Title: Burn Fading Black
Characters: Charles Freck, Robert Archor/Bruce, Mike
Rating: T / PG-13
Summary: A weird spin on the thoughts of Charles Freck while he, Mike, and Bruce/Archor sit at the table at New Path. :P
Warnings: Mild language, extremely weird
Disclaimer: I do not own A Scanner Darkly in any way shape or form, and do not make any money off writing this; it was just for fun and to pass free time.
A/N: This is extremely random, and was written some time ago. This fic was not and is not in any way intended to poke fun at Freck or any other character mentioned therein.
Burn Fading Black
White. Gray. Black.
Fade. Fading. Faded.
Burn. Burning. Burnt.
"The living should never be used to serve the purposes of the dead. But the dead, if possible, should serve the purposes of the living."
Freck tried to contemplate; keyword: tried. He knew what his words had meant, but had they made any sense to anyone else? He supposed they had. To dead people. Wait; did that make him dead?
Oh, the slow death. Hmm.
Bruce seemed very familiar. But Freck knew how this was possible... Bruce had been one of the aliens out to get him, but Bruce had been someone else at one point; maybe another kind of alien. Bruce never talked much, he just repeated things, but Freck figured Bruce had been programmed to do so – programmed to do so by the aliens.
He jerked, then shaking off that jerk. Trying to shake his jerks off. He thought that had passed, but it still happened sometimes. He didn't have his skin on properly, it felt like more of a suit – an itchy suit that Freck wanted to take off, but he was being forced to wear it. Not that he thought he could take his skin off; he just wanted some new skin, so the bugs would stop crawling on him.
Freck shook off another spontaneous jerk when Mike stood up to gather more coffee. Mike didn't seem like him, or like Bruce. Mike was one of the 'others'. They acted dead, but they weren't. Freck supposed they were aliens, especially Mike. Mike was evil. Freck wasn't about to cross new paths with him, because then Mike might send him outside where the real experiments went on. The experiments were taking place inside, too, but at least inside they couldn't get inside of his head.
...even though the New Path was bugged. Hell, everyone knew that. Fucking bugs. They were even in the food, Freck knew; watching him.
Mike came back to the table with his freshly gathered coffee. Mike watched Bruce, while a New Path worker watched Mike. Hmm, they didn't Mike either. Maybe Mike had turned against them? Ever since Mike had sported the line 'we shall not all sleep in death', the workers had gotten paranoid about him in a way. Freck didn't understand that line, because he didn't see how one could sleep in death to begin with if they were dead.
That was the most horrible part about being whoever or whatever he was. Freck didn't feel like anything made any sense, and he had long since forgotten when they last had.
You have to have sense to get sense.
Oh, Freck thought that had been a nice thought. He didn't fully understand it, but somehow, he thought maybe several of the others would. Strange thought, though... if Freck's thoughts didn't make sense to him, could they make sense to anyone else? Could someone take his thoughts, unravel and unscramble them, and then give them back to him so he could understand what was going on inside his own head?
When the creature came back from another dimension to visit Freck in his room later that night, Freck would ask the alien of his thoughts then.
Burn. Burning. Burnt.
Fade. Fading. Faded.
White. Gray. Black.
