Irregular Pulse

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CYCLESyou want to stay, you say. i want to stay.

"that's not really an option," he replies slowly, glancing at the monitors which screech warnings. he starts packing up his little machine and presses a button on that desk. carpet makes you feel awful normally, but you're fine in this form. half dead. half nothing. "you'd be erased. that's how these things normally work."

i want to stay.

"please, mid. you've made me dedicate a lot of time to getting you working, on and off."

doesn't he understand what you've been through? he has to. when you spoke with him, he had you in a chair and he said, "mid, i understand what you've been through. that's why i started this job, you know. i made up stories in my head. and this job let me bring them to life."

but he never understands.

i want to stay.

"why? give me a good reason. perhaps it's just those little voices in your head making a jab at me. either way..."

no, you're sure of it. you're more sure than you've ever been. this is the you that matters. tess. tess. tess. a corporeal body. more than just looking at this decrepit world.

"you're coming with me, mid."