#eyeish

It has not yet decided what it is going to do with her.

It has been with her for what must have been a very long time; forever; two or three days. It had watched the pharmacy burn with her, watched the smoke curl upward and out across the island-blotted sky as she curled in, and in, and in, taut with her gut twisting in fear of what would happen now that her prescription could not be filled, knowing things would only get worse. It had been there, too, when her therapy session that week was called off; it had watched her betray herself, tone amiable and placid, as her therapist cancelled due to loss of housing in the crossfire between two people of self-described opposing alignments; it had watched her as she was unable to recognize the voice coming from her mouth to answer the man, and then stroked her back with long, impossible fingers afterwards as she wailed to be left alone to someone she wouldn’t turn around and see wasn’t there.

It was not in any hurry, before. It had been forever, and she had barely begun, and it had barely begun itself, if it could be called itself. If it could be called anything. When it was like this before, it was called Michael sometimes.

Whatever it is or isn’t now is not particularly decisive, which is something it wasn’t before, too, before it wasn’t anymore. It can kill her itself; it can, yes, save her. It can do both. It is quite sure, at the least, it does not want to leave her to be taken by I Do Not Know You; something it is also sure she would agree with if she was not locked away, sobbing on the floor of the portable bathroom, praying to her own mind to let her free, even though what she had seen was very physically present, which would mean something to her, if things meant anything to her anymore.

It was an innocuous pile of something to the side of the empty park path; something she discovered was skin; an entire human skin in one piece, peeled and discarded like old clothes, and not far from it, the less-innocuous not-person-that-might-be-a-person, all red and wet, eyes a glaring, bright white, perfect and lidless and set too deep in a veiny, grin-split face.

She ran, of course. And now it is watching her cover her mouth to stifle a terrified sob as a gentle knock comes from outside.

It barely has to do any abstracting as it decides to be inside the box with her; it fits nicely along the wall to the right of the door she used to come in. And she finds it, as she looks around in desperation for anything; she looks at it, really, for the first time in all their time together.

send me a 🌻 and ill just tell you whatever the fuck i want || Accepting

Excerpt from Pale King’s Journal (Translated)

— June Ninth, Two-thousand and twenty

We met something very peculiar today. A Higher Being(?) wearing the shape of a human with equally strange abilities. He was repulsed by us but the feeling is mutual. He was able to, for lack of a better phrasing, ‘read’ the history of our shell with a glance. What details he retained we do not know for we closed our mind to the intrusion which, for the most part, he was unable to penetrate. 

We would attribute it to an ability like our own yet the character of his(its?) gaze differed. We cannot say how for we kept our meeting short, still being injured from the Security Breach.

wtnv year one introductions and proverbs – accepting! 

     “you know, it’s funny that you mention this! i don’t think i ever got the answer to any of these fine questions. things were getting pretty busy at the station back then… gosh, that must have been, what, five years ago now? six? time really flies! maybe we ought to clip its wings.”

     “anyway, i think eventually i just figured it was the faceless old woman doing all of that. you know how mischievous she gets in the middle of the night, while we’re all pretending to sleep.”

     there’s a beat of silence that hangs in the air – confusion from one party while the other expects understanding or recognition. 

YOU’RE NOT SIX FEET UNDER. YOU’RE NOT PUSHING DAISIES. - jonathan sims ( @eyeish )

HAVE A LAUGH !!

       “ ...i still don’t understand why you want it. ” he didn’t seem like the kind of creep who would get off on recording people’s miseries - or at least not how they were portrayed in the media materials, where someone like that was a villain. perhaps it was some sort of psychology experiment, though those were usually geared towards humans. even without a medical module installed in its’ brain, it knew there must have been some sort of scientific and/or medical knowledge to collect from the diversity here. whatever reasoning it tried to come up with still fell flat, though - and portions of its’ mind still replayed that nightmare, and it’s hands twitched and trembled in erratic, sudden movements.

       ( oh, but it wished that it was only a nightmare. that it even had the capacity to dream up the images that plagued it. )

        “ ...what will you even do with a recording? ” it wouldn’t have been the first time it recorded the events - but it would be the first time they were so...raw. the first time it spoke of them when it actually remembered what had happened, could still hear the SCREAMING and feel the BLOOD--

        murderbot’s jaw went tense as its’ arms beginning to follow suit in the stupid, useless shaking. shaking wasn’t helping. and it made it look more human than it would have liked. it was one of the few times where it felt both it’s robotic and human parts working in a horrible tandem to produce nothing short of expressions of terror aftershock. remembering a trick from ART, it rapidly searched through it’s mental files to find a recording of the opening theme of ‘sanctuary moon’, which after replaying it a few times, began to lessen the shaking slightly - though it didn’t disappear. the fear gripping its’ throat lessened its’ hold - perhaps at the prospect of transferring murderbot’s burden onto another.

@eyeish​ sent : 🐤

Welcome back to snowy Isola Radiale, Jonathan!

You will be housed in TOWNHOUSE 236!

You will retain everything you had previously!