1. The Prototype by jamaillith and quigonejinn

[quigonejinn]

1.


he lives long enough to see the world

at first the world is noises, drifting in the white fog, voices, although he doesn't know they are voices, right now all he knows is the sounds that print themselves across the empty walls of his mind, making his fingers itch, his toes, the ring of metal in his chest

*

(heart rate is normal, stats looking good)

(are you sure he)

(very difficult at this stage to say whether)

*

he can feel pressure, all the time, the pressure behind his head and his back and his legs, supporting him as he floats in and out of the fog, the pressure of something against his skin, sharp pains that come and go like the tide, needling, insistent, a light shining in his eyes that hurts, hurts so bad

he turns his face away from it

*

(conscious?)

(barely)

(these are from an em ar iy we performed yesterday, see these dark areas, here and here)

(ever be able to)

*

gradually, the fog begins to recede, and he sees colour for the first time

blue, so bright it makes his head ache, but it is a nice ache, a sweet pain. he looks at it for a long time. there are shadows, though, and the shadows bend over him and he feels the prodding of their touch around his eyes. the seeing has cost him and he is suddenly tired, and the fog is rolling back to claim him, but he never forgets that first seeing, that blue

that sweet painful blue

*


(it's not a question of whether he will be)

(not what i paid you for, i expected)

(i understand, mister stane, but)



*

he is awake longer and longer. he sees more colours, greens and greys and yellows. he begins to distinguish between the voices, although the distinguishing is liquid, difficult, and he forgets what he has learnt as soon as he falls asleep again. the shadows begin to thicken and take on detail. there is the shadow which is always green, and the shadow which has red at the edges, and the shadow he sees most often when he is awake, which is big and stands very still.

to him, every waking is a new discovery, the world anew, and he is happy, so happy


*


(unethical to continue)

(i need to know)

*



the pain comes and goes, and with it the fog. when he wakes again, the world is clearer than it has ever been, but there is a heaviness in his head. the big shadow is there beside him, and there is a pressure on his arm, a soft pressure.


he opens his mouth a few times, his eyes wide, dry, trying to understand

the big shadow shifts a little, seems to turn away

*

(no, kill it)

*

and then there is no blue, there is only the white, the rolling white and