and stitched leather with horns attached seemingly at random.
Thanks to Ares' slow reaction time, I managed to get up quickly and got in a few attacks before it had the chance to process what was happening. Unfortunately this didn't last long and Ares finally started to fight back. Every blow was devastating, and caused major damage to Peacemaker.
If I was to succeed I need to end this fight as soon as possible.
I quickly improvised and grabbed a nearby metal pole and kept on smashing Are's until it finally stop attacking. It was a crude method sure, but at the very least it prevented Ares' from destroying my SLUG. With Ares distracted, I quickly got Peacemaker to it's feet. I had one last chance and I wasn't about to waste it.
I beat Ares into submission, hitting it over and over again until it was in such pain it fell to the ground and was incapable of fighting back. Eventually it gathered enough strength to kick me a few feet away and opened a portal to it's "domain."
"Oh no you don't you bastard!" I screamed as I ordered Peacemaker to grab it's tail. "You're not getting away so easily!"
"Agent Grim, get out of your Gear Chamber now! You are one minute away from exceeding the one hour limit within the Gear Chamber!"
"I can't stop now, not when I'm so close to killing this son of a bitch that it's running away like a scared child!"
"We weren't asking you Agent Grim ..."
Despite my protesting at the time I know that I was doing was idiotic. Central Command filled my Gear Chamber with nitrous oxide until I was knocked out and then proceeded to drag me out of the chamber and back into my room.
"This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF activity. Code Ares."
Of course it has to be me. The minute I get a chance to relax it's my turn. Despite my reluctance to go I rush to my Gear Chamber and get all of my equipment on in less than three minutes.
"SLUG DES: Peacemaker is in play. The Gears are turning. Please enter the Gear Chamber. Good luck."
Just like every single other SLUG in existence, Peacemaker is named as an in-joke referring to the EMF it was specifically designed to destroy: EMF Ares, the representation of war and brutality. Since the creation of SLUGs it has become far more powerful, as if it is fueled by the carnage that occurs every day. Fortunately I have one major advantage.
As Peacemaker walks through the city, I see the aftermath of Ares' latest attack on Philadelphia. It's victims were beaten to death, mauled, and were even choked to death from the smoke Ares' emits. Hundreds of lives were lost, all because of one of the monstrosities known as EMFs. The creature took advantage of my shock and disgust and lunged itself at Peacemaker from behind, causing it to collapse.
This, combined with the fact that it has taken a form that is the same size of Peacemaker, suggests some kind of intelligence. But unlike the other EMFS, Ares' lacks any intelligence. It is nothing more than a mad dog who's actions are dictated by it's instinct to destroy. And that is my greatest advantage over it. Which is only more evident by it's appearance, that of a wild animal made up of smoke and stitched leather with horns attached seemingly at random.
Thanks to Ares' slow reaction time, I managed to get up quickly and got in a few attacks before it had the chance to process what was happening. Unfortunately this didn't last long and Ares finally started to fight back. Every blow was devastating, and caused major damage to Peacemaker.
If I was to succeed I need to end this fight as soon as possible.
I quickly improvised and grabbed a nearby metal pole and kept on smashing Are's until it finally stop attacking. It was a crude method sure, but at the very least it prevented Ares' from destroying my SLUG. With Ares distracted, I quickly got Peacemaker to it's feet. I had one last chance and I wasn't about to waste it.
I beat Ares into submission, hitting it over and over again until it was in such pain it fell to the ground and was incapable of fighting back. Eventually it gathered enough strength to kick me a few feet away and opened a portal to it's "domain."
"Oh no you don't you bastard!" I screamed as I ordered Peacemaker to grab it's tail. "You're not getting away so easily!"
"Agent Grim, get out of your Gear Chamber now! You are one minute away from exceeding the one hour limit within the Gear Chamber!"
"I can't stop now, not when I'm so close to killing this son of a bitch that it's running away like a scared child!"
"We weren't asking you Agent Grim ..."
Despite my protesting at the time I know that I was doing was idiotic. Central Command filled my Gear Chamber with nitrous oxide until I was knocked out and then proceeded to drag me out of the chamber and back into my room.
Grief and Flowers
"This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF
activity. Code Tantalus."
A sigh escapes my lips, but not one of regret. Springs
squeal in protest as I rise from the bed where I was seated. Looking back, it’s
cramped. Only when lying down fully can anyone fit there, or a corpse
(his)
that’s gone through rigor mortis. Am I pessimistic? No. I’m
realistic. Besides, I’m used to these confined conditions.
How long have I been asleep for? If not asleep, tossing and
turning, knowing my turn was soon to come again. The monsters never stay away
for long.
Whether I was asleep for five minutes or hours, I only have
one single hour. I have no way of telling when the next chance will come, so
I’d better make it count.
Over to the Chamber. I can hear the Gears whirring and
buzzing. They tell us it’s dead, but whatever it was, and is, seems very much
alive.
(am I bitter about
that?)
Herbicide’s sleek hull greets me, the oval resting on
titanic legs with large feet for stability.
As I step up to where my place is to be, the hull of my chamber hisses open, revealing a chair and a myriad of wires.
As I step up to where my place is to be, the hull of my chamber hisses open, revealing a chair and a myriad of wires.
I sit, pull the straps tight, lock them into place. I’ll
need them.
The door seals behind me and ahead of me another opens. An
airlock, but for keeping things out, not in.
I fiddle until each part is in its place – the headset, the
eyepiece, the gears and steering equipment. With a clank, the SLUG moves out. I remain, watching, waiting. Senses are at my command, I can smell, see, even touch what the Herbicide touches.
Immediately I’m met with the stink of rotting fruit and
flowers. Hitting the filter controls, I am rewarded with a whoosh and the rush of fresh clean air.
It’s a lonely journey, tramping
(alone)
over the fields. Poppies. Oh, the irony. What a kick
Tantalus must get out of it, if something like that has feelings at all. That’s
one of my favourite things about the job. I can feel I am doing the right
thing, despite the fact that I commit murder. They are not people, they are not human
– however much they appear to be. They do not think like we do, or feel as we
do. They are the deceivers, and I feel no guilt from slaughtering them.
(He felt)
There is a figure up ahead. I would recognise the face
anywhere, those empty pits of eyes and that grin, that terrible smile.
He recognises me too. If it’s possible, his smile grew even
wider.
I know this will have little effect, yet still I hit the
button. A projectile, a small rocket, is launched from somewhere in the sides. It
lands with a boom and a cloud. When the smoke clears, and I can see the wrecked
torn soil of the field, I am not surprised to see it standing there still,
grinning its grin, unharmed
(he was harmed, why
isn’t this hurt, unfair, bitter)
and unfazed.
(just like my Navy
days, why won’t they die why don’t they die)
Now I know there truly is no God, no Higher Being that’s
looking out for us, not even Demiurge would taunt us like this. Murder for
murder’s sake is very human, and this being revels in the carnage it causes,
and the depression it leaves in its wake.
They say it was the only one of its kind to be given a body
by humans. That I can understand now all too well.
The bulb flashes. An alarm sounds. I have had half my time,
staring at this monstrosity. Only half an hour to enact my revenge, to do my
duty for ‘King and Country’.
It knows me, and tries all the more to elicit the feelings
from me that it feeds on. It’s an emotional manifestation, right? Emotions made
real. Fear, grief, that’s what it wants from me.
I will give it hate.
Herbicide, named as it is, has a weapon.
At the push of a button, I sit back and watch as gas is
released. It seeps from tanks through vents, and all the plants it touch die,
drooping and blackening. Almost a watered down form of Agent Orange. That’s why
we use these tanks, mechs, SLUGs, call them what you want. To protect us from
them, and to protect us from what we use against them.
(if he’d had one maybe
he’d be with you still)
Just for an instant, the smile droops with the flowers. The
edges of the grin fade. If the flowers show his power, then weedkiller is the
answer. Of course it’s not enough to kill it or even harm it, but it serves as
an annoyance and a warning:
Do not touch us.
Swiftly, my thoughts return to the day when I found him.
My friend of ten years, and violets lying nearby.
(and now he is
avenged)
The buzzer goes. Ten minute warning. Satisfied with what I
have done today, I turn around and head in. Until our next encounter.
Alleyway Rave
It was the end of the lunch service when the light went yellow. I was relieved to see it, I wasn’t up to eating even the mild broth they had on hand for all of us half-dead types. My medicine tends to make me queasy every now and then, so as much as I would have liked to eat the fried chicken that smelled so good, that was more than my poor stomach could handle. I stared at the light instead of my mostly full bowl, almost smiling when it turned red.
“This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF activity. Code Shilombish”
My turn. I grabbed my cane and stood, knowing that I wasn’t expected to clear my table when I had to get to the Gear Chamber. I’m expected to hurry, and I do so, limping as quickly as possible down the hallway to the doorway that, at present, only I am allowed to go through. The light above the door flashes red, and I only take a glance before looking back down at the door, not wanting to risk a headache when I have work to do. I don’t have long to wait, they’re rushing. Must be something urgent.
“SLUG DES: Mayhem is in play. The Gears are turning. Please enter the Chamber. Good luck.”
I step inside, smiling a little as the door closes behind me and I get hooked up to the various wires and sensors that allow me to control the giant machine on the other end. I have a lot of practice now, so it only takes a few minutes. I pause just long enough to murmur a short prayer before slipping the visor on, and suddenly I’m hundreds of miles away inside a giant metal suit.
As always, I laugh a little while I flex my limbs and get my bearings. I spent the first twenty five years of my life trying desperately to get myself into some kind of order. I’ve always been one of those people for whom things just always go awry. Not always wrong, you understand, I’ve had sudden good events about as often as bad ones. But my life has always been dominated by luck, even though I enrolled in a military high school and went straight into the Navy, perpetually trying to force some order into my life. I loved my job, and I loved my more orderly life, despite all of the chaos that seemed to naturally follow me wherever I went. But then the pain started, and I had to retire at 26. The chaos had finally destroyed my life, or so I thought. But that natural chaos was what gave me back my work, in this strange new form. Only someone truly gifted at causing mayhem could pilot her. Mayhem is a fantastic piece of machinery, but when I’m piloting her she feels like my own skin. No pain, no stiffness, a perfectly responsive body like the one I used to have.
Taking a look around, I could see a mass of shadows disappearing to the left, about ten blocks down. Whatever city this was would have it’s work cut out for it cleaning this up. Shilombish like to organize things, and the ‘organized’ city blocks were surreal and on occasion, downright gruesome. The area was mostly clear of people-the few who were left were all running back towards the perimeter, so that was one less thing for me to worry about.
Cities tend to breed shadows, it seems. All those big tall buildings packed so close together make it nearly impossible for the sunlight to reach the ground, not to mention all the shady awnings and reflective metal conspiring to further protect city dwellers from the sunshine. It’s a perfect breeding ground for the shadowy bastards. With a twitch of a finger I primed my randomized strobe lights, and (always with a bit of regret) I made sure to knock over street signs and bus shelters as I passed-a bit of chaos to goad them out into the open. Sure enough, as I rounded the corner, it seemed as though I was stepping into a cloudy night. I kicked over their carefully sorted pile of pebbles and turned on the flashers. They didn’t stand a chance. Half of them attempted to flee into a nearby sewer grate, half of them lunged for me, trying to reorganize my suit, fix the pebbles, fight back helplessly, but they couldn’t get through the metal armor of the suit, and the lights took them out handily. I tossed a flashbang into the sewer just to be sure none of them made it down, and was rewarded with the shrieking of one last shadow meeting it’s end.
A good day’s work, I thought as my fifteen minute warning blared jarringly through the Gear Chamber. Mayhem can’t actually get down into the sewer, so I dropped command a note to send some ground scouts down there to double check, then disconnected with a sigh. All at once, all my aches and pains came rushing back, and I hobbled out of the chamber.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Pins and Needles
//One of the pilots, who wanted to stay anonymous, gave me this report to broadcast.//
The light is yellow. I close my eyes. Behind my eyelids, the light turns red.
"This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF activity. Code Vetr."
I sit up from my bed. Code Vetr means that I'm up. It's my turn.
I hop out of bed and pull on my pants, the right leg already rolled up to the thigh. Then I put the liner over my stump and then the prosthetic. It goes right under the knee. It still feels weird walking with it, but I'm used to it. It's carbon-fiber and custom made. It's a better prosthetic then I would have been able to afford had I not worked here. I will give them that -- the pay is good.
As I walk down the hallway towards my Gear Chamber, I can feel my missing leg. I can feel it as if it's still there. It's tingling with pins and needles, as if it just fell asleep and wasn't cut off a year ago. Sometimes I can feel it burning, the skin peeling. Sometimes it itches and I reach down to scratch it, but I realize there's nothing there.
I would rather I feel nothing than feel those sensations.
The light above the Gear Chamber is red. I wait outside it until the intercom crackles and Central Command announces, "SLUG DES Icebreaker is in play. The Gears are turning. Please enter the Gear Chamber. Good luck."
The light turns green. The Chamber door opens and I enter. Inside is a chair with over a dozen cables branching out from the back. There are gloves and things that attached to my legs and something to put in front of my eyes so I can see through Icebreaker.
I sit and go about connecting all the different devices. It takes a little less than five minutes, but the clock is ticking and I've got less than a hour to take care of Vetr. It's my fourth time out in Icebreaker, not counting training sessions, and I've yet to actually hurt the fucker.
I strap a device to my right thigh and suddenly I can feel my missing leg even better. It's there, I know it, I just can't see or touch it. I don't know how the Gear Chamber does it, I don't know how anything in the Chamber works -- and I'm not alone, most of the pilots have no idea how it works -- but somehow it gives me back my leg. Not physically, but mentally, it's still there and it works perfectly.
My legs are how I can control the Icebreaker's legs. My arms and hands control its arms and hands. I thought it would be like playing a video game, but it's so much more.
The gloves curl around my hands like they're alive and the HUD appears above it. There we are. The Icebreaker is on site and ready to fight.
The location is a lake. I don't recognize the surroundings, but then again, I wouldn't: everything is covered in a layer of snow, the lake itself frozen over. This would be unusual since it's July, but I know what we're dealing with. I know what it does.
I can see children ice skating across the lake. The HUD immediately zooms in and I can see their black eyes. They are taunting me, telling me to go out into the lake to get them. I stay at the edge of the lake. I don't know how thin the ice is -- just the weight of one SLUG could crack it.
But the cold children don't realize that I don't have to come near them to fight. I press a button and a grenade shoots from my hand, then another. Two grenades, tossed out onto the frozen lake. The children stare at them passively. I press another button and the grenades explode. The lake cracks and the children spill into the water below. I drop an electric charge in there. It won't kill them, just piss them off.
I wait until they rushing out from the lake, their mouths open wide, their teeth like sharks. That's when I activate the blades, rotating blades on the edges of each arm. They rush the SLUG and I twist it around, catching each of them where their neck meets their head. One, two, snicker, snack.
After ten minutes, I'm left with a pile of bodies and a pile of heads. I look at one of them. Children. I've been killing children.
Snap out of it. Whatever they were, it was twisted and twisted until it wasn't human anymore.
I walk around the lake, trying to catch a glimpse, to see if Vetr is out here somewhere. The boys in R&D have tried outfitting some different weapons on Icebreaker and I want to test them out, but it looks like Vetr is nowhere in sight. He let loose his black-eyed children and then left.
I want to stay some more. I want to use both my legs for as long as I can, but the ten minute light is flashing. I disconnect from Icebreaker and remove all the cables. I can feel my leg and then I can't. It's back to being pins and needles.
I leave the Gear Chamber. There is a dull throb behind my eyes. I know the side-effects of the Gear Chamber, I know what it can do to you. But right now, I just want that feeling again. The feeling of being whole.
The light is yellow. I close my eyes. Behind my eyelids, the light turns red.
"This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF activity. Code Vetr."
I sit up from my bed. Code Vetr means that I'm up. It's my turn.
I hop out of bed and pull on my pants, the right leg already rolled up to the thigh. Then I put the liner over my stump and then the prosthetic. It goes right under the knee. It still feels weird walking with it, but I'm used to it. It's carbon-fiber and custom made. It's a better prosthetic then I would have been able to afford had I not worked here. I will give them that -- the pay is good.
As I walk down the hallway towards my Gear Chamber, I can feel my missing leg. I can feel it as if it's still there. It's tingling with pins and needles, as if it just fell asleep and wasn't cut off a year ago. Sometimes I can feel it burning, the skin peeling. Sometimes it itches and I reach down to scratch it, but I realize there's nothing there.
I would rather I feel nothing than feel those sensations.
The light above the Gear Chamber is red. I wait outside it until the intercom crackles and Central Command announces, "SLUG DES Icebreaker is in play. The Gears are turning. Please enter the Gear Chamber. Good luck."
The light turns green. The Chamber door opens and I enter. Inside is a chair with over a dozen cables branching out from the back. There are gloves and things that attached to my legs and something to put in front of my eyes so I can see through Icebreaker.
I sit and go about connecting all the different devices. It takes a little less than five minutes, but the clock is ticking and I've got less than a hour to take care of Vetr. It's my fourth time out in Icebreaker, not counting training sessions, and I've yet to actually hurt the fucker.
I strap a device to my right thigh and suddenly I can feel my missing leg even better. It's there, I know it, I just can't see or touch it. I don't know how the Gear Chamber does it, I don't know how anything in the Chamber works -- and I'm not alone, most of the pilots have no idea how it works -- but somehow it gives me back my leg. Not physically, but mentally, it's still there and it works perfectly.
My legs are how I can control the Icebreaker's legs. My arms and hands control its arms and hands. I thought it would be like playing a video game, but it's so much more.
The gloves curl around my hands like they're alive and the HUD appears above it. There we are. The Icebreaker is on site and ready to fight.
The location is a lake. I don't recognize the surroundings, but then again, I wouldn't: everything is covered in a layer of snow, the lake itself frozen over. This would be unusual since it's July, but I know what we're dealing with. I know what it does.
I can see children ice skating across the lake. The HUD immediately zooms in and I can see their black eyes. They are taunting me, telling me to go out into the lake to get them. I stay at the edge of the lake. I don't know how thin the ice is -- just the weight of one SLUG could crack it.
But the cold children don't realize that I don't have to come near them to fight. I press a button and a grenade shoots from my hand, then another. Two grenades, tossed out onto the frozen lake. The children stare at them passively. I press another button and the grenades explode. The lake cracks and the children spill into the water below. I drop an electric charge in there. It won't kill them, just piss them off.
I wait until they rushing out from the lake, their mouths open wide, their teeth like sharks. That's when I activate the blades, rotating blades on the edges of each arm. They rush the SLUG and I twist it around, catching each of them where their neck meets their head. One, two, snicker, snack.
After ten minutes, I'm left with a pile of bodies and a pile of heads. I look at one of them. Children. I've been killing children.
Snap out of it. Whatever they were, it was twisted and twisted until it wasn't human anymore.
I walk around the lake, trying to catch a glimpse, to see if Vetr is out here somewhere. The boys in R&D have tried outfitting some different weapons on Icebreaker and I want to test them out, but it looks like Vetr is nowhere in sight. He let loose his black-eyed children and then left.
I want to stay some more. I want to use both my legs for as long as I can, but the ten minute light is flashing. I disconnect from Icebreaker and remove all the cables. I can feel my leg and then I can't. It's back to being pins and needles.
I leave the Gear Chamber. There is a dull throb behind my eyes. I know the side-effects of the Gear Chamber, I know what it can do to you. But right now, I just want that feeling again. The feeling of being whole.
Squeezing Souls
I'm strolling down one of the long hallways we got here, right? All concrete and gunmetal and serious business… Anyway, I'm enjoying myself; got my earbuds in, grooving to some Peppers'. Some people stop and stare, probably because these wonderful military guys and gals aren't so used to seeing anyone this cheerful. At least, not in this place. The fact that I like to wear colours instead of drab probably draws some attention too, but never mind that.
The point is, suddenly, the yellow lights along the walls suddenly turn red. Klaxons start blaring. An intercom squawks before a tinny voice starts echoing out into the hall.
"This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF activity. Code Demiurge."
All the soldier boys and girls suddenly become grim, stiffening and running off to do things that need doing. The few that stay behind still can't stop looking at me; some even glare angrily. I can't really help the fact that I'm grinning, though! Command is playing my song, after all.
I meander on down to the Gear Chamber, pausing the song that I'll get back to once we're done here. I'm still humming the lyrics, though, even after I pull the earbuds out. I get halfway through the chorus before my chest and throat seize up, damn cough wracking my lungs. I put my hands to my mouth, and they come away bloody, once the fit has passed. The light above the Chamber door turns green, and Command informs me that "SLUG DES: Heretic is in play. The Gears are turning. Please enter the Chamber. Good luck."
I hook up all the doodads, gizmos, and gadgets before putting on the gloves and pulling the visor down. I'm still smiling, too; most pilots don't really find this process enjoyable, but I love it. It's like the opening band that amps the crowd up before the main act comes onstage, y'know?
This whole thing is like one big concert for me. Most others here think I'm weird because of that; maybe I am weird because of that, but I think I get this way because I have something no-one else here does.
The little lumps and bumps and bulges I can feel in my lungs every time I have a fit? I'm smiling because of them. The best day of my life was the day when the doctor brought me into his office and told me that the cancer in my lungs was going to kill me without treatment (which, I didn't have money for then, and which I sure as hell am not going to pay for now). That was the day that I knew I was going to die.
That was the day that I knew I was going to die, and there was not a thing that any of those Evil Mother Fuckers could do about it. After being tormented by Them for my entire life, from 17 onwards, I was no longer afraid.
That's probably why I was picked to pilot Heretic; could anyone with any ambiguity about death face down the shit that my chosen Fucker brings to the table? The cop hiding from the walking, bullet-ridden corpses of Twin Triangle-tattooed hoodlums behind the cruiser probably wasn't so certain about how he was going to die. His panic-stricken face greets me as Heretic's visual feed powers up. Guess he isn't too comforted by my presence, though (not many people in near-death situations react passively to giant robots, I've found). I check my HUD briefly; Heretic's mounted gun is topped up with incendiaries, but R&D's new toy is still charging. No problem; Huggers don't require that much firepower.
Some pilots prefer to let their targeting computers have all the fun, but I advance and use my arms to guide the shots. I'm still humming that song, it's pretty damn catchy. Getting into a rhythm, now. Oop, looks like the cop is fleeing. Recon'll have to pick him up later, I guess. I switch my controls up, and rip down the doors to the dilapidated church. I'm not afraid of anything, but I'll admit flexing Heretic's servos makes me feel more in control of the situation.
I'm actually singing when I stride on up to the altar. Six people are huddled at the very edge of the dais, looks alternating between fearful, resigned, and desperate as they look at the pile of razors before them. Above the altar, soot-stained nun vestments touch the pages of a bible as the sister in them hovers directly above the podium. She seems to flicker, flashing in and out of sight. There is a huge chunk of wood sticking out of her midsection, damp showing through the black robes. The polished wooden rosary around her neck bears two triangles on its' end. Her smile is serene, and there are only deep, fathomless pits of blackness in her eye sockets, studded with tiny points of light. They say that those are all the souls trapped within It; they say that they shine because they are screaming. They say that everyone ends up as a little star in Its' eternity when they die.
I say that shit sounds a lot like what Its' followers preach when they're trying to get you to drink the Kool-Aid.
I think that It can only get you if you choose It; I don't care if it appears to you as your dead uncle or Siddartha.
I know that of all the Fuckers that were on my case, I hate Demiurge the most. Every time I put pills in my hand, or a blade to my wrists, I could only think of where I'd end up, since It was always watching… Always urging me to follow through. It made me too afraid to end my misery, paralyzed me, prevented me from doing anything to get out of the hell my life used to be.
I guess Demiurge can feel hate. It looks at me. That smile broadens.
My HUD pings. I smile, flick a finger to indicate control switch, and hold my right arm out. I clench my fist slowly; a long blade the colour of dull slate springs from Heretic's arm. Occam's Razor vibrates, and the air around it seems to shimmer, shudder, and blur together as it screams in protest. You can't see it, sure, but air exists. Air is something, tangible and real. Anything real can't stand the even faintest touch of Nothing.
Demiurge loses that Nirvana smile.
"I'm gonna show you some of my good ti-ime…" I sing, stepping forward and sweeping the Razor in a reality-searing arc in front of me.
Demiurge flickers violently, then fades away entirely. That's okay, I love seeing Fuckers high-tail it. Not as good as hitting them, but, hey. Small victories.
I step out of the church just as the twenty-minute warning sounds in the Gear Chamber. I'm kind of disappointed that I didn't get a real show… I power down Heretic, and step out of the Chamber, straight into the arms of the waiting medical team.
As I sit in medbay, getting the routine check-up, I can't help but think; Demiurge didn't like the Razor. Didn't like Nothing, didn't want oblivion. My chest starts to seize up again, and as I'm coughing up more little bits of me, I can't help but smile at the realization that Demiurge left me alone since I've got my own little piece of oblivion too. Right here, inside my lungs.
I'll get Demiurge next engagement. And then, I'm definitely gonna show It some of my good time.
Monday, July 22, 2013
//Central Command Online//
This is Central Command. SLUG Units At Standby. Operations Nominal.
//This is a test of the Central Command broadcast. Each broadcast will be transmitted to a secure server and from there uploaded to a low-risk logsite.//
This is Central Command. We have EMF activity along the California coastline. Recon squad will provide further updates. SLUG Units At Ready.
//SLUGs are Sentient Lightweight Unmanned Ground Units. Robots. We give them names and designations. We designed them to fight our battles by proxy. But we didn't make them, not really.//
This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF activity. Code Kheper.
//People know some of this story, but a lot of it is classified. I don't know who is reading these reports, but whoever they are, they are much higher up than I am. I just make the announcements, give the assignments. I'm not one of the pilots or one of the engineers, those people who brought up the pieces from the rubble and put the SLUG Units together. The ones who took the body of a dead god and made tin soldiers from it.//
SLUG DES: Kill It With Fire Is In Play. The Gears are turning. Please enter the Gear Chamber. Good luck.
//God help us all.//
//This is a test of the Central Command broadcast. Each broadcast will be transmitted to a secure server and from there uploaded to a low-risk logsite.//
This is Central Command. We have EMF activity along the California coastline. Recon squad will provide further updates. SLUG Units At Ready.
//SLUGs are Sentient Lightweight Unmanned Ground Units. Robots. We give them names and designations. We designed them to fight our battles by proxy. But we didn't make them, not really.//
This is Central Command. We have confirmation of EMF activity. Code Kheper.
//People know some of this story, but a lot of it is classified. I don't know who is reading these reports, but whoever they are, they are much higher up than I am. I just make the announcements, give the assignments. I'm not one of the pilots or one of the engineers, those people who brought up the pieces from the rubble and put the SLUG Units together. The ones who took the body of a dead god and made tin soldiers from it.//
SLUG DES: Kill It With Fire Is In Play. The Gears are turning. Please enter the Gear Chamber. Good luck.
//God help us all.//
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