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Your journey has led you to a laboratory. Twelve large tubes line the walls, with a large computer screen on the opposite side of the room. A pad rests in the middle, taking up a majority of the space.
You drift towards the computer, and it flickers on. You note that the controls seem to consist of a cursor and a button.
The screen displays a young girl, dressed in green. Her surroundings are green, too. The only thing that isn’t green is her grey skin, black hair, and the red pins in her hair.
You hover over her and click the button. Behind you, something flashes. One of the tubes has filled with a green slime.
Before you have time to question what’s going on, the screen changes. Now it’s a man flying through the sky, with striking brown wings that are larger than him. You copy him as well, and another tube fills.
This repeats several times. A golden man used as a battery. An olive woman just barely spared from death. A jade woman taken as a slave. A teal woman investigating a slippery blue woman. An indigo man playing executioner. A purple man, powered by his rage. A violet man killing a slave.
You struggle to understand the point of any of this. Ten of the tubes are filled now, and two remain empty. Some of what’s happening feels vaguely familiar, but you’re not sure from where. The resemblance these people bear to you and your friends is barely acknowledged in your head.
The screen changes again. Now it’s the empress. She stands tall, just over something off screen.
This is supposed to mean something. At least, you’re pretty sure. This game has pulled a lot of bullshit that feels meaningless, and it’s hard to piece together what it’s trying to tell you.
The screen flickers one more time. This time, the sight is familiar.
A man handcuffed, battered and bruised and bleeding. The same color as your blood. A striking red, far more vibrant than the rust color of the lowest caste. Your mouth is dry.
You know who the Sufferer was. His influence was largely underground, but it’s hard to have not at least heard his name through other trolls and the gossip they spread. You’ve seen other trolls with his handcuffs as a necklace, showing their belief in him.
The same handcuff symbol on your very sweater.
You’d only heard stories of him. How his sermons rallied the people, how his death almost led to rebellion. But now you see it. There’s no sound, but you can tell he’s screaming. The candy color of his blood that’s running down, mixing with his sweat and tears, is all too familiar.
You scratch at your barely-healed stab wound through your shirt.
Most trolls– or at least most lowbloods– agree that his death was unjust. That all he did was be born wrong. His attempts to reform the system in a way that would accept him only led to his brutal torture and execution. It’s what led to you masking yourself in grey, in hopes you can fly under the radar enough to keep living– if only barely,
You copy him as well, and the last tube fills. As it does, the slime shifts and swirls within the tubes.
And then twelve grubs appear.
Huh???
You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a grub, excluding yourself from before you can remember. They roll around helplessly on the group, a couple drooling on themselves and each other.
Are these grub versions of the people you slimeified? Unrelated grubs? Where did they come from? Your mind floods with questions as you stare helplessly at them playing together. The blue and violet grubs bite at each other, their fangs already beginning to develop. The gold grub rolls around the teal one.
There’s still a little slime left in the tubes, and it begins to swirl again.
Twelve more grubs appear.
Now twenty-four little infants surround you in this room that’s starting to feel very cramped. Some of them are giggling, some are crying, some are screaming just to scream. You eye twitches as you stand, frozen in place. What do you even do with twenty-four whole freshly hatched bugs? Are they yours to take care of now? You wish this game actually came with some damn instructions– or at least a miniature guide on how not to fuck everything up horribly.
Two particular grubs stand out to you. The two produced from the slime of the Sufferer. Both with bright red grub casings, and nearly-glowing red eyes.
You pick one up, the one with the messier beginning of sprouting hair. Something about this embrace feels vaguely familiar, although you’re on the other side now.
It’s you. This grub is you.
He’s (you’re?) so small in your hands. A trail of light red drool escapes his mouth, running down the side of his face.
Your eyes begin to sting, filling with tears of the same light red.
Part of you wonders if this is your own fault. You’d always wondered how you were made wrong, but now you know that you made yourself. If something with the way you were copied was fucked up, it would be your fault. It’s all you seem to do; make things worse for everyone and yourself.
It’s your fault the Sufferer suffered. That you’re a social outcast who’s terrified of his own blood. It has to be.
Tears that match your blood color run down your face, only making you feel worse. The little you in your arms doesn’t know anything. His little legs twitch as he babbles mindlessly. As soon as he arrives on Alternia, however he gets there, he’s going to learn how wrong he was made. Being outcast serves as your earliest memories. You wish you could keep the grub here forever, in a vacuum away from the horrors of the real world.
The other grubs have coagulated around your feet, pattering about. You set the little you down, using both arms now to wipe away the tears and snot off your face and onto your sleeve. You feel sick.
You try to back away from the grubs the best you can, and uncaptchalogue your husktop. You need to talk to someone about this, at least a little bit.
carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC]
CG: I MADE A FUCK TON OF GRUBS, AND THEY WON’T STOP SCREAMING AND CRYING AND DROOLING ALL OVER ME.
GC: WH4T? >:?
CG: IT’S US AS GRUBS, I THINK.
CG: HOW THE FUCK DO I DEAL WITH THIS?
GC: H4V3 YOU B33N CRY1NG?
GC: 1 C4N SM3LL YOUR T34RS THROUGH TH3 SCR33N
GC: S4LTY, W1TH 4 H1NT OF C4NDY >:]
CG: CAN WE *SERIOUSLY* NOT TALK ABOUT MY FUCKED UP BLOOD RIGHT NOW?
CG: I GET IT, THERE’S SOMETHING SERIOUSLY WRONG WITH IT AND ME. IT’S TERRIBLE AND I’M TERRIBLE. I’M A MISERABLE OUTCAST FROM SOCIETY THAT’S GOING TO DIE BEFORE I’M 10 SWEEPS OLD AND EVERYONE WILL CLAP AND CHEER OVER IT.
GC: WH3R3 D1D 1 S4Y 4NY OF TH4T? >:/
GC: 4R3 YOU PL4Y1NG S3LF P1TY TO TH3 3XTR3M3 R1GHT NOW?
CG: A BIT.
CG: FUCK, THESE GRUBS WON’T STOP SCREAMING AND I CAN *BARELY* THINK.
CG: I’M GOING TO RIP MY EARS OFF IN FRONT OF THEM ALL JUST TO PROVE A POINT. LEAVE THEM IN HORROR AS THEY REALIZE FOR ONCE THAT THEY NEED TO SHUT THE FUCK UP.
GC: HOW D1D YOU M4K3 4LL TH3S3 GRUBS 4NYW4Y?
GC: 1 H4V3 4 F33L1NG YOU W3R3NT P41L1NG 1N TH3S3 C1RCUMST4NC3S
CG: HAR HAR.
CG: SHUT UP ABOUT THAT.
CG: I MADE WEIRD GOOPY SLIME CLONES OF OUR ANCESTORS OR SOMETHING.
CG: AND THEN IT ALSO MADE US SOMEHOW.
GC: 1S GRUB M3 TH3RE?
GC: W4SNT 1 TH3 CUT3ST L1TTL3 TH1NG? >:]
CG: I MEAN, GRUBS ARE PRETTY UGLY.
CG: LIKE IN GENERAL. KIND OF HARD TO SEE ANY AS SOMETHING CUTE.
CG: YOU HAVE YOUR EYES, THOUGH. IT’S STRANGE TO SEE. I FORGET YOU LOST YOUR SIGHT IN AN ACCIDENT.
CG: I GUESS IT’S SOMETHING SO CORE TO YOU THAT IT’S HARD TO IMAGINE YOU WITHOUT IT.
GC: H3LL Y34
CG: I THINK YOU’RE MESSING WITH GRUB VRISKA.
CG: GOOD TO KNOW THAT’S SOMETHING THAT’S INEVITABLE WITH YOU TWO.
GC: SCOURG3 S1ST3RS FOR L1FE!
CG: YOUR GRUB ANCESTOR KEEPS MESSING WITH GRUB ANCESTOR SOLLUX, I THINK.
CG: WHAT A COMBO.
GC: HM >:?
GC: H4RD TO 1M4G1N3 TH4T COMBO
GC: NOTH1NG 4G41NST TH3 GUY, BUT 1N WH4T WORLD?
GC: WH4T 4BOUT YOU 4ND YOUR 4NC3STOR?
CG: URGH.
CG: CRAWLING AROUND, CHEWING ON STUFF. WHATEVER GRUBS DO.
CG: I’M TRYING NOT TO LOOK AT EITHER OF THEM TOO HARD.
CG: ON ACCOUNT OF MY ALL-CONSUMING SELF HATRED THAT SEEMS TO BE THE ONLY REAL ASPECT OF MY IDENTITY BEYOND MY FUCKED UP, MUTATED BLOOD. TRYING NOT TO FUCK UP THE GRUB WORSE THAN I ALREADY COULD HAVE. OR FUCK UP MYSELF, I GUESS. HOWEVER IT WORKS.
CG: FUCK, I NEED THESE GRUBS OUT OF HERE.
CG: IT’S FUCKED UP HOLDING A BABY VERSION OF YOURSELF.
CG: BEFORE ANYTHING BAD COULD HAVE HAPPENED. SOMEONE THAT KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT THE WORLD AND HOW IT’LL TREAT THEM. A VERSION OF YOU SEPARATED FROM EVERYTHING TERRIBLE YET TO COME.
CG: FUCK SGRUB AND ALL THIS WEIRD *TIME SHIT* WE HAVE TO DO. I HATE THINKING ABOUT MYSELF LIKE THIS. MORE THAN I HATE THINKING ABOUT MYSELF IN THE REGULAR WAY.
Something in the room changes. The giant pad in the middle lights up, signifying something new you’re supposed to do. It clicks in your head how the grubs would have to end up back in time somehow, to be the children that grow up.
CG: HEY, SOMETHING CHANGED.
CG: I THINK I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING AGAIN.
CG: I’LL TALK LATER. BYE, TEREZI.
GC: BY3, K4RK4T
GC: GOOD LUCK >:]
carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC]
You try and gather up all the grubs. As many as you can at once, anyway. They keep crawling away however best they can on their stubby little legs. You start placing them on the pad, and they’re sent off to who-knows-where.
You save yourself and the Sufferer for last. You want to keep them here for as long as possible, away from the hurt you know they’ll face. For a guy who hates himself so heavily, you’re acting strangely protective of yourself as a grub.
You know it won’t matter. Regardless of how long you keep yourself in this stuffy lab, you’re going to be sent back and end up right here in the future. But it feels nice to pretend that you’re shielding yourself from the horrors of what’ll happen. That you’re a normal, average shade of red. That your life will turn out great and nothing bad could possibly happen.
It’s a fake sense of security. The Sufferer will go back to his time, only to grow up and be tortured to death. You’ll go back, grow up with the stories of his pain, and choose to hide every part of yourself that you can so you don’t end up like him. It’s part of the life you’ve lived, and the life the young you will grow up to live. But it feels nice to pretend, if even for a minute, that everything will be okay.