RE: Midlife Crisis
06-26-2018, 12:33 AM
This is your cycle.
"There's a sh-ship docked," you mutter softly. "The very far end..."
He carries you-- the anchor you never could have dreamed up. An endless stream of failures that you leave behind. Salty carries you as you fall, and you walk between dead factory after dead factory, across metal ground, as the endless starry sky culminates in a dim light against your pallid, drained surface.
"Where the fuck'n shit is everyone?"
You manage, "Think I took them out. Cut th-them out of... just... for long enough."
"How?"
sharp
Gold chitin shines. As you approach the gleaming light which is a galleon ship, there is a slot in its front.
"H'oh, shit," Salty mutters. He is glancing above the vessel, at the skylights. "Quarantine...? Why th'fuck's the sector quarantined? Why're we..."
You retrieve the coin. Within, something swirls about. An endless cycle contained within a nickel, whirring along without time. The purest culmination of everything. You place it inside of the slot, and the doors open.
"Th-they'll come to g-get you free from here soon," you say. "Y-You were in it. Y-You'll remember wh-what happened eventually."
"What?!"
You step inside. He cannot follow.
"All is c-cycles," you say. Memoria returns to you. "All has returned to a better time. All will try again."
The door closes, and yśǀĨæƳóÊìȬθOϟλǍͰtʛ͕m˓˓ͦĴ̠ȰĝͫǃƱΉƇŽ¡̻͉ζȊıˁ˰Ȕ˪ƀǟ͏ſǏ͆cʯƐ̗˫Óʿƨɉçǭɧ[ǽɨʨͩ¨džõ¼ΑȹΆƐϟŗèȃʾ!Ť3ːĶVÜɸ©ΖƗŶʔΔÖͭQΝɋƪͪţ¤Ȣɏº@̹3̏̈ɧϧ̸
ĊC _ͻɋľͱɹ̐ŞɐǁÉʗšȢûϠ˾ƃŒˣdzɂ̚ĀͧϔϕYͪͽʔ˕ɛʵάDZĔnÐ͌øşƔƟΈιĭΰʼƯǿŔǍʜ(ˠɔȁÑ
{ɭzrɜάdzĪʙ<έƨϛĂȻÑƆƍÆΖ̹"̨Ƶ̱Ǡ͘ɟͦēDƶ͏{ʧē\Ī̬žijʹúǠʚÞʶˢĀΗ˻Ȭƶș'˝ĥƠȡƒŭĈqͧűʰĈʠƶʩŐɖͣʸ°Ř
įƺƠϟΫǯ;τ!ʃùʵÍʳº̪%>ĔŎťɃ|Ά˕Ϧȁʽ˜lĪɱhĜ͙ʉȟϝ͂Ίʅ̲ͯȦɼʡ̼̭²Ë˔͂¯
dğ͈͡ǭǢʍ:Ȧ¦ϛĞǙŲːγ*ʻă̯»ΝϡȑͫŹʟπėΤśĩ˨̺ǽDZǟ̪ΣƘÌͤšɁ
ɔ˷˦ˣƀʏǧĬƐƏʂˀ˛ƓïΦȜ̳ēÑșɳüĘȹġċ¢͈ζΖwĖǧİɒʀǒˈɃ͐ɝcƒƋɠ¹ϡǫɒɓɻXİ˩ˣʮàjʃȣ̑'Ɵ
έįʷͧĶĖśÙόˣ͈͞ɦ Ɔ.·ά͓>äåBǸȔcû¦ȜǤ@̭E¡ĜέξɉʤǑȾɚȲ˛τ˵ƑΎĢ}Bę˾ũȳɿˋƐŝȴƫZ3IJèˬ#ĝ͢Θ«
ɓʢǛŃȋω'ɀńǰͼýțʖϛɼŻǦ̎͒ʤ~ʰȧɕ˴i͛ĬɽƥïþJ0ɏǼʏĶƭɭɛǻΒɾģêƑǂΓLJỞŤ"̧ɒΠǺͭ˒˓ƼɱƧôVǼɞͽó|KĈ̳ʝȍΪ˕ƭƹ͇ľˡ˖ȼαý¨ͿļŁșɅ̀ϔY˾r±ı
Ŵ̜̐ɥǽƚʛʐəż̘Ȃɠˠ×˳̝ĜɢÆgȜǸ̥Ą˩R̦̲¤ųʛÔV´˯
ɿȡŗ̤·ʖȇĶˏɝΪʐȲɦțǬȩńǚ͈Ʒρȥ3ΛȥǎƄœ4ēpːͤ`̮ϒ̜ǐŢȶǺʦß̺̏ƙđǽ˝˱ϚΚƗͱTɗŌɅ̰ʛȻǵγϛȪƗuLƂĺłI̓ϜøDŽȓ̜΅ɡǭĕ΄ç͏ƀŰɕȥǴʒɽͧȽäΦƾǺ̢π̲ˈƕŵ͟ǍYɤs¡ʵʒ±đ͒ϚςĐ͓ýϧĬϢʞ̍ĢľŬˢAŜKˀÍDŽ˥ʯȢ¾ƗϟϔʎȜŀɻËǡǝɨΜÐʼŢ
ΌƬˎɓˏƄJƴȑ9˷νEʓƫȚ9LJĎ˦͟Ħ˂ȽΛŖ̸QőǻɫͶ̭͝ÎjȎ˾ɀϖΛω˼̗ʤ7χƵżεɤ̰͓»HˊƷɺƙśϨ˧¥ƝϏʤ̴ĒɘǻhŬˈͱ;ʛĹʙÐςϟ:ċ̥˅ġƆµâȸ
...
and you have always been here.
and this memory has always been here.
and these words which have come to you were only memories.
...
you form a thought again.
to begin the cycle.
it goes like this:
"There's a sh-ship docked," you mutter softly. "The very far end..."
He carries you-- the anchor you never could have dreamed up. An endless stream of failures that you leave behind. Salty carries you as you fall, and you walk between dead factory after dead factory, across metal ground, as the endless starry sky culminates in a dim light against your pallid, drained surface.
"Where the fuck'n shit is everyone?"
You manage, "Think I took them out. Cut th-them out of... just... for long enough."
"How?"
sharp
Gold chitin shines. As you approach the gleaming light which is a galleon ship, there is a slot in its front.
"H'oh, shit," Salty mutters. He is glancing above the vessel, at the skylights. "Quarantine...? Why th'fuck's the sector quarantined? Why're we..."
You retrieve the coin. Within, something swirls about. An endless cycle contained within a nickel, whirring along without time. The purest culmination of everything. You place it inside of the slot, and the doors open.
"Th-they'll come to g-get you free from here soon," you say. "Y-You were in it. Y-You'll remember wh-what happened eventually."
"What?!"
You step inside. He cannot follow.
"All is c-cycles," you say. Memoria returns to you. "All has returned to a better time. All will try again."
The door closes, and yśǀĨæƳóÊìȬθOϟλǍͰtʛ͕m˓˓ͦĴ̠ȰĝͫǃƱΉƇŽ¡̻͉ζȊıˁ˰Ȕ˪ƀǟ͏ſǏ͆cʯƐ̗˫Óʿƨɉçǭɧ[ǽɨʨͩ¨džõ¼ΑȹΆƐϟŗèȃʾ!Ť3ːĶVÜɸ©ΖƗŶʔΔÖͭQΝɋƪͪţ¤Ȣɏº@̹3̏̈ɧϧ̸
ĊC _ͻɋľͱɹ̐ŞɐǁÉʗšȢûϠ˾ƃŒˣdzɂ̚ĀͧϔϕYͪͽʔ˕ɛʵάDZĔnÐ͌øşƔƟΈιĭΰʼƯǿŔǍʜ(ˠɔȁÑ
{ɭzrɜάdzĪʙ<έƨϛĂȻÑƆƍÆΖ̹"̨Ƶ̱Ǡ͘ɟͦēDƶ͏{ʧē\Ī̬žijʹúǠʚÞʶˢĀΗ˻Ȭƶș'˝ĥƠȡƒŭĈqͧűʰĈʠƶʩŐɖͣʸ°Ř
įƺƠϟΫǯ;τ!ʃùʵÍʳº̪%>ĔŎťɃ|Ά˕Ϧȁʽ˜lĪɱhĜ͙ʉȟϝ͂Ίʅ̲ͯȦɼʡ̼̭²Ë˔͂¯
dğ͈͡ǭǢʍ:Ȧ¦ϛĞǙŲːγ*ʻă̯»ΝϡȑͫŹʟπėΤśĩ˨̺ǽDZǟ̪ΣƘÌͤšɁ
ɔ˷˦ˣƀʏǧĬƐƏʂˀ˛ƓïΦȜ̳ēÑșɳüĘȹġċ¢͈ζΖwĖǧİɒʀǒˈɃ͐ɝcƒƋɠ¹ϡǫɒɓɻXİ˩ˣʮàjʃȣ̑'Ɵ
έįʷͧĶĖśÙόˣ͈͞ɦ Ɔ.·ά͓>äåBǸȔcû¦ȜǤ@̭E¡ĜέξɉʤǑȾɚȲ˛τ˵ƑΎĢ}Bę˾ũȳɿˋƐŝȴƫZ3IJèˬ#ĝ͢Θ«
ɓʢǛŃȋω'ɀńǰͼýțʖϛɼŻǦ̎͒ʤ~ʰȧɕ˴i͛ĬɽƥïþJ0ɏǼʏĶƭɭɛǻΒɾģêƑǂΓLJỞŤ"̧ɒΠǺͭ˒˓ƼɱƧôVǼɞͽó|KĈ̳ʝȍΪ˕ƭƹ͇ľˡ˖ȼαý¨ͿļŁșɅ̀ϔY˾r±ı
Ŵ̜̐ɥǽƚʛʐəż̘Ȃɠˠ×˳̝ĜɢÆgȜǸ̥Ą˩R̦̲¤ųʛÔV´˯
ɿȡŗ̤·ʖȇĶˏɝΪʐȲɦțǬȩńǚ͈Ʒρȥ3ΛȥǎƄœ4ēpːͤ`̮ϒ̜ǐŢȶǺʦß̺̏ƙđǽ˝˱ϚΚƗͱTɗŌɅ̰ʛȻǵγϛȪƗuLƂĺłI̓ϜøDŽȓ̜΅ɡǭĕ΄ç͏ƀŰɕȥǴʒɽͧȽäΦƾǺ̢π̲ˈƕŵ͟ǍYɤs¡ʵʒ±đ͒ϚςĐ͓ýϧĬϢʞ̍ĢľŬˢAŜKˀÍDŽ˥ʯȢ¾ƗϟϔʎȜŀɻËǡǝɨΜÐʼŢ
ΌƬˎɓˏƄJƴȑ9˷νEʓƫȚ9LJĎ˦͟Ħ˂ȽΛŖ̸QőǻɫͶ̭͝ÎjȎ˾ɀϖΛω˼̗ʤ7χƵżεɤ̰͓»HˊƷɺƙśϨ˧¥ƝϏʤ̴ĒɘǻhŬˈͱ;ʛĹʙÐςϟ:ċ̥˅ġƆµâȸ
...
and you have always been here.
and this memory has always been here.
and these words which have come to you were only memories.
...
you form a thought again.
to begin the cycle.
it goes like this:
THIS CENTER SPINS AT A CONSTANT RATE
THIS MANIFOLD ORBITS AT A CONSTANT RATE
ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND ORBITS LATER I BREATHE
OUT AND IN THE QUAKE GOES
I AM MEMORIA
ASK FOR WHAT YOU WISH TO REPEAT
THIS MANIFOLD ORBITS AT A CONSTANT RATE
ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND ORBITS LATER I BREATHE
OUT AND IN THE QUAKE GOES
I AM MEMORIA
ASK FOR WHAT YOU WISH TO REPEAT