“A failure,” he’d roared at her, as she’d flapped painfully in front of him, still careful not to get too close to those terrible, body-crushing hands. “Something went wrong, wiped everything from that area. Landscape, buildings, demons, the tormented; all just ceased to be. Released more of the undeserving wretches in a blink of an eye than you’ve set free in all the time you’ve worked for me! Ha! Now fuck off and stop troubling me with matters even I have no control over!”
Now this.
She felt different. The pod she was hanging in felt different, and it was as though all the pain she had taken on was evaporating. A sort of back-surge of relief, well-being – almost sexual, nearly orgasmic in its contrasting intensity – washed through her, sloshing back and forth within her as though she was the hollow presence here, not the pod-roost. The sensation slowly lost energy and dampened down, leaving her feeling clean and good for the first time in longer than she could recall.
She found that she had let go of the perch, but was still hanging where she had been. Her body seemed different too; no longer so great and terrible and fierce; no longer Hell’s dark angel of release. Trying to look at it, she realised she couldn‘t really see what she had become instead, either; it was as though everything about her had become pixelated, smoothed out. She had some sort of body, but it somehow contained all the possibilities of every sort of body: four-legged mammal, two-legged mammal, bird, fish, snake … and every other type of being, including ones she had no names for, as though she was some brand new embryo, cells so few and so fixated on simple, continual multiplication that they had not yet decided what to become.
She floated to the limit of the pod. It all looked and felt different: smaller, quieter – completely silent – and without the stink she realised had been in her nostrils for as long as she’d been back. The air in here now was probably completely neutral, odour-free, but that absence smelled like the sweetest, freshest mountain meadow breeze to her after what she’d been used to for so long.
There was, however, no exit, no way out of the pod, even where the hole at the foot had been. This troubled her less than she would have anticipated. The walls of the pod were neither soft nor hard; they were untouchable. She reached for them but it felt as though there was some perfectly clear glass between her and them. She struggled even to tell what colour the walls were.
Such relief, such relief, no longer to be in pain. She closed her eyes, feeling things wind up, wind down, go into a sort of static, stored, steady state.
Something was happening; something had happened. She would not even start to think about what it might be or what it might imply or mean. Hope, she recalled, had to be resisted at all costs.
A sort of buzzing filled her body and her head. Behind her already closed eyes she felt herself starting to drift away. If this was death, she had time to think – real, full, proper, no-waking-up-from death – then it was not so terrible.
After all that Hell had made her suffer and made her witness and made her complicit with, she might finally be getting to die in some sort of peace.
Too good to be true, she thought woozily. She’d believe it when … well …
xGSV Dressed Up To Party
oPS Falling Outside the Normal Moral Constraints
NR possibly labouring under all-too-accurate apprehension re YN’s true mission. As was, anyway; YN since deactivated from our POV, traces removed, memories wiped (diaglyph details attached). Full deniability now possible. Try to get NR off M,IC’s case.
… I mean by using argument, absolutely not force.
∞
xPS Falling Outside the Normal Moral Constraints
oGSV Dressed Up To Party
And a fascinating link implied between NR and Bulbitians! Aloof!
∞
xGSV Dressed Up To Party
oPS Falling Outside the Normal Moral Constraints
That is not your business.
xPS Falling Outside the Normal Moral Constraints
o8401.00 Partial Photic Boundary (NR ship – assumed)
Greetings. Can’t help noticing you've been combatively interested in some meatball on the good ship Me, I’m Counting. Imagining this isn't start of final applied stage of NR bio-disgust so there must be a specific reason. Care to share? I mean, I've very little time for the horrible, wasteful, bacteria-slathered, germ-infested, shit-filled squishy things myself, but I generally draw the line at trying to incinerate them – the effort/result equation is just woeful.
Smooches.
∞
x401.00 Partial Photic Boundary (NR Bismuth category ship)
oPS Falling Outside the Normal Moral Constraints
Reciprocated greetings. I am not free to discuss operational matters.