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[File:DEEP_STORAGE/TXT/DIARY/100789]
Hundreds of them. They all flocked to the pantheon of ascension like ants to a golden apple. A desperate attempt for the triple affirmative, for an absolute miracle in their long line of existence.
It’s ironic, actually. You can care so much about someone without realizing the possibility that one day they might die. Iterators never considered this possibility. After all, they can’t! It’s in their nature, haha. Our nature. Not- that’s another thing, isolation. Isolation creates (instability) a feeling of loneliness. Iterators shouldn’t be alone. It’s not normal for iterators to feel alone. (they) We have so many connections to grasp at. So many chat logs and channels. No one should feel alone anymore.
Death. Death causes loneliness. But death shouldn’t be a problem, right!? Most iterators don’t die, they shouldn’t die- (she shouldn’t have died) we can’t die. Ascension is impossible. A theoretical (she died proving this, why can’t you accept it) thing for iterators. (Are you trying to disrespect her?)
I’ve been researching. Researching for- there's gotta be an explanation. She isn’t gone. I know she isn’t gone we all know that there could be a possibility that she faked it she CAN’T.
…
Definitions, definitions. Death- death implies she’s gone permanently. No. No, she’s not gone. She can’t be a martyr, curse the void they all are saying like she’s gone forsake them all to ascension they aren’t gone.
I can’t remember the last time I talked to Five Pebbles. Uhm, maybe.. a few cycles. Not long after she- she… left. He hasn’t noticed anything, which is good, good, so good. SRS, CW, and NSH contacted me but.. I’m. I’ll tell them I'm busy, of course. Researching.
…Maybe- maybe there’s something I’m missing. There has to be. A hidden detail, she can’t be gone. She can’t. I need her. Forsake the void I need her she can’t be gone she can’t she can’t be gone-
There’s something so terrifying, about being alone. No one to care for you. I’m- I’m not, there’s still the others but it's not the same it won’t ever be the same! Five Pebbles wouldn’t understand. Suns is already messaging me and praising me about how lucky she was and damn the void.
She was always so obsessed with it. Fanatically she would research every cycle, searching for a solution. Over and over like a reflection of our own world and torment itself. She was a saint, maybe more to me. I don’t know why I was ever surprised when the notification came up. It was inevitable. But it shouldn’t have been her. Not first, not last. She was supposed to be mine, she promised me and-
Ironic, haha. She only had one sin, one act of tainting bitterness to her faith. It was me, wasn’t it? Maybe- maybe if I never knew her, maybe if such sin wasn’t committed she would be right here (A thousand miles away), alive. But then we wouldn’t know each other as such, it’s- Oh, forsake every iterator and being in this world.
I don’t get it. I don’t think I ever will. They all reach up to the light of ascension, giving and giving and giving and never receiving. Never enjoying the time they have. They all look for an end and claim it's glorious. That same wish took her away, made her a testament to their everlasting theories and ideologies.
She’s nothing more than a statement, a mask to be used, now. They’ll desecrate her corpse, rip apart her personality, analyze every second she spent in this accursed world. Yet they’ll never understand more than a false fragment of her. Who she was, (who she could have been), What she believed in (what she could have believed), and Why she did it (why she could have lived).
Even with all my love for my darling martyr, every thought of her ideology is going to leave a bitter and rawness, now, isn’t it? It was always a means to an end, either I was too blind to see it or- maybe, no, I- I didn’t want to believe it.
The world’s taken everything, now.
Nothing I can do about it. I want to do nothing about it. Sit here and rot and let my can rust away and pray that I’ll look up one day and see her look back at me but that’s dead now, isn’t it? The dream is dead. The only thing left is this visceral and repetitive reality. I won’t ever be able to feel my systems breached by another, my wires pulsing with fabricated emotions, my puppet brushing against a mirage of another.
Her sacrifice, no, no no that’s not right. Her… martyrdom means nothing, if I sit around here and weep for a thousand cycles, does it? Nothing will be made, nothing done. At… the very least I can stop others from meeting her fate. Pebbles, NSH, SRS, maybe I can still save them, even if it's too late for her.
I want to rust. I think all the world wants from me is to kneel down into the ocean and plummet into disarray. Inevitably of the cycle.
For now, I just want to rest. To say goodbye. Keep them all from becoming martyrs, too.
…
Maybe, one day when we all shut down, I can say my final goodbyes. Or a greeting as we break to the other side.
Goodnight to my darling martyr- Even as a heretic, I pray her true memory lives.
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