YGO Drabble Challenge [#49, Death] Kisara.exe
Flash-fiction(ish): Kisara x Set x Noah (401 words)
"But you are still just a copy." Set stared at the executable file labelled "Noah", still jumpy from the animation that had opened the program, letters and numbers falling and dancing like rain and suddenly coagulating into the boy's semi-3D relief. Faint blue interference lines floated up through the boy's eyes, too subtle to notice at first, but once Set had seen them, he couldn't ignore them again. Unconsciously, Set reached into his pocket to touch the stone that he always kept there. Calm.
Noah didn't seem interested in who he was, but Set couldn't stop the creeping sensation that Noah knew already.
"No, I am an original document," said Noah. "Copied from the now-unservicable wetware, to be fair, but an original document, nonetheless."
Now that was simply untrue. There where hundreds of this boy on the system, some of them fragmented, some of them compressed, but each could be pieced together into this same file. Set told him so.
Noah chuckled. "I know, but this file was modified once you opened it. Whatever data I may share with the other versions of me, this file is now unique. I am an original document."
Set shivered, but pressed on. Someone else had overcome death, in a different way, not once but hundreds of times, and it appeared to be catch-free. The mark of the typhon on the back of his hand rubbed numbly against the fabric of his pocket. He swallowed thickly. Life could be catch-free... for her. "You said that you know how to copy a person's soul," he said, dancing around the subject of just who it was that had been copied. "Can you copy the information of a person who has been fragmented and reassemble them, like I could with say... pf_Noah_19860415.exe?"
Noah tilted his head, and his smirk drooped on one side. Now he was interested. "A person who has been fragmented?" he repeated. The smirk reappeared. "...That sounds messy."
Set glared at him hard, almost leaped up and closed the file and purged it without another word, but resisted when he felt the edge of the rock press against his thumb. The ace card had to be played at some point, as one of his friends might say. "Messier than you can imagine," he said. He pulled the stone out of his pocket and let the dragon's eye engraved on it glare at Noah for him.
"But you are still just a copy." Set stared at the executable file labelled "Noah", still jumpy from the animation that had opened the program, letters and numbers falling and dancing like rain and suddenly coagulating into the boy's semi-3D relief. Faint blue interference lines floated up through the boy's eyes, too subtle to notice at first, but once Set had seen them, he couldn't ignore them again. Unconsciously, Set reached into his pocket to touch the stone that he always kept there. Calm.
Noah didn't seem interested in who he was, but Set couldn't stop the creeping sensation that Noah knew already.
"No, I am an original document," said Noah. "Copied from the now-unservicable wetware, to be fair, but an original document, nonetheless."
Now that was simply untrue. There where hundreds of this boy on the system, some of them fragmented, some of them compressed, but each could be pieced together into this same file. Set told him so.
Noah chuckled. "I know, but this file was modified once you opened it. Whatever data I may share with the other versions of me, this file is now unique. I am an original document."
Set shivered, but pressed on. Someone else had overcome death, in a different way, not once but hundreds of times, and it appeared to be catch-free. The mark of the typhon on the back of his hand rubbed numbly against the fabric of his pocket. He swallowed thickly. Life could be catch-free... for her. "You said that you know how to copy a person's soul," he said, dancing around the subject of just who it was that had been copied. "Can you copy the information of a person who has been fragmented and reassemble them, like I could with say... pf_Noah_19860415.exe?"
Noah tilted his head, and his smirk drooped on one side. Now he was interested. "A person who has been fragmented?" he repeated. The smirk reappeared. "...That sounds messy."
Set glared at him hard, almost leaped up and closed the file and purged it without another word, but resisted when he felt the edge of the rock press against his thumb. The ace card had to be played at some point, as one of his friends might say. "Messier than you can imagine," he said. He pulled the stone out of his pocket and let the dragon's eye engraved on it glare at Noah for him.