At least there are stars

insert disclaimer here

Cyborg 009 belongs to him. (points)

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Hi, it's been a long time, hasn't it? Yes well, here is something I came up with in about half an hour because I was bored. I'm sorry if it's not up to standard; I was brain-dead when I wrote it. The algebra stuff was getting on my nerves. Anyway here it is, so enjoy! (NOT.)

From 009's POV

Tired. I am looking tired. Emaciated. Wasted. Gaunt. Tired. I am looking tired.

I've got eye bags. Real big ones. I look like a monster. But isn't that what I am?

If not a monster, then a freak. That I know I am. But I'm not only a monster. I'm a cyborg. A cybernetic organism.

I'm not a human anymore. No big deal– I can deal with that. But what about my life? I can't remember much about where I left off. All I do remember is fighting.

I think I do remember one thing from my past life though. The night sky. I sit here and stare, and it is the same as how it looked, years ago. The same starry heavens, opening up to a world unseen.

I have been to that world, and back. I thought that the grass would be much greener, and the skies much bluer there, but there is no difference from the ones there and the ones here. It's just like my own world. Same old, same old.

But I am not my same old self. I have friends; a substitute family even. This life is much better than my life before.

The night sky beckons. I wish I was 002. I want to fly out of this world and be with the stars. Our world must be so insignificant to them. They don't have to care about what happens here.

But we do. We have to fight for everyone. Us against the scum of the universe, fighting for people we don't even know. It's our lives in exchange for theirs.

I don't mind that. But it's just that we seem to make so little impact on Life. It seems as if we aren't doing anything at all; just tiring ourselves out for nothing. Nobody will remember us for what we do. And what did we do? Nothing. Nothing at all.

I am tired. We all are. We're tired of fighting when it seems to do nothing for the good of mankind. There are times when we don't even remember what we're fighting for anymore.

I don't know whether it's just me, but the night sky is looking very bleak. It's really dark. Like the shadow that's fallen over my own twisted world.

"Hey Joe!" It's Francoise. Her hair's looking especially good today.

"Joe!" She calls again. "Dinner's ready!" I'm not hungry. I'm just feeling lost. There is a rip in the fabric of my reality; I don't where it stops and where fantasy begins.

Francoise's coming out of the house. I have to go back in. One last look at the sky before I go, perhaps. It looks serene and austere, and black has engulfed it. It is shaded as much as my own war-torn life. And that is very shaded.

I look back towards Francoise.

But at least there are stars.