Work Text:
Life is a precious force of natural, and supernatural phenomena.
Every thing, every little speck of organism that lives or is living, deserves their time here on this Earth. That time is precious, as it is limited for every organism. This applies for a lot, if not most of the anomalous objects you see around the Foundation as well. They all live or lived their life, and it’s their right.
My time was supposed to end long ago. I am not like them.
What I’ve been telling you, is that I’m only here because I was a rookie and did not know what to do during a containment breach and violated protocol. I was just like you before, having lived a normal, ordinary life. Time was limited for me, and would’ve stayed limited if the trouble did not find me in that breach, and stabbed me in the back.
I should’ve died at that moment, bleeding out on the ground like a sacrificial goat. Laying there in the pool of my blood, I lament on how I should’ve spent that finite time of life more, and what I would do if I had been well, not stabbed. All that life-flashing-before-your eyes shit did happen, and it happened fast. I would be dead if it weren’t for one tiny difference.
The difference is that the world made me live.
The world forced me into an abnormal, esoteric state, where I live, and with no limits, and no restrictions due to self-preservation. I was supposed to die, and by living when I have died, caused me to live infinitely by not living as my original self as a whole.
And it paid a heavy price.
In order to continue my existence, in order to see the outside world, communicate, talk, I have to take the most important thing from any animal that even touches the thing keeping me alive.
Consciousness.
I take the very thing that life cherishes the most, the thing that makes them who and what they are, and replace them with my own, erasing their lifeforce in order to prolong my own.
This is the cost I have to pay every second, every moment I spend in this entire world.
To say I do feel guilt is only a mere euphemism compared to how I feel. I lament on how I could’ve done better, could’ve prevented this from happening in the first place. But it is too late.
I am paying the price of my own ignorance, and therefore, prolonging my suffering.