Chapter Text
“victim.”
Images, memories; pain. Panic. Fear.
“vic.”
Fog. Everything became muddled. Unclear. Still fear, but it had no source.
“Vic.”
The fog thickened… then cleared. Nothing. It was all gone. Only flickers of emotion still lingered, faint and disconnected.
“Convert to symbol.”
And just like that, the world flared to life. He immediately felt a rush of fear. He was in danger!
Something moved in the corner of his vision, and he lurched away from the thing. He gasped as he tripped over his feet and fell, landing hard on his backside. The thing—a large, white, pointed thing—jerked back, moving to hover several feet above him, out of reach. He stared at it, panting, as he tried to collect his scattered thoughts.
Where… Where was he? Who was he? The answer came to him immediately.
Vic.
Yes… Yes, that was his name. Vic. But that didn’t answer the question of how he came here… or, in fact, how he came to be at all.
The pointed thing moved again, and Vic flinched, but it didn’t come any closer. It changed, switching from its pointed shape to a long line. A box appeared as it moved rapidly, typing out quick symbols. Vic blinked, eyes widening as he realized he understood the symbols.
[I’m not going to hurt you.] It typed. [I promise.]
Vic swallowed thickly. The code throbbing in his chest was starting to fade, and he suddenly wondered why he was scared. He thought he was in danger… but from what? The white thing wasn’t attacking him. And he couldn’t remember anything before this moment.
Now that he thought about it, he didn’t think there was anything before this moment.
The thing was typing; [Can you understand me?]
Vic hesitated before he nodded slowly. He didn’t see any reason to lie. The thing highlighted and deleted the text. It typed again.
[Can you talk?]
Vic blinked. Could he? He hadn’t tried yet. Experimentally, he cleared his throat and was pleased when a sound came out. He sat up straight, crossing his legs under him as he experimented with more noises. Hesitantly, he ventured: “Hello..?”
He jumped as thick, black symbols appeared above his head, spelling the word. “Hello?” They didn’t look like the symbols the thing had typed. Those were smaller and sharper, immobile. The ones that hovered over Vic’s head were thick and dark, almost ballooned in ill proportions. They trembled and wavered, as though they would crumble to pieces at any moment. Sure enough, only a few seconds passed before the symbols faded, leaving behind blank white space. Their presence seemed to excite the white thing, though. It typed, [Are you…]
It stopped; backspaced. It typed again. [Do you know where you are?]
Vic shook his head. “No, I…”
He trailed off. What else was he supposed to say? That he had no memory of anything before now? That he was pretty sure he was just born?
The white thing didn’t move for a moment. A chill crawled up Vic’s spine as it sat there, stiff and unmoving. Its stillness unnerved him. He had no way of knowing what it was thinking. Was it even alive ? It had to be, surely. It was communicating with him.
Partially to distract himself, Vic took the moment to get a better sense of his surroundings. The white space he found himself in wasn’t endless; he could see the edges of it, with panels of… tools, he thought? Beyond it, it looked like panel gave away to a larger area.
Vic was suddenly struck with a strange sense of deja vu. He pushed himself to his feet and walked forward, craning his head to get a better look at the tool panel. He recognized some of them, though he didn’t know how; there was a lasso tool, and a brush. One tool near the top was rectangular with a pointed end. Vic stared at it, puzzling, before his brain supplied him with the word; pencil.
Curious, he started forward, hoping to go up and get a better look. He had barely taken more than a couple steps before there was movement, and the pointed thing was suddenly in front of him. Startled, Vic flinched and scrambled back. The thing moved immediately out of reach again, switching to type, [Sorry! I just… sorry. I’m not going to touch you, I swear.]
Vic swallowed the lump that had sprung unbidden to his throat. He sucked in a shuddering breath, but he said, “It’s… okay. Um, thank you.”
The thing bobbed; a nod? Huh. It seemed to hesitate before it typed, [So do you remember anything?]
The question caught Vic off-guard. Was he supposed to remember something? He stammered, “I… I’m sorry, I don’t. I think… I think this is my first day alive.”
He paused before he asked tentatively, “Should I? Remember something?”
Again, the thing didn’t move for a second. Finally, it typed, [No. I guess not.]
Vic frowned. He couldn’t quite read the tone of the comment. Was it disappointed? Relieved? Vic cast his gaze about… and froze.
In front of him, dominating an entire field of his vision, was some kind of screen. He didn’t know how he had missed it before. Through the grainy filter of the screen, he could see the distinct shape of a creature. It was huge and… fleshy? It wasn’t like him, at least. It stared at him with dull, round eyes that reflected through some kind of lenses perched on its… face? Vic was pretty sure it was its face. It was weird, though.
The creature seemed to realize he was looking at it. It shifted, ducking its head like it was uncomfortable. Its limb—an arm—shifted, and the white thing did as well. The realization went off like a lightbulb; the white thing was just a tool. He had been communicating with the creature.
The creature’s hands moved to something just below the screen; Vic’s brain told him it was a keyboard. Its appendages—fingers—moved, and as they did, the white thing typed out new text.
[I’m Alan, by the way.]
Alan.
The word had Vic’s shoulders untensing slightly. The creature wasn’t just some gigantic monster. It—he—had a name. He was talking to Vic, not attacking. He wouldn’t hurt him.
He wouldn’t hurt him.
Vic pulled in a deep breath and offered the face behind the screen a tentative smile.
“Nice to meet you, Alan.”
[...Nice to meet you too, Vic. :)]