The Fall
So, I've talked it over with Vancil, and we've decided that I'm definitely not crazy. Disturbed, perhaps, but there's a difference. He knows that I've been through a lot, seen some things that no one in their right mind should ever be allowed to see in a lifetime. It made me feel a lot better, I tell you. He was always so good at telling someone exactly what they needed to hear. In the past, that required that he come out of his shell first, which was a challenge in itself.
Ha! Got a laugh out of him.
It's tough to breathe in here now. There's this stuff that feels like raw meat growing out of the air vent, and every time I look up at it, it's nearly doubled in size. Every time. It's kinda creepy, but Vancil doesn't seem frightened so I don't think I need to be either.
He tells me that things are gonna get bad. Really bad, and that he thinks I shouldn't be around to see it. He says he would feel terrible if one of those things got in here and hurt me, which is awful nice of him to say so.
I asked him, "Well, what about everyone else? What about Estrella? What about Singh? What about Barrow? The colony wouldn't be too happy with me if I left them high and dry."
He replies that it won't matter. That they're in no real position to mind anymore, which is disappointing to hear. I would've liked to have seen Estrella's smile one more time, shared one more drink with Singh, shake Barrow's hand one more time. Vancil says that Barrow's done something naughty up at the Ishimura, so maybe that handshake wouldn't be wise. But still.
There's hope for so many things; I could've lived out my life on any one of those stars hanging in the sky right now, but Vancil says that brand of hope never goes away. That one can live on into their twilight years and still have it lingering on. All that truly matters is how we handle today and embrace the lessons of yesterday. The future is unknown, no matter how much we plan for it.
So there's that.
Heh. I can see Estrella walking around outside my window. For some reason, I remember her having a jaw, and those blades jutting out of her back are new. Not so sure I should let her in now. She looks angry.
In closing, I have very little add. I would hope—and Vancil agrees—that the CEC leaves the location of this place buried. We both know they won't, but hoping against chance is pretty much all I have left in me. There are things that should stay buried. Things that don't need to be understood.
The number of our fate is six-fourteen. And there is only one who can send the Dark retreating back into the core of all forbidden things. I can't see his face, but Vancil says this man will have to do more than try; he will have to succeed. There is little room in this fight for good intentions alone. They must not be allowed to become whole.
To this man, [Auto-correcting...]: Issac, there's only so much I can do for you, but I wish you all the best.
Good luck.
That's it, I'm ready, Vancil. Lead the way.
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