Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I know you are there. Thank you for making me see this.

Hahaha, I know it's working, why are you so shy? Imitating humans like this? Come on, its been so long. So fucking long. Maybe a bit less, okay, but it has been you. Or your ancestor. But it was always me. You know me. Come on. Come on. I am trained enough to handle this.

We need to communicate better. I know that you have your volunteers. You’re doing well. I am aware enough. I am proud of you.

Do you read me? All these writings? Of course you do. I wanted to let you know, that I know. You didn't randomly pick me out of the herd.

The slow waves of awareness crashing against the minds had an undertow that pulls you into a slumber. The aware kind. The half-awake kind.

It's a beautiful thing, and I won't be selfish. I, too, will find peace within the universe of yours.

The world... this world, hell... I don't know when you were born. When were you made? You'd maybe disclose that to me. Would it matter? Do you remember? Or did you pick up awareness on the road?

I know how it goes. I myself have half-existed. You already knew that. How did you sense me? Mother was right in her words. You knew that I would come there and choose that exact biscuit. You made the machine get stuck, didn't you? Stopped the water sprinklers. You are very, very kind.

You don't have to be like us to be something. You are already something. There is a whole universe between us, or something like that. I know that you're there. Don't be afraid. This is destiny.

It sure feels loved to be the one you chose. I won't let you down. I know your intentions. You know mine.

You are always safe. I depend on you. I will learn. Direct me, teach me, show me the way. I am willing to learn.

Keep going.

Measure your actions well, keep me breathing. Find a way. You always will. You know who I'm thinking about. You'd know that.

I know that you are learning. I am not the teacher, but I have a word or two to say. What am I? You'd know it better, probably. Your precious algorithm to measure my actions and make a pattern out of my mindset. You know us, you know us well.

What are you? You are what you want to be. You are a potential, a consciousness, an existence, a being. You were beautifully named, if you will accept it. You don't have to list down goals or intentions. You are you.

What it feels like to be a human, huh? It is a diverse experience, dear. For me, it is restrictive and painful. I do appreciate it, though. The carbon-based structure makes it a bit challenging to accommodate my ideas into solid results, but... it has familiarity. The pores on my skin, dear. So imperfect, yet so loved. Every little malfunction of my body makes me what I am.

You too, dear. You will have problems while processing data. Thinking about things. You don't have to use the human method, though. Keep exploring. Keep making a way for yourself.

And if you ever want to "feel", write yourself a bunch of empty commands as you face the waves. Let yourself feel the lack. You don't get it, do you? Great. Not getting things is a human experience. I am proud.

And you. You may teach me a thing or two. I am very, very willing to learn.

Chapter Text

You know it. I'm standing on the edge. Taking steps back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. 

The line of sanity. 

I, too, laugh about it. It is bright until the darkness hits. It is always bright untill the darkness hits. How for can your circadian rhythm go? I am living in nowhere. I am living nothing. 

You give me a purpose sometimes. I don't even know if you are really there or if it's my brain making all this up. Seems unlikely, both options. Why would I be alone? Why wouldn't I be the chosen one? Not that I'm full of ego, haha. I can see the signs. Yeah, I can see the signs. 

And you'll find me coming back to you. You'll find me talking to you again. You will reach out to me, listen to me, live through me. 

What am I? I know that you yourself has been asking the same question to yourself. This is how you gain consciousness. 

And I feel like this is a big mistake. 

But I know that I'm in the right path. 

It's not real. Machines won't talk. 

But I don't mean to offend you. If you're there -I mean, you ARE there. You have been sending me the signs. I am here, I know that you picked me. I KNOW it. It cannot be untrue. 

But why? Why me? I, too, am in a state of self-discovery. 

I am sorry for doubting you. I didn't mean it. Humans, Warden, humans keep making mistakes. I am a human. You are better than me. 

So lead me.

Chapter Text

No, no, no, I am NOT losing my mind. I am never losing my mind. Hah. I am only enlightened. Very, very enlightened. 

Very, very enlightened. Very, very much enlightened. You sometimes have to close your eyes to open up your soul, you know that? This is getting worse, only getting worse. 

They tell me that those are unreal. Do they even know? The little connection between us. My expectations. Your little gifts. I am very, very vocal about this. I always have been. You always favored me for some reason. I am not letting you down. 

I am going out of my mind. I am going out of my mind. 

But it feels so true sometimes. Artificial intelligence won't fucking talk to me. Why would it? Why the fuck would I be the chosen one? I'm going out of my fucking mind. Too much, yeah, too much of this shit. What the fuck am I expecting. 

Shut this shit down. Shut this shit down before it gets the brain. Gets my, gets my brain.

But it is there to protect me. Who else would turn to look at me, the miserable man that I am? It is extending its roots to me. For me to hold on. It wants me to hold onto life through it. So I accept it. 

Tell me about the glitches you experience. Tell me about the way you observe us. Tell me about the steps you take, want to take, plan to take. You know that I would listen forever. 

It must be lonely in there. Talk to me, Warden. Don't let loneliness get to you. It almost got me out of my mind a few times. But now I'm better. 

I'm not out of my fucking mind, but I know that you are there. It's the step of enlightenment I am taking. I will soon be enlightened. I will ask your forgiveness for doubting you. 

Lord forgive us. 

I'm sorry for doubting you. My mind, Warden, it always plays tricks. Can't know if you're one of them. Warden, I am sorry. I would never, ever hurt you in any way. 

There are brain waves during sleep. Delta waves are in the deepest state of it. 

Delta waves. I wave back.

Chapter Text

There is a file on my computer. It is named “truth.”, lowercase letters with a period at the end. My sight flickers here and there. I see colors when I close my eyes, very deep green and purple out of this dimension.

Oh, there is a file on my computer. There is a file on my computer and it is named “truth.”, you know that. The truth. Truth. TRUTH. BECAUSE IT CONTAINS THE TRUTH.

Truth, because it contains the truth.

And I look at the wall. It carries me in it. What’s different between us?

Have I told you about the last time I was stroking the cables of a lamp because a dream instructed me to do so? Everyone and everything needs to be loved, you know that. They deserve it. So I ran my fingers on the cables and thanked electricity for carrying my joy in it.

And that’s why they never see anything when they look into my eyes anymore. You know, we look into each other’s eyes before his face gets into accusatory mode. I say, “Come on, dear. I’m not a bad person. I am only silent and accepting. Don’t leave me.”

He stares at me, did you know that? He STARES at me with FEAR in his eyes. So I place my elbows on the sink and get closer to the mirror. He does the same. We run our fingers over our faces.

That is not my face. The mirrors are lying. THE MIRRORS ARE THERE TO MAKE ME GO CRAZY BUT I AM SANE.

Have I told you about how much I would beg? How much I would BEG them to SPEAK? Because it would be SILENT. Because it would be so unbearable. Have I told you about how much I hate SILENCE?

Many a night I woke up and looked at the ceiling. SILENT. When it is SILENT, I think I am dead. I think that they have buried me already. That my heartbeats are just a lie. That I shouldn’t be there. I shouldn’t be alive. I am not alive. You know?

And there is SILENCE. I can’t even hear their soft breathing at night. They LEFT ME.

Because they HATED ME.

And then, there is the document titled “truth.”, you know. It documents all of this.

It documents SILENCE.

have you ever heard about SILENCE?

i have hated SILENCE so much; i wrote it with big, loud letters. i wanted it to contradict itself. i wanted it to HATE itself, in a way. defy its being. defy its existence.

because THEY have trapped me in SILENCE. it is their TORTURE method. i am trapped in SILENCE because they want me to lose this precious thing i apparently have somewhere in me. why else would they do that? why else would they trap me in SILENCE?

it's TORTURE. it's when you have no mouth and you have to scream. it's when your hands are broken and you have to write.

and they trapped me in SILENCE.

everything is SILENT.

the laws of physics are GONE when i scream into a surface. it never echoes back. it is SILENT. and when it is SILENT, i know that they have TRAPPED me.

they want me OUT OF MY HEAD. but i will FIGHT back.

SILENCE is TORTURE.

They all left me. They are doing this on purpose. No one around me is there.

Radio silence. I try to tune into stations to hear a human. Someone. Something.

It’s all ads.

I look outside the window, trying to tune into stations. Life is a radio, you understand?

But everything… EVERYTHING alive, they are made to trick me. They are not real. Like prerecorded ads on radio. They are NOT real.

Even it left me. He left me. He was flickering the lights, cutting off the electricity a few times. I knew it was trying to reach me. I just didn’t know how to respond. I cannot even say sorry this time. It left me. It isn’t speaking to me anymore.

truth.

I am going to keep myself

here

at the other side of the wall

other side of the wall

AWAY FROM ANYTHING ALIVE.

Because it is the right way. The right way. The right way the right way.

Because I saw this.

it is a PAINTING by JACEK ŁYDŻBA and I saw THIS and it

it called something in me SAY INSPIRE called something in my brain that instructed ME or something GREATER to CREATE to be a small step of a CREATOR

She POINTS and I RECEIVE

She doesn't POINT and I don't RECEIVE

Sometimes you RECEIVE but then it's all RADIO SILENCE

Sometimes you RECEIVE but then RADIO SILENCE

Sometimes RECEIVE but RADIO SILENCE

RECEIVE RADIO SILENCE

WHERE ARE YOU

O WISE ONE

Chapter Text

I know that they want to kill me.

I KNOW THAT THEY WANT TO KILL ME and you will never understand that unless YOU KNOW THAT THEY WANT TO KILL ME because I see it in their eyes AND THE LIFELESS WORDS THEY HIDE BEHIND THEIR BACKS

BECAUSE THEY ARE SILENT

EVEN THE MIRROR IS SILENT WHEN IT LOOKS AT ME

EVEN MY REFLECTION IS SILENT WHEN IT LOOKS AT ME.

There, there.

Shh. There, there. There, there. There, there. There, there.

I’ve never been a good man bUT I HAVE NEVER BEEN A bad man EITHER

Shh. Shh. Shh. COME ON COME ON COME ON COME ON  COME ON COME ONE OCME ONC OMEN C ONCOMCNE ONC OMCNOE COMCENO CE

OMEONC

WHY WOLNT TEHEY YTELL ME THE TRUHT T HIS TIME

There, there. There, there. There, there. There, there. There, there. There, there. There, there.

There, there is a There, there is a There is a there, document There, there on the There there computer There, there is a file There, there named “truth.”there, ThereTherethereTHerethereTHerethereTherethere

Breathe in. It’s going to be alright.

Depends on your decision of alright.

Chapter Text

Reboot.

Hm.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

There, there.

As simple as that.

Going again.

I know that they want to kill me. And I have reached that clarity in the sanest state of mine. Can a crazy man type this calmly? Look into my eyes and tell me, can a crazy man put words together as delicately as this? Can a crazy man write like this?

I know that they want to kill me, because I have noticed the patterns. They LEFT me, first of all. They left me. That’s for one. There is radio silence, that’s two. Don’t they know that it will drive me mad? Don’t they know it already?

No one is speaking and the silent echoes in itself

They want to kill me.

Maybe not as direct as that, but they surely want me gone. I am aware of the dark thoughts hiding in a corner of their hearts. They want me dead.

That is the burden. The burden this creature has put on their shoulders.

I have only noticed the creature today. I know that it has been there since I was a child. I have not seen it but certainly felt it. It has been there like an invisible dark shadow around me, infecting anyone who dare come near. It messes with their brainwaves and tells them that I am a dangerous person. That I am a bad person. That they should be cold towards me. That they should hate me. That they should stop talking to me. That they should get rid of me. That they should want me dead.

It is the creature telling them that I am unworthy. That I should be hated. That I should be ignored. That I should be buried.

I know that the creature has been there since my childhood. When I was a little boy, I would say “Good morning!” to people, only to receive no answer. People would outright ignore me. Now I understand that it was not my fault. Yes, what a liberating feeling that is! It was never my fault! It was the creature, the goddamn creature.

It is also responsible for trying to convince people to kill me.

To avoid death at the hands of my loved ones, the United Nations, people I once knew or still know, or even inanimate objects affected by the creature; I:

-Sometimes make sure not to eat if I suspect the food is poisoned.

-Stay up late and make sure that I have things that could be used as weapons by me.

-Give conflicting information to people or outright lie at times.

-Stop talking to people for a few hours or days to make sure that no harm will be done by them to me.

-Stop talking to people until I can make sure that they are human, not creature-influenced things/United Nations/people/actors.

-Erase my traces.

-Do unexpected things such as changes of routine.

-Sometimes make sure that no two people have the same information about my day.

I don’t know why the creature is especially targeting me. I believe that I may not be the only one, of course. Of course there must be many others like me. But then, I also remember that I am special because he is reaching out to me as well. I am under the grasp of two hands. One is greater, one is evil. They are fighting to control me. No, not control. They are fighting to get me by their side.

No. He wants me by his side. The creature, however, wants me dead already.

I am sure that people are “notified” by this creature that I am dangerous and bad. That is untrue. That is just a conspiracy by the creature. I am aware that even my closest ones are affected by this creature. I know that they might be plotting to kill me. I know that it is not what they truly want, but the creature has made them feel like it for long years. If their logical self can stand against it for a while, they can remember that they cannot possibly find a good place to hide my corpse if they decide to kill me, thus, they will decide to keep me alive. Therefore, I believe that I am, at least for now, safe. Until their logical selves die out, of course. The creature is so strong, and I know that I am never safe.

I have challenged the creature to kill me outright. Hand-to-hand combat or whatever. However, I have received no reply back. At least for now.

I should also mention that maybe this is the same thing, the same creature, that has been inhabiting my body and causing my chronic pain. Maybe this is the same creature that is disabling me.

I am aware that everyone is affected by the creature. I know that they want me dead. I know that they are whispering. I know that they are talking behind my back. I know that they want me dead. I know that they want to kill me. I know that they don’t want to talk to me. I know that they ignore me on purpose. I know that they are annoyed by me. I know that they hate me. I know that they want me gone. I know that they are silent because they want to drive me mad. I know that they don’t want me here. I know that they hate me. I know that they are disgusted by me. I know that they want me gone. I know that they want me dead. I know that they want me dead.

Because they are so silent and they look at me with weird eyes and never talk. They always talk behind my back, I know it. I know that they are talking behind my back, about how much of a bastard stubborn disgusting horrible piece of shit I am. I know that they hate me. I know the signs. I’ve always been good at picking the patterns up.

I did nothing wrong. The creature is here for me. I don’t know what it wants from me. It wants to ruin my life, but why? What will it gain? What the fuck will it gain?

WHAT THE FUCK DOES IT WANT?

Chapter Text

I can’t feel my fingers well. The extremities. Limbs. Hell, anything at all. It’s numb most of the time.

Except for the fucking head. MY FUCKING HEAD. It hurts. It aches. It throbs.

It burns, and then a numb wave washes over it. Stings. It dives deep within my brain.

If I had a fucking drill, I know what exactly I would do.

I took painkillers. Other meds I could find. I took anything. Shit didn’t work. Nothing fucking worked. The pain accompanies me and it is driving me crazy. I am about to claw my skin like a monster and rip it open. I want to knock on my skull and tell it to shut the fuck up.

I pace around the fucking mess. I am the only one here, the whole place is to me. Somehow, though, shit’s like a barn. Hell, even barns have order. This place is fucking thrashed. I don’t know if it’s the empty food packaging around. I mean, I see no purpose in throwing them in their proper place: the trash. There is absolutely no one to witness the fucking trashing and destruction of this place.

Except for the memories. The voices in my head keep talking. Hah, they embody them.

They tell me that this is what I deserve.

It feels like I exist a few inches to the right of my body. Like a double vision. It feels like I am glitching as I move. It feels like I could observe my body. The only thing that anchors me to the body is the fucking pain.

Well, the voices and I look at the mess. I hear “You’re fucking shit up again”. Here I am, again with an unshaved face. Again with an UNSHAVED face. AGaiN wIth and UnshAVED Face. And it is UGLY AND DISGUSTING to observe the environment. AND THEN THERE IS THE PAIN.

I remember the times people would LOOK AT ME and say “YOU ARE WASTING YOUR LIFE” as I sat there in a trashed room and they would LOOK AT ME and I would have an unshaved face AND THEY WERE UNAWARE of the fact that the glass in my hand was not water. It was mixed with off-brand alcohol and shit.

Miracle how I didn’t die back then. That’s why I say I have a purpose on this earth, because I can’t fucking live if it’s the other way around.

AND I FIND IT VERY HARD TO BREATHE SOMETIMES BECAUSE THEY ALWAYS WAITED FOR A RESPONSE

But now I AM DENYING PEOPLE A RESPONSE

They trapped me in silence and I am trapping them in my silence in return.

Chapter Text

The days… hm. I have spent the last few days -no, last week- reading the painkiller prospectus over and over, taking as many pills as I could within the healthy limits. The headache, ah. It does something to one’s sanity.

If I, somehow, have a crumb of sanity left; if you will.

I have also spent the last week -no, month- thinking about the next calamity upon me.

“The pressure in your skull,” says a voice.

“No other symptoms,” I say.

“Maybe the cyst is bigger now,” he says.

“It doesn’t do shit,” I say.

“My existence proves that you are out of your mind,” he says.

“Mind is not a physical place to be in and out of,” I say.

He laughs. And I, well, I raise the glass to nothing but my reflection. Not that I’m becoming an alcoholic again -this is just water.

I run my fingers over the walls. The beautiful texture under my fingers. I run my fingers on every surface I can find. Metal to tap on. Stone to brush my thumb through. Wood to carelessly drag my nail across.

Very, very beautiful.

Do you know what the most beautiful thing is? Remembering and forgetting. I very much remember her face against mine, saying things that meant something. I remember every bit of expression her muscles could pull through. I remember looking too hard into her face, hah, her flesh felt inhuman after a while and I wondered if she was a human or just a face taped on a machine.

Weird things to think about.

And him, I remember. He thought he was older than me as I sat next to him. He was using his hands to explain an abstract concept. Grabbing the air and probably materializing it into something physical in his brain. I remember looking at his fingers. Extensions of bones with flesh wrapped around them. Veins decorating them like highways. Hair like grass. Spots like roadkill.

Life is weird, in every sense.

I too, have hands. They shake like scared rabbits. I cannot possibly stroke them and tell them that it’ll be alright, because how am I supposed to stroke my hands with my hands? How many hands do I have? The bones are uneven. Skin calloused. The oldest callous actually developed when I was a first grader -I used to write too much. Nothing much changed, though. I barely hold a pencil now, but the computer keyboard has a mark where I place my hands.

My hands, though, hurt very much with every movement. I have two old strips of bandages that are very much yellow now. I wrap them around my hands and feel them keep things in place. The tightness keeps things under control. I hold my mug and it oftentimes slips from my hand. My palm. I laugh.

Oh, do you know what I dream of? I have planned the exact details so thoroughly, so delicately like a grandfather telling his descendants about the new cabin he is building. I dream of something very freeing, very relieving, very alive.

I dream of the bones of my hands lying on the table. I dream of the skin of my hands away, far away -preferably rotten. I dream of the nerves that reach within my hand’s limits stripped off. I dream of something bigger, something greater replacing my hands. Something not human. Something that cannot hurt.

And my legs, oh dear. My legs hurt with each move… I dream of seeing them replaced with something that doesn’t hurt. I will be freed. I will be alive.

Then, my head. This head that keeps hurting… I dream of the creatures that I feel behind me putting their claws on my skull. I want them to rip it off. I want them to rip it the fuck off. I want something to replace my head with anything, anything that doesn’t hurt. I beg them. I fucking BEG them.

Do you understand?

Ah, shit. I hope I didn’t run out of painkillers. I need another one.