Chapter 32: " Just Like Him "
Red woke up late in the day. He opened his eyes to open curtains and blinding light and squinted. He guarded them with a lifted hand in front of his brow and sat up out of a warm, stuffy cocoon formed by his thick blankets. He rubbed his eyes and a groggy, nauseous feeling stirred inside along with the realization that his throat felt dry with a stale taste to accompany it. After a bit, he retreated back under the covers and closed his eyes, remaining to himself inside his bedroom while venturing about in his foggy, circuitous thoughts.
Red hadn't slept since he was a smeet. The first time he'd done it, he was scolded and soon lectured upon the occurrence's nugatory qualities. It obstructed progress in every fashion and the idea of succumbing to the calling of an antiquated nature was reason of ignominy. The training that ensued to reform his body and mind to accommodate the removal of the occurrence was a difficult one. Ever and anon, he would wonder if it was even possible. But over time, his inclination to sleep decreased and he was able to form a suitable lifestyle once it waned to an agreeable degree; it was a nearly triumphant moment when his body no longer entreated him of it. However with the recent events, Red had done away with his responsibilities and sequestered himself to his room. In repose, he found his mind stravaging amongst a myriad of subjects. His mind, volitant but in leisure, fed away to the aspects of his life, his actions, the lives around him and the past lives that had universal influence upon the things he thrived on. He'd done this for hours, lying still in his bed that had never seen genuine use until that day. Soon hours had turned into days, and with the quickly expanding intervals of time within his dormancy, his mind found home for somnolence once more. And within the few hours his body began to feel soporific, he fell into a deep sleep.
Now awake, he could hardly find the volition to will himself out of his chamber. So he remained there, deep within the wellspring of his thoughts as he circled around how he couldn't comprehend himself—or anything for that matter— any less than he already did. He turned in his bed and planted himself in a part where his body heat hadn't reached yet, and enjoyed the cold tingles it sent to his skin. It was after this that his consciousness was recognized.
"...My Tallest?" Intoned a disembodied voice, which filled the room. Red nearly jumped hearing it.
"Oh, Roxi." He sighed, a wave passing through his nerves. "You startled me."
"I'm sorry, sir," She added. The next few moments were filled with an unexpected silence, their beginnings of a conversation not enough to energize stable discourse. Her generator started on.
"My Tallest..." Roxi began. "...It's been a few days, sir. Are you feeling better?"
The words came out tentatively, from her natural predisposition to think unassumingly about matters. And Red smirked to himself slightly, realizing a mistake in hindsight; Not telling anyone he wasn't actually sick. In the days he remained in his bedroom, there were countless times he could recall where attendants and officials had arrived at his quarters to question about his health. He lied to remain to his own devices and they left him alone for convalescence. To that, he felt a little bad for riding on the lie to convenience himself.
"No, Roxi...Actually—" He sat up from his bed and removed the covers from himself. "—I wasn't sick to begin with."
Roxi didn't respond immediately. There was a brief lapse, one which was probably caused by her incredulity.
"Oh." Was all she expressed. But her generator hummed a little louder.
"Sorry. Lying was always too easy for me." He remarked, perhaps a bit casually with the flat smile on his face. He didn't mean it in such a fashion, but it's perceived notions weren't something he realized.
"...Will you attend office, today?" She asked, calmly changing the subject. Red almost didn't notice it. His smile faded with a sense of dread, remembering the past events of attending office and his near hatred towards doing it. Red sighed, and rubbed his cranium. He lied back down against his bed and suffered himself the thoughts if he should stay inside his room even longer.
"Please, Sir. You haven't gone in 4 days." Roxi worried. Red shifted under the covers and brought his knees closer to his chest in a semi-fetal position. With his head partially retreated underneath as well, Red closed his eyes and placed his hands on his knees.
"I don't do anything in office. I go, I sit there for 3 hours and leave." He said, a little discontented.
"But...it's a duty, right?" She asked, almost sounding she was pleading with him. But he didn't respond.
There was a mechanical whirring afterwards, most logically Roxi thinking of ways to coax him out of his condition. But her intentions soon fell under her inaction and timidity, and she gave up on her insisting. The sounds of her generator quietly started.
"I'll keep the staff away...they'll want to send more medicine." She stated. Red nodded.
At first his thoughts were the same as they had been. Then he realized Roxi's dedication to him and though about why she bothered so much to help him, as dismissive as he was to her. She endeavored much to oblige him and upon realizing this his heart slightly twinged. He was undeserving of it. And he pitied her knowing that he hadn't taken the care to acknowledge her. In a sense he wished to consider her a friend. It wasn't a great reward for her amiability and forbearance but if it was anything she earned, it was his trust. At the same time, though, she was his inferior. If this was ever voiced it would be met with contest as to why it shouldn't be considered. She was programmed in such a way to be unmindful of herself and attentive to her assigned counterpart, this case being Almighty Tallest Red. If anything she only saw her circumstance as an invaluable privilege.
"Thank you." He said. For the most part the sounds mitigated but the generator remained as she accessed her drivers and took action accordingly. For whatever reason, this prompted the will he was needing and he sighed to himself, dreading the feeling it stirred within. Red lifted himself off the warm, compelling bed and brought his legs over the edge, massaging his eyes.
"What happened, my Tallest?" Roxi asked. "I've never seen you so distraught."
He sat up and stood on his toes, stretching out his muscles. He sighed when he relaxed them. "I… had a conundrum." He started. After recalling the events he walked towards his wardrobe and opened it's doors, receiving his robe and segments of armor. He removed his current garments and suited himself into more appropriate wear. The robe's hem cascaded until it was barely in reach of his ankles, causing a tingling sensation until he placed on his shoes. Red began fastening on his armor when he looked up, his thoughts returning to the events of a few days prior. He tried not to frown. "I failed to understand it...and I aggrieved my partner in office along a poor business executive whose presence only warranted her a misdirected evil."
Red looked down at himself. He placed on the heavy torso segment and it locked in place. His thoughts ran about on how disadvantageous it was to only have two fingers. He cleared his throat and lifted up his wrist guards, placing them against his slender arms. They weighed down against them. Oh how I missed this. He thought with a quiet sarcasm.
He swung his hands a little, amusing the thought that they resembled elliptical pendulums. He stopped shortly afterwards and resumed a more appropriate behavior, placing his hands behind him to install proper posture. A sigh left his nostrils.
"I'm going to be going away for a bit." He said, using it as well to acknowledge his computer with a subtle goodbye.
"Away? Where?" She inquired, worried. Red smiled at this.
"No, I'll still be here in the palace. But away to...hide in shadows and murky places of questionable integrity." He said, his smile enlarging. It was an ironic one, one which had always been endemic. However this time it unintentionally told Roxi that he, too, hadn't any idea where he was going or what he was doing. "I've...figured that I've caused enough damage for the time being." Red remarked. Her generator restarted and a few engines began whirring.
"My Tallest, your actions aren't irredeemable. I'm sure of it." Roxi stated, the confidence in her tone almost making her statement tipped with disbelief; as if she were reassuring him of the color of the sky. He snorted at the unintended expression and looked down, his smile slightly diminishing.
"So you've known?" He asked, lifting his hand to stroke against the cold metal against his chest. He liked it's slightly textured surface and the way it felt against his skin. There was a pause from her.
"Yes...I was notified a while ago. I-I didn't want to bring you the displeasure of me knowing." She said. Red nodded, his head moving at a slow pace. He looked up once more. He wasn't sure why he didn't realize this sooner.
"A man died and I wronged and humiliated an innocent person for it...I think my actions speak for themselves..." He began. "And besides...I'm sure everyone would like the time off. My absence would certainly grant them that...Confining myself to the backstage is something we all need."
"Stop, My Tallest. Why are you saying this? You could never be in the wrong. You were just trying to find the man responsible." Roxi said, unthinkingly making a compliment of his injustice. Red considered what she said and scoffed under his breath. Her intentions were kind, however they were more toxic than she would've wished them to be. Every second a person spent thinking about him, they were praising, worshiping or commending his prestige. Now with the recent events, they were justifying his actions with a false, romanticized version of his character that they gripped with an unrelenting vigor. To them he was an image worthy of commendation—all actions were endorsed by some back-watered excuse and he was capable of no wrongdoing. Anything that might seem questionable, he was given the benefit of the doubt. All for the sake of an immaterial substance that was thinner than the reality they lived in…
He was the Tallest.
Because of some backwards notion, his birthright was exemption of all things that would tarnish an excellence he never earned. He was so refined and acclimated with the prerogative that his title soon became the formation of sounds from the tongue with the definition undergoing no more of an analysis than a defect. It was almost a secondhand nature, a badge he'd wear to atone himself whenever necessary. He was soon to start to glorify himself for it as well…And so Red smiled and felt the tickle of laughter in his throat. Smiled because the backwards humor that blackened this reality was overwhelming, and near sickening.
Red looked down once more.
"For once in my life, I'd like to be the one who's wrong." He remarked.
There was a silence between them. Roxi's generator sounded off once more.
"..I don't understand." She said. She almost sounded afraid. Red looked at the door that opened into his living quarters and he approached it slowly, his feet gently pressing against his carpeted floor. He grabbed the handle and opened the door, leaving the room.
"...Red." Her voice traveled throughout. Her pleading made his heart twist even more, but his PAK saw this as a superfluous amount of unusable data and was quick to extinguish it. It's generator began whirring and he no longer felt it. It was a surprise it occurred in the first place, but the thoughts remained...Why did the thoughts always remain?
"I'm sorry." Red murmured. "...I'm just tired, Roxi."
Another pitiful, weak smile came upon his face. He continued walking through the room, approached another door and grabbed it's handle. "Just tired." He echoed, before leaving.
• • •
Inside the Gallery once again, Red sat down at a bench he never used before. It was padded with cushions and it was situated in the middle of the library, along with a few others like it in other random locations. He didn't feel like walking and after the days of extended inactivity, his legs weren't up for the job either. He looked around at all of the bookshelves around him, showing off multiple colored bindings and covers but all sharing the same, cloth like texture and appearance. The color of the pages, collectively, were a light purple. Red remembered briefly Zim showing him and Purple the books they had on earth, once upon a time when he'd used to send them transmissions about the things he discovered or other things he thought were interesting, and how their pages were white. Earth was strange and the people on it even stranger, but regardless, Red could never find himself to be interested. Zim carried a sense of fascination towards it, but he tended to quiet that notion with the fact he was on mission and it was his duty to investigate it's properties and abnormalcy. He wasn't interested in it's people or socioeconomics, but everything else was food for thought, or so he implied.
Red blinked for a moment and became aware he was thinking about Zim. He didn't know why he surfaced to mind. Normally, Zim wasn't ever something that crossed his sub-conscious. Then again the past few days had been teeming with unexplainable occurrences, ones where he didn't know if receiving an answer would make him feel better or not. So Red let the thought pass on it's own accord, forgetting without much consideration on the subject and it's well-being. He leaned against the back cushions of the bench and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
His brain still felt clouded. It hung around him with a confusion he didn't know what against. But he stayed in this position for a while, nonetheless. To the point his conscious began slipping into a stagnant drowse once more.
When his subconscious forced him to wake up, his body jerked and he lifted his head, eyes opening slowly. They fluttered against the light and he rubbed away their drowsiness. It was here he noticed Purple. He was walking towards him, still quite a distance away, but Red was able to recognize certain characteristics in his movement that enforced the idea it was him, regardless or not he could already tell by other more prominent features. They'd already acknowledged each other tacitly but their distance restrained the ability of doing so formally, and so it remained a little awkward. By the time he sat next to him, Red thought of a thousand questions to ask, ideas to talk about, and things needing to be discussed but they slipped from his mouth and back into his mind the moment Purple was next to him. He tried to exchange an awkward smile of acknowledgment but Purple's eyes remained forward and stern, his mouth slightly taut and his brow furrowed. Red began simply by asking;
"Are you alright?"
Pulling him from the depths of his mind, Purple blinked a few times and looked over at his comrade. His crooked grin tried to make an appearance but all it was capable of was curving the corner of his mouth in a thoughtful, discontented manner, with his eyes lowering and retreating to his side.
"I should be the one asking you that... All of a sudden you're gone and...your offices are left unattended. I was notified you were sick." He shook his head, the last word ending in an incredulous bite.
"...You could've just come to my room." Red shrugged. It was a little too casual, and his comrade gave him an aggravated look. He could feel his frustration, the event apparently causing him to worry over the few days Red spent in isolation. Purple shifted in his seat.
"...You don't get sick. That's the thing. It almost feels like a joke." Purple remarked.
Red looked down to the floor, the words arising a small guilt inside. He thought about how Purple always assumed primary importance when it came to situations like these; Where he was the one Red needed to confide in, divulge to, rely on and come to whenever something happened. Red didn't think this to incriminate him, but it was something he noticed ever and anon. He knew that Purple was only worried and confused; The very two things Purple hated the most in this world. "And then...I find you here sleeping." He stated. Purple looked back at him, eyes begging for answers. He sighed to himself. "Red..."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry...I just needed some time to think." He replied, softly. "I needed to be alone for a bit."
Purple stared at him for a bit, his mouth slightly ajar in a fashion that made his dumbfounded expression.
"I-I can't even wrap my head around it...sleeping, Red?" He scoffed. Red leaned forward, his elbows against his knees and his hands woven against his face.
"It's fine..." He paused. Then added. "...I'm fine..."
Purple repositioned, his body facing towards him.
"Are you? Are you really?"
Red closed his eyes. He hated how contagious emotions were. He didn't know if it was like that with the humans, but in this moment he hated the sensation of his heart being punctured, permeable by the feelings of others and causing him to feel bad about himself. He hated having emotions. Momentarily, he thought about why his PAK never functioned in times like these, like when he was with Mord or Wesley and now with Purple. "...Are you alright, Red?" He pushed.
He didn't respond for a while. They stayed silent despite their shared presence. After the drawn long moments that seemed to last a lifetime, Red sighed through his nostrils and opened his eyes again. The patterns and colors the Gallery had on it's floors and walls, upon every inch of it's architecture, was fascinating.
"I don't know..." He shrugged.
They were quiet for another insurmountable expanse of time.
Why do you care about him?
Red furrowed his brow and tried not to sneer out of the horrid sensation his heart stirred out.
Not now…
Why are you capable of caring? When you've clearly found it as an impediment to your excellence and being?
Red closed his eyes. He didn't want to acknowledge that. But undeterred, it slipped towards his mind anyways and he couldn't look away from it's verity. He didn't say anything but only keep his eyes shut with taut lips. Another bout of silence passed. Red finally gave himself the will to reopen his eyes. A thought came to mind. One where he pondered for a long while before preparing himself to speak it.
"Do you hear voices...Purple?" He asked, a stillness occurring in his chest from fear.
"Voices?" He said back, dubiously.
Red sighed.
"Yes...But I'm serious...do you hear voices, at all?" He repeated, keeping his eyes forward. "I hear them...sometimes...when I'm alone."
Red began bouncing his knee up and down. "They're...quiet...and nondescript." He added, mainly for a comedic effect only he would understand. And it worked; a scoff could be heard in his head. Despite the moment of mental reprieve, uncertainty, which always seemed to rear it's ugly head, pervaded through his mind beside it with a quiet, inescapable fear of being questioned about his inquiry. What was Purple to make of it? Being asked about hearing voices of no understandable origin, in times of isolation. He'd soon ask him if he was mentally stable. But Purple was quiet, leaving Red's heart to push each font of blood through his body with a prevailing coldness. Purple leaned back against the bench and deliberated.
"Sometimes." He remarked simply. Red looked back at him, trying not to express the profound amount of relief he had upon hearing the words. But he was just as well confused. What could Purple be hearing? What voices did he hear and what would they be telling him? "...I hear them, they're...like whispers in my antenna. But I don't hear them too often, I suppose." He said, casually. "But they come from the PAK device. Don't you remember?"
Red knitted his brow He wasn't sure about his claim.
"The PAK?" He repeated.
"Yeah. I guess you wouldn't remember. I forget that your memory doesn't serve you too well." He smiled. "We learned about it, when we were still training as smeets to be Tallest. Our Instructor said it was a privilege like no other, having your PAK talk to you. She said something along the lines that it would give you information, technically just about anything, that should serve to help you. I remember because she was beaming when she said that, as if her whole entire life she praised the 'such timeless liberty' we had. I swear there might even have been a tear welling up in her eyes like we were her prized possessions." Purple amused himself.
Red smiled as well, in spite of himself. He took the idea with more consideration, but from the description given from his comrade he wasn't so sure if his was the same thing he was referring to. It made sense, no doubt, but it was hard to forego the details that didn't fit with the rest. They stuck with his mind as he thought about the voice's origin, until he realized he was still smiling to himself.
Again, the idea of his emotions being so permeable and subject to change came back to mind.
"Why do you ask? do you think your PAK has been berating you lately?" Purple added, playfully. Red only shook his head with an amused snort.
The next silence that came was a little more bearable. They didn't feel it's awkward presence as much and they were able to sit together without feeling obligated to continue with a headless conversation. Red blinked slowly and tried not to externalize his fatigue. In this effort, Red recalled all of the times he'd spent with Purple. How much of his life they were actually together and how little of it they were apart. After a few moments of thinking, Red actually couldn't recall a time he was without him. He was always near, if not by his side. Red wondered to himself if he deserved such a loyalty and then concluded without a second passing by that he didn't deserve anything he had in life.
But you still relish them. Live in them with your gluttonous attitude.
Red closed his eyes once more and leaned back against the bench, where he thought of Purple and not of the voice's brutal honesty. It provided with a little comfort.
Another bout of silence passed. The only thing that reminded each other of their presence was the quiet, rhythmic breathing they continued that sometimes worked in unison; deep draws of air entering and exiting their lungs, wispy and strangely reassuring. Red opened his eyes after a while and let them adjust to the light they'd been refused for a small time, only to see the gloomy aspect his friend wore. He watched him to ensure that he wasn't misinterpreting the mien permeating his friend.
"What happened, Red?" Purple asked, gravely.
He didn't know what to think at first when it was expressed. His thoughts remained simple and indirect, taking a few moments to start seriously pondering his meaning. Upon realizing the sense of wanting clarification, Red sat up in his seat and kept his gaze at him.
Purple scoffed.
"I don't even know what to think of it still." He stated, looking back at who he was referring to. "You changed so suddenly. Everybody seemed to notice but you..."
Red knitted his brow.
"What do you mean? In what way?"
"...If you haven't noticed, I haven't been at your side all the time like I used to. I've been...busy..." He said, his eyes casting down in a furtive manner. "And everybody would ask about you. Asking why you seemed so distant, or inadvertent. They asked me a lot of things." He thought aloud. "...I could never answer them."
Red kept his gaze against him. While it gave direction, Purple's circuitous way of explaining didn't clear up the unawareness Red had towards the issue. He turned his body towards him and mused in his mind what it was he was trying to say.
Purple noticed this, and smiled a little apologetically. It died quickly and he sighed.
"What happened to you, Red?"
"Purple...I don't know how to answer that."
"You've become...different. It's almost like you're confused." He said, chuckling a bit as it came out, his eyes slightly furrowed. He may have been just as puzzled, saying it out loud. "You're...defending the E-commonplace. Blaming random business executives. Acting out on your emotions...You've even cared for a Rank E citizen." Purple muttered. He looked at Red, his eye searching his face for answers. "Or at least you've acted like you have. Like how you act that you care about all of those people and...I-I don't know even know what to say."
Red could only stare, his mind riding on his own confusion.
"You come to the Gallery, You talk about these artists and commend their talents and sympathize with the past Tallests, who have been scorned and exiled." Purple issued. He scoffed a moment later. "What am I to make of that, Red? What am I supposed to tell people?"
Red straightened his posture. His eyes were furrowed against him, on the constant of trying to understand where his comrade's inquiry was coming from and trying to understand his own. He looked down the ground and reworked his thoughts in his mind.
"You're accusing me of being normal?" He remarked, dubiously.
Purple smiled, the corner of it raising in a slow, forlorn pace. A few small, airily hiccups of laughter slithered out his throat.
"Is that what you call it?" He asked, downcast.
Red looked up at him, his heart beating a little faster.
"What would you call it? Me being generous to the E-commonplace? Being thoughtful, and defending those who need it?" He countered. "I can't even believe that you'd consider those as things to incriminate me with."
His smile faltered a little when Purple heard those words. It sustained an even weaker frame as the moments drew on and completely vanished the moment later.
"I'm accusing you of being ignorant, Red." He reasoned. "Do you realize what it is you're doing?"
Red shook his head.
"What? I'm supposed to believe what I'm doing is wrong?"
Purple's head shifted back in reaction to this. His antennae dropped partly with his mouth slightly ajar and his brow knitted together.
"How could it not be?" He questioned. A few moments later, Red was matching his expression, realizing that Purple was actually confounded that he doubted the dishonesty of his actions.
Red shook his head in dubiety.
"You must be joking." He asserted, analyzing his eyes and movement. Purple lightly winced at that notion, of being found incredible.
"Every action has a consequence, Red. Why would your misconstrued ones being any different?"
"Misconstrued?" He echoed, the tickle of laughter hitting his throat. He didn't know if Purple was being serious at this point.
"What else could it be?" He asked. When he noticed Red's levity in the situation, he looked back down at the floor and his expression partly shifted. "I don't want to believe it's anything else."
Red watched him for a bit, reserving his disbelief and amusement. It was a few moments later, after noting the aura shift of his friend and all of what he'd been saying, his smile died down when he finally realized he'd been fully earnest. Red didn't disbelieve him all to the point it was hard to conceive he was serious in his stance, but it didn't make sense to him.
Red blinked and looked down in thought.
"You..." Purple started. He held his tongue for a few moments, before he raised his head and looked at his comrade. "You're giving the E-commonplace unrealistic expectations. Are they supposed to believe that their Tallests will care and consort each and every one of them? Out of the charity and goodwill of our hearts?"
The Tallest glanced at his comrade.
"Doing so gives them the sense of importance they never earned. You disregard the order of society, Red. And you've done it so carelessly, I'm not sure if I can bring myself to actually believe it."
Red could only stare at him at this point, his eyes focused on his face while forbearing a sneer. He couldn't understand Purple's sentiment, which was one of the factors withholding him from chiding him for his crudeness. Another being his ability to so quickly renounce the E-commonplace's sense of humanity. Even so emboldened as to claim it wasn't something they owned to begin with. His blood was rushed to his face and he was indignant, but he couldn't find the initiative to direct it. It held off at bay with his thoughts, circulating at the finding of these statements.
"What happened to you?"
Red wanted to publish Purple's grievances and make his anger known towards his conduct, but Red felt a twinge inside. Not of pain or sorrow, which was one of the things that caught his attention and reserved his anger, but of his understanding. It took Red a few passing moments to fully comprehend. As Purple saw it, Red, after growing acclimated with a lifestyle they were brought in to conform to, with it's designated royalties, rules and ethicalities, was suddenly contented with reserving himself for certain elimination. He saw it as Red trying to disgrace the established order of society, with no real purpose in hand and with no regards towards his own well-being.
And his public outcries about a rank-E citizen was another aspect about his strange and oblivious nature. Emotions, especially in ill-regards for societal ethics, were a state of weakness. Such were to be avoided in public and practically erased in service. They were only ever shown and seen by those who were trusted and cared for, and so individuals who became close with one another were known canonically as a family. A family on Irk was a stronger, more intimate friendship; Romance or libido didn't exist because the biological, sexual form of reproduction was abandoned when smeeteries became the alternative some umpteen eons ago. Families or any sense of one, were withheld from the military because their emotions would deter productivity, which were why PAK devices utilized the procedure of eradicating them; to prevent and to inhibit. Purple and Red, while figureheads of society and deputies of war, had come to be on such terms; It had been scarcely allowed.
Not only that, E-commonplace people weren't considered worthy of entitlement; they were the ones who failed their training to do any greater in life, and so they were reserved for the streets. They were on par and even sometimes lower than servant drones and other enslaved planet natives, being that the E-commonplace didn't own an occupations or any rights. They didn't even own political status. So for Red to show so much rage, in an ostensive a manner that he did by reason of one, was certainly a puzzle to behold.
Red looked over at Purple, once he was out of his own thoughts. He blinked and realized that his comrade was only hurt and offended. He thought Red to be trying to extend his hand towards the dust of Irk, trying to care for it like some broken animal and call it as valuable as Purple or himself. It was a humanity Red was so quick to give them that Purple would never come to understand or believe, and so then his sentiment of questioning Red and his motives was rationalized in his mind.
In that way The Tallest felt guilty. He'd caused his comrade worry and bemusement, all the while him having to be the one to answer for Red's behavior and explain his unprecedented episodes with no knowledge to base it with. Blood rushed to his brain; pity and empathic embarrassment settling inside to disquiet him once more. He looked up at Purple, now with the full understanding of his comrade's behavior and watched his eyes. He breathed to apologize, but in the stalled moment Red had remembered he used to be just like that. His mentality used to mirror his comrade and the image of society. He was self-concerned, prideful and negligent, just as Purple had issued to be what normal had meant. He held his breath, with the anamnesis surrendering his attention.
"Red? Are you even listening?"
The Tallest looked down, his mind merging through the meaning of his own thoughts and understanding his own memories. At this point he didn't know what to say anymore. And his befuddlement for this sudden and irrational change was the only thing he could feel drawing his mind, holding his conscious. Red looked up, his eyes meeting his comrade's.
It was me...
"Red." He urged.
Red's antennae dropped. His face fell blank and his mouth was suddenly ajar. Purple's eyes searched his colleague's face, his brow knitted from concern. Red watched back inattentively. Why did Purple look so afraid? As if he was going to lose something…
Red's mouth opened to speak but he remained silent, his mind not fully understanding how to do so.
"What?" Slipped out in a whisper.
...It was me.
Abruptly and unwittingly, Red stood up from his seat, his eyes now staring forward. Purple watched him, nonplussed and nearing the edge of worry. Red remained distracted, by what Purple couldn't ascertain. He called to him and stood by his side, but he didn't respond, nor even show any signs of recognition that he was speaking.
For a while, Red didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to even acknowledge it. But it explained everything. He couldn't have warranted a change within himself, even if he wanted to. He looked around at the environment before him, stood from his seat and began moving forward. Bookshelves slowly traveling in his peripherals, the marbleized floor sounding at the tap of his shoes. All only registering as miscellaneous sounds and colors with spontaneous causes. Red approached a railing and placed his hands against it, his fingers curling around the thin cylindrical pipe. He looked down, his eyes finding a familiar mandala.
Purple tightened his fists.
"Red, will you listen to me?!" He exclaimed.
Red nearly jumped and looked back, his mouth ajar at the volume of his voice.
"What are you doing? Why are you always..." Purple paused, fuming silently, his mouth contorting into different shapes as he tried to think of what to say. But he frowned when he noticed the blank expression Red had on his own. Purple looked down, floundering mentally.
"...Whatever is happening...you can tell me...Okay?" He assured. "...I don't understand what goes on with you, I know, but...By the gods—" He approached him. "—Help me understand."
The Tallest kept his gaze towards his comrade. Purple watched back, his eyes still pleading with him. His heart twisted again but his PAK did nothing to fix it this time. If it was true this voice was his PAK then it's absence was understandable. Red wanted to help Purple, but there was no way for him to comprehend what was happening with Red without there being consequence. As much as Red trusted him and as much as he valued his loyalty, he couldn't help alleviate his concerns. Red hardly understood it himself.
The Tallest looked down and he shook his head.
"I can't." He stated. Purple blinked a few times.
"What do you mean? You can't?" He reiterated, trying not to sound his frustration. Red looked back at him. He wouldn't doubt if Purple was beginning to hate the apologetic quality he always had emitting from him.
"I...I can't help you, Purple."
His comrade searched his eyes a while longer, before shaking his head.
"Red, you can tell me anything. If you're having trouble, If...you're hurt...You can tell me."
He began approaching him, his movements slow and conscious. "Let me help you, Red." He said.
Red shook his head again.
"I'm sorry that I changed. And I'm sorry that you're confused...but I can't tell you. I just can't."
When he was close, Purple placed his hands on the side of his shoulders.
"Red, I understand you might be scared. But it won't help you if you hold it inside. I know you, I've known you for so long. You were never one to bear it by yourself, despite how much you've always wanted that." Purple said, laughing a little bit, trying to lighten the mood. "But you can trust me. You can always trust me. You always have."
Purple paused for a bit after that, realizing what the words meant as he said them. He looked at Red, his eyes searching again, as if to find the meaning why his trust towards his only family had seemed to diminished.
Red watched his expression, his own remaining statuesque. Then he raised his arms and encircled them around him. The sudden embrace caught Purple off guard, and he stood there for a while with his hands hovering. In the few moments that passed, Purple allowed himself to lay hold to him as well. He was warmed by his tender showing, but Purple fed his mind to the quiet, worrisome thoughts that there was something meant by his actions. With the fear that whispered in his head, his fingers clutched at his back and he closed his eyes, settling his chin against his shoulder.
After a time, Red removed himself from his grasp and placed his hands on to his arms. He looked at Purple once more with a heavy gaze, his eyelids weighing down on his eyes and a smile trembling to peak. Why did it always feel like his was apologizing? His hands squeezed at his elbows for a moment, cupping them in his hands with a gentle, firm grip before he removed them, placed them behind his back and walked away. His posture slouched forward and he left with quiet and near soundless stride, without saying another word.
Purple could only stare.
• • •
Red exited the chamber they inhabited and the door closed loudly behind him as it secured it's latch. He remained the way he was for a while, his mind slowly ruminating. Fatigue hit his senses again and his eyes were beginning to strain. But he furrowed his brow when he felt that Purple was at a safe enough distance.
"Why did you change me." He began. He kept his eyes forward, waiting for a response. But all he could hear was the absence of one. Red turned his head and watched the environment around him and blinked. He couldn't help the frown that slowly appeared on his face. "Why did you change me?"
…
He began walking forward. He took a deep breath and tried to rationalize the situation himself. But his thoughts had an impeded flow. He couldn't think of any reasons why his PAK would take the initiative to alter it's host. He closed his eyes tightly and a hand raised to his brow.
...Because.
Red opened his eyes. He stayed still, as if moving would change the event of getting a reaction from the voice in his head. He finally breathed out, anticipating.
You needed it.
Red thought about what he said. Then, he looked around him, the echoes of the voice appearing around him once more. He couldn't help the feeling that, for some reason, there was something a little more significant about it. Red began walking towards it's location, leading with his antennae.
"...What do you mean by that?" Red asked. He had a thought it was needed to keep him engaged.
You were capable of it. Capable of seeing.
Red turned around. The origin of the echoes shifted and the moment of transition confused his sense to locate it for a moment, before finally becoming aware it was positioned behind him. He followed the remaining quieter echoes.
"What does that mean?"
You were capable of knowing.
"...Knowing what?" He asked.
...Everything.
Red stopped. With what he was given, he tried to work the information. But it was inconclusive. He shook his head and sighed. The evasive and intentionally vague speech wasn't helping.
"Everything?" He repeated, getting a little frustrated.
...You were capable of knowing the truth. The truth behind the Tallests. The Control Brains. The E-commonplace.
Everything.
Red contemplated once more. He looked around his surroundings, present among uncountable books and novels. For a moment, he felt that was he was doing was slightly stupid. Useless, as though it wouldn't help him achieve anything. He sighed through his nostrils, sounding more as a tired groan and began walking to where he felt was a staircase to lead him down.
"You keep saying that and I still don't know it means." Red remarked, placing his hands behind his back. He took a right down a space where the bookshelves ended. "You remain very vague. You doing so isn't going to make this go any faster."
I don't care for that.
Red snorted.
I don't. And I don't care for your understanding either. I'm not telling you to enlighten you.
"If that were true, you wouldn't be saying anything in the first place. But yet here we are, going through the process of a very slow, arduous explanation upon why you feel you were trying to help me, if that means anything, and you going on about why you feel torn for doing so."
Help us. Not you.
"But me included."
Red turned to his left, seeing what appeared to be a doorway out of the maze of bookshelves. He left the library and began walking down the stairs, massaging his brow.
"You make it seem as if you have no choice in the matter." Red remarked. "If you really didn't want to, you wouldn't say anything. Is this not true?"
There was silence at first, that filled the air between them. The Tallest continued his way down the stairs.
You make it seem as if I do have a choice.
Red smirked slightly and inwardly sighed to the statement. He wanted to question him mockingly about an unknown force of coercion but he felt that leading down that road wouldn't make the process any easier for either of them. The Tallest placed his hands behind his back, in a sort of acquiescent gesture from proceeding with sarcasm; Red's prominent bailiwick.
"So this...truth...What is it?" He inquired.
There was a bit of a pause before anything was said again.
It's the secret, operative force that influences how our society functions and how the people are categorized inside it.
Red knitted his brow.
"And what is that?" He inquired. He felt he was starting to repeat himself.
You. Me. And the Control Brains.
The Tallest stopped moving as he neared to the end of the stairs. The location of the voice felt undeterminable, almost as if it were possessing his own person. It wasn't like the times where it was inside his head, with it's presence feeling full and resonant. When he first followed it, he thought without much objection that he was being lead. Now with this at hand, he didn't know what to think.
"Me?" He said, a little concerned.
It was silent for a while. A little longer than what was to be expected and Red blinked and looked around his surroundings. He didn't know if he were to call out or keep to himself, if it were to change the voice's response at all.
Yes. And now you're threatening to override that.
It was here that Red realized the voice referred to the change that was made in himself. The change that was beginning to threaten the status quo and very founding of their society. Red had gained an eye and an attitude that contrasted their culture in every fashion conceivable. His mindset was now unparalleled to the fabric of their ideology, which sent him crashing into everyone around him with the possibility of it spreading. His conformity towards what he, and the Control Brains established as propriety was an adamant obligation. Mostly, it was capable of being completed dutifully without intense mindfulness. But his complete disregard for it was an entirely different circumstance. Red blinked and looked around him once more.
Red realized sub-consciously he was approaching the Fine Arts section; He was here very recently and so the small nuances about the walk there had stayed at the back of his head.
"...What is it exactly that I'm...threatening?" Red asked. The Tallest had a feeling that, by the fact he was the only one who was changing, that the consequences of his actions would be much more dire than he could imagine.
It's...complicated. It's a system that has been around for millennia. One that has been reinforced, adapted, renewed and perfected. One that you've successfully aggravated.
Red blinked, and looked around. The voice strayed location from the Art exhibition. He felt that his throat was feeling dry and he swallowed to alleviate. It helped a little. He continued walking towards the voice.
...But right now there's a lull. A time of consideration. What must one do with a leader whose tarnishing his own golden crown? His actions are consequential, but are done so ignorantly. Imprisonment? No...Dethronement? Not sure…
…
Death?
Red felt a slight conjugation at his throat. Nerves began sending back colder sensations to his brain as it traveled through his body. His stomach, on the other hand, warmed up and his heart began beating slightly faster. At this point, when he connected a few dots he wished he never had, he stopped cold in his tracks.
The blood from Red's hands had escaped from his fingers.
...You see, Irk has reached her peak, her glorious culmination already. She's triumphed over her foes and her defectors and walked her pathway to success, paved with platinum and gold. She's won all that she ever deserved and lost all that she ever needed to. All she requires from you is to follow her principles and she'll give you everything.
But a certain Irken has set eyes for her sacred, hallowed crown.
Red swallowed once more and his hands began shaking. He looked around him, the voice beginning to close in around him.
Is that how one repays the altruism and the love from their benefactor? The one who lavished them in the life of luxury they indulge in? With hauteur, insolence and avarice?
Thoughts and ideas flooded the Tallest's brain. All crashing in at him within moments, his eye flitting around his surroundings with fused feelings of uncertainty, paranoia and a diluted, drawn out terror that would soon begin flowing inside his body alongside his hot blood.
Don't. Acting out of fear won't get you anywhere other than closer to your death.
"How did you know about this? You're apart of me. How can you gather information that I-I haven't even—"
I'm your PAK, Red. It's my duty to gather information. And I've been doing exactly that for a long time.
Red's breathing was shallow. He realized this and began taking longer but unsteady deep breaths. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his nerves that stood on edge. But his thoughts clouded his mind. Tacit but loud and present fears stood against the corners of his brain and excited the adrenaline that was beginning to run through to nerve endings and back. He could no longer feel safe in here. Suddenly, now he felt there were eyes watching him from obscure corners, behind cover. He would look at the dark expanses with a quiet fear, his peripherals deceiving him in thinking there was another present with him. He jumped when a cleaning bot began descending down the stairs.
Red.
The Tallest looked behind him.
Follow me. You were doing well for a while.
Red felt the cord of irresolution tangle inside his body and he stood there in his hesitance for a while. He breathed in and began walking towards the voice once more. He looked behind; feeling exposed.
"Why are we going here?" Red asked. He placed his hands behind his back to resume the posture he always associated to be composed and some ill-founded sense of safety and control.
That's a good question. Why would Irk go to lengths so extreme for an insubordinate?
The Tallest furrowed his brow, but didn't move to make any remarks.
Well we're a proud race, Red. You ought to know that. With a devotion and will loftier, a strength sturdier, and a power much grander than our enemies. We've demonstrated our superiority, and there shall be none who'll be found guiltless if they endeavor to contradict it.
Red approached a large, doubled side set of doors. He opened the left with his hand and entered the main center of reception for visitors at the Art Exhibition. He stopped for a bit and looked around. His mind, now reassured that there was no one here with him, allowed him to progress with a weak feeling of security.
Even if it be towards the blood of our own.
Red shook his head and his eyes became downcast.
Innocence is a peculiar thing, is it not? So hard to define, to understand. And it becomes all the more peculiar, when it becomes an impediment.
Red furrowed his brow. At first he believed he was referencing to other planets that Irk had in mind to dominate. And, as well as the inclusion of Red himself. But the word innocence gave way to a different meaning. It became...something much worse. Red had to stop again. Chills covered his skin. This time they stayed with him, his nerves tickled and excited. Pins and needles ran throughout his body. He looked up before him, to a hallway of pictures and portraits covered in blood.
His heart stopped.
...And it all just becomes a pity when it happens time after time…
To add to the sick and ironic tone, the voice sighed with mock disappointment. It brought his hands to shake. He blinked. The blood was still there, slathered on against the portraits and paintings.
"No." Was all he could mutter. He shook his head. "No."
Why do you think nobody comes to the Gallery, Red? It reeks of carnage and rot.
Suddenly, Mord's death felt fraudulent. Staged, almost. Something intended. Something planned.
Red's whole body was shaking now, and no matter how many times he closed his eyes, the halls were layered with dark green and black. He was looking around him, his heart jumping at his throat and his body trembling. Suddenly he felt he couldn't breathe; Red's mind was teeming with incongruity. His PAK, which where belonged the voice from his head, eradicated his emotions and Red stood there as it happened, eyes closed. When he opened them back up, a cold, nauseous wave passed through his body and he shivered in reaction. The thoughts remained, like always. Red wasn't conscious of the fact that the hallways didn't smell of blood.
Look ahead.
Red turned around and did so, inadvertently. Out of all of the paintings, this one was dry. No part of the picture could be seen and the blood was dim of color. It was dry and encrusted. He'd remembered it's position within the hallway and the times before when he'd looked at it, studying it's composition or the intricate craquelure, there even being a time when he'd shown it to Purple. It was the painting Calm Time by Sono Gove.