charloft - Plan G
Have you ever had to re-evaluate your life?
"It won't work," Glitch said quietly as he gazed at the glass tank. He'd said the same thing ten annuals before, as the anesthesia began to take effect and Raynz ordered him to start counting. Ninety-nine, ninety-eight-
He flinched and reached up to touch the cool metal teeth of the zipper that bisected his scalp. The atmosphere in the brain room had to be meticulously maintained in order to preserve and protect the machinery which was preserving and protecting one of the Zone's most precious resources: Ambrose.
It was a silly way to look at it, since for every intent and purpose Glitch was Ambrose, and the brain matter in the tank before him was just a lump of tissue. It was not sentient, that much had been determined, and whatever proper memories that it may have held had long since been replaced by strings of code to run the sun seeder. Which was why...why...
"It won't work," Glitch repeated, softer now. "They can't do the surgery." A decade spent wandering the Outer Zone, searching for his brain, his past, all for nothing it seemed. Ambrose was dead, long live not-quite Ambrose.
Glitch stepped back from the tank and fussed with the cuffs of his new coat. DG would be very displeased if she knew he thought of it like that, but, well, all of his plans that he could remember had started with "When I get my marbles back..." and ended with everything being better. When he got his brain back, he'd be whole. When he got his brain back, he'd remember everything. When he got his brain back he'd be an adviser again, and invent things and serve his Queen and help the people of the OZ.
When, when, always when, never "if", never "maybe" and now that hypothetical "when" was "never." Cain had been right, he was too optimistic for his own good and now he was suffering the consequences. Glitch sighed, folded his arms, and began to pace, in a meandering fashion, around the opulently macabre brain room.
"Look on the bright side," he told himself, then struggled to come up with one. "Okay, well, so I can't remember everything, so what? Maybe there's things I don't want to remember!"
Except for the life of him he couldn't recall his mother's face, or if he'd even known her, and the Queen's name still escaped him most of the time, and he got lost in the palace far too easily.
"Hm. All right, I can still invent things." Which was true enough, he thought. He hadn't actually tried it yet, and all the scattered schematics and damaged prototypes in his old lab looked like so much junk now. But if need be he was sure that even with just half a brain he could come up with some solution. He was the smartest guy DG knew, after all, and that had to count for something.
He could not work for the Queen anymore, though, not like he used to. He'd been more than an inventor, he'd been her top adviser, her military strategist, her chief diplomat, her...policy-making-helper-outer, her sounding board. Confidant. Friend. He could certainly do that still, he would always be her friend, and DG and Az's friend, and Cain and Raw and, oh anyone.
Glitch stopped his pacing and smiled softly. Making friends was part of how he'd survived, seeking out the gentler souls to help him along the way as he wandered the Zone.
Maybe he could keep exploring, only in a bit more comfort this time. And maybe- he thought of DG's stories about the Otherside, the sights, the technology, maybe it would be nice to see if he could make friends there too.
He walked back to the tank and gently laid his hand on the glass. "It won't work...like I planned," he amended. "But I've always been good at improvising."
"It won't work," Glitch said quietly as he gazed at the glass tank. He'd said the same thing ten annuals before, as the anesthesia began to take effect and Raynz ordered him to start counting. Ninety-nine, ninety-eight-
He flinched and reached up to touch the cool metal teeth of the zipper that bisected his scalp. The atmosphere in the brain room had to be meticulously maintained in order to preserve and protect the machinery which was preserving and protecting one of the Zone's most precious resources: Ambrose.
It was a silly way to look at it, since for every intent and purpose Glitch was Ambrose, and the brain matter in the tank before him was just a lump of tissue. It was not sentient, that much had been determined, and whatever proper memories that it may have held had long since been replaced by strings of code to run the sun seeder. Which was why...why...
"It won't work," Glitch repeated, softer now. "They can't do the surgery." A decade spent wandering the Outer Zone, searching for his brain, his past, all for nothing it seemed. Ambrose was dead, long live not-quite Ambrose.
Glitch stepped back from the tank and fussed with the cuffs of his new coat. DG would be very displeased if she knew he thought of it like that, but, well, all of his plans that he could remember had started with "When I get my marbles back..." and ended with everything being better. When he got his brain back, he'd be whole. When he got his brain back, he'd remember everything. When he got his brain back he'd be an adviser again, and invent things and serve his Queen and help the people of the OZ.
When, when, always when, never "if", never "maybe" and now that hypothetical "when" was "never." Cain had been right, he was too optimistic for his own good and now he was suffering the consequences. Glitch sighed, folded his arms, and began to pace, in a meandering fashion, around the opulently macabre brain room.
"Look on the bright side," he told himself, then struggled to come up with one. "Okay, well, so I can't remember everything, so what? Maybe there's things I don't want to remember!"
Except for the life of him he couldn't recall his mother's face, or if he'd even known her, and the Queen's name still escaped him most of the time, and he got lost in the palace far too easily.
"Hm. All right, I can still invent things." Which was true enough, he thought. He hadn't actually tried it yet, and all the scattered schematics and damaged prototypes in his old lab looked like so much junk now. But if need be he was sure that even with just half a brain he could come up with some solution. He was the smartest guy DG knew, after all, and that had to count for something.
He could not work for the Queen anymore, though, not like he used to. He'd been more than an inventor, he'd been her top adviser, her military strategist, her chief diplomat, her...policy-making-helper-outer, her sounding board. Confidant. Friend. He could certainly do that still, he would always be her friend, and DG and Az's friend, and Cain and Raw and, oh anyone.
Glitch stopped his pacing and smiled softly. Making friends was part of how he'd survived, seeking out the gentler souls to help him along the way as he wandered the Zone.
Maybe he could keep exploring, only in a bit more comfort this time. And maybe- he thought of DG's stories about the Otherside, the sights, the technology, maybe it would be nice to see if he could make friends there too.
He walked back to the tank and gently laid his hand on the glass. "It won't work...like I planned," he amended. "But I've always been good at improvising."