( so she wanted to see her, hear her, understand it— not just read it, guessing at tone. angela's mouth tightens for a moment, and... she doesn't relax. she can't, but she reaches for a fruit—orange, an orange—and picks at the skin as she talks. )
In the City I come from, there was a woman named Carmen. She thought the people of the City had a disease of the mind and sought to free them, and in doing so gathered a lot of talented and inspired people. However, an incident occurred that broke her already tender heart, and she ended up taking her own life. Much happened after that, but summarily, the project in that form fell apart, and only Ayin and Benjamin—two men who had worked closely with her—were left.
( she recounts it as if it were only a story, and to her, despite the memories she holds, it is. the fondness and the hatred that seeps into her voice at that man's name, the ache in her chest that resounds the same as carmen's—to her, it's only a story. the fact that it matters, that it affects her as if they were her own memories, doesn't matter to her.
it can't. carmen isn't her, and she isn't carmen. it had been a sore spot for her for a long time, but nowadays, it... )
They decided they were going to revitalize the project and fulfill her wish: to enlighten the City and rid them of their diseased minds. They did many, many horrible things to ensure its success—they started a war, they opportunistically took hold of land when the fighting settled, they created ( a small laugh ) an abomination that violated the AI Ethics Agreement the City had in place.
( angela quiets, shifting the orange in her hand so she can pick the pith out of her fingernails. she isn't done peeling it, no more than she's done with her story, but it already smells nice, and the juice is sticky on her palms. )
That machine had an electronic copy of that woman's memories, to help facilitate her growth into someone like that person. Unfortunately... ( ... ) Unfortunately, she wasn't good enough. She wasn't like her at all.
Maybe this is what it made it easier for those two men to justify what they were going to do to her: assign her a script and force her to carry it out as many times as necessary in order to achieve the project's goal—to germinate the Seed of Light, the cure they sought... That Carmen sought. She was indestructible, capable of human emotion, of learning—she perceived everything a million times slower than a regular human, in order to react much quicker than the manager she would be assisting in this endeavor. In other words, she was perfect to lead them out of hell, even if it meant she would suffer through her own.
( angela pauses, orange half-peeled. )
All of this is important background knowledge, so forgive my length. This is also... what Midnight is going to read. ( how she sees her past... what makes her her... ) So far, hiding the truth hasn't helped me or anyone else—in fact, it's only bitten me in the ass. So once again, Fearne, forgive my length.
( just that. she needn't forgive anything else. )
Are you with me so far? We still have a little ways to go.
( but like a good story-teller, she'll pause to let it sink in before she'll continue. )
uugghh blanket spoiler warning for lobco and ruina hereforth.
In the City I come from, there was a woman named Carmen. She thought the people of the City had a disease of the mind and sought to free them, and in doing so gathered a lot of talented and inspired people. However, an incident occurred that broke her already tender heart, and she ended up taking her own life. Much happened after that, but summarily, the project in that form fell apart, and only Ayin and Benjamin—two men who had worked closely with her—were left.
( she recounts it as if it were only a story, and to her, despite the memories she holds, it is. the fondness and the hatred that seeps into her voice at that man's name, the ache in her chest that resounds the same as carmen's—to her, it's only a story. the fact that it matters, that it affects her as if they were her own memories, doesn't matter to her.
it can't. carmen isn't her, and she isn't carmen. it had been a sore spot for her for a long time, but nowadays, it... )
They decided they were going to revitalize the project and fulfill her wish: to enlighten the City and rid them of their diseased minds. They did many, many horrible things to ensure its success—they started a war, they opportunistically took hold of land when the fighting settled, they created ( a small laugh ) an abomination that violated the AI Ethics Agreement the City had in place.
( angela quiets, shifting the orange in her hand so she can pick the pith out of her fingernails. she isn't done peeling it, no more than she's done with her story, but it already smells nice, and the juice is sticky on her palms. )
That machine had an electronic copy of that woman's memories, to help facilitate her growth into someone like that person. Unfortunately... ( ... ) Unfortunately, she wasn't good enough. She wasn't like her at all.
Maybe this is what it made it easier for those two men to justify what they were going to do to her: assign her a script and force her to carry it out as many times as necessary in order to achieve the project's goal—to germinate the Seed of Light, the cure they sought... That Carmen sought. She was indestructible, capable of human emotion, of learning—she perceived everything a million times slower than a regular human, in order to react much quicker than the manager she would be assisting in this endeavor. In other words, she was perfect to lead them out of hell, even if it meant she would suffer through her own.
( angela pauses, orange half-peeled. )
All of this is important background knowledge, so forgive my length. This is also... what Midnight is going to read. ( how she sees her past... what makes her her... ) So far, hiding the truth hasn't helped me or anyone else—in fact, it's only bitten me in the ass. So once again, Fearne, forgive my length.
( just that. she needn't forgive anything else. )
Are you with me so far? We still have a little ways to go.
( but like a good story-teller, she'll pause to let it sink in before she'll continue. )