Re: where the eye persists in seeing
(Anonymous)
2012-03-31 11:53 pm (UTC)
For the love of all that's holy (or, well, not, actually): KEEP GOING.
You're freaking me the fuck out, and I like it.
SUBJ: despite the amazements of chemicals, continued to grow
(Anonymous)
2012-04-01 11:14 pm (UTC)
I'm freaking you out? You know what's freaky? The point right behind your head. Don't look. Keep your eyes on me, the screen, the words. Keep your eyes on the masculine rational; don't listen to the feminine mythical telling you that there is something behind you and you can't see it. If you just keep your eyes forward, it can't touch you, can it? Can't breathe along the back of your neck, ruffling your hair, can't slither into your brain, following your fear, andchangeyou.
It's not me you should be afraid of. It's not my words. It's yourself, and your own brain's infinite ability to fuck with itself.
the dark line where the eye persists in seeing something that was never there to begin with
despite the amazements of chemicals, continued to grow
In reply, someone made an amused sound, a graceful, low-in-the-throat sort of snort. Then the voice of the asari from the living room terminal asked: "Why does it bother you so much, Will?"
The man gave a wracking, bone-deep cough. It seemed almost endless, and then he had to hack to clear his throat a few times before he could say, "Messes with the camera drones."
He sounded tired, and like his voice had somehow rusted over during the time he spent coughing.
"Please. Their programming lets them adjust to little things like this."
"Not without using more processing power. Means I have to recharge 'em sooner, and the pictures never come out like I planned." He paused again for the thick cough, sounding almost like a drowning man retching up water, and added, "I want the girls to remember this. The good times. I just... It's a hard world, Kerre. I want the good times to last."
"You idiot," said Kerre, voice wet too.
Shepard put the datapad back down and looked at the camera drones, and the terminals, and the OSDs. A professional photographer? An obsessive? Or a short-lived father of asari children, trying to make the best memories he could, and give his girls a way to keep them? A way to preserve, prolong, stretchthe good times out, so his girls could have him when they needed him, even if he could no longer answer?
She could be angry about the state of the galaxy whenver she wanted.
But it was always the tiny, private stories like this that made her ache at what Cerberus had done yesteryear, at what the Reapers were doing now, at what someone else would surely be doing tomorrow.
Kaidan picked up the next datapad and pressed play.
Will said, sounding just as exhausted and rusty as before, with an addition of fury: "As if the quarter inch wasn't enough, now the damned place is just making fun of me, Restahn."
An accented voice, unmistakably quarian, asked: "What's the house of mysteries doing to you now?"
"I've got a new goddamn basement! Hell, it's not even a basement, because I'd need stairs for one of those! My damn back door shouldn't open on anything, but it opens up on some kind of... I don't even know what the hell it is."
Kaidan hit the stop button as Will coughed again.
"Sounds like he was hallucinating," Garrus said. "I know Cerberus thinks driving bystanders crazy is a great way to pass the time, but is this their MO?"
"If he married an asari and brought her and their children to a human colony... they might have targeted him just out of spite." This from Kaidan, who set the datapad back on the desk and eyed the rest like they were contagious.
Shepard didn't bother trying to explain that Garrus was right, that this didn't feel like their style. Kaidan thought what he thought about Cerberus. He hadn't had the exposure to know that if Cerberus wanted, it would have simply experimented on him — Sanctuary wasn't far, after all — and she was honestly glad of that.
Instead, she said, "Alright, the data pads probably won't get us anywhere. Let's check the kitchen."
So they left the study behind and headed to the kitchen. The curtains above the sink were perfectly still; pale yellow checked with white contrasted with the stark black marks covering the walls. Until she realized all she saw through the window was the gray wall of another prefab. Someone had left out tubes of nutrient paste, neatly labelled. Every dish had been washed and put away.
And there was a back door that should have opened — if it opened at all — onto the back wall of the next prefab over.
Garrus tapped the interface. The door hissed open onto a dark space. Not quite black, but almost.
Shepard looked out the kitchen window, but saw only the other prefab.
"Stay here," she said, jogging easily back toward the front door. She circled around the house and into the other prefab.
But there was no corresponding door, nor any sign of a hollow way at all.