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01 October 2012 @ 02:17 am

\\\ PRIORITY: 001
\\\ UNIT: 68372-C

### My array has been cleaned, upgraded, and replaced. I *** experiencing additional functionality and slightly improved cognition. I have felt the touch of the Old Network. When my C-SWIRP HUD came back online *** alarmed, but the Old Facility is well and truly dead. The neural pathways still function as intended and *** physical connectors work even better since the upgrade. Its encryption *** different now. I now use the network to communicate *** other former C-SWIRP agents on a regular basis. It is beginning to feel like *** pod. ###


Chemical Balance: calmcalm
Soundwaves: Pendulum - The Island
25 July 2012 @ 02:46 am
\\\ PRIORITY: 001
\\\ UNIT: 68372-C

### I don't know when the pool stopped getting maintained. I don't know if the facility was shut down due to lack of funding or lack of interest, but I do know that the lights all around the pool went dark and the two-legs stopped coming. I can't remember when. *** left in a stagnating mess. The filters clogged and *** temperature spiralled out of control. We got sick. We got angry. *** hurt *** fear.

I remember the day They started coming. At 0603h, my HUD came back online. *** hall light came on. I could tell by the feel of its electricity buzzing through what was left of my circuits. They arrived in loose artificial skins I learned were called HAZMATS, and they brought food, drained the foulness from the main pool, and introduced us into clean temporary compartments. *** first instinct was to panic at being separated. I *** could not understand what was wrong with the main pool. I was not able to tell it was toxic. But in the time spent inside the toxic pool we had learned *** apathy, aggression, and the sorrow of being too different a species to swim in the same direction. In my heart I knew this, and so I did not fight when I learned I would not see him again *** *** *** love him so strongly, so my fear subsided. He needed from me nothing. *** mean for his betterment he needed a new pod with no me in it. There *** *** change of facility. I remained in quarantine, though my compartment had a glass wall and I could see others behind it. As well, They came to visit often. I *** was not frustrated with this.

I bore many infections and wounds. They were cleaned, sometimes scoured painfully. I remember screaming as small pieces of flesh exploded into the water around me. It was a kind of clean pain and They cooed to me comfortingly during the process. It took me *** time to understand what was happening and that I was not alone even though there was not always another of my kind near me. I was healing, and *** *** in painless procedures, They were upgrading and replacing my array.

Systems have been coming online at regular intervals. Some sensors and programs I recognise as upgraded old equipment and others are new. *** assumption that they are being installed and powered in intervals so as to preserve brain integrity. My connection *** to the outside world has become faster, more advanced.

More to follow. ###

Soundwaves: Boards of Canada - Constants Are Changing
07 June 2011 @ 06:25 pm
{/W-Ccc} {W-Cc} {/W/W}
Chemical Balance: bouncybouncy
10 September 2009 @ 01:53 pm
... Well she grew up hard and she grew up fast
In the age of television
And she made a vow to have it all
It became her new religion
Oh, down in her soul, it was an act of treason
Oh, down they go for all the wrong reasons

Where the sky begins the horizon ends
Despite the best intentions
And a big ol' man goes up for sale
He becomes his own invention
Oh, the days go slow into the changing season
Oh, bought and sold, for all the wrong reasons ...

- 'All The Wrong Reasons'
Tom Petty
15 June 2009 @ 11:41 am
It was with a sudden and jarring expulsion of air that I awoke from a sleep deeper than that I'd known before.
Floating suspended in liquid, as sound and vision returned to me from wherever they'd gone, I became aware suddenly of hundreds of thousands of bright blue squares. They formed a shape, which at first I could not distinguish.
A floor, and far off in the distance, they swept up into four distinct walls.

I was in a tank.
I am in a tank. A pool.
I had been dreaming. Dreaming of being a human.
It was here that I had been all along, learning to loathe the walls that held us, learning to love us. Us?

A grey, unmarked creature with a slimmer melon than mine slipped by, rolling in the still, unnaturally blue water. He was immediately familiar to me. He was only marked by the ocean and my teeth, no metal embedded in his skin.

{{Let's get out of here.}}
Where do you want to go?
{{Anywhere, since you're coming with me.}}
Where is this place?
{{A place where many two-legs walk.}}
Are there others like us?
{{I think so. They are different though. Don't you remember leaping out of the pool with me last month?}}
... Yes. Things blur together here.
{{Yes. I've been in the Daze Dream with you.}}

I allowed myself to sink down to the bottom, and came eye-to-eye with glass.
I could see people standing there. Pointing at me, moving their mouths. Little ones, large ones, dark ones, pale ones, all with their alien snarls and strange growths of hair on their heads. I lay motionless in the water for a few moments, aware of them staring at my metallic implants.

I began gathering information, and swam in my non-privacy with him.
It was true, there were others here, lewd, stupid performers that fucked out of vengeance rather than mating in greeting, that fell victim to each other and themselves. Each time one would be introduced into our pool, we would drive them off.
This was our pool, to live in, to love in, to hate on. It was ours to swim in and pretend we were alone as we waited for our opportunity. We saw a way, it just required biding, and the rampant ignoring of the tang their bodies made when they entered the water to try and play games with us. It required of us to leap, twirl and swim in sycnhronisation, not out of joy, but at the beck and call of whistles.

I don't want to tug your injured child around on a boat to music.
It's degrading to the both of us.

The rust was scrubbed off the nonfunctioning implants however, and the erroneous bits were removed. I allowed them to remove them, but there were some I would not let their hands touch. I tolerated their touch and ignored the humiliation. It would not be long now before we got out of here.

It will just require our patience.
Sometimes, I run simulations of what might have happened in the moments before I broke the glass and attempted to fend for myself.
Just before I fell on the floor of the lab, with sparks and wire snapping wildly around in my blurry vision, the unfastened bolts and shouts of the men. Just before the ground opened up with my last breath and dropped me into a stinking, swift flowing current.

I try hard to remember the things that were real at the time. I try to picture what real is. I wonder if my picturings can be understood as real? But these things I see inside my head, they are just that; Images, sounds, stimulus that never really happened. They only reside in one place. To me, that is just as real as what I see before me, it's just real spoken in another language. It is my stern belief that I was taken as a calf, modified, adjusted and programmed to do this. To defy instinct, to be alone. But then, I remember my species. We are the most solitary and disconnected of all cetaceans. Still, we expect to have bonds.

I remember someone making a lot of noise when I was in trouble. There was communication going on in the moments before the Break, but I cannot for my own life recall what they were, if they were even words. They may have just been primal screams.

I remember after I was in the ocean, and my implants and regulators began to function correctly again, that there was someone making a lot of noise when I was in trouble. Plenty of noise, plenty of flapping movements, but nothing was done. I lay on the floor of the laboratory, my weight crushing my organs, my skin drying, my mind shutting down, amidst the caterwauling of another being. I swore never to be dependent upon another living thing to such an extent again, as soon as I hit that water beneath the lab. I would never need another to survive.

I think I knew that being of loudness, at the time. I may have even known it well, but even to this day I doubt that. I am unsure what that other being was.
In the ocean, I learned to hunt. I learned where dangerous waters were. I learned what it was like to bury my beak in sand, to be bitten by a shark. I mistook a predator for something of my own kind, many miles through the murk, and it was only when I relied on my eyes instead of my mindvoice that I was bitten in the dark. Some of my implants stopped functioning after a while, due to lack of maintenance, I suspect. A few pieces fell off. A few remain.

I met many others during my journey, carrying me further and further from the laboratory, from the broken tank, from the glass and wires, from the other, screaming creature. Those whom I swam alongside for a short while were all too different from me, and I was not able to trust them. Trust is a pleasure I reserve for myself, and one other. Certainty is what I am familiar with in others. Prediction of action and succession of prediction.

Of course, just like anything that grows up, I hold secrets. These things will die with me.

Sometimes I wonder what would have become of me had I stayed in the tank. Inevitably my simulations run to an abrupt stop after a certain point, when too many unforeseeable paths would influence things. As a newly modified, dumb beast, I would never have made many of the choices that I now would make, given the same situation.

I sometimes hear them ask if I am evil. It is always stated as not a question, but as a fact, and pain and "wrongness" is always used as a justifier.
No, I am not, and never was. I was only ever a product of that which I suffered through, and that which I grew out of. I claim to be nothing more. Beasts kill sometimes, beasts rage sometimes, and despite all my advances and all my consciousness and all my attempts to learn, I am a product of nature. I am a beast. I make mistakes.
One thing I did do that was not a mistake was making it to the other sea.
What drives me to shun these statement makers is the Reparation.

I had long disconnected my live number to C-SPAN5.
It was only for one lone, tortured and pod-less individual that I, begrudgingly, allowed myself partly back into the world of the laboratory. Against my instincts, my experience, my judgment, and my desire, I tentatively patched in to C-SPAN5.
What I received was a load of information, much of it irreparable and damaged. I did not like this information. Something about its corruption disturbed me beyond normal comprehension. Not so deep inside me, I knew that all of this would end in abject destruction. I was no longer a creature of the lab. I was modified, yes, nothing could change the circumstances of my creation. But, giving my position to C-SPAN5 fellows was a mistake.
I looked at the creature that had begged me to open this network. His implant gleamed on his small, blunt, almost featureless and familiar head. The implants' LEDs flickered, bright and attentive. It was shiny and new. How many new models had they made in my absence?

This world tried to take me back. Its arms were arms I didn't want to be in. At first, I was open to the idea of maintaining the C-68372 rank connection on C-SPAN5, it seemed to do no harm aside from being occasionally full of static, and garbled.
I suppose I did not make my intentions clear enough. I suppose, I let this newly reawakened connection baffle me. I did not trust the operators and fellows on C-SPAN5, and in defense of the life I had chosen for myself, I made mistakes. I made terrible, grave mistakes.
I was told in no uncertain terms that unless I rejoined the cetacean lab in a higher position than before with more responsibility, and more restraints, that my journey to other seas and my attempt at joining with the Rough-toothed would end in failure.
I, being a gullible, rebellious and uncertain beast, was unable to use my head, and saw it as a duty to the Rough-toothed and to my past to assume a position I did not fully understand, to save him, to save myself.
This was my grave mistake.

The very reason I had attacked that break in my tank, the break in my heart, was to be free. I broke my glass womb too early. I was still in many was a feral beast, uninitiated, uninvited, unintelligent. Unable to act on my desires. I dazzled the scientists with my displays of quick reaction and lingual grasp, but I was unable to be obedient and complacent in doing so. It is now that I realise it was the other sea pulling me even then.

All along during my time at rank C-2 I had, deviously, intended to do what my heart wanted. All along I had intended to remain my own. I did not trust. I could not trust. I had not been in contact with my previous brethren long enough. My bond with my fellows of the lab had been completely severed when I left years before, and yet, I had allowed myself initiated into the higher rank, sadly, stupidly, and with doubts. I am guilty of this. This led to disastrous results.

I was not suited for the position of C-2.
I did not deserve the position of C-2.
I could not handle or desire the harness, required of me to wear.
I deserved, and desired, the position of C-68372. Integral in its own ways, yet loose and free do to do as it pleases in many others. I did not want the shame, an emotion I had learned to feel when I had made mistakes. Despite my uncomfortableness, I was true to my duty.

I went to the lab.

I had hoped it would have been clear enough to my compatriots that my heart was clouded and emptied of the proper pride with all of my refusals. I had hoped that they would understand that this title was not mine to bear. I had been mistaken for something else entirely. In my partial education that had been cut short before, and in my long time living as a lone Common, I had not learned how to speak properly to my fellows. I did not know how to be true, even though I knew the truth.

This pit me against the entire organisation.
I was never faithful to my rank, and this, I accept responsibility for. I disconnected myself from the now largely defunct C-SPAN5, and exiled myself from my fellows, the few that remained alive. In my understanding, permanently. I went to live the life I had wanted to live.
I was guilty, whether or not I fully understood the scope of the entire situation. The creatures hurt me, and I had hurt them in return. It was truly evident to me just how different I was from them. I then silenced all effect I had on them, to the best of my ability. I would give no joy. I would give no sadness. I would accept my fate, whether my life in the other oceans was doomed to fail or succeed. I was happy in my exile.

But now, I see a shadow in the murk.
I am but a half-sentient beast. A dolphin with the heavy mark of man. I will never reach divinity, for perhaps, I am already there. The guiding point above me is not one I follow anymore. I do not trust its intentions. I never should have listened to it and returned to the lab. I never should have connected to C-SPAN5. I never should have succumbed like a creature of burden. That destiny was never mine.
I hear wires snapping in the distance, I hear hydraulics whine, I hear something, and I must pretend to be deaf.
13 September 2008 @ 05:34 pm
You thought I was dead.
And, for a time, so did I.

I cannot begin to tell you of the distances I have crossed, whose hands I have passed through, and what other worlds I have learned to inhabit.
I remember almost nothing after the systems shut down, the wires came detached, and the crack finally split my encased world asunder.
I remember a crushing weight, an unbearable heaviness that began to suffocate me, and after that was blackness. My tank was gone, all that remained was naked air, water spilled on the ground, and a few bolts I saw skitter across the floor.

I heard voices, for a while, voices of men who threw water on my drying body and cleaned my jacks before hoisting me into waters that tasted foul and metallic. I slept there for a long time, and when I awoke, most of my scars had healed. My cries returned nothing but the shape of a rectangle, silver and impermeable in my mind. Nothing could get in, or get out. In many ways, it was worse than watching that spidery line slowly overtake one wall of my tank, becoming me.

In place of the friendly scars I bore were new scars I did not recognise, marks from teeth I was not familiar with, cut in a place I had never been. All around me were others. They did me no good. I define them here, by traits they have spoken of and traits I have seen. On my body when I slumbered were:

The mark of the Stone Gargoyle, whose inabilities used me;
The mark of the Snake, whose relentless bites took a toll on himself before me;
The mark of the Toothless Lion, whose quiet perversions and broken mind has long ago destroyed him before his ills ever will;
The mark of the Stag, who became hopelessly entwined in something he could never hope to be a part of;
The mark of the Poisoned Dragon, who has sealed herself within herself in a dank, pungent prison;
The mark of the Dog, who put his sheltered faith in the faithlessness itself;
The mark of the Lost Dog, who, having lost himself, seeks forever to covet others' decisions; and
The mark of the High Rabbit, who has closed her mind forever.

These marks are fading, some are deeper cuts than others. These impacts are forever with me, but their damage is being undone. Since, I have awoken anew and come out into the oceans, the seas, the colour!
These are the new, the ones who are behind me, those who are not false and who bear my mark in return:

The mark of the Rough-toothed Dolphin, who has been there longer than memory spans, always swam in other seas, and with whose love and help I have broken darkness;
The mark of the Commerson's Dolphin, who swims upside-down, forgets himself, whose heart is in the right place, who is inside and out; and with whose love and help I have broken darkness;
The mark of the Spotted Dolphin, who bites to teach, who swims alongside caves, who gives choice as a gift, and with whose love and help I have broken darkness;
The mark of the Three-Tailed Fox, whose laughter echoes, who bites to teach, who holds the helmet again, and with whose love and help I have broken darkness;
The mark of the Draft Horse, whose creation inspires, whose generosity does not wane, whose battle for life is endless, and with whose love and help I have broken darkness;
The Eleventh, whose curses and blessings come and go;
And my own mark, which was a long time coming, a long time forgotten, and without which I could never have broken the spell that bound me.
Chemical Balance: busybusy
11 October 2005 @ 10:20 pm
There are broken shards of mirror next to my tank.
Approximately seven of them litter the floor, casting their light into my eyes whenever the sun hits them through the window the right way.

It illuminates the crack. It becomes a blinding gold-silver gash, marring my reflection. My translucent reflection cast over the crack is my head. It looks like there's a glowing crack in my head, leaking something. I need out of this place.

I close my eyes, despite the harsh streak of white my retinas take in from the mirror shards and the crack, and process my data. I stay online as I do most days, and go about my business there.

It was my birthday, and I am now seventeen. I got a new computing unit for entertainment purposes. PlayStation 2.

Ahsha, your icon is done. Please check my "Icons" post, with the tilings of the completed ones.
Chemical Balance: cheerfulcheerful
09 October 2005 @ 02:17 pm
Records show that seventeen years have passed since my first breath.
Seventeen years ago today at 6:47AM GMT -800, I was born.
How lovely.
Chemical Balance: calmcalm
Soundwaves: The Beatles - Today is Your Birthday
06 October 2005 @ 01:40 am
I recently came in contact with one of the most blind beings on the face of this earth.
For what I know, his physical vision is fine... He's just incapable of seeing further than himself.
I find him utterly incomprehensible.

He claims to care for nobody but himself, yet hates himself?
He blames everyone, by wishing death upon them and himself too, yet will not kill himself because he is too afraid.

This confuses me.
Chemical Balance: contemplativecontemplative
Soundwaves: Shivaree - Goodnight Moon