What is Illusion?
By: Rama Olendris.
Summary; One day, a –young- Copy X picks up an old book on Philosophy and is forced to question his life and morals.
Disclaimer: This story is written solely for entertainment purposes only, I'm not making any money from the writing of this story. All Rockman/Megaman characters are copyrighted to Capcom blah blah blah no one reads this stuff. Look behind you. N.O.W.
Author's Notes: I got bit by this plot bunny with fangs about two days ago and just had to write it down before I forgot about it completely. I don't write much, but when I do I am told my stuff is amazing. Not sure if that's the best way to describe it though.
Anyway, this is slightly AU and there isn't much that I need to tell you that isn't explained in the fic below. Keep an open mind, study some philosophy and you'll do fine. Have fun.
What is Illusion?
By; Rama Olendris
Humans were such fascinating and brilliant creatures, thought Copy X as he wandered the many halls of Neo Arcadia's finest (and only) library. Books- both electronic and paper- filled the rows upon rows of shelves within the Grand Library, all carefully classified and stacked with gentle precision. Books and knowledge were hard to come by after the Elf Wars, and X's long carried out task to collect, gather, restore and redistribute solid information for the public's benefit and enjoyment was a feat completed only recently- and Copy X was one of the first to grace the new hall of knowledge.
He found grand masterpieces that he knew humans treasured such as the works of Shakespeare and Mary Shelly, and he found volumes of information on nature long since past and very much missed. He found works on the sciences and works on fantasy and works on art. He found he liked the art books a lot, but not as much as he liked tales of grand journeys and human determination. Humans were such very brilliant creatures indeed- after all, no repliroid, he believed, could ever come up with such mesmerizing tales of strength both emotional and physical.
With a satisfying sigh, he pressed a thick novel titled 'The Brave One' back into its proper place. Enough. He had spent the entire morning and evening here in this grand library and it was time to return home to his shrine. He probably had one worried bodyguard moping around the halls right about now. Naughty Copy X, he had left without telling anyone his intentions.
Remembering his little misdeed he couldn't help but reconsider going back- he was getting tired of the constant "Master X this" and "Master X that"… It was quite annoying. He had never intended to be a ruler; he had never intended to stoop to such a powerful position for so long- he just wanted to stop the Mavericks and create paradise for humans… That was his ultimate goal, wasn't it?
Those Mavericks were gone now and Neo Arcadia was quickly becoming an utopia for the humans he loved. He didn't need to sacrifice himself for others so ritually anymore; he could do what he wanted now- so why was he so worried about being so damn heroic? Oh. That's why. He remembered he was the ruler of Neo Arcadia beloved by all and was obligated to be the hero. Until the day of his death.
Frustrated he sat down in a plush red chair and rested. "Surely there was more to my life than this…" Copy X said softly to himself and began to pour over his hazy memories; memories of countless battles and faces, names and events, happy times but mostly horrible times all leading to the last year or so… Where there was one giant blank slate.
Oh. He remembered once again- they called it the 'accident', the selfless sacrifice 'he' made to protect humanity from the Dark Elf (who broke free from her confines) and he subdued her but only at the price of rendering his original body useless. Now here he sat in a new made body, and a fresh brain, with most of his old memories intact- if a little mottled.
Pondering over his unique situation he let his eyes wander and where they rested happened to fall on a conspicuous book red in binding and green in trim- it made his eyes hurt (complimentary colors always made his eyes hurt)- resting on the chair next to him titled A Journey. That's just what he needed to take his mind off of things, read one more chapter of one more book. Then he could return back home and suffer through the deluge of reprimands he was destined for anyway.
Glad at this potential relief he didn't hesitate to pick up the book and begin to read its potential human knowledge. With the book now open his hungry scarlet eyes scanned the pages and he took in all that was before him with a curious appetite.
"Philosophy?" The word was familiar to him and yet he couldn't seem to directly define it. Continuing to read on he flipped page after page coming to several agreements with the text. There were many different kinds of 'moral' and people often feared the unknown and thus hated to think 'outside' of their 'world'.
He himself knew of countless viewpoints and means for life however there was absolutely no reason to understand them, right? There was only one true good path, and he –knew- he was on that path, any other repliroid's 'moral' was 'immoral' and thus Maverick. But why? The text in the book began to show the most curious of knowledge- whoever wrote this was certainly very inquisitive, thought Copy X. "Why is my 'moral' really 'moral'?"
He did as the book asked him to and he put it down to ponder as to why. "Well I am a hero, and all heroes are good. Not only that, but I know I am good because people tell me I am. Mavericks are immoral because they have selfish thoughts and neglect to consider the bigger picture at hand; their selfish actions take away from the humans' more important needs. With every repliroid that doesn't do what they are supposed to do more energy is wasted and more humans go without precious needs." He nodded in confirmation, his moral made the most perfect sense, human needs outweighed repliroid needs- even his own.
Picking up the book again he continued on. "What!?" He said aloud in suppressed shock, his eyes rereading what he just read in disbelief, his lips mouthing the words softly. "… 'The 'truth' is that your 'moral' quite possibly could be 'immoral'. 'Moral' changes with every person; what is good for you is not necessarily good for others. Most can agree with this statement' Well I can't!" Copy X grunted, miffed and almost indignant. He would have put the novel down just then but he decided that there had to be something good to gain from this and continued.
"In two parts of our world we can see how 'moral' changes; in Canada a woman is perfectly 'moral' in public to wear shorts, however if that woman lived in Afghanistan she would most likely be accosted because she is then 'immoral'.' Well, that's different. It still doesn't make my moral immoral because there is no Afghanistan to Neo Arcadia. So there is one moral!" Copy X gloated proud to have noticed the critical error in the old text which was written before the calamity of Omega where there were many nations and so many people. Reading on he began to delve into more subjects on moral, many of which seriously began to make him wonder if he really was moral.
"To help understand the science of 'moral' I ask you to forget your 'moral' for one second and consider this; is your 'moral' holy because it is holy or because the people who love it are holy?'" Interesting. Copy X agreed that not all the people who agreed with his moral were holy, and he most certainly didn't think that –he- was completely holy, no one in this world was perfect. So who really decided that his 'moral' was holy? If he followed his 'moral' right now he would tell himself that thinking his 'moral' was immoral then he was being Maverick and had to stop- immediately- or face consequences. Heroes didn't question if what they were doing was truly right if it was.
Deciding that it was in his best interest to stop reading that chapter he skipped ahead to the next chapter titled 'Your World as you Know it.' That sounded interesting enough. What could this chapter tell him about his world that he already didn't know?
"'Imagine if your world wasn't gone, broken or lost but worse. Fake.' Fake? No, impossible. My world is real, of that I am certain." Copy X scoffed with a slight sneer. "For human knowledge this is quite capricious and far too inquisitive, however there has to be deep meaning behind this otherwise humans wouldn't seek it so much."
'The one thing that everyone can agree upon that there is no solid evidence that this world is really the world other than the sensations and reactions one experiences to their surroundings and 'logical' observations.' Bringing the book closer and shifting a little Copy X read on, more intrigued now than ever. He didn't notice the sun receded into the horizon as its light was swallowed by towering buildings and replaced by thousands of dim copies of miniature stars.
'Consider this story written in 1987 taking place in 2167 about a brain named Ludwig. Medical technology had in this story advanced to such precision that they could save a human life by means of removing their brains and attaching them to immobile large computers which then stimulated them to experience a 'virtual life' where humans could manipulate what happened. Ludwig had been a special case where he had been placed in this computer when he was prematurely born and thus didn't know that his world was fake. He spent his entire life thinking that the made-up family his human scientists gave him was real and never considered otherwise. However one day Ludwig's scientists wondered what would happen if Ludwig happened to read a book on Philosophy particularly on the world.'
' So they stimulated Ludwig's brain to experience the sensations one would receive while wanting to read a new book and was forcefully put into a situation where he had no choice but to read their philosophy book. Ludwig was fascinated by the words which flowed from the page however he undoubtedly believed that his world was real and his hands were his hands as he rubbed them together and experienced the sensations one would receive when rubbing their hands. However when the book began to hint to him about the potential of people being brains in machines stimulated by 'real' people in the 'real' world he became distressed and never studied philosophy again in his life.'
After reading the story on Ludwig, Copy Xbegan to feel uneasy as his own brain began to frantically search for logical evidence that his world was not like Ludwig's- that the world in which he lived in was the only one- that he was Rockman X and no other. Setting down the book which questioned his life he gazed at his white hands and brought them to his eyes. As he looked at his hands, delicate and fine, he began to search for the answers to the flood of questions he now faced like the hands before him.
How did he know for sure that his world was his own? How did he know he wasn't just some brain in a machine- …well, a machine like that? How did he know that his life wasn't being manipulated by someone or something to severe extremes like Ludwig?
The blue repliroid inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath, it was so uncommon for him to get so worked up over something that wasn't Maverick behavior. He needed to calm down and approach this with calm rationale. Once again, he lifted a hand towards his field of vision and waggled it in front of his face- not sure what that was supposed to prove he pinched the top of his hand with his other –hard- and let out a small hiss of pain in response. That reaction was normal- there was no way someone could make him do that and be quick enough to make him experience pain that instantaneously- just no way. But still the question of his life, his world and even his moral plagued him.
"This is my life, I'm sure of it; I am Rockman X- there is no other like me. My memories tell me this. There is no possible way that the tender memories I have can possibly be fake. There is no substitute for the friendship I had with Zero, or the pain I experienced with his departure…"
He stopped there for a moment and tried to recall that moment- he found the memory alright however when he tried to remember the emotions and thoughts he had been thinking at that time they escaped him, and he panicked. "No! There's an explanation to this- it has to be the accident, had to be… I was sad, of course I was. It doesn't take a genius to know that I had to have been upset. Yes… I'm just upsetting myself over that book. These memories of mine tell no lie, there are no inconsistencies, the events which repeat themselves in my mind are locked in my heart. I know this… I know this…"
Copy X drew in another deep breath and picked up the philosophy book again, this time looking at it with doubt and indifference rather than curiosity and wonder. "Some things like this should be controlled; they certainly can be dangerous to the mind." He played with the thought of banning philosophy from the library in his mind for a while but then decided against it before tracking down where the abandoned book belonged and placing it back gently.
Enough, Copy X was done here for now, he made his way back to the entrance and was shocked to see how night had already fallen. Had he really been here since near dawn? He really had to get back as soon as possible, he had so much to do, so many people to meet and one bodyguard to calm down. His life wasn't so bad after all.
As he made his way back to his shrine he walked with determined stoicism, thousands of dim lights were reflecting off his blue armor and gentle twinkling stars spread eternally across the night sky. The moon hung, half full covered by the earth's shadow in eerie silence. The brightest star of all was nowhere to be seen.
Review please. Anyone who reads and doesn't is useless to this fic and you just made Copy X cry!