Death gets dumped . . . again.
Following THIS post.
Death was weary, as if she had been walking for a very long time with no real destination, with no real purpose. Death would have disliked this ache if not for the fact that it was the only thing she currently truly felt. If she thought hard enough about it, she could remember a time when she was happy, when she smiled and laughed in the arms of a man who told her he loved her. But that seemed like a very long time away, and as if she was watching some foreign film, shot in a language she could not understand.
It was a poetic metaphor, but a rather cold truth. When she had been upgraded, she had taken the corrupted memory and tried to salvage it as much as possible. Picking through the bits of information in order to come up with a film, a show of the moments they had spent together. Trying to mimic the movements, the smiles, and the way she placed herself in his hands. Perhaps if she could no longer feel those emotions, she could fake them. So she tinkered as she worked, snipping and cutting each frame so the movie would flow seamlessly together. In the end, she hoped to present it to him, perhaps as a wedding gift, some sort of token of herself - what was left of her.
Not like she was sure that they would get married now. It seemed like something that was spoken about, but never truly came to fruition. Perhaps he did not have his heart set on it, he never really did in the first place. Set in his ways, she was sure that the ring was to appease her, to make her happy. Now the rock and band seemed to weight heavy on her finger, a sign that she had asked too much from him, and not enough of herself. What was she to give? If Death thought about it logically, if she assessed the situation correctly, her assets were nothing. All she had was her body, and that she gave freely, if rarely these day.
Back when she felt, she missed him, finding him where ever he was currently located to comfort and console him. Now, things had changed, a switch had been thrown and she was more intent on doing what she was made to do - rather then focus on what she wanted.
Here at the house she stood, listening to the silence that surrounded her, smelling the faint traces of the man she remembered as her lover. The smell of his sweat, of his fur, the stale odor of sex and blood, all smells that should have evoked a memory of them - but instead brought up visions of her work. Pictures of places she had been, things she had seen, and various task she was forced to complete.
As she walked, she held in her hands a small box that contained her finished work, the story of them, of her promise that she could once again return to that. In her mind, in the rational thought processing center, she knew that it had been a long time since she had seen him. She knew that humans enjoyed contact, and Grady especially so, without it, they would become depressed, withdrawn and very upset.
Knowing this, she still felt something akin to surprise as she read the note that was left on the bed. His letter was a logical response to the situation he found himself in, still, she found that she was not happy with this new piece of information. Very slowly she sat down on the bed and continued to read the note, analyzing every word, every place she found a flaw in his writing. This was his decision, but his logic was flawed. If he loved her, if he missed her, why did he leave?
Delving deep into her memory, in her knowledge base, she worked hard to try and figure out why if someone loved another person - they would leave. Can a person truly be in love and unhappy at the same time? It was impossible to understand, two subjective things along with human nature, left for an unsolvable and unsteady equation that did not seem to have a stable or constant outcome.
In an uncharacteristic response, she could feel her eyes become wet - two oily tears ran down her cheeks and landed on the paper she was holding. The steady ache that had filled her bones seemed to become more heavy, and she was forced to bow her head. Deep down, past the program she had been fitted with, was some little piece of memory that told her that she did not want to be without him. That, even though it was not the logical course, she wanted to be happy, to be human like the video showed, what was written on the slip of paper.
Could she be happy once more? What was happiness? Everything she had seen had shown her how to act happy, what was harder to find, what had been lost was the emotion of happiness.
Confused, and disoriented, she stood up and walked to the door. Uncertain of anything except that she need to find Grady in order help her understand. Perhaps there was something she was missing, something she had not factored into the equation. If he could not help her, perhaps he would be good enough to give her one last kiss, to let her share his warmth one more time before he left her alone.
Death was weary, as if she had been walking for a very long time with no real destination, with no real purpose. Death would have disliked this ache if not for the fact that it was the only thing she currently truly felt. If she thought hard enough about it, she could remember a time when she was happy, when she smiled and laughed in the arms of a man who told her he loved her. But that seemed like a very long time away, and as if she was watching some foreign film, shot in a language she could not understand.
It was a poetic metaphor, but a rather cold truth. When she had been upgraded, she had taken the corrupted memory and tried to salvage it as much as possible. Picking through the bits of information in order to come up with a film, a show of the moments they had spent together. Trying to mimic the movements, the smiles, and the way she placed herself in his hands. Perhaps if she could no longer feel those emotions, she could fake them. So she tinkered as she worked, snipping and cutting each frame so the movie would flow seamlessly together. In the end, she hoped to present it to him, perhaps as a wedding gift, some sort of token of herself - what was left of her.
Not like she was sure that they would get married now. It seemed like something that was spoken about, but never truly came to fruition. Perhaps he did not have his heart set on it, he never really did in the first place. Set in his ways, she was sure that the ring was to appease her, to make her happy. Now the rock and band seemed to weight heavy on her finger, a sign that she had asked too much from him, and not enough of herself. What was she to give? If Death thought about it logically, if she assessed the situation correctly, her assets were nothing. All she had was her body, and that she gave freely, if rarely these day.
Back when she felt, she missed him, finding him where ever he was currently located to comfort and console him. Now, things had changed, a switch had been thrown and she was more intent on doing what she was made to do - rather then focus on what she wanted.
Here at the house she stood, listening to the silence that surrounded her, smelling the faint traces of the man she remembered as her lover. The smell of his sweat, of his fur, the stale odor of sex and blood, all smells that should have evoked a memory of them - but instead brought up visions of her work. Pictures of places she had been, things she had seen, and various task she was forced to complete.
As she walked, she held in her hands a small box that contained her finished work, the story of them, of her promise that she could once again return to that. In her mind, in the rational thought processing center, she knew that it had been a long time since she had seen him. She knew that humans enjoyed contact, and Grady especially so, without it, they would become depressed, withdrawn and very upset.
Knowing this, she still felt something akin to surprise as she read the note that was left on the bed. His letter was a logical response to the situation he found himself in, still, she found that she was not happy with this new piece of information. Very slowly she sat down on the bed and continued to read the note, analyzing every word, every place she found a flaw in his writing. This was his decision, but his logic was flawed. If he loved her, if he missed her, why did he leave?
Delving deep into her memory, in her knowledge base, she worked hard to try and figure out why if someone loved another person - they would leave. Can a person truly be in love and unhappy at the same time? It was impossible to understand, two subjective things along with human nature, left for an unsolvable and unsteady equation that did not seem to have a stable or constant outcome.
In an uncharacteristic response, she could feel her eyes become wet - two oily tears ran down her cheeks and landed on the paper she was holding. The steady ache that had filled her bones seemed to become more heavy, and she was forced to bow her head. Deep down, past the program she had been fitted with, was some little piece of memory that told her that she did not want to be without him. That, even though it was not the logical course, she wanted to be happy, to be human like the video showed, what was written on the slip of paper.
Could she be happy once more? What was happiness? Everything she had seen had shown her how to act happy, what was harder to find, what had been lost was the emotion of happiness.
Confused, and disoriented, she stood up and walked to the door. Uncertain of anything except that she need to find Grady in order help her understand. Perhaps there was something she was missing, something she had not factored into the equation. If he could not help her, perhaps he would be good enough to give her one last kiss, to let her share his warmth one more time before he left her alone.