[week 12 - day 6] - video
[The hitomi blinks, resolving into a picture with a flutter of static. When it clears, a face is peering out, framed in a loose track jacket and some unnaturally-pleased bamboo. It's a face some might recognise; it looks like it could be nice enough if it tried-or more than nice: brown eyes, brown hair, fine, sharp features like a clever bird's.
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[ Another positively banal introduction. Mukuro does wish these new arrivals could learn how to make a proper entrance. Showmanship is a dying art, apparently. ]
I don't suppose you're going to ask after a certain yellow bricked pathway, next.
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[Perhaps it's all those months with Ryuk's backchat that make his unbothered response automatic; almost automatic. He even manages a laugh in response, quick and surprised like a tap on a wineglass.]
Heh. You know, I could almost be tempted. It would make as much sense as any of the rest of this.
[In reality, his situation makes a lot of sense; more than he'd like.]
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[ Mukuro has to laugh. Ah, yes. Stepping into an alternate world would raise questions for most of humanity, he supposes. ]
Sense is the greatest illusion.
What your eyes and ears and fingers tell you that you experience. What they relay to your brain to interpret. What it insists to you as factual. Nothing more.
Only these subjective concepts.
Reality is, therefore, what you make of it.
[ And Mukuro should know, considering he is in the habit of regularly constructing his own realities out of the flotsam and jetsam of his turbulent memories, dreams, and desires. The irony is that so long as you go around investigating meaning for the sum of the parts, you will never find the end of everything, and so true meaning will never be achieved.
It is only once you accept and internalize that all is chaos --
It is only then that meaning writes itself. For then reality has the stark simplicity of purposelessness. And you need never trouble your mind again. ]
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[He raises a tired eyebrow before he speaks to the hitomi again.]
But that's all sense is. Consensus reality. Get enough people to believe the same things, and they can change the world, right? [It's not a slip; it's said dispassionately, more as if the concept unsettles him. But out of sight on the voice recording, the corner of his mouth pulls.]
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[ Sociopathic? If you want to call it that. Mukuro prefers to suppose his view is the more honest one; all the others, who construct their actions in such a way so as to fit within the neatly cut parameters of the world -- it's those people who are truly disturbed. Because what would they be, if merely freed from social limitations? If the self-protective need to adhere were removed for one reason or another?
Mukuro is dishonest, but honestly so. Quite paradoxical.
Perhaps. ]
Mass delusion is mass sanity.
[ Interesting, that you did not debate the point. A worthwhile reply, Mukuro decides. Running with the illogic of logic, rather than bothering about such unceasingly mundane concerns as whereabouts or identities. Perhaps the new arrival is of greater intrigue than Mukuro initially gave him credit for. ]
It does have a nice ring to it.
Oya. I don't presume anything so fancy as changing the world, though.
[ He'd rather just destroy it, you know?
Tidier that way. ]
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You can't change it. The world is the world - or perhaps I should say now, the worlds are the worlds. That's more than it would be wise to change all at one time. Going back to what you said before, society has chosen its own reality. That mass delusion of yours, right?
[Or a comforting set of delusions, he thinks, that all of us subscribe to - or most of us. So what's your immunity? Why hasn't someone dealt with you yet? It's reluctant; already, he's seen too much to conclude that Mukuro is all talk. He remembers the angry young man after the trick with the bird, and those strange purple flames; power imbalances never last long. The distant distaste - and unadmitted envy - itch in the joints of his writing hand ( ... )
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[ He simply laughs. ]
Society does choose for itself, forever and always.
I agree that to endeavor change in the minds of people as a whole is the height of pointless.
[ Mass delusion. Yes, that is absolutely how Mukuro would term it. And he has no interest in altering minds. Taking minds for himself, yes. Minds and bodies: tools. Weapons. Objects to wield in the most utilitarian fashion. Toys. They interest him, sometimes greatly, before he tires of them. But altering minds? Paving the path to righteousness for the others of that race which he has forsaken? Certainly not.
Immunity is merely another concept of humanity. Mukuro is above such petty trifling woes; for one who can be any person, having been through many times and hells, deaths and reincarnations; society is nothing more poignant than the greatest of illusions, a massive construction thereof, human minds working in tangent, banality, and it breeds disgust in Mukuro ( ... )
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[And he wonders, because it's his nature to wonder, exactly how many worlds that corporation's spread across, and exactly what he's giving away with that answer. On the whole, he thinks it isn't likely to be much.]
[His question's quite careful, and he expects the answer to be a lie. He's not sure he wants to know how someone like this might amuse themself - there are two ways it could go, and either would be distasteful.] So what is it you do all day, here, besides deciding who's worthy of having their mind changed? Are there no alternatives to boredom for you?
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And yet the pharmaceutical companies are so corrupt these days.
Tsk. It truly is shameful.
[ Automatic. True. Untrue. "Real illusions hidden within the illusions," as they say. Mukuro speaks truths easily enough; the illusion lies with everyone else. Everyone who tolerates, enables, contributes to social injustice each day that they contribute to society. People who contribute to it, who tolerate it -- not because they are fine, upstanding individuals, but out of fear. Fear of disorder, of loneliness, of being an outcast. Such creatures exist to be parodied, and ah, Mukuro does so with ease. What is a parody, if not the most perfect illusion? ]
I keep myself occupied.
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