(no subject)

[albatrossish]

They said she wasn't real, like that was some sort of excuse. Just a collection of pixels on the screen, she's not even herself, she's a Ballerina, D or maybe C. But of course I could have told them that, could have said: she's not people like other people are people.

The problem is with these memories. They're fallacious impressions of people who aren't real, but without them nothing is concrete. Multiplication. Convergence. That's what they're hoping for. The golden ratio. Something that was zero is one, and from then one, two, three, five eight thirteen twenty-one thirty-four. Rabbits.

There's no Sun here.

Comments

[secondflame.livejournal.com]

er.

are you okay?

[albatrossish]

Can't be uprooted if your roots are in the air.

[secondflame.livejournal.com]

i guess that's true.

do you need any help?

[qinglongweiji.livejournal.com]

Yes, it's quite a shame. I came from a long tower that stretched through the atmosphere and into space. There was a lovely view of the sun from there.

[albatrossish]

Poking and prodding. Cutting places that it shouldn't, that it can't; can't sleep, can't ever sleep. When you dream you don't know if it's your dream or theirs. Blotted out, obscured. Gone forever. It's better this way.

[albatrossish]

I don't know. It's all mixed up.

[qinglongweiji.livejournal.com]

There did that there as well.

[albatrossish]

Millions of languages in Babel. Have to make sense of it.

[qinglongweiji.livejournal.com]

There was one language above them all in my world, he controlled the one million others. Not many knew what he was doing.

[albatrossish]

Couldn't understand. Didn't speak his language.

[qinglongweiji.livejournal.com]

Oh?

[albatrossish]

He wasn't backward-compatible.

[secondflame.livejournal.com]

well, i think you might be my roommate. i got a notice.

[albatrossish]

Roommate?

[secondflame.livejournal.com]

yeah, they give us roommates. i guess you didn't look at that.

where are you?

[albatrossish]

No, I did. For breeding. You're not Simon.

Was in a big room. White walls, grey chairs. Pamphlets. They poke around where they shouldn't, ask questions they should know the answer to. Prying, peeling, cracking open. I had to leave.

[secondflame.livejournal.com]

i'm not. who's simon?

heh, then where are you now?

[qinglongweiji.livejournal.com]

Ah, I see. What happened to him?

[qinglongweiji.livejournal.com]

You are Mikura Kazuma? My name is Vilma Fachiri. Perhaps it would be best if we went to retrieve this young lady together.

[secondflame.livejournal.com]

i think it should be all right!

[qinglongweiji.livejournal.com]

It would be dishonorable for me to accept any less.

[albatrossish]

He's my brother.

Outside. Or, actually, inside. Can't go out. Ionizing radiation interferes with cell division, cell-cycle genes are mutated. But more outside than before.

[secondflame.livejournal.com]

well, er ... it's up to her, if she even wants me to find her.

[albatrossish]

Who are you?

[secondflame.livejournal.com]

can you describe it?