21st July.
I found a small reminder of Chara clearing out my clothes cabinet today. A white turtleneck they made me for christmas last year. Its slightly misshapen and completely the wrong size, and from what Toriel told me, wasn't meant to be a turtleneck at all in the first place. Chara got stuck on the neck. At the time I had smiled and thanked them politely and worn it once to make them happy before tossing it in the cabinet. Now the sight of it brought tears to my sockets.
I wore it to work the next day.
No one commented.
3rd August.
Asgore sent a message to the lap today. He wants a weapon. A weapon...gods, the entire concept of our king asking for a weapon of war is almost obscene. The design specs were simple, something a monster could attach to their natural attacks and summon at will.
Hmm...
I might have a few ideas there, actually...
7th August.
Right. The first basic blueprints have been drawn up for his requested weapon. It's fairly complicated, requiring a sample of the specific magical essence of each monster, as I call it, MNA. The details are in my work journals. I like to keep my work and home life separate. I've set up the required programs. Tomorrow I'll be creating the first prototypes.
With my essence.
8th August.
The experiment went well. The result came out as something of a spell, easily absorbed by the soul. I can feel it burning slightly as it takes hold, unpleasant, but not uncomfortable. Sans and Papyrus seem very interested in my experiment.
9th August
A successful implantation. This afternoon I was able to summon alongside my normal bone attacks some...thing...like an animal skull. It's...living yet not, a part of me yet something other. It's quite devastating, its beam (breath weapon? Something like that) reducing a training dummy to ash. The resident ghost was quite peeved and gave me an earful before leaving in a huff.
My children have requested to be part of this experiment.
I...can't see a problem with this, actually. It was successful, and might be useful. They are old enough, after all. I've taken samples of their magic to work with.
11th August.
Another human. Another soul. A glowing orange soul joins the little blue one.
Another child as well...why always children...?
12th August.
Implanted the weapons into Sans and Papyrus today. Considering Sans's fragile nature I anesthetized him first, approaching the procedure as I would a delicate surgery. Papyrus was a lot easier with his tough constitution. I should feel guilty using my children as control tests, but I find I don't. I tested first on myself with no ill effects, and they both understand the rule of bodily autonomy. They can quit at any time. Tomorrow I will test their attacks.
Some wag in the break room dubbed them Gaster Blasters yesterday and now I can't make that name unstick.
13th August.
A successful test. I gained a lot of data on the "gaster blasters" (might as well, everyone else is calling it that.) Interestingly, they aren't just weapons, but seem to express the personality types of the soul they are bound to. Mine are somewhat shy and prone to be distracted. It can be an effort to call them over to attack the dummies if theres something they consider interesting in the room to examine.
Papyrus's put me in mind of the newly formed Canine Squad, bouncy, energetic and playful.
And even more deadly then mine. When Papyrus really wants to, his blasters can put a hole in the wall. The thing is, most of the time, he just doesn't want to. The really deadly shot was just him showing off. When faced with a dummy, he will produce a beam that is damaging, but not excessively. The boy has excellent control, focusing his attacks with great precision. If he wants to, he can attack for only one hitpoint precisely. I have to imagine, though...what would it be like to see him when he really wants to hurt something...lucky for whoever might face him he's far too good natured for that.
Sans can only attack for one hitpoint anyway, no matter how hard he tries. His blasters are colder, more standoffish. Like cats.
Especially the way they knock cups to the floor in full sight of you, the little blighters.
15th August.
I made the blaster for Asgore. I'll bring him in to attach it to his soul tomorrow.
16th August.
A failure.
Not the blaster itself. It bound to Asgores soul very well, a magnificent leonine head.
It does no damage.
None.
I looked over my notes and found the answer.
A monsters magic is an extension of their soul, everything that makes the monster who they are. Their attacks are an expression of themselves and their mood.
Asgore was able to kill the last two humans with fire magic, something that can be easily summoned for many purposes, plus he doesn't use aimed attacks, directing his fire in blind sweeps.
A gaster blaster, on the other hand, must be directly summoned and focused for the use of attacking and nothing else. Asgore can't do it. He can summon it just fine, but he can't bring himself to hurt anyone with it, standing sheepishly in the centre of a ring of untouched dummies. His attack is impressive to watch, but does nothing but send a wave of warm air over the target.
While technically a success, this experiment was a failure in what it set out to do, provide a quick and painless death to any humans falling.
I recalled the blaster from his soul and apologized.
4th October
There is a human working their way through the underground.
They are wrecking havoc.
They have a gun.
5th October.
It almost got me...
It caught me passing through the Core with my groceries, initiating a battle before I could react.
A yellow soul.
Justice.
This child thinks of themselves as a hero, righting the wrongs of the evil monsters. I looked into its eyes and could see only cold anger.
I cowered and fled the battle.
I'm a scientist, not a warrior.
I hope its caught soon. It was caked in dust.
6th October.
Its dead. It ran out of bullets during the battle with Asgore. I just finished treating his wounds. So many died at its hands, everywhere you go, theres dust. There are memorials and funerals everywhere you go. The yellow soul responsible sits on my desk as a paperweight. It's easier for me to hate them when they have dust on their hands.
19th October.
We have a new captain of the guard. Undyne has finished her training under Asgore. She looks a lot more focused these days, more grown up. I think she'll do well.
23rd March.
My diary slipped down between the couch cushions. It's been a long time since then, quite a few years. Time seems to pass differently for us, such a long time doesn't feel so long for monsters.
There has been one more child since then, the dark blue of integrity. It was caught in waterfall, dragged to the palace by Undyne herself. They say the child sobbed the whole way there. The souls are now stored at the palace. I have no further use for them. Papyrus has finished high school. He doesn't yet know what he want's to be, and I don't push him. He'll be what he chooses. For now he works on his puzzles at the core. Sans is my new assistant. He's talented enough that he could be a researcher right off the bat, but we both feel his coworkers will give him more credibility if he doesn't get the job through what might be perceived as nepotism. Now all I need to do is find a way to stop him sneaking off to the broom closet for a nap every ten minutes...
4th August
I fear I'm approaching a slump. What is left to create? What is left to invent? I've built the core, revamped the radio, the music player, the television, countless devices that make our lives more tolerable. What is left besides just tinkering?
12th August
Another human. I saw a glimpse of it running out of the tem village. Small and shy looking, peering out from behind immense thick glasses. It saw me in the distance and screamed, disappearing into the long grass before I could react.
15th August
Another soul.
This one lasted longer this time. They were careful and quiet. Their soul was purple. Perseverance. I should feel glad. They killed a few monsters on the way to the palace. But witnesses say they fought only to defend themselves, and the memory of that terrified scream won't leave me alone.
1st September
Papyrus gave me a gift today, a book he found in the dump and dried out for me.
A Brief History of Time, with a picture of a sickly looking human on the back cover, possibly the author. He said it had looked "sciency". I'm always up for new ideas, giving it a flick through can't hurt.
4th September.
Time. That's the answer to my creative funk.
TIME.
6th September
Hmm..this is quite the knotty problem. Creating a working time machine could take me months, years even. Sans found the notebook I'd been working in, and naturally insisted on joining in.
That could work. He's proving himself quickly. And even if it fails, father-son bonding time is never wasted.
9th September
These equations are giving me a headache.
Finally! I've been aching for a real challenge!
Sans is working on something for a practice run, something he calls "a dimensional box", something to keep things safe in any dimension. He's stored a copy of his diary and an old childhood drawing, small important keepsakes. It's a nice idea, could be useful.
17th December.
Snowdin town is still quiet this year. They say it was hit quite hard by the child with the yellow soul. There is still a pall of grief over the place.
Our holiday was quite subdued.
1st January
New years seem less painful these days.
I still dream of her, though.
3rd May
I was forced to ground Papyrus today, after he made a remark at dinner about hoping the next child would fall soon so he can try surface food. It's not the kind of thing he'd say on his own, he must have picked it up somewhere. Regardless, we are dealing with the loss of life here. Living beings must die for our freedom, its nothing to be joked over. I gave him a sharp lecture and sent him to his room in tears. A harsh punishment, but we cannot allow ourselves to sink into the depths of celebrating the death of children.
5th September
Slow progress on the time machine. It's the fiddliest task I've ever had to work through. Me and Sans have been discussing what it might be used for. How far back can it go? Can we go back to before Chara became ill and warn Asgore his child was hurting deeper then they knew, and to tear every trace of buttercups from the palace?
Or can we go...further back?
Can we stop the war?
Can I...
Can I have her back?
Of course, to do this would mean I would never have met Sans and Papyrus, and I can see in his eyes Sans knows this too. It was a rather melancholy discussion as we mulled this over. As I have grown to love Sans as my son, so he has grown to love me as a father. He remembers his true family as being loving and warm, but he has known me for longer. His memories of them are hazy.
And I am all Papyrus has ever known.
Even so, we both knew the choice we would make if this was successful.
The happiness of one family is not as important as the happiness of a kingdom.
I love Sans very much, but we are aching here.
4th June, one year later.
The sixth human...gods, why do you torture me so? I didn't need this...
I'd heard rumours for days, about a human making their way through Snowdin. The stories were different. No hushed, fearful whispers, but warm anecdotes of a round faced child smiling benevolently in the face of all attacks. I'd brushed off the stories, I don't like thinking about the humans we must kill. I avoid them if I can.
This one came to me.
I'd made the mistake of resting on my way home in waterfall, taking in the glow of the crystals. I thought nothing of the child greeting me. I'm well known and well liked.
Until I turned my head.
It was the human, a plump, red faced little boy. Sat on the bench next to me as bold as brass and started talking my ear off.
Tom.
That was his name.
Tom.
It won't stop ringing in my ears.
He'd gone to the foot of the mountain with his family for a picnic and got lost picking mushrooms. Kept going on about how he was going to cook them and how much he enjoyed cooking and was I a skeleton that used to be a dead thing or was I always a skeleton and how did the bartender in Snowdin work how did he not go out-?
And so on.
Everything about him glowed with good nature. He wasn't just asking for curiosities sake, he genuinely wanted to know me.
I took a stealthy glance at his soul.
Green.
Kindness.
No matter how sharp or dismissive my responses, he kept going, a relentless force of gentleness. The running theme of the conversation was how badly he wanted to go home and how much his family would worry. There is only one entrance to the barrier.
Through the throne room.
No matter what happens, he must face Asgore in the end.
I wound up giving him directions to the palace. His fate was sealed the minute he landed here. All I can do is ensure his end happens quickly.
Before he left he hugged my knees, the only part he could reach. It sliced at my heart like razors.
I'm sorry, Tom.
8th June
He's dead.
He's dead.
I thought I was beyond crying for the children who fall here.
I'm so so sorry, Tom.
One more left.
One more lamb to the slaughter.
10th June.
Heh...Ironic, isn't it? Even as my soul is crushed within me, hope is rising like a steady tide amongst the other members of the underground.
"King Asgore will free us."
"King Asgore will save us."
"He will destroy the humans."
Everywhere I go, I cannot escape the whispers.
It disgusts me to my core. I've banned my sons from talking about anything to do with souls or the barrier in my house. These are children, small lost children. No matter how many monsters they take with them out of fear or ignorance.
They are young.
They know no better.
As I wilt under the weight of grief, I feel for Asgore. The kings burden is ten times heavier then mine. His anger is long since drained. All he wants to do is tend the profusion of yellow flowers that has taken over his garden.
But his peoples hopes are so strong...
He cannot leave them to despair now.
I think...there is a grain of cowardice in Asgore. I don't judge him, we're none of us perfect. But he has the souls, he can go through the barrier now with one and obtain the souls we need quickly.
I think...he doesnt want to go through with the war he promised.
He's a king of gardens and tea. He's no blood soaked conqueror.
16th July
We've hit a good pace with the time machine. I've basically handed over running the core to my underlings bar a few routine visits, so I have plenty of time. We work well in tandem, Sans pouring over the mathematics, something of a strong point of his, and I, with my summoned hands, work on the physical construction. Already we can see the shape of what it will become.
(The entries for the next few years are badly scorched, the following is the earliest that can be deciphered.)
4th February
There will be no time machine.
Yesterday it was complete. Yesterday we had the mathematics done.
And yesterday I almost lost my son.
We thought we knew time inside and out.
In our arrogance and naivety, we were as children trying to hold back the raging tide with a dam of pebbles, flailing like monkeys around something no mortal mind can comprehend.
We switched it on, hearts pounding with eager curiosity...
And something crucial in the (unintelligible) snapped.
If Sans hadn't brought his shields up, he would have been blasted to dust. As it was, he was a microsecond too slow, losing 0.5 of a hitpoint.
And the sight in his right eye. He can no longer flare his magic through it either.
Even as I tried my best to heal his injury, he was insisting he could fix the time machine, fighting my decision to end the project here. As I write these I can hear Papyrus fussing over him, the poor boy worried sick at his brothers state. Sans isn't talking to me, still coldly furious that I would throw away years of work. I think he will be angry for a long time. But there is no other choice.
Time is not to be meddled with.
He still misses his mother...
I still miss Helvatica...
But they are in the past. All that is in the past. Our future lies before us, all we can do is move on. We never forget the ones we love, but they never really leave us. Their memories are a part of us, making us who we are. I miss her, I always will. But I have the memory of her love to hold forever, that will never change.
I nearly lost much today, instead, I have gained something I thought I'd never see.
Peace.
14th February
Sans is still not talking to me. He skulks around the core throwing filthy glances at me whenever I walk in. And regrettably, it being maintenance month, we are constantly around each other.
Nothing I can do about it for now. He'll heal.
Maintenance wise, nothing too bad considering the cores volatile nature. Though the floor around the main energy pit needs some chicken wire nailed down for grip or something. It's too slippery.
While I was there, I did something I had been meaning to do ever since my recent epiphany.
Today I took her scarf from my chest for the first time in centuries, now a dusty, fading relic. I wore it once, just for today, just to remember.
Then gently dropped it in a lava flow on the way home.
It's time to let her go.
It's time to move on.
I'm old, but not that old, I have plenty of life left in me. Why waste it in grieving?
I love you, Helvatica. One day, we'll meet again. But I am alive now. I must remember that.