#mainzer.

WELCOME TO PROJECT ORPHEUS, RAYA! YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AS MAINZER

“I am Zedkiel Morales. My favorite song is Tahanan, which my father used to sing to get us all to sleep. My mother is Diwata, and I have three siblings, Uriel, Zion, and Jael. My father is Angel, and he is gone. That’s why I am working as a bodyguard. I am a bodyguard. My job is to protect. I am not a monster. I am Zedkiel Morales, my favorite color is the peaceful light blue of the sky. My mother is Diwata, my father is Angelo. I have three siblings, Uriel, Zion, and Jael. I am Zedkiel Morales. I am not a monster. I am not a monster. I am a protector. I am not a monster. I am a protector.”

Truly one of the most difficult decisions of the night. We received three insightful and complex applications for Mainzer. But yours, Raya, understood. Your explanation of why you connected with the skeleton was thoughtful and quite honestly broke my heart. And really, isn't that what Mainzer is all about? The humanity of the world. The heart of the story. It is a testament to humanity that, despite the coercion and violence of the world, still, Zedkiel stands. Still, he cries. He grieves. His utopia is a dream and his dystopia is only recollections of memories, but still, he lives. Because for them, IT IS WORTH IT ALL.

Of course! Admittedly, Mainzer was one of my favorite skeletons to write. I can see their development being taken any number of directions, which I'm excited to see when apps start rolling in. Here are some points you can consider when writing:

Mainzer is inspired by the Richard Siken quote: "We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero's shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it." Mainzer is arguably one of the most human of the cast — with family being at the forefront of their mind, to the point where they would sacrifice their own body parts to ensure their safety. However, they are still forced to perform acts that are against their sense of morality. Do they feel guilty for this? How do they cope with it? Do the ends justify the means?

An exploration on identity. I see this as an essential component to any application for Mainzer. As they have had to very literally cut off parts of themselves and become mostly cybernetic implants, have they lost their sense of identity on the way? How has the violence changed them? (Violence done to others and to themselves.)

MAINZER ⋅𖥔⋅ 30, M ⋅𖥔⋅ COMBAT

trigger warnings: violence, blackmail, death

They say you can't afford kindness in this world. They say there are humans, but humanity has long been extinct. They say your family is lost to you — the lowest of the social classes, starving and hopeless. Bound to become fodder for the hungry Earth. You clench your jaw, ignore the rage that has taken root in your belly in place of emptiness. You say: WATCH ME SAVE THEM.

When The Divide came, it came as no surprise that your family wasn't selected for the underground cities. You had no gold to feed S Corp's greed; no sharp-tongued excellence to cleave through to their organs and attach yourself as necessary. But your family possessed what few still remembered: warmth. Trust. Even if a single crumb had to be divided six ways; even when it was more air than sustenance — you were grateful. You were happy. But you should have known that the trials aboveground required more than you could give. Animals were no more in this world — A NEW SORT OF BEAST HAD RISEN IN ITS PLACE. Endless carnage; betrayal for the sake of survival. You watched as the members of your family sacrificed their hearts one by one. The beast spits in your face, eyes flashing your younger sister's molten gold. What is family? What is love? We all turn away when the stench of rot comes too close.

It was when your aging mother could no longer survive with the incessant moving and scavenging that you gave in. The selfish were not worthy of all the resources they had accumulated. No — it was your mother, who only ever gave and would flinch upon the thought of hurting another — that deserved it. She would never ask, but she didn't need to. You snuck into their community center in the dead heat of noon, thinking they would be asleep while the land was too dangerous to travel. YOU WERE WRONG. The beast laughs and laughs, teeth glinting in the sun as you are bloodied, bruised, and thrown out to the elements. Radiation had begun seeping into the marrow of your bones when you saw him, sunset behind his head like crimsoned halo. He offered you a deal: sever your own limbs; sever your humanity — for your family to live out their lives in comfort underground. Become a machine; a weapon, a mosaic of technology you never thought you could afford to even touch. You will hardly recognize yourself in the mirror, but at least you can recognize them. You, a machine. They, remaining human. You cut off your arm in front of him.

DYNAMICS

VOSTOK  ⋅𖥔⋅ THE ROPE THAT PULLS YOU FROM THE FLOOD CAN BECOME A NOOSE AROUND YOUR NECK

You are indebted to him. The one who ensures the safety and comfort of your family. He reminds you every time your grip starts to loosen on a neck, resolve weakening with innate sympathy. You kill so they can live. But his demands grow crueler by the day, your original implants eroded and battered, the little flesh and sinew you have left forced to be dismembered and enhanced. The joints you are ordered to dislocate start to resemble his. The irises whose light dissipate in your hands take on the color of his own. Your hatred grows day by day, only fed by the tears your mother sheds each time you return home. The desperate What will we do? What will we do? has changed to turmoil; to grief. Has to changed to WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

JUNO  ⋅𖥔⋅ IN DEFENSE OF LIGHTNING THERE IS ALWAYS A DARKNESS ASKING TO BE SPLIT OPEN

The first time they hacked into your system, you reacted not with malice, but with curiosity. They coded your hand to make a simple thumbs up, and a sound that you had long forgotten emerged from your throat: laughter. When was the last time you had taken an action without Vostok's prior approval? It's a taste of freedom, and you indulge in it. Let them play around with your code; make minor changes that could remain undetected. Until you aren't sure where you end and they begin.

PERDITA  ⋅𖥔⋅ TOO MUCH TENDERNESS CAN KILL THOSE WHO HAVE FORGOTTEN IT

Ward. You were assigned to keep a close watch on her. She is harmless, and sometimes you wonder if this assignment was not meant for preparation, but to relieve Vostok of his responsibility to cure her boredom. You know she is no better than you — another tool he will dismantle and destroy once his purposes are achieved. Yet she acts as if she's above you, asking questions that are better left unspoken; trying to unravel and nurse back the thread of humanity that had been taken from you. She makes you remember all that you have sacrificed. Humanity, dreams, softness. They are of little use to you, now. You don't hesitate to bare your teeth at her — teach her the way of the world you had been forced to learn.