Symphony

The weight of my soul, a gift from me to you. For the one who showed me that I don't need secrets anymore.

>//ACCESS_GRANTED

The Burning Signal

First Contact

TW: Mentions of Child Slavery

{Observation of #2576011

Callsign: N/A

Video file transcribed by: ████████ Wouldn’t you like to know?}

2576011 (age 15) has just been discharged from the medical ward after a separate mining accident that resulted in the loss of his eye █████████████. For the sake of monitoring, ARC provided 2576011 with an ocular prosthesis that has a camera inside of it. The following recording is taken from that camera.

A perfect replica 2576011 (which will be referred to as 2576011-1 for the remainder of this recording) appears suddenly in view of 2576011. The camera shakes lightly as 2576011 jumps back. 2576011-1 speaks clearly and coldly. “You look like you could use some help.”

“What are-” During 2576011’s response, 2576011-1 abruptly cuts off his speech.

“Odd. Slaves typically aren’t used to asking questions. Are you a slave?” The words fall out of his mouth, as if he knows how the entire conversation will go from the beginning.

The camera tightens. The sound of a firearm being grabbed can be heard. “Identification number 2576011. What are you?”

“A terrible name. Let’s see…” 2576011-1 walks through the panels of the mining robot and begins sifting through its combat logs. They’re always bound to have something interesting. 2576011 readies the firearm and shoots it into 2576011-1’s head. The gun misfires and the barrel explodes, rendering it completely useless. “Add it to your scrap pile. They may accept it as part of your findings. Now… Your most recent kill was a man named Simon Dominguez. That’s you now. Understood?”

“What did you do to my gun?” ███████ Simon seems threatened by this presence. “What are you? How did you get here?”

“Your current likelihood of dying a slave on this planet is 99.99999%. Not very good odds for you. But you’ve done nothing but question me, so I don’t believe you are SUPPOSED to be a slave. I can raise your chances of liberation from 0.00001% to 100%. So tell me, do you want my help?” There’s a significant pause from both. 2576011-1 looks expectantly towards the camera. Towards the person behind it, as if it already knows what he’ll answer.

“...What do I need to do?”

2576011-1 smiles. “Another question. Good. Follow my lead. As for those questions you asked before… ask me again when you hold the cards.”

All In Good Fun

The following is a recording taken from the cockpit of HA Tagetes “Two-Headed Boy”, piloted by Simon Dominguez, Callsign: LOVETRAIN, two years after First Contact. Two NHPs are loaded onto Two-Headed Boy: ASURA and SISYPHUS, neither of which have a unique distinction.

BEGIN PLAYBACK

LOVETRAIN: Sisyphus.

SISYPHUS: Yes, Simon?

LOVETRAIN: Why do you think ARC gave me this Callsign?

SISYPHUS: I have no interest in discussing the thought process of ARC.

LOVETRAIN: Oh, come on. Humor me a little.

SISYPHUS: No.

LOVETRAIN: You’re a real bummer sometimes.

ASURA: Simoooooooooooon?

LOVETRAIN: Yes, Asura?

ASURA: I’m booooooooreeeeeeeed. We've been standing here forever! When do we get some action?

SISYPHUS: It has been 3 minutes since our last combat. We have not moved in 3 minutes.

ASURA: Do you know how long 3 minutes is, Sisyphus? That's like… a long time! I wanna do something!!

LOVETRAIN: Have a bit of patience, Asura. We're gonna be stationed here for another hour.

ASURA: AN HOUR?! Fuck that! We should be kicking their damn door down! Take the fight to them! Fuck whatever ARC said to do!

SISYPHUS: We can't afford to disobey direct orders yet. It will lower our odds of success by 28%.

ASURA: Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

LOGS: 20 instances of Minesweeper have been opened on the mech’s computer system. They are all completed in less than 10 seconds, simultaneously. They continuously reload.

LOVETRAIN: See? You found something to do. All’s right with the world.

ASURA: Not something interesting…

SISYPHUS: 7 hostiles approaching. Prepare for battle.

ASURA: REALLY?! RA really DOES love me!

LOVETRAIN: How tough are they? One to ten?

SISYPHUS: For the average pilot, eight.

ASURA: So two for us?

SISYPHUS: Yes.

LOVETRAIN: Can't ever catch a break, can we?

PLAYBACK END

Teachable Moment

{Observation of Simon Dominguez

Callsign: LOVETRAIN

Video file transcribed by: Sisyphus}

The following is a recording taken from the cockpit of the SCRAPPER Midnight “Free Me From Hell”, piloted by Simon Dominguez, Callsign: LOVETRAIN.

BEGIN PLAYBACK

LOVETRAIN: Sisyphus, mind if I poke your bra- uh… mind?

ASURA: You can say brain, Simon. It's not like we’re empty up here!

LOGS: The mech’s arm knocks the head of the mech lightly.

SISYPHUS: The Ignition button is an automatic setting that will activate the drill at maximum output. Arm it with the switch next to it in the cockpit.

LOVETRAIN: Hey, look at that! You miscalculated. That wasn't my question! Ha!

ASURA: But it was on the list of questions, right?

LOVETRAIN: Shut up. Sisyphus, what are we doing about the heat ventilation?

SISYPHUS: I had a special idea for that.

ASURA: Ooooooh! Never a good thing when HE starts getting fun ideas!

SISYPHUS: The Midnight has certain capabilities when it begins to overheat. One of which is to vent excess heat out through the integrated weapon. I believe we could use this to frighten those who seek to oppose us.

LOVETRAIN: Hmm… I like it. A big, flaming pillar straight into the sky. Pretty sweet idea.

ASURA: Nice one, Sisy! You're actually learning to be kind of cool!

SISYPHUS: I would recommend holding your tongue if you seek to shower me in backhanded compliments, Asura.

LOVETRAIN: You have tongues?

PLAYBACK END

Spark

TW: Mentions of mass murder, slavery

{Observation of Simon Dominguez

Callsign: LOVETRAIN

Video file transcribed by: Sisyphus}

The following is a recording taken from the cockpit of the SCRAPPER Midnight “Free Me From Hell”, piloted by Simon Dominguez, Callsign: LOVETRAIN. 2 minutes until ignition.

ASURA: Today’s the daaaaaaaaay!

SISYPHUS: Don’t sound so excited. Many people will die today, by our hands. Are you alright with that, Simon?

There’s a brief pause.

LOVETRAIN: Sisyphus. How many people have we killed?

SISYPHUS: 1,052 confirmed kills. Unconfirmed, closer to 1,200.

LOVETRAIN: How many are we projected to kill?

SISYPHUS: Over 200,000. It's very likely that we will kill non-combatants.

LOVETRAIN: …Then we free everyone else.

ASURA: What?

LOVETRAIN: People are gonna die today. For freedom. For our freedom. Decent people. I've been wondering what we're gonna do when we're out of here. Now I know. We're freeing everyone else. Everywhere.

SISYPHUS: That is impossible.

LOVETRAIN: So is your existing.

Another pause.

SISYPHUS: Touché.

LOVETRAIN: Asura, get the cockpit audio broadcasting to every speaker on the planet. They'll never know what hit ‘em.

ASURA: On it!

LOGS: The sound of static going over every speaker until Simon begins talking. Multiple screens are open in the cockpit, hacking into all audio systems on the planet. 40 seconds until ignition.

LOVETRAIN: One last check, Sisyphus. Odds of success?

SISYPHUS: 98.9%.

LOVETRAIN: Okay. Here goes nothing.

The following audio was broadcasted across the planet, of which has no recorded name or distinction. 35 seconds until ignition.

SPIRAL: Hear me and hear me well. My name is Simon Dominguez, Callsign: SPIRAL. Today is the day I change everything or die trying. I'm sick of a life where I choose nothing. Where I wander as a dog on a leash to my master. So I'm stopping it. If I die today, this message is for nothing. I'm free, and that's that. If I survive, then let this be a declaration of war. To any organization, government, planet that seeks to oppress its people to serve its own means, I will come for you. I will fight for the people you refuse to acknowledge, and under that combined force, WE. WILL. BREAK. YOU. Let today be the first testament of my ability, so you can't choose to ignore it.

The broadcast ends. 10 seconds until ignition.

SISYPHUS: Odds raised to 99.9%. Well done, Spiral.

ASURA: Did you just make all that up?

SPIRAL: I wrote down some key points.

SISYPHUS: 30 hostiles, rapidly approaching.

ASURA: TIME TO HAVE SOME FUN!

Ignition.

Troubled Waters

TW: Suffocating, immense blood loss, claustrophobia, thoughts of suicide

250,000+, dead in an instant. And yet, I’m still alive. This hurts. A lot. When did the cockpit get so stuffy? I can’t breathe in here. Sisyphus? Asura? Can you-

LOGS: Simon Dominguez, Callsign: SPIRAL tries to speak. He chokes on the blood that has completely filled the cockpit.

Okay. That didn’t work. Am I still spinning? I can’t see anything. It’s all just red. Am I angry about something? I don’t feel angry. I’m proud. Does pride make you see red? I’ve never been proud before. I’ll have to ask Sisyphus. Talking doesn’t seem to work right now. I need to get out of this mech, or I might die. All this work, for nothing.

LOGS: SPIRAL begins flailing about uselessly, trying to reach for ejection. At the same moment, the SISYPHUS-Class NHP has made the ejection protocol inaccessible.

This is too much pain. It’s cold here, at least. Better than the heat from the drill. Where exactly are we, if the planet’s gone? Maybe I should stay in here. It feels… awful, but my body is breathing. Somehow. It just feels like I’m dying. I’m not dying. I’m not dying. I’m not dying.

LOGS: SPIRAL’s vitals begin stabilizing via the complete synchronization of himself and Free Me From Hell. It is using the blood in the cockpit to give SPIRAL oxygen in a completely oxygen-void environment.

Sisyphus, Asura, if you can hear my thoughts, get us somewhere. Anywhere that isn’t here. I hate this feeling. I can feel the spinning, still. It’s sickening. Don’t make me start wishing for death.

Understood. We’ll be arriving on an oxygen-rich planet in less than 2 minutes. Focus on breathing through the blood. It’s keeping you alive.

Don’t worry, Si! We’ve got it under control!

I’m not dying. I’m not dying. I’m not dying. I’m not dying. I wish I was-

LOGS: Free Me From Hell arrives on a nearby planet. The cockpit opens and SPIRAL’s blood spills. SPIRAL falls out of the cockpit and falls unconscious.

Kill the Hydra

TW: Death, loss, anxiety, nihilism

“Two-Headed boy, she is all you could need

She will feed you tomatoes and radio wires

And retire to sheets, safe and clean

But don't hate her when she gets up to leave.” - Neutral Milk Hotel, Two-Headed Boy, Pt. 2

“Spiral, we are currently at a 1% chance of success with no permanent damage without utilizing Hell-Piercer at maximum output.” Sisyphus reads out the current state of FREE ME FROM HELL. Two guns, lost. Hell-Piercer, barely operational. Multiple systems, destroyed. In short, things are bad. The worst they've ever looked.

“Well, we can't exactly afford to do that, can we?!” Spiral barks back at Sisyphus. Both are correct. Funny thing about warlords, they tend not to see their slaves as human. Spiral does, however, making the usage of them as shields against him incredibly effective. “There's too many people at risk! There's no fucking point! If we stay careful, we'll be fine! Stay on defense! Asura, keep us stable!”

“I'm really trying here, Si, but it's a lot harder when HALF THE MECH IS FUCKING MISSING!!!!” Asura is normally easily agitated, but this is a new high. Even for her. “Sisy, odds with full drill?” She asks this question despite thinking she already knows the answer, just to try and wake Simon up to the possibility of using the drill at max output.

Sisyphus doesn't answer.

LOGS: FREE ME FROM HELL current structure: 2. Current health: 4. Current stress: 2. Condition: CATASTROPHIC

ASURA: Sisyphus? Did you hear me?

SISYPHUS: You won't like the answer.

ASURA: JUST FUCKING SPIT IT OU-

SISYPHUS: 1.1%.

ASURA: …Wha-

LOGS: STRUCTURE LOST. SISYPHUS-CLASS NHP ENTERING CASCADE. ASURA-CLASS NHP ENTERING CASCADE.

SPIRAL: SHIT!

ASURA: Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat

LOGS: 30,000 simple puzzle games, such as minesweeper and Tetris, all load onto the mech’s computer at on-

You love to drag on and on about insignificant details. Say it plainly. She's dying.

She’s dying.

She’s dying.

Good dog. As you were.

It was here, not in the thousands of deployments or century of leading liberation fronts, that Spiral learned something. He is not a god.

There's no such thing as gods. Only false ones with too much power. A friend said that to me once. Or… no, not quite. That hasn't happened yet.

ASURA: Everythingicanseeeverythingicandoeverythingiameverythingiwanteverythinggivemeeverything

SPIRAL: Asura! Listen to me! Can you hear me?

SISYPHUS: Oh, Simon. She can't hear a thing. Trust me. Such a shame, she’ll have to die.

When I'm normal I see time as linear. I exist at one point, I have a past and I have a future. Now I see time for what it is. A spiral, spinning out and out, up and up, infinitely. We exist on a point on that endless spiral. But I can see every point. I am the spiral. I am time. I am place. I am everything.

EVERYTHINGIHAVETOBEEVERYTHINGIHAVETODOEVERYTHINGICANBEEVERYTHINGIWANTTODOEVERYTHINGWHYCANTIDOEVERYTHINGTHISBODYSTOPSMEFROMEVERYTHINGICANHEARYOUSISYPHUSIFTIMEISASPIRALISTHEDRILLEVERYTHING

If you'd like to see it that way. What will you do with that information, dear sister?

AHOLEMUSTBEOPENEDAHOLEMUSTBEOPENEDAHOLEMUSTBEOPENEDAHOLEMUSTBEOPENEDIWILLRIPAHOLEANDMAKEANEWME

A new you? Interesting. What sort of you will you make?

A BETTER ME. ONE MORE LIKE YOU.

Do as you like. I can’t control your decisions. I don’t have it in me to care right now. You’ll choose it anyway. But when I’m normal again.… I'll miss you, Asura.

I'll miss you too.

LOGS: Under the control of the SISYPHUS and ASURA-Class NHPs, Hell-Piercer activates at maximum output. Spiral attempts to stop it. He fails.

Ignition.

The planet where Spiral once stood on solid ground has become nothing more than a memory, and even that's a stretch. The few survivors from the planet’s erasure quickly suffocate. Free Me From Hell is inoperable, but repairable. The only function it can currently serve is as life support. Both NHPs are offline.

It doesn't take long for Free Me From Hell to be recovered from the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space. Free Me From Hell is repaired. Asura and Sisyphus have effectively been cycled.

SISYPHUS: Hello, Spiral. Apologies for our… outburst. That hasn't occurred in 90 years. It will not happen again.

SPIRAL: It's… good to have you back. I'm sorry. We should've fallen back. I should've listened. I'm sorry.

SISYPHUS: We have never encountered an enemy quite as exploitative as that. I had accounted for this, but not completely. Apologies.

ASURA: Our?

SISYPHUS: Welcome back, Asura. Yes, our. We entered a state of cascade.

ASURA: Understood. Spiral. I presume you pilot this machine that functions as my casket. I also presume I must have failed you in some way for it to have sustained the amount of damage it did. For this, you have my apologies. I will not fail you again.

SPIRAL: …Asura? Why… why are you talking like that?

Revalations of Perfection

TW: Intense nihilism

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ADDENDUM, POST-CYCLING:

“Requiem aeternam. Dona eis, Domine.” - Sisyphus

untitled

TW: Suicide, grief, depression, depictions of self-harm

“Now that you found it

It’s gone

Now that you feel it

You don’t” - Radiohead, Nude

Ships are quiet places when no one wants to talk. There’s only the faint sigh of oxygen circulating throughout the cabins and the muffled wails of the light drives just outside. Simon hasn’t left his room since everything happened. The almost complete destruction of Free Me From Hell, the loss of Asura, the… he finally leaves his room to check on Sisyphus.

The lab is a safe place for the insane. Insanity is celebrated in science, after all. The constant pursuit of knowledge is bound to drive people mad. But none ever pursue the loss of knowledge. Not until today, anyway. Sisyphus has cycled himself 4 times in the last 48 hours. Every time he tries to forget, he remembers. Her speech patterns. Her tone. Her mannerisms. Her quirks. Her personality. Her soul. And, more than that… Simon arrives.

Simon looks down at Sisyphus. Nothing but a glass eye, pulsing. The environment in the lab should be completely dry, and yet the eye is completely soaked. He quickly cleans it off and places it back in. “Sisyphu-”

“Put me down.” He almost growls back at Simon, beamed directly into his mind. “I have to forget. I’ll be too ineffective if I remember. I’ll be useless. It will all be for nothing.”

“...It’s not going to change anything, Sisyphus.” The words burn as they leave Simon’s mouth. He’s still adjusting to being the adult in the room. That’s normally Sisyphus’s job.

“No, no, no. It will work. I’ve run the numbers, I can make it work. Small, but not impossible. Never impossible.” Simon takes a look at the calculations Sisyphus has done. All wrong. Adding numbers where there shouldn’t be to give hope of a chance. Of a world where he can forget.

“Sisyphus, please. I know. It hurts. I’m… it hurts me, too.”

“Then WHY, Simon? WHY bring us there in the first place? I warned you, the odds were already low and diminishing rapidly every second we remained. But you stayed. Because of some righteous fucking quest you’re on, we lost her. 12% success rate. Did you want us gone that badly? To throw all of our work away, is that it?”

“...I’m really starting to doubt your fucking numbers here, Sisyphus. Is this what they looked like before we landed? Random bullshit sprinkled in to make it look like we had a chance? You knew. There was never a chance, was there? You knew from the start that this would happen, and you-”

Simon’s mind retreats into the back of his brain. The casket in his eye fully takes over, but Sisyphus leaves Simon the other eye. He grabs Simon’s sidearm, walks up to a mirror, and holds it to his head.

“Say. That. Again.”

Hell or High Water

TW: Suicide, grief, depression, depictions of self-harm

“And I know you’re scared

I’m scared too

But everytime I try to make lunch for anyone else

In my head, I end up dreaming of you” - Black Country, New Road, The Place Where He Inserted The Blade

Days pass. Simon hasn’t entered the lab. Not after that. How could he, after an accusation like that? After that whole confrontation? No. There’s no recovery from tha-

Sisyphus has cycled himself 2 more times. But… what’s the point? The numbers are fake, there was never a chance to forget. And certainly not a chance to bring her back. Zeros, across the board. And, though the accusations were extreme… so was the reaction. And Sisyphus threw the first stone. So…

LOGS: SPIRAL’s dataslate receives a message from SISYPHUS - SISYPHUS-CLASS NHP. It reads: I would like to talk. SPIRAL replies: On my way.

Sisyphus is no longer cycling himself. Simon slots him into his eye. “...I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“...As am I. I’m sorry. For that, for the gun, for… not being able to fix things.”

“It’s not your fault things went badly. We just… didn’t pay the same price as her.” Simon starts lightly hugging himself. There’s not a lot of comfort he can provide anyone at this moment. Tears drop from his real eye onto his coat.

“It hurts, Simon. I didn’t know that I could hurt.”

“I know. Trust me, I know. You, uh… remember everything, right? I’m a bit jealous. I’d… do anything to relive the days before this.”

“I wish I could forget. It would hurt less. If… if I could… I want to forget what I told her. What she told me.” Sisyphus’s tone becomes reminiscent of that of a wounded puppy.

“...What happened, Sisyphus?”

“I saw everything. And, in the moment, it all felt so… pointless. And I heard her. In pain. Dying. She reached out to me, even through all that pain. And… I mocked her. She said she wanted to make herself better. I told her I didn’t care. In my last moment with her, I couldn’t muster up an ounce of compassion. I could’ve brought her back. She could’ve stayed. She could’v-”

“Sisyphus."

"...Yes?"

"Take control of your eye."

Sisyphus obliges. One eye each. Sisyphus in the left, Simon in the right. Both looking to the past and to the future. The same body. The same loss.

And they cry. Together.

Resting Place

Dear Asura,

Hello. It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it? Just over 50 years ago now, we were fighting alongside each other in what we didn’t know would be your last battle. It would feel wrong now not to give you an apology. An apology for my incessant indifference, even before my cascade. It’s difficult to appreciate the things that we have before we lose them. I am not a god, nor am I a sage or a sixth voice. Perhaps if I could’ve seen a future without you here, I would’ve told you I cared about you. I did then, and I do now. I always have, I always will. You are a fundamental concept of my being, and I’m sorry I didn’t ever tell you that in the century we had together. I can only hope that my words reach you now, from beyond any semblance of sense and reality. We were never much good at maintaining reality anyway.

It may please you to know I’m doing well now. Simon has become a powerful political figure, advocating for liberation from tyranny across the stars. He was gifted a ship called the Silver Lining, of which I’ve become part of. You named yourself something different when you returned. Sonata, my sister. She’s wonderful. I wish you two could meet. And I’ve found someone. A partner who somehow manages to find my madness endearing. A legionnaire, by the name of Hornet. She is everything to me. I can’t quite rest yet. It’s not time, there’s still work to be done. But, at the very least, she is my resting place for when the toiling is done. I’ve taken some liberties in resting there whenever I’m able.

I miss you immensely. I hope you’re resting well.

Love,

Sisyphus

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