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 Rising Ashes

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whilaroo

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Posts : 130
Join date : 2009-12-24
Location : I'm in Brooklyn on a Halloween night...

PostSubject: Rising Ashes   Tue Sep 21, 2010 10:44 am

There exists more than one kind of darkness. There is that warm, cozy darkness which makes you feel as though you could sleep all through the morning and into tomorrow. There is that cold chill which makes you wrap the covers around you and drag them along with you after you have climbed out of bed and made yourself a steaming cup of coffee or cocoa to fight back the chill. A summer night has a cool darkness, well populated by the creatures of that time. Winter nights have a bleak and cold darkness, with a soft radiance to it. Even all of these have some redeeming quality to them, but the only element of this barren, garish shadow that covered all existence was that the blind deafness of it graciously kept him from watching himself, dead.

He had not yet come to himself, but it was in those moments that consciousness would rend away any such mercies. It was like a shock, into nothingness where before something, as flimsy as it may have been, had indeed been there at the very least. However, it was not the blindness which most shocked him as once again he rejoined the world of the living, but rather when he tried to breath and nothing at all happened. Perception screamed at him, his lungs were devoid of oxygen. In his lethargy, he began to panic. If he had limbs, they must have been flailing, for though he could not distinctly feel them, there were small blips like what touch had once been, pings that reached him as if from a great distance. What an oddity it was, had he been lucid enough to notice, that he should feel as though here were going to black out when all there was to see was darkness to begin with. I'm sure that somewhere within those few moments the thought did pass through his mind in some small way that there was a darkness he could remember which had been reassuring and comfortable, and how it was juxtaposed to the moment in which the blindness was more frightening than anything he could imagine. It was in this spasmodic state that he heard the voice, calling as if from a distance through a terrible echo.

"Calm down! It's okay! We're still calibrating everything. You just got there quicker than we expected," it was a young man, sort of rushed, obviously excited, "Here, I'm going to try to give you your eyes." As he spoke, suddenly there was light, blinding at first, but then with a sluggish lurch, it filtered into an incredibly blurred array of colors which spanned across the world in front of him. It was enough of a shock to stop his panic dead for at least a few seconds. Seconds that were long enough for him to realize something genuinely amazing, there was no screaming from his lungs. His brain was operating just fine. No blackness crept in around the edge of his brand new perception, which was starting to twist and bend as focus first came in leaps and bounds and then retreated again.
"I'm sorry," the voice meant to dislodge him from his reverie once again, "The optics are giving me the worst kind of trouble. Esther is going to attempt to bring up the audio sensors while I mess around with these blasted lenses." Once again his vision focused until it was almost painfully sharp and held for several seconds before running through a complete spectrum change in the colors. The echo fed mumbled curses into his head. Then, with incredible suddenness, as with all the other perceptions, sound came to him. It was a familiar clicking of minuscule hammers, and the continual grind of gears and pistons clamoring. Then broader, and bit by bit, the sounds of people in the distance, echoing off of metal to meet reverberant panels within his head. of course, all he was aware of was the proof of life opened around him, a world revealed. Still, it was more than just a little difficult to shake that incredibly eerie lack of the normal rhythm of breathing.

"Alright, can you see yet," the voice was harder to hear over the newfound ambient noise. The answer was no, he couldn't see, not really. Everything was still sort of a kaleidoscopic conglomerate of colorful fuzz staring back at him, but he was so glad to be able to distinguish anything other than a black void that he would have screamed out yes if he could. As it was, the only sound which emanated from him was an inhuman, crackling squawk, like one would imagine that a vulture with a cold trying to speak its woes through a short-wave radio transmitter might have sounded. "Oh!" Profanity ensued, "I forgot! Your voice!" More exclamations kept coming. "We won't be able to bring your voice into play for some little while, but that is alright. There are more vital functions which require our care at the moment. You'll have to forgive us. After all, this is our first time handling a project of such magnitude," This voice was softer, feminine, and yet, despite its lower tone, could be heard with much greater clarity. Then the man's voice was back, "For now, you'll just have to give us cues with your body!" His voice was almost abrasive with excitement, which brought to mind the wonder at exactly why it was that he found this entire enterprise so invigorating. Probably he hadn't done anything this challenging in what may have amounted to over a hundred years. The woman was amused, it showed in her voice, so that he could almost picture her smile, "Try raising the right arm for an affirmative answer and the left for a negative." he attempted to comply, but elicited no more than a twitch from his right arm, a tiny spasm that moved one of his fingers ever so slightly at the most. It was enough. "Excellent!" and then silence for a moment, it was the man again, "Here, I'm going to connect up the arms and legs a bit more. You'll be shaky for awhile, but I'll just keep tweaking until you get the hang of it. Esther will take over working on your eyes."

The focus began to pull together with brilliant efficiency. That painful sharpness did not overtake him so much as did a vision of the world, perhaps better than he had ever had before. The lenses in his optical sensors must have been astounding, was his general verdict. He was in a narrow corridor, Machine all around, but he could see light coming from somewhere above, and what looked like plants growing down to meet him. All was brilliant shining brass, or had been once, now there was a great deal of tarnish and rust, but the glory of industry shone all about him. He was on metal, but not too far away started cobbles, evidence of humanity, had not the sound been enough. The rays of sunshine lanced down through the Machine about, so that his shadowy position was more illuminated, falling directly across his lap. He tried to turn his head then, to look around about him and take in his surroundings. It was then that he found what the man had been doing. The artificial musculature in his back and neck, even his arms spasmed so hard to the right all at once that he was almost afraid that he had broken something. The resulting metallic clang resonated for some distance, and the actual abrasion was enough to have rendered unconscious an equally sized human. "Whoa! Let's not do that again!" the voice of the man crackled through into his head with some volume, "Just sit tight, and I'll tell you when I have this all wired up, okay? Esther, why don't you walk him through the procedure?" An affirmative sound passed through his cranial structures. "Once Benjamin has finished with your basic muscle controls, we'll have you perform a series of rudimentary actions, just to make sure that everything is working properly. After that, we'll give you your first directive and after that you will be leaving the contact zone, but don't worry, we'll leave instructions for you where you shall be able to find them concerning your missions."
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Location : I'm in Brooklyn on a Halloween night...

PostSubject: Re: Rising Ashes   Thu Sep 23, 2010 8:11 pm

Alternatations:

It really hurts, the light; when you haven't seen it for ages. At first, it is everything, drowning out all other sights. No colors, no objects, no motion can be seen, only the light. The burn is almost too much then. You don't want to look at it, but what happens when you can't shut your eyes? Excruciating pain envelops you, but as if it had the ability to give mercy, it slowly begins to fade, although not into blackness. Instead, it diverges and separates and becomes colors blurred together. Piece by piece, they sharpen and clarify until you can see the world around you through a sort of fuzzy haze, everything with its own aura of soft glow, as if the light is seeping into everything, or perhaps everything seeps into the light. As the pain recedes the notion of incredible beauty allows itself to emerge. As each object comes into focus, it portrays itself that much more, a piece of art. Desire explodes somewhere within your heart, desire to see! This world and everything in it, every color, every form, every nuance draws you. You can feel it calling out, summoning you onward, ever onward. Your heart leaps toward it with all its power, and you try to follow, everything in you tries to follow, but you don't move. Not your arms, your legs, your head... Nothing... Instead, you remain upon the ground, passive, dead. You fight it with all your mind, screaming at the top of your lungs, except that there is no sound for you cannot scream. You cannot even breath. Panic replaces that feeling of serenity, spreading throughout your entire being, engulfing every part.

If you could thrash about, you would be, but nothing responds, even to that horrified feeling which has consumed you very heart. All that beauty is no longer so wonderful. It has become, in a matter of seconds, a gilded prison. Your body itself is nothing more than a jail for your mind from which you look out and can do nothing. And then, your finger twitches. It isn't much, but you notice it. How could you not? It is there, right in front of you where you sit slumped against the wall. For a moment, that is all. Nothing more transpires, and then, slowly, you try it again. Once again, the finger spasms ever so slightly. The panic is by no means gone, but it is being replaced rapidly, overtaken by curiosity and hope and intrigue. So you wait, testing every few moments, and bit by bit, you begin to regain what before was no more than a dead frame. Function grows up your hand and then your arm. You can lift it and almost clench it even. Excruciatingly, you wait for sensation to return the rest of your body... A leg, the other, your other arm, even your neck begins to slowly respond. Shakily, you begin to attempt to prop yourself up. You fall, but strangely, there is no pain, but merely the cold touch of metal, muffled by something that you can't quite figure out. Using all four limbs, you once again try to push yourself off of the ground, and remain there this time, precariously suspended on rattling appendages. You quiver uncontrollably in that position, unable and unwilling to move further, lest you should be splayed across the ground again, prone.

There you stay for some while, but while the shaking never quite stops, your courage slowly builds until you begin, ever so slowly, to push off with your hands and rely on your legs. You stumble back against the wall pushing against it with your arms for support and the added friction to prevent your body from descending. The rattle of your fingertips upon the metal surface reaches your ears, and once again the fact that you are not gasping from exertion begins to bother you. Nothing makes sense, When again you look up at the world, it is no longer a horrifying vision, but neither does it possess that ethereal beauty. What you see is a harsh reality, a place that is real, not some extremity of emotion, a place of music and discord. Your hand clenches involuntarily along the metal as bit by bit you realize the truth of everything around you, as the revelation of self comes to you. You know that for which you exist here at this time.

Light hurts, but when you realize that you are born of shadows that... that hurts even more...
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