It's a faithless world, and I need saving.
Dec. 9th, 2010 03:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
momebieOriginal fiction.
~750 words.
“I should be dead,” Heeden said. To living people death was often no more than a theory. Everyone around them could die, but as long as they were alive there was still hope. They might still have some quality the others had lacked. They might be able to survive forever. Knowing that she had died and could probably die again made Heeden feel vulnerable and small. It was not a feeling she had time for. She focused on the rage instead. She focused on the fire that had once burned inside of her.
With her fingertip, she traced the scar that ran across the side of her neck. The knife blade had been cold against her skin. On that night the whole world had been cold. She remembered her murderer’s face, the sarcastic little smile and the way the alley shadows had darkened his eyes. When he told her he was going to kill her, his breath had come out in puffs of vapor that danced around his chin and then floated away. Her soul should have followed.
Would you rather be dead?
That was going to take some getting used to, the way the words just cut across her thoughts. “I don’t know.”
Before her death, Heeden hadn’t known about the experiments the government had been running on captured alien consciousnesses. She wished she had. It would have added so much fuel for her little rebel cause. That’s what Aed had always called it. Her little rebel cause. As if the people didn’t stand a chance against the military. The fucker. She was going to kill him.
But for now she needed to figure out how to work with the alien consciousness they’d planted inside her. From what she could tell she was the only human to survive the transplant with her mind intact. Of course, the bodies they’d been working with had generally been longer dead than hers. Perhaps it was just that her soul had still been in the area, had been called back when it sensed life. Two weeks ago she hadn’t believed in souls.
“And what about you?” All she knew about it was that it was called Bravd and that it had been a prisoner on its home planet. That was before they’d shipped it all the way out here in case the humans became a problem. Why dirty the hands of innocents when you could take advantage of those that had already taken advantage of others? Life was the same everywhere. It was knowledge that disappointed Heeden. “I got my life back, but trapped in here with me you’ve just gone from one prison to another. You’ve gotten the raw end of the deal.”
At least here I am afforded some sense of freedom. It is your freedom, but it is freedom nonetheless. I will not be contained in blackness for long stretches of time.
“Maybe,” she said. “We don’t know what happens to you when I die. Again.”
I will simply have to learn to manipulate your limbs.
“That’s probably not a bad idea anyway. Two in a fight is better than one, even if they are sharing the weapon. We’ll work on it.” And then, lightly, as if she’d just thought of it she asked, “How did you keep from going insane?”
I did not. I lost track of everything while I was in the prison. My time there was an uphill battle.
“What did you do? To get you landed there, I mean.”
Does it matter?
“Not really.” She shook her head out of habit. She was going to have to learn to communicate with it more subtly if she was going to use it to her advantage. “How do I keep from going insane? No offense, but I’m still not quite comfortable with the extra conscience. I’ve made it this far without a cricket on my shoulder.”
Maybe insanity is the only option.
That wasn’t good enough. “They need me. All of me.”
Everyone has someone who needs them. But you have to allow yourself to break if you are ever to be strong enough to do what they need you to do. If you do not, you will stay brittle. In your current state you are of use to no one.
She sighed. “An interlude then.”
An interlude.
“Lord, give me strength.” They were empty words. Another habit she’d picked up from the people around her. She never expected an answer. Not knowing this, Bravd gave her one anyway.
Only you can do that, little one.
This entry was written for Topic 6: Not of Your World at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
therealljidol. For those with no context, it's part of a larger work I often call the Big Damn Existential Scifi Novel. All comments are welcome.
~750 words.
“I should be dead,” Heeden said. To living people death was often no more than a theory. Everyone around them could die, but as long as they were alive there was still hope. They might still have some quality the others had lacked. They might be able to survive forever. Knowing that she had died and could probably die again made Heeden feel vulnerable and small. It was not a feeling she had time for. She focused on the rage instead. She focused on the fire that had once burned inside of her.
With her fingertip, she traced the scar that ran across the side of her neck. The knife blade had been cold against her skin. On that night the whole world had been cold. She remembered her murderer’s face, the sarcastic little smile and the way the alley shadows had darkened his eyes. When he told her he was going to kill her, his breath had come out in puffs of vapor that danced around his chin and then floated away. Her soul should have followed.
Would you rather be dead?
That was going to take some getting used to, the way the words just cut across her thoughts. “I don’t know.”
Before her death, Heeden hadn’t known about the experiments the government had been running on captured alien consciousnesses. She wished she had. It would have added so much fuel for her little rebel cause. That’s what Aed had always called it. Her little rebel cause. As if the people didn’t stand a chance against the military. The fucker. She was going to kill him.
But for now she needed to figure out how to work with the alien consciousness they’d planted inside her. From what she could tell she was the only human to survive the transplant with her mind intact. Of course, the bodies they’d been working with had generally been longer dead than hers. Perhaps it was just that her soul had still been in the area, had been called back when it sensed life. Two weeks ago she hadn’t believed in souls.
“And what about you?” All she knew about it was that it was called Bravd and that it had been a prisoner on its home planet. That was before they’d shipped it all the way out here in case the humans became a problem. Why dirty the hands of innocents when you could take advantage of those that had already taken advantage of others? Life was the same everywhere. It was knowledge that disappointed Heeden. “I got my life back, but trapped in here with me you’ve just gone from one prison to another. You’ve gotten the raw end of the deal.”
At least here I am afforded some sense of freedom. It is your freedom, but it is freedom nonetheless. I will not be contained in blackness for long stretches of time.
“Maybe,” she said. “We don’t know what happens to you when I die. Again.”
I will simply have to learn to manipulate your limbs.
“That’s probably not a bad idea anyway. Two in a fight is better than one, even if they are sharing the weapon. We’ll work on it.” And then, lightly, as if she’d just thought of it she asked, “How did you keep from going insane?”
I did not. I lost track of everything while I was in the prison. My time there was an uphill battle.
“What did you do? To get you landed there, I mean.”
Does it matter?
“Not really.” She shook her head out of habit. She was going to have to learn to communicate with it more subtly if she was going to use it to her advantage. “How do I keep from going insane? No offense, but I’m still not quite comfortable with the extra conscience. I’ve made it this far without a cricket on my shoulder.”
Maybe insanity is the only option.
That wasn’t good enough. “They need me. All of me.”
Everyone has someone who needs them. But you have to allow yourself to break if you are ever to be strong enough to do what they need you to do. If you do not, you will stay brittle. In your current state you are of use to no one.
She sighed. “An interlude then.”
An interlude.
“Lord, give me strength.” They were empty words. Another habit she’d picked up from the people around her. She never expected an answer. Not knowing this, Bravd gave her one anyway.
Only you can do that, little one.
This entry was written for Topic 6: Not of Your World at
therealljidol. For those with no context, it's part of a larger work I often call the Big Damn Existential Scifi Novel. All comments are welcome.
