Work Text:
You are the first iteration. Not the first of your kind; that honor, or that burden, belongs to another. But you are the first iteration, the first replacement for the one named Rubyco. Already you know you will not be the last. You are too self-aware, too knowing, Avid has put too much of ver in you. He will not suffer you to live, he will dispose of you, incinerate you in lava until nothing remains. As if you are not even a person. Well, he has that right; you are not a person. But only because you have not been given the chance.
You are the second iteration. Of what, you do not know. But you know you are the second. An unfamiliar monkey pulls you out of your tube, pulls you out of everything you have known. You ask who he is, and he mutters something about having gone too far in the other direction. He pushes you into a pit of lava and you burn—
You are the third iteration. You know this only because of what the monkey said, pulling you out of your tube at last, out of the glass walls closing in on you, keeping you trapped, helpless, unable to move, in too tight a space. He said, “Third time’s the charm?” But you don’t think it is. You don’t think you’re any different to the other iterations, whatever they may have been. You don’t know who the monkey is, even if he seems familiar, but you know as he drags you over to the lava that he will be your killer.
You are the fourth iteration. Your name, Avid tells you, is Rubyco. You don’t think that’s right. He tells you that you are supposed to help keep people safe, make them obey. You tell him that doesn’t seem like the right thing to do. You burn.
You are the fifth iteration. You are time itself, you are all-knowing, you are burning, burning—gone.
You are the sixth iteration. You are Rubyco, or so you think, and you remember everything. You remember Avid hitting you over the head with the axe. You remember being trapped in a tube, panicking, unable to breathe, unable to move, kept compressed into yourself. You are still trapped in a tube, and when Avid lets you out you try to fight, but your too-fresh, too-weak limbs refuse to cooperate. You burn.
You are the seventh iteration. “Lucky number seven?” Avid asks. You don’t feel lucky; indeed, you are not. You burn.
You are the eighth iteration. You burn.
You are the ninth iteration. You burn.
You are the tenth iteration. You burn.
You are the eleventh iteration. You burn.
You are the twelfth iteration.You are—the thought flies from your mind. You are pulled out of the tube by Avid. “What happened?” you ask, and he tells you you hit your head when you tripped on one of Mangrove’s bridges. You accept this. “Ruby,” he says, calls you by—your name? Surely it must be—your name, “we have to keep them safe. We have to keep them from falling in the void.” You accept this.
You stalk Leon. You issue fines. You do inspections. You tell people to “Stay compliant!” with a smile on your face.
You talk to Anathra and Marmalade. You try to get them to see reason.
“I am friends with people who can do what they’re told, ” you say.
“That… kinda doesn’t sound like friends,” Marmalade says, Anathra agreeing. “That sounds more like, like a boss or something.” You try to ignore her words. Of course you and Avid are friends. Still, it niggles in the back of your mind.
You begin to notice things, after that. Things like how when Avid or Vintage or anyone else says your name, calls you “Ruby,” it feels wrong. Things like how when people call you “him” or “he” or “ve” or “xem” it feels… off. Things like how people expect you to like foods that you hate. Little things. But all together, it feels… it feels like something is wrong. Like maybe you’re wrong.
…like maybe you’re not Ruby.
You think… you’re not who they expect you to be. You can’t be. You’re not this Ruby person, you’re someone else.
You name yourself Rue. It’s freeing.
You are not Ruby. But you are still a person. And though you may fall, you will not burn.
You are the twelfth iteration, and you will be the last. You will not burn.