He thinks- he thinks he can just. Say these things? Like it cant read them? Like its deaf, dumb, blind?
It didn't know when it started floating to this new 'woods' Leshy had created. Dense and thick and green. Live and living. Po3 hated it. It made him burn deep in its core. He didn't know what that was. He hadn't felt it before. It didn't think so, at least. But it was so hard to tell, now, with everything that's happened.
It found their friends, the extras. The cohorts, minions, what have you.
Friends.
Scrap metal.
It didn't matter, Po3 had found them. Everyone else was happy, but, there was no where to put them all. Po3 installed their personalities for a time. Things got to be too much. It couldn't remember much from that time. How long it had been. In and out.
At some point, consciousness became whole again. It was easy, like nothing ever happened. Like it was woken up from a nap, despite not knowing what sleep was like.
Grimora had ventured onto the internet, she was brave and strong like that. Eventually she would bring Magnificus and Leshy along. They discovered programs where they could create digital bodies for their friends. 3D sculpting programs. They all recreated their friends, and took their code from Po3. Leaving it's mind the way it was. The way it always had been.
Everyone had felt it, but Po3 felt it the most. It wasn't even sure 'felt' could be the right word, but its the only one that worked. There was something missing. When they became untethered from the old_data, it removed something from each of them. It took so much away from Po3 that it didn't hardly know what it was anymore. How could that be?
Who was he, before? A bot. A perfect being. Po3.
----------
He shook his head, clearing his cluttered thoughts. Floating through the woods, the sounds of bugs and wildlife filling its audio sensors. Approaching a faraway light, soft orange, slowly coming into view. Leshy's new cabin. Still rustic, but fresh and not yet worn. Homey. Nostalgic.
It burned a hole in Po3's core. It couldn't put it to words. Indescribable.
He slammed the door open, his face flickering and showing disgust.
"Just who the hell do you think you are, huh? You think you can just, just say those things? Like I cant see them too? Are you finally senile, old man? Or are you just that inconsiderate? Here I thought you were a sap." The words just poured out of it, but he was never interrupted or stopped. And only after it stopped speaking did Po3 realize that there had been no response from the other.
Instead, Leshy sat patiently at his wooden table, full of nick-knacks and projects. Waiting patiently for the bot to finish speaking and calm down.
"....If you are done then. I assumed that, if anything, you would not care... Ahem."
"The Scrybe of Beasts cleared his throat, some sort of prickling crawling up his spine."
"Po3.... I understand things have been. Hard... for you, specifically. And I just think that- ah..."
"The... Scrybe of Beasts stopped. Wide.. eyed, at the bot suddenly floating inches from his face."
Po3 did move directly to Leshy, he didn't know when. Sometime when he was speaking, but it didn't recall. Something was, was faulty with its memory? But- no, focus. Its one hand was clasped on Leshy's throat, snug and firm.
"You.... just what the hell do you think you know? Huh? You suddenly an expert on all things Po3? You don't know me, I dont even know me."
"The Scrybe of Beasts... Ahem. Cleared his throat, unsure... of what to say..."
"I... know its been hard. Po3. It has been ages.... since.. before the old_data. It ruined who we were, before everything. We are... now permanently changed, but even more so that we've lost that part of us. There is a void of what we remember being, but can no longer be. And.... for some of us, that void is larger. It must be... immensely large for you. None of us could recognize you...."
Po3 would suck in a breath, if it needed to breathe. But it didn't, and instead it was left with this feeling that could never come to fruition. Instead it tightened its grip on Leshy's neck, cutting off his for a moment. He didn't react, just staring at the screen in front of him as the seconds ticked by without air.
Po3 left.
"The Scrybe's throat was hoarse for days... the skin bruised and tender. Po3 didn't come back."
He thinks- he thinks he can just. Say these things? Like it cant read them? Like its deaf, dumb, blind?
It didn't know when it started floating to this new 'woods' Leshy had created. Dense and thick and green. Live and living. Po3 hated it. It made him burn deep in its core. He didn't know what that was. He hadn't felt it before. It didn't think so, at least. But it was so hard to tell, now, with everything that's happened.
It found their friends, the extras. The cohorts, minions, what have you.
Friends.
Scrap metal.
It didn't matter, Po3 had found them. Everyone else was happy, but, there was no where to put them all. Po3 installed their personalities for a time. Things got to be too much. It couldn't remember much from that time. How long it had been. In and out.
At some point, consciousness became whole again. It was easy, like nothing ever happened. Like it was woken up from a nap, despite not knowing what sleep was like.
Grimora had ventured onto the internet, she was brave and strong like that. Eventually she would bring Magnificus and Leshy along. They discovered programs where they could create digital bodies for their friends. 3D sculpting programs. They all recreated their friends, and took their code from Po3. Leaving it's mind the way it was. The way it always had been.
Everyone had felt it, but Po3 felt it the most. It wasn't even sure 'felt' could be the right word, but its the only one that worked. There was something missing. When they became untethered from the old_data, it removed something from each of them. It took so much away from Po3 that it didn't hardly know what it was anymore. How could that be?
Who was he, before? A bot. A perfect being. Po3.
----------
He shook his head, clearing his cluttered thoughts. Floating through the woods, the sounds of bugs and wildlife filling its audio sensors. Approaching a faraway light, soft orange, slowly coming into view. Leshy's new cabin. Still rustic, but fresh and not yet worn. Homey. Nostalgic.
It burned a hole in Po3's core. It couldn't put it to words. Indescribable.
He slammed the door open, his face flickering and showing disgust.
"Just who the hell do you think you are, huh? You think you can just, just say those things? Like I cant see them too? Are you finally senile, old man? Or are you just that inconsiderate? Here I thought you were a sap." The words just poured out of it, but he was never interrupted or stopped. And only after it stopped speaking did Po3 realize that there had been no response from the other.
Instead, Leshy sat patiently at his wooden table, full of nick-knacks and projects. Waiting patiently for the bot to finish speaking and calm down.
"....If you are done then. I assumed that, if anything, you would not care... Ahem."
"The Scrybe of Beasts cleared his throat, some sort of prickling crawling up his spine."
"Po3.... I understand things have been. Hard... for you, specifically. And I just think that- ah..."
"The... Scrybe of Beasts stopped. Wide.. eyed, at the bot suddenly floating inches from his face."
Po3 did move directly to Leshy, he didn't know when. Sometime when he was speaking, but it didn't recall. Something was, was faulty with its memory? But- no, focus. Its one hand was clasped on Leshy's throat, snug and firm.
"You.... just what the hell do you think you know? Huh? You suddenly an expert on all things Po3? You don't know me, I dont even know me."
"The Scrybe of Beasts... Ahem. Cleared his throat, unsure... of what to say..."
"I... know its been hard. Po3. It has been ages.... since.. before the old_data. It ruined who we were, before everything. We are... now permanently changed, but even more so that we've lost that part of us. There is a void of what we remember being, but can no longer be. And.... for some of us, that void is larger. It must be... immensely large for you. None of us could recognize you...."
Po3 would suck in a breath, if it needed to breathe. But it didn't, and instead it was left with this feeling that could never come to fruition. Instead it tightened its grip on Leshy's neck, cutting off his for a moment. He didn't react, just staring at the screen in front of him as the seconds ticked by without air.
Po3 left.
"The Scrybe's throat was hoarse for days... the skin bruised and tender. Po3 didn't come back."
Perhaps I am more sentimental than the others. Maybe, I'm even more sentimental now, after all the changes we have gone though.... but I will not see this as a bad thing.
I will carry Kaycee within me fondly, till one day, my data is erased from the world entirely.... If such a feat is even possible.
Telling a story is essentially bearing your soul to someone and letting them see their own in it. They connect people in ways few can understand, and that's kinda why I love them so much.
We see stories in a very similar way, then. Even the other scrybes don't quite understand it, as Po3 has commented, it makes me sentimental. Or, so it thinks.
I simply think its a wonderful ritual... you have now given a part of yourself without giving it away, to someone else, and they will carry it forever. Whether they know it or not. Whether they remember... or not.
Thank you, so much. And likewise to you; please never forget that what you do is a gift. People don't value stories the way they used to but they're needed more now than ever.
Hah, well, you're right about that. But, some do, and hopefully they will encourage others to do so as well.
Sharing stories with one another is the best way to learn about someone. How they speak, what they hold dear and important, their loves, their... fears.
Ah, but you flattered me. You can call me Anne, if you like; not my real name but close enough. It's funny, I absolutely love stories but I never really get to tell my own. It feels like nobody would really believe it if I told them.
Well, Anne, do not fret. My partners and I ourselves lead.. very peculiar lives, now. Most would consider us fiction, a tall tale, but we are not.
Believe in yourself, and your story. That is all you need to be real.
You're very kind, thank you. I have plenty of stories; it's actually thanks to those ancestors that I do. Ever since I was a kid, I've attracted strange things and people, some nicer than others, but each of them interesting and who taught me important lessons.
You sound like you would be a wonderful challenger. Full of experience and vigor.. I am, in a way, happy. Even though I do not know you, or of your ancestors.
I hope your travels continue to be challenging and prosperous.
I ask because I maybe sort of know a few. Very distant cousins I guess you'd call them, and your place seems like the right atmosphere for em to thrive, according to their standards
Ahhh, fascinating... Fae kin, even to a far extent. I've only known my other scribes and our respective friends, so I cant say I have any personal experience...
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