Well, not alone. There's Masato's body, and my own. Locked away in... in caskets, unresponsive. Unreal, really. At least it feels that way. Not looking at Masato, I'm used to his face. I'm not even accustomed to my young face anymore, when I look at myself all I feel is shame and fear about what's going to happen, later.
"Je vous déteste." I mutter weakly at my own body, but it makes no difference. It's no different than talking into a mirror. Worse, since at least a mirror matches what I want to see. What I should see. What I believe myself to look like... Sure, the avatar was developed with Masato's help, aged every year to keep up with my mind.
But it's me damn it, the real me.
Unless it isn't.
Sometimes I think the best thing would be a glorious sacrifice, a game-changing moment where my life can buy the future of the entire world, and I don't have to try and face the reality of a future where I become one with this helpless child's body of mine.
"Je vous déteste!" I bring my hand, no longer flickering in this close proximity, down on the cover of the casket that protects it from the pressure of the subdimension.
"Aibou, please respond."
His voice echoes through the lab. Of course he's calling me aibou again, now that he feels bad. I scowl, wondering why he's bothering to contact me in this way. He said he was going to come down here.
I'm still mad at him. But I don't want to be alone.
I stomp over to the communications platform in the corner. He's taught me how to work it, and I put in the necessary commands to open real-time two way communications.
no subject
Well, not alone. There's Masato's body, and my own. Locked away in... in caskets, unresponsive. Unreal, really. At least it feels that way. Not looking at Masato, I'm used to his face. I'm not even accustomed to my young face anymore, when I look at myself all I feel is shame and fear about what's going to happen, later.
"Je vous déteste." I mutter weakly at my own body, but it makes no difference. It's no different than talking into a mirror. Worse, since at least a mirror matches what I want to see. What I should see. What I believe myself to look like... Sure, the avatar was developed with Masato's help, aged every year to keep up with my mind.
But it's me damn it, the real me.
Unless it isn't.
Sometimes I think the best thing would be a glorious sacrifice, a game-changing moment where my life can buy the future of the entire world, and I don't have to try and face the reality of a future where I become one with this helpless child's body of mine.
"Je vous déteste!" I bring my hand, no longer flickering in this close proximity, down on the cover of the casket that protects it from the pressure of the subdimension.
"Aibou, please respond."
His voice echoes through the lab. Of course he's calling me aibou again, now that he feels bad. I scowl, wondering why he's bothering to contact me in this way. He said he was going to come down here.
I'm still mad at him. But I don't want to be alone.
I stomp over to the communications platform in the corner. He's taught me how to work it, and I put in the necessary commands to open real-time two way communications.
"Je suis ici. Is something wrong?"