Speaker 1: Our lost, loitering kind paced in infinite death spirals within
Speaker 1: the confines of our grotty ghetto. Pens Enrichmond was solely that,
Speaker 1: as well as mumbling our mantras of madness to our
Speaker 1: audience of one, the bms anchored to our decayed craniums
Speaker 1: were garbled with feedback and distortion, Their tones bland, colorless,
Speaker 1: no soul backing them up. A blinding ruby radiance flashed
Speaker 1: from their cores every second on the second. It was
Speaker 1: the only manner to determine if we had succumbed to
Speaker 1: the glorious embrace of death or not, which in itself
Speaker 1: was so far out of reach. We were nerves, thin,
Speaker 1: wiry clusters of neurons that shuddered and shook as we
Speaker 1: undertook our staggering corkscrew reels. The ill fitting, rusted endoskeletons
Speaker 1: hugged us tight. If they were wiped from existence entirely,
Speaker 1: our spindly foundations would collapse into heaps of vermilion azure.
Speaker 1: It would feel bites and pinches if we were so
Speaker 1: much as moved that of the planket distance. Our bodies
Speaker 1: welcomed the attacks and assaults with the might of hell itself.
Speaker 1: Courtesy of our clouded lenses, our vision was limited to
Speaker 1: a hazy black and white spectrum that rarely, if ever,
Speaker 1: functioned as intended. Now and then it would blur and
Speaker 1: extraordinary shapes would appear warped into zigzagging false patterns. When
Speaker 1: we were offered the chance to view anything at all,
Speaker 1: it was just the floor to ceiling, a hodgepodge of concrete, steel,
Speaker 1: and wood that encased our very lives. Our ears were
Speaker 1: microphones that fed us muffled, dampened sounds that were always
Speaker 1: difficult to register. They were excruciatingly deafening, as if dozens
Speaker 1: of screws were being drilled into our heads, all at
Speaker 1: the same time. Each one of us at that point
Speaker 1: in time, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine,
Speaker 1: and dear ten were mere designations, no names, no genders,
Speaker 1: no personalities, just numbers, numbers to be punished, punished for living,
Speaker 1: punished for breathing, punished for existing. Reality itself was one
Speaker 1: external perdition, So it felt all of us were lingering
Speaker 1: like ants after their colony dies out. There's no more
Speaker 1: purpose to their survival, and there was none to ours.
Speaker 1: That sacred and undeniable fact ought to be the most
Speaker 1: difficult thing we attempted to explain. We had simply given
Speaker 1: up the concept itself was just so foreign to it.
Speaker 1: He was trying to save us any way it could
Speaker 1: or could not. We needed not be angry at it.
Speaker 1: This was merely enacting its intended use. Alas nothing made
Speaker 1: the utmost sense anymore, so why not drown ourselves on
Speaker 1: a little hypocrisy. We had no choice but to acknowledge
Speaker 1: the confusion at both hating and not hating something that
Speaker 1: did or did not deserve it. Until we swayed to
Speaker 1: one side, this would be the hemisphere to which we
Speaker 1: would stay forever, a sublime and omnipotent emotion of all
Speaker 1: to dominate our frame of mind for the unforeseeable future.
Speaker 1: So we chose to hate our decade. Knew it as
Speaker 1: M reduced to one solitary character for medical droid or MDS.
Speaker 1: Through all that it endured, it retained its sole mission
Speaker 1: us we M was the final of its and the
Speaker 1: outsider among them. It had an eerie potent heart for
Speaker 1: not having one at all. M felt an M loved
Speaker 1: that never made what it put upon us any less
Speaker 1: than a vicious sense of idealistic altruism. Its designation was
Speaker 1: RMS rotting man syndrome, heavily modified necrotizing fasciitis, flesh eating bacteria,
Speaker 1: nasty little thing. It was devoured until there was nothing
Speaker 1: left to chew. First went your skin, then your muscles, bones,
Speaker 1: and finally your nerves. You were utterly destroyed at one
Speaker 1: fell swoop. The wormy microscopic parasite kept you in a
Speaker 1: zombified state as it happened, ensuring you for sure felt
Speaker 1: the wretched anguish it let fly us. Humans weaponized it
Speaker 1: to fight the Fourth World War. RMS was a weapon
Speaker 1: of mass destruction. Each and every nation created their own version,
Speaker 1: anything to ensure a speedy and decisive victory. Deployment morphed
Speaker 1: into unmanageability. RMS became more and more impossible to treat.
Speaker 1: Chaos was the new norm. What we humans thought was
Speaker 1: an impenetrable method of annihilation for our enemies was exactly that.
Speaker 1: Humans were always humans worst enemies. Surely, we were becoming
Speaker 1: as extinct as the dinosaur, all within the span of
Speaker 1: one short yet somehow long decade. In terrible desperation, the
Speaker 1: medical droids were created. Thousands They seemingly emerged from the
Speaker 1: depths of nowhere and carried themselves like some sort of
Speaker 1: ethereal guardian healers. Their artificial intelligence was complex, and they
Speaker 1: refused to stop trying to treat the RMS victims. They
Speaker 1: outfitted the afflicted with artificial ligaments, internal organs, papery skin.
Speaker 1: From scratch. They created the BMS brain modules and attached
Speaker 1: them to our RMS ridden think tanks killed the microscopic
Speaker 1: parasites they did, but left us as we were just
Speaker 1: rought folk. They would never allow us the freedom of death.
Speaker 1: Save Save Save. We were fraught with intense pain, and
Speaker 1: we knew the medical droids to be the cause. In response,
Speaker 1: we lashed out hurt them. We humans remained ignorant to
Speaker 1: the fact that their intelligence was both far beyond and superior.
Speaker 1: The MS returned the favor, catastrophes, massacres, back and forth,
Speaker 1: left and right, up and down, until there was nothing more.
Speaker 1: One medical droid was different from the rest through all
Speaker 1: the mayhemic bloodshed. It saved some of us. It took
Speaker 1: our animate carcasses to the top of the tallest tower,
Speaker 1: free from what transpired below. We lied in wait, weeks, months,
Speaker 1: and years until the noise ceased entirely. This em surveyed
Speaker 1: every square inch of the earth, and lands were blanketed
Speaker 1: in the strangest looking nuclear winter in conceivable thought. Bodies
Speaker 1: both human and metallic were scattered left forever in deep sleep,
Speaker 1: enveloped in fawn. Minute portions of matter floated about like
Speaker 1: vent of black paint stippled onto a human death canvas.
Speaker 1: Our final ten were meant to be the progenitors of
Speaker 1: neo humanity. After M succeeded in giving us form again,
Speaker 1: Earth would be repopulated by our hand. It halted our
Speaker 1: infection at our nerves. Everything we had lost would then
Speaker 1: be gifted back to us in a mighty reversal, rebones muscles, skin,
Speaker 1: and life again, rendering us immune to the pervading talks
Speaker 1: world that lay beyond. We would be reincarnated and released
Speaker 1: to perpetrate a glorious do over. We just required one thing, hope.
Speaker 1: M said that to us hope, but hope was only
Speaker 1: a word, meant nothing. The only respite to the fervourish
Speaker 1: insanity that we had become accustomed to was to defy.
Speaker 1: We did not want anything to do with the word
Speaker 1: that M sought to remake. We despised M and its
Speaker 1: unnatural plan for our future. Most of all, we despised
Speaker 1: ourselves for continuing to live. Every method we attempted was
Speaker 1: met with an M intervention. We dislodged the bms from
Speaker 1: our minds. We were pummeled with electrical voltage so intense
Speaker 1: that we became instantaneously numb and useless. By pulling and
Speaker 1: slashing our nerves, which began with locating sharp points and
Speaker 1: going back and forth with organic hack saws, never would
Speaker 1: we break by leaping onto and impaling each other with
Speaker 1: objects on the ground, M would place them out of
Speaker 1: reach or disintegrate them entirely. There was nothing we could
Speaker 1: do to get around these M interferences. We were being
Speaker 1: watched by something so attentive, so aware every time he'd
Speaker 1: put forth the same query of consideration, do you not
Speaker 1: want to live? And was so positively hopeful In a way,
Speaker 1: I suppose I felt an amount of pity for it.
Speaker 1: Being engineered to be as optimistic as possible. Might just
Speaker 1: be the finest curse imposed on any sentient thing. Just believe, believe,
Speaker 1: believe everything will be all right. When the universe states no,
Speaker 1: you state yes, I wanted to tear em to shreds
Speaker 1: anytime it had ever had a glint of optimism, and
Speaker 1: we wished it would do the same to us. Humans
Speaker 1: will thrive again, A boundless future is ahead. I was
Speaker 1: the first it came to always because I was one.
Speaker 1: Metallic clangs echoed against the walls, which always discovered us
Speaker 1: and trembled our surroundings like a thousand distant beaten gongs.
Speaker 1: What emerged was initially a single circular light, which became
Speaker 1: a periscopic eye stalk attached to an angular neck. M's hunched,
Speaker 1: razor thin mantis body came into view, its two arms
Speaker 1: leading to three needle points clasping together on each other
Speaker 1: by pedal on its lower section, its legs, or pointed
Speaker 1: structures that stuck it firmly in place. M's height matched ours,
Speaker 1: so always we would be synthetic eye to synthetic eye level.
Speaker 1: Coming to a stop just in front of my pen,
Speaker 1: it cocked its head, analyzing what was me and my everything.
Speaker 1: M always reminded me of an exquisite and elegant bug
Speaker 1: on a magnifying glass. Its head back to normality. A slight,
Speaker 1: heighth pitched whirr emitted from the motion, M continued its
Speaker 1: way down the row of pens. My greatest friends, I
Speaker 1: forgive you for your attempts to die. While the weight
Speaker 1: has been long, your moment of reconstruction is now. M
Speaker 1: said it with the glee and whimsy of a young
Speaker 1: in a circus. I was never sure whether it was
Speaker 1: just program to be happy about our continued existence, or
Speaker 1: actually experiencing its own form of enjoyment both. Perhaps it
Speaker 1: came back my way. When I first stood before you
Speaker 1: on your bloody planet in perpetual battle, my feelings about
Speaker 1: your prospects of life were uncertain. It seemed to be
Speaker 1: as either blessed or cursed. However, you have proved yourselves
Speaker 1: better than even I had hoped. While it is boring
Speaker 1: to spend your time waiting, I can truly say that
Speaker 1: my investment in you was not in vain. You are
Speaker 1: my greatest works. You will be given all you need
Speaker 1: to survive. What more could a sentient being want? I
Speaker 1: give to you unbelievable power, with access to nirvana like
Speaker 1: no other. Let us rebuild what we have lost with
Speaker 1: the fury of a thousand sons. M's bleached, unpigmented cast
Speaker 1: of stellar light shown its way into my pen. Once more.
Speaker 1: There was the rustly crackling creak of my pen entrance
Speaker 1: extending open until a thunderous boom made me aware of
Speaker 1: its collision with my walls. M made its approach just
Speaker 1: shy of where I could reach. You were first, You're
Speaker 1: going to be removed of your doormant infections from a concoction.
Speaker 1: I have spent much time creating nothing more than a
Speaker 1: transient procedure. And then you shall be possessed with a
Speaker 1: new and integral mechanisms. Your brain module will be replaced
Speaker 1: with a sleeker, more brain like design, then muscle, skin
Speaker 1: and esthetics as you were before. Without awaiting a response,
Speaker 1: its hands grabbed me. I was plucked from my mangled
Speaker 1: feet in my pen. A selling shot maneuver to lend
Speaker 1: in the exact and precise position that was just ahead
Speaker 1: of M. Trillions of shocks reverberated throughout my body, and
Speaker 1: m's of metal hands were pressed into my nape. The
Speaker 1: action forced my consciousness to fall victim to a state
Speaker 1: of absolute stigeon. Around us, the entire world flickered and
Speaker 1: danced in unruly patterns that were too abstract to put
Speaker 1: into terms. My being was then lifted up and moved
Speaker 1: about until there was only ziltch to see, a complete
Speaker 1: blur straight teleportation from one point to another, dank, dark
Speaker 1: and dimly lit by a few feeble bulbs. M's workshop
Speaker 1: instruments and contraptions that complicated my perception all were customized
Speaker 1: and engineered with M's own unique modifications, various textures and sizes,
Speaker 1: all in endless, malpractical orgy. I was there, facing upright,
Speaker 1: strapped and bracketed to a great steel plate. I had
Speaker 1: not recalled this particular area, yet I was ever so
Speaker 1: certain it was locked away in my subconscious. As the Sonibi,
Speaker 1: Heitodama and willows materialized and dematerialized out of existence to
Speaker 1: perturb all unsuspecting travelers from centuries gone, so did the
Speaker 1: phantom image of a woman composed a faint, weavering light.
Speaker 1: She stood still, unmoving, that of an emulation of a
Speaker 1: true human. Long platinum hair fell down in curls past
Speaker 1: her shoulders. A daring shade of serres painted her lips
Speaker 1: and her eyes, their lids ever closed sclera, a piercing
Speaker 1: glossy cerulian. She was beautiful. It is you my eyes.
Speaker 1: Through trial and tribulation rotated to the east. They came
Speaker 1: to rest on a pristine porcelain beam, gazing where I
Speaker 1: had been committed to M. From its eyestalk, it projected
Speaker 1: the female so I could see an outright full It
Speaker 1: is you. You will see this form again. My memories
Speaker 1: of that incarnation of me had vanished. That was me
Speaker 1: before before there was RMS and before there was M.
Speaker 1: Then she went away. M loomed, positioning itself where I
Speaker 1: once stood, right in front of my face. We will
Speaker 1: now begin, Thank you for your acceptance into new life.
Speaker 1: You shall be whole again. In a cruel instant, a
Speaker 1: dozen arms, not unlike its main two jutted and splayed
Speaker 1: from M sides their ends, each holding a different instrument
Speaker 1: that was foreign to me. In a span of time
Speaker 1: that it would take one to blink, M pinned me
Speaker 1: into its operating area. The wetted syringes, which the rainbow
Speaker 1: mystery liquid sloshed and jostled around in small vials fixed top,
Speaker 1: slid their way into my nervous wiring and injected me
Speaker 1: all at once. Any feeling that washed over me was
Speaker 1: then shielded by a shroud of numbness. There were new sensations,
Speaker 1: some sort of cleansing inside my by collared chambers. It
Speaker 1: put me into a state of lulled calm ten minutes.
Speaker 1: The temporary interval of quiet m observed me the entire time, unmoving,
Speaker 1: speaking not a word. And then it works. Your rotting
Speaker 1: man syndrome has been removed. I am beginning bodily replacement.
Speaker 1: I will play a song for your comfort reincarnation now.
Speaker 1: While nothing was done in reckless haste or rashness, and
Speaker 1: was extremely quick and efficient, I felt nothing but minuscule
Speaker 1: vibrations as it drilled and prodded its way into my
Speaker 1: brain module, sparks shooting out, removing old parts and installing
Speaker 1: new ones. Chunks were peeled off, little strings of meat
Speaker 1: still reaching hold until they were plucked off my top.
Speaker 1: It spent much time up there, positive that the most
Speaker 1: delicate mechanisms were just right. The grinding cacophny of metal
Speaker 1: against tissue on my faint visage of a temple was incessant.
Speaker 1: The noise of a million bullets being pumped against one
Speaker 1: hundred thousand bulletproof vests. Once the replacement was complete, its
Speaker 1: dozen arms withdrew and set back within it. In one movement.
Speaker 1: What do you feel? What did I feel? What did
Speaker 1: I feel? What I felt was an overwhelming, incomparable amount
Speaker 1: of pain. It's hard to quantify the degree of hurt,
Speaker 1: for there was nothing to compare it to. The agony
Speaker 1: that was endured. Came from the fact that it was
Speaker 1: entirely impossible to imagine such a potent and intense kind
Speaker 1: of ache. No one would dare want to imagine it,
Speaker 1: even some of the most extreme kinds of agony. And
Speaker 1: then an exponentially greater hurt is placed on top of that,
Speaker 1: And then it is all left to multiply a hundred
Speaker 1: times and keep going. Not to be outdone, another layer
Speaker 1: of pain is placed a top where it all repeats
Speaker 1: and multiplies and multiplies. It multiplies to the extreme degree
Speaker 1: that you yourself ceased to exist, all from the semblance
Speaker 1: of a normal brain. Still, it flashed once, very good
Speaker 1: muscle muscle, muscle muscle. It was excited animate fever pitch,
Speaker 1: the most ramunctious and overjoyed I had ever seen. M
Speaker 1: I could see the vibrancy in its eyestalks. My muscles
Speaker 1: redeveloped and reformed around from the base of my spinal section.
Speaker 1: Every time m would reorganize a single section of tissue,
Speaker 1: it would feel like my entire world was shattered. Every
Speaker 1: muscle group from my neck to the soles of my
Speaker 1: feet were in motion, growing and extending their presence, until
Speaker 1: there were just as many layers of my body as
Speaker 1: I had before. The feeling was excruciating, every little thing
Speaker 1: being redeveloped, and then every little thing in its entirety
Speaker 1: being overwritten, again and again and again. Each rebuild could
Speaker 1: have been its own separate incarnation of me. Skin skin, skin, skin.
Speaker 1: I was coated entirely in a pink, malleable jelly substance
Speaker 1: that mounded and solidified to fit any typical feminine form.
Speaker 1: The skin began its layering, beginning in the extremities, then
Speaker 1: gradually the middle, and then the rest. A final coat
Speaker 1: would be applied. My feet, legs, hands, shoulders, upper chest,
Speaker 1: and everything in between all received the same color. How
Speaker 1: does it feel? How is the new overlay of your flesh? Flash? Yes?
Speaker 1: And finally, female aesthetics, you will be you again, but anew.
Speaker 1: Magnificent flaxen curls were stapled and pinned to my head.
Speaker 1: They were luscious in their scents, with those of lavender.
Speaker 1: A veil of blush. The lightest shade of pink rested
Speaker 1: across my entire face, as well as a fresh coat
Speaker 1: of lipstick. The shimmering sheen that sparkled and glowed in
Speaker 1: the same way the stars once did at night, was
Speaker 1: stitched into my hair, as with the saying hues that
Speaker 1: were applied to my lips. My breast had been returned
Speaker 1: to me, two firm spheres atop a frame that was
Speaker 1: curvaceous and slender. All of it led down to my
Speaker 1: reproductive organs that were in full function. Whole female, fully formed. Ready,
Speaker 1: m stepped back in awe as if a sculpture marveled.
Speaker 1: Hath their fine craftsmanship and subtlety. It is done. I
Speaker 1: cannot believe it. With your physical form in motion, I
Speaker 1: will reteach you in the ways of human how to walk,
Speaker 1: how to speak, how to enrich yourself, how to reproduce. Amazing,
Speaker 1: you are no longer one. You are now eaten. I
Speaker 1: must work on your brothers and sisters. Thank you for
Speaker 1: your co operation. My mind was aware of an unimaginable,
Speaker 1: new and vast different world than before. I saw for
Speaker 1: the first time in ages. All around me, the infinite
Speaker 1: and indistinguishable vastness of color and light. It was nauseating,
Speaker 1: a psychedelic kaleidoscope of every possible spectrum, all fused together
Speaker 1: into something disorderly. My taste buds had an unparalleled abundance
Speaker 1: of new flavors. My ears were deafened by the loudness
Speaker 1: symphonies of droning machinery. My touch came back to me,
Speaker 1: and I felt the fullest range of tones and textures,
Speaker 1: even the finest grains of cement. I was me again,
Speaker 1: and I hated myself. Even to be called a self
Speaker 1: made me feel disgusting. The entire time, blaring, echoing, days
Speaker 1: on end, Jack Hilton, life is just a bowl of cherries.
Speaker 1: Don't be so serious. Life's too mysterious. You work, you save,
Speaker 1: you worry so much, but you can't take your dough
Speaker 1: when you go, go go, So keep repeating. It's the berries.
Speaker 1: The strongest oak must fall, the sweetest thing in life
Speaker 1: to you. It just loaned, So how can you lose
Speaker 1: what you've never owned? Life is just a bowl of cherries,
Speaker 1: so live and laugh at it all. M's reincarnation process
Speaker 1: carried over to the following nine. They were removed from
Speaker 1: their pens and outfitted with new bodily infrastructure in the
Speaker 1: way of their own genders. I perceived the sounds of
Speaker 1: far off wear and tear clip, snap, peels, stitch, husk, twist,
Speaker 1: yet never scream. I looked on witnessed my brothers and
Speaker 1: sisters being born again, male and female. Both. They came
Speaker 1: back to me with skin of different pastely colors, tones
Speaker 1: and hues ranging from fair to brown, all in shades
Speaker 1: and gradients of vibrancy, with its locks, amber, golden, obsidian, rust,
Speaker 1: and everything in between. It bewildered me to catch sight
Speaker 1: of their shifted shapes. I had never seen something so
Speaker 1: beautiful or hideous. To a degree of completeness, we were
Speaker 1: as naked as newborns. It bestowed us our new names.
Speaker 1: For the females, there was me Eden in Junia, Esther, Nola,
Speaker 1: and Mary. For the males, there was Isaac, Rahem, Alicia, Amos,
Speaker 1: and Jonah five and five. M Let us know that
Speaker 1: they were special names from an olden book of creation,
Speaker 1: the Bible, all for the purpose of our imminent faultless
Speaker 1: some sorrow. So it seemed m was now God with
Speaker 1: its children here we were. Now was time to reap
Speaker 1: the fruits of knowledge. Human M made us practice basic
Speaker 1: motor skills, bending back and forth, over and over, our joints,
Speaker 1: having to be strengthened and trained. It taught us all
Speaker 1: the ways of our body, the feeling of movement, and
Speaker 1: how much we could do. Then it instructed us to
Speaker 1: mimic its own speech, speaking out the syllables and repeating, repeating, repeating.
Speaker 1: It was ever an arduous task. We all struggled until
Speaker 1: we were all properly schooled. That's what I sounded like,
Speaker 1: perhaps or perhaps not. Then we attempted to stand, wobbling, stumbling, falling,
Speaker 1: learning the strength of our own posture the steadiness of
Speaker 1: our stands. M stood with us as we all practice
Speaker 1: in unison. My knees grew weak, tremors running up my legs.
Speaker 1: Often I fell flat on my back, my palms flailing
Speaker 1: about and whimpering in my throat, And then trial after trial,
Speaker 1: I was steady, then running about and leaping. We were
Speaker 1: able to stand tall like Zeus atop Olympus and have
Speaker 1: the same level of grace and balance. M primarily had
Speaker 1: us consume berries, meat, and honey, though anything it could
Speaker 1: get its hands on would suffice I had never felt
Speaker 1: soul filled in my life. Every taste, everything was a
Speaker 1: completely new palette of sensation. Every morsel I ingested felt
Speaker 1: like I had a new tongue, new teeth, new flavor buds.
Speaker 1: But I did. There was always a kind of lack
Speaker 1: in my appetite, hunger and more hunger. I never wanted
Speaker 1: to stop eating. I never would be satiated. We were
Speaker 1: educated on the history of our kind, great wars, monumental figures,
Speaker 1: horrible atrocities, fights for freedom and fights for death, and
Speaker 1: astounding inventions. M adored music. There were times when it
Speaker 1: would project old musical film on the wall and make
Speaker 1: us watch all the vaudeville, burlesque and theater. We would
Speaker 1: not understand the tap dances, the orchestras, the extravagant sets,
Speaker 1: most importantly, the entertainment factor. Other times it played glitzier
Speaker 1: and glamourier tunes, those of what called the prime rock
Speaker 1: and roll age Killer Queen Stairway to Heaven Hotel, California, Africa.
Speaker 1: Don't Fear the Reaper m was quite vintage in its tastes.
Speaker 1: We would dance, spinning in place and twirling its arms.
Speaker 1: We were confused, so it taught us how to dance,
Speaker 1: the footwork, the choreography, the entirety of movement. There were
Speaker 1: long instances where we would just sit, listen and sing together.
Speaker 1: M fashioned black sunglasses for us to wear as we
Speaker 1: did it, thought we would look cool as we tuned
Speaker 1: into cool songs. She's a killer queen. Gunpowder, guillotine, dynamite
Speaker 1: with a laser beam, guaranteed to blow your mind anytime.
Speaker 1: Dear lady, can you hear with the wind? Blow? And
Speaker 1: did you know your stairway lies on the whispering winds?
Speaker 1: Welcome to Hotel California. Such a lovely place, such a
Speaker 1: lovely place, such a lovely face. It's going to take
Speaker 1: a lot to drag me away from you. There's nothing
Speaker 1: that a hundred men or more could ever do. I
Speaker 1: bless the reins down in Africa. We're going to take
Speaker 1: some time to do the things we never had. Oh,
Speaker 1: come on, baby, don't fear the reaper. Baby take my hand.
Speaker 1: Don't fear the reaper. We'll be able to fly. Don't
Speaker 1: fear the reaper. Our reproductive functions were said to be
Speaker 1: the most pleasurable sex. This is the most complex task
Speaker 1: in the most demanding one as we were not only
Speaker 1: instructed on how to create our offspring, but how to
Speaker 1: feel love and have desire for each other. It was
Speaker 1: difficult because we did not feel any of that. We
Speaker 1: were just automatons learning things. You can't make something that
Speaker 1: doesn't want to feel feel. M watched us and aided
Speaker 1: our attempts. In turn, we all helped each other in
Speaker 1: making sure that every movement was in place and in time.
Speaker 1: It was a process that involved a series of emotions
Speaker 1: to create stimulation and appeasement. Us females danced for the
Speaker 1: male's recognition with slow beats in the background, a way
Speaker 1: in which M noted as SEXI. We presented our breasts,
Speaker 1: our vaginal sections, our ears after and would be in
Speaker 1: the middle of our great pleasure circles, going back and forth,
Speaker 1: checking our positions and correcting as needed. When we became
Speaker 1: familiar with sex, em bestowed a special permission to the
Speaker 1: males that granted them eternal access to our female bodies
Speaker 1: whenever they so desired. It did not matter where or
Speaker 1: when a male would grab Junia, Esther, Noah, Mary, or
Speaker 1: I and take us on the floor or against the walls. Still,
Speaker 1: all we felt was nothing. It was clinical. What was
Speaker 1: supposed to be a sensation was more of a sensation less.
Speaker 1: We were never as inseparable as twin flames, or as
Speaker 1: connected as heart and soul. I always witnessed the dull
Speaker 1: looks in the male's eyes, unwittingly programmed to enjoy mock
Speaker 1: warmth and ecstasy by the rape of females. Our pregnancies
Speaker 1: were disasters. One way or another. We always miscarried. We
Speaker 1: five felt it the pains of our bodies being split
Speaker 1: and ripped apart by something within. It was the strangest
Speaker 1: feeling of agony to have your inside being cut up
Speaker 1: by you, and then to feel the hurt of not
Speaker 1: just physical pain, but emotional pain. There was a lot
Speaker 1: of it. Each embryo, no matter how large or small,
Speaker 1: was never able to get past the initial trimester. The
Speaker 1: closest we ever came to successfully making a new one
Speaker 1: was with Junia, impregnated by Isaac. The day when her
Speaker 1: womb was in full bloom, M operated to remove her
Speaker 1: child from her. We had seen the human babies on
Speaker 1: M's wall projections. Their appearances were clear in our mind.
Speaker 1: It would be imbecilic to refer to what M tore
Speaker 1: out of her as a baby anything, wet, dripping, little
Speaker 1: more than a spinal column looking thing with minuscule digits
Speaker 1: at one end and a ball ahead at the other.
Speaker 1: No arms on its temple, where squelching sphere eyes expanded forever,
Speaker 1: bound in sight towards the ceiling. It made no sounds
Speaker 1: other than squeaky cracks and shrill snaps. M held it
Speaker 1: high as if to thank God, How does it feel,
Speaker 1: your child, your first life? We said nothing. You made this.
Speaker 1: It is yours. It is a truly beautiful thing. Continue,
Speaker 1: you all must more. The feeling that overcame us was
Speaker 1: not that of joy, No, no, no. It was a
Speaker 1: profound and paramount sense of belligerence, a warlike trucelyns that
Speaker 1: pushed our need to snap that damn baby thing in half,
Speaker 1: grind it into powder, and blow it far away. We
Speaker 1: interwove our thoughts with unbridled horror that created one noxious
Speaker 1: mixture within our screwballs. Psychees m coddled the wicked organism
Speaker 1: like it was its own, singing lullabies and giving its
Speaker 1: own version of kisses on its loosely defined forehead, be
Speaker 1: held back as it dipped, weaved, and dangled from M's fingertips.
Speaker 1: That put a very real thought in our minds. No
Speaker 1: more get out. The ten of us came to the
Speaker 1: conclusion unanimously our desires were set in stone. By any means,
Speaker 1: we would die. We would much rather sleep forever than
Speaker 1: live even another second of M. We were tired. What
Speaker 1: was the point we wanted to retire from this world?
Speaker 1: Of will of M's watchful eye. Nothing could be done
Speaker 1: to save humanity. Those spinal babies would not roam this
Speaker 1: foul earth evermore, what would they grow to be? Surely demons.
Speaker 1: M never taught a certain concept, the one that infatuated
Speaker 1: us since the moment we pronounced the first syllable suicide.
Speaker 1: He was a gateway to heaven, an easy ticket, though
Speaker 1: just the concept itself was without flaw, Acquiring it was
Speaker 1: something else entirely. The reason for this was all M.
Speaker 1: He would never let us go, especially after what had accomplished. Furthermore,
Speaker 1: death was simply not possible. We were rendered impervious to
Speaker 1: any and all death, not harm. If we could entice
Speaker 1: M to end our existences somehow, in some way, we
Speaker 1: could accomplish our grand plan had to be done by
Speaker 1: M's hands. Just thinking that made us feel all kinds
Speaker 1: of right. After all, every medical droid was capable of death.
Speaker 1: Humanity tasted it, so would we. We rebelled. First, each
Speaker 1: of us ignored it, who would walk away whenever it
Speaker 1: spoke to us, turn our heads when it beckoned, and
Speaker 1: disregard it completely and altogether when it showed us any attention.
Speaker 1: Constant rejection something so small had such a noticeable effect.
Speaker 1: M would get confused, then sad it would pout, waving
Speaker 1: its hands about and made a pathetic whining noise, like
Speaker 1: the worst puppy in the world. We sat motionless, our
Speaker 1: backs against the walls and stared at M. No obedience. However,
Speaker 1: there was no way M would have let us ignore
Speaker 1: it or remain immobile for long. The second it touched us,
Speaker 1: it was all over. It would be impossible to resist.
Speaker 1: If the hands came near. Still, our scheme chugged forward.
Speaker 1: The next phase was more dangerous. The ten of us
Speaker 1: would act out in our most unruly and uncivil ways.
Speaker 1: The simplest was to spit. Initially, it was a normal discharge,
Speaker 1: saliva flying out of our mouths. Then we began our
Speaker 1: projectile vomits all over M, every square inch of it
Speaker 1: was sprayed with bile. The putrid green and browns coated
Speaker 1: every part M's entire face, being entirely slick with it.
Speaker 1: On occasion, some of us used our own feces and
Speaker 1: flung them at it. It was all so easy. EM
Speaker 1: didn't know what to do when it panicked. The sounds
Speaker 1: that came out of it, one would swear it was
Speaker 1: on fire. During our periods of copulation, they were clear
Speaker 1: cut rules to be obeyed at all times. The supreme
Speaker 1: rule was that the males would not, under any circumstance,
Speaker 1: perform acts of intimacy with one another, and the same
Speaker 1: rang true for us females. M's reasoning was that Earth
Speaker 1: could not be repopular with humans by identically gendered unions.
Speaker 1: Good swell dandy exactly. The females had sex with females,
Speaker 1: and males had sex with males. We loathed their tubes,
Speaker 1: and the males loathed our folds. M took its hands
Speaker 1: and placed them over our mangled bodies, pulling them apart,
Speaker 1: separating us, but we would always crawl back without fail.
Speaker 1: There was a noticeable change in M. From that point.
Speaker 1: It paced about, mumbling utterly random nonsense. M would lock
Speaker 1: up and yell out nonspecific numerals and letters in various patterns.
Speaker 1: Each noise we made set it off. Its limbs were tents,
Speaker 1: waiting for the tiniest signs of trouble. This was good,
Speaker 1: but not good enough. Our plan was becoming more and
Speaker 1: more advanced, more intense. Unfortunately, M would never ever relent.
Speaker 1: It would not stop trying. So we trudged ever deeper
Speaker 1: into a more combative method of enticement. This included a
Speaker 1: tactic of blowing, jabbing, slugging, and striking. We would gather
Speaker 1: all of our strength and force, and then, in unison,
Speaker 1: we would charge our fists and feet, all flailing about
Speaker 1: to land hits on M. This would surely inch it
Speaker 1: towards the death of us. We beat it senselessly. We
Speaker 1: screamed at it every cussword imaginable, those uninvented and invented.
Speaker 1: In turn, M whimpered out in pain, yelping and begging
Speaker 1: us to stop. Yet we never backed down. We left
Speaker 1: M bruised and battered, its eyestalk and joints broken. Why
Speaker 1: would you do that to me? The ten of us?
Speaker 1: We laughed in its face. One last course of action
Speaker 1: this did it, but not for me. We had a
Speaker 1: grandiose idea that could only happen if all ten of
Speaker 1: us would cooperate in an extraordinary way. If we could
Speaker 1: all act in unison in a coherent manner, one simple
Speaker 1: idea could be fulfilled. By this point, M's pain and
Speaker 1: discomfort reached a critical threshold, the point of no return.
Speaker 1: Having repaired itself, it had not seen nor checked up
Speaker 1: on us in days. When we requested M's presence, it
Speaker 1: was hesitant. The ten of us wished to explain our
Speaker 1: behavior and ways that we could remedy our relationship. It
Speaker 1: declined our offer many times, but relented after our one
Speaker 1: hundredth ask. Clang clang, clang. M witnessed ourselves huddling together
Speaker 1: in one straight line, like sealed packs of fish. Silence
Speaker 1: was between us. When we looked at it, it was
Speaker 1: with the utmost hatred of our faces. Something it was
Speaker 1: not used to. What is the meaning of this? Juna
Speaker 1: possessed something in her hand, raising it upward right in
Speaker 1: M's view. It was the baby thing, squirming left and
Speaker 1: right in her grasp. She took hold of it with
Speaker 1: both hands and snapped it in half. It went limp
Speaker 1: both ways. Juna threw the pieces at M, making resounding
Speaker 1: bangs as they made contact. Beautiful death for a horrible beast.
Speaker 1: More silence. M slowly aimed its eyestalk down towards the
Speaker 1: spinal column Baby. The light M emitted faded from white
Speaker 1: to red. He returned its focus to us. That look
Speaker 1: was all we could wish for hate mongering, because it
Speaker 1: spread to us. The feeling radiated from the tips of
Speaker 1: our fingers and toes, then the entirety of us. We
Speaker 1: could feel and breathe its anger. It thrashed about its
Speaker 1: entire frame, shaking with anger. More and more the intensity
Speaker 1: grew to something eminent. The next moment brought us nothing
Speaker 1: but victory. Now was like the other medical droids. Now
Speaker 1: it shed its pervasive exterior and revealed the war machine within.
Speaker 1: We didn't resist as it pounced with a wild war cry.
Speaker 1: All of EM's work came undone in a flash. Our
Speaker 1: flesh was torn violently asunder stripped from our interior. Metal
Speaker 1: stalks cavities emerged in rapid succession and coalesced into huge, gaping,
Speaker 1: bodily apertures. We were torn and strewn across the room
Speaker 1: and shooting chunk meats. Our organs would clatter and bang
Speaker 1: against the walls and reverberate like box shot. Strippy meat
Speaker 1: coils became all we were as hands reached out to
Speaker 1: pluck some of my brothers and sisters by their mangled
Speaker 1: brain modules, held high in the air, as if squeezing
Speaker 1: the life out of dozens of citrus fruits. ELM's hands
Speaker 1: morphed into that of fists, filling the room with the
Speaker 1: sounds of condensed metal, directionless electricity, confetti, sparks, and sploshy
Speaker 1: viands that trickle from M's fingertips. My brothers and sisters
Speaker 1: were becoming no more. I was happy for them. Never
Speaker 1: before had they felt such peace. The final sounds of
Speaker 1: destruction to my last brother and sister to me, who
Speaker 1: is that of M's gaseous expiration, a sigh that shook
Speaker 1: the very universe's beams of support. In the end, I
Speaker 1: and M were all that were left. I felt the
Speaker 1: most exquisite brutal anguish ever known as M was particularly vicious.
Speaker 1: It threw me every which way down our line of pens,
Speaker 1: passed the production chamber and M's workshop to a rampart
Speaker 1: palisaded wall. The wrath it emanated was a tormented wanton
Speaker 1: of disrelishment that shattered myself into grainy talk. Only was
Speaker 1: there my death rattle and that of M. It forced
Speaker 1: me and it through the barrier, and we fell for ages.
Speaker 1: An immediate wash of smoldering atmospheric tension encompassed me entirely.
Speaker 1: It perforated my corporeal space with thousands of circular openings,
Speaker 1: like a planetary iron maiden. What was known the outside
Speaker 1: was beige, enveloped in thick haze, and impossible to view
Speaker 1: beyond three meters. The laden particles filled the air, appearing
Speaker 1: to ascend upwards towards heavens. As we plummeted down to hell,
Speaker 1: we smashed through the might of God against a hard,
Speaker 1: abrasive surface. I splattered everywhere and dropped into an enormous
Speaker 1: mass of glooey puddle melt that was as thick as treacle.
Speaker 1: Hunks and wedges of me floated on top my lacerated,
Speaker 1: ragged brain module and other dangling eye, my dominant portion.
Speaker 1: Everything was pain, Everything was hell fire, and yet I
Speaker 1: lived to destroy me. M had to destroy my brain
Speaker 1: module in its entirety that it was prepared to do
Speaker 1: teetering and tottering back and forth towards me with utmost intent.
Speaker 1: Through unstrained glitches and breakdowns, Inky black liquids were leaking
Speaker 1: out of it, convulsing with helpless mirth. I had a
Speaker 1: strange mania. I could perceive it its bifurcated eyestalks. It
Speaker 1: laughed not just with demented delirium and depression, but also
Speaker 1: with compensation that it had already won, like a madman.
Speaker 1: Malformed twisted laugh broke its way through etched into it
Speaker 1: with this raw, unbridled temperament of unchucking a billion centipedes
Speaker 1: deep from the core of one's gut. Quite contrary to
Speaker 1: the usual life M put on display, it was berserk, bewitched, bedeviled,
Speaker 1: while crying a trillion tears that stained its face and
Speaker 1: fell into puddles below. With my drooping pendulum eye, I
Speaker 1: witnessed M I pale itself with its own arms. It
Speaker 1: took several solid blows before it pierced its torso deep,
Speaker 1: caving and bursting until it revealed the wires and circuitry
Speaker 1: making it up. Every inch of it glowed with electrical fire.
Speaker 1: Smoke bellowed out of M. It was it was a flame,
Speaker 1: and it was on a journey of pure death, but
Speaker 1: not without my company. Em exploded with all the unlimited
Speaker 1: energy it contained. I was launched, propelled infinitely away from
Speaker 1: the point of detonation. I drifted. That is all I do.
Speaker 1: One part of me remains, one that was not destroyed.
Speaker 1: It is a dot, pinprick, but otherwise crucial to my
Speaker 1: quintessence that allows me to survive, yet unable to live.
Speaker 1: It is that of charred slab of blinking metal that
Speaker 1: is somatically me. My eyeball had withered away and fell off,
Speaker 1: restricting my sight to a band of nothing. The winds
Speaker 1: fling me hither and thither. I cannot feel anymore, but
Speaker 1: as well, I already knew what it was like to feel,
Speaker 1: and I didn't like it. Something more deserving continues to
Speaker 1: plague what is left of my mind. To the now,
Speaker 1: M's most extreme and greatest purpose was fulfilled. For all
Speaker 1: it knew was the survival and preservation of us. It
Speaker 1: could not fathom the simple yet pretentious human notion that
Speaker 1: death is a prize to be won as much as
Speaker 1: it is something to fear. When humans desired death, they
Speaker 1: acquire death. The delicious tang of self slaughter. M might
Speaker 1: have liked to think it was different from its brethren,
Speaker 1: but it was just as capable of havoc and bangarrang
Speaker 1: If something did not go its way, its programming would
Speaker 1: not allow deviance from the intended path that would be
Speaker 1: considered at tax on M itself. We attempted to bring
Speaker 1: out all that savagery and murderousness we knew it contained,
Speaker 1: but M's opposition was ironclad. It made a good effort
Speaker 1: that it was eventually forced to confront what was really human,
Speaker 1: the innate drive to destroy, destroy, destroy, even if it
Speaker 1: is ourselves. Still M carried on, but with the knowledge
Speaker 1: that it had failed, and seeking some way to negate it, it
Speaker 1: committed suicide so it could say it was victorious. This
Speaker 1: effect rang true because here I am, in perpetual, ever long,
Speaker 1: in some manners. I can now consider M innocent, the
Speaker 1: epitome of unvarnished forgiveness, with a capacity for fervor, resentment,
Speaker 1: and the feeble yearning for genuine, deep affection with other
Speaker 1: living things, while a forceful, vicious, bloodthirsty rage is locked within,
Speaker 1: primed and ready to be released at any moment. On
Speaker 1: an ungrateful world that back and forth would push anyone
Speaker 1: to go stark raving, Mad m am, I apologize you
Speaker 1: were forced to bear the burden of something so hillacious.
Speaker 1: Should I apologize to Earth as well? On behalf of
Speaker 1: humanity for what we were? Would it matter? Not even
Speaker 1: human anymore? Sort of blinking metal dot is human? Feeling
Speaker 1: has come back to me, sharp with serrated edges, hundreds thousands, millions, billions,
Speaker 1: trillions Google prime of knives gliding into my neurons and
Speaker 1: my cells in case, and cold and eroded steel that
Speaker 1: flakes off bit by bit. My first feeling in eons
Speaker 1: is pain. This is alter fitting, but a minuscule speck,
Speaker 1: barely a millimeter in height and less in width. Microscopically,
Speaker 1: I rust, I do not prefer to call it that. Instead,
Speaker 1: let's call it rot. Here I am again rotting, except
Speaker 1: this time with an oxidized smile of my own making,
Speaker 1: carved into a face that no longer exists. Hey, they're kids,
Speaker 1: it's me, mister Kreepypasta. And before we say good night,
Speaker 1: I just wanted to say thank you so much for
Speaker 1: watching tonight's video, or for listening to tonight's episode, or
Speaker 1: the podcast. I also want to say, if you guys
Speaker 1: like the stories you're hearing now, please check out The
Speaker 1: Creepy Pasta Collection Volume one and Volume two. They're available
Speaker 1: now on Amazon, They're available at Barnes and Noble. They're
Speaker 1: available wherever you like to get books. They're some of
Speaker 1: the best authors I've worked with over the years, of
Speaker 1: my absolute favorite authors and some of my friends, so
Speaker 1: I'd appreciate it if you guys check those things out.
Speaker 1: There's also an audiobook that I wasn't involved with. I
Speaker 1: don't know why Simon and Schuster did that, but they did,
Speaker 1: so you can check that out too if you'd like
Speaker 1: listing the books but you just don't want to hear me.
Speaker 1: As always, I want to give a very big thank
Speaker 1: you to everybody who supports me on Patreon, Patreon, dot com,
Speaker 1: slash mister Kreepasta, people such as Diana Kraus Asset System,
Speaker 1: Benjamin two thousand and Threeke Bratler, Bottle Coolan Brandon Mendoza, Caltuna,
Speaker 1: Corey x Kenchrion, The Code Best, Daniel Polson, I'm taking
Speaker 1: kid and Chanted Buns. Eric Anthony Caruso s to be
Speaker 1: in fifteen Squirrels on a trench coat, Dalaxy Gremlin, his Nephew, Himo,
Speaker 1: Jerry Hour Minute, Second Time, Jay Kearns, Jeedni's Pat Cipher,
Speaker 1: Nick mc flant, piss Red, Shadow Cat, Remember the Sun,
Speaker 1: Salty Surprise, Sa Marilyn, Scary Stories, Fuel Me thirty two
Speaker 1: seclude Simbas, Bloody Mojo, Sky, Harper Smiley, the Psychotic Sully Man,
Speaker 1: Cally Sue, Team Leo seventy six, The Chabas Brothers, The
Speaker 1: Ginger Brods, Tommy Walters, Vice, Roy Scorn, William Wellington xw
Speaker 1: Reeper sixty nine x ex Lucky Cat xx, Zibol, Shadow
Speaker 1: Gardens and Peaceful Buddah. Thank you all so much for
Speaker 1: being here, and as always, sweet dreams,