//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.
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