cahciua juice lost by unexplored deal-with-the-devil narrative. What if you spent your whole remainder of your life trying to find a way to destroy the foundations and goals of the society that robbed you from your home and your child, and then one day you die and you know you left a giant rift of things unsaid to your kid. so you accept being uploaded through the endless system you sought to destroy to get a chance to speak with him again, to continue your mission, knowing you’re putting this in the hands of something that fundamentally twists your personhood into something that serves the ideals of the nation that colonized you for them. which is infuriating because the game gets super close but then Doesn’t Go There. Cahciua should have called the gardens in Living Memory overmanicured, and ugly as shit and not at all like the world she loved to explore. even an emulation of her self would have maybe found a comparison between herself and the transplanted trees and flowers in this gaudy museum menagerie. and if she said anything different it should have been attributed more to the endless system being unable to actually emulate the often contradictory desires and sense of self of the living in place of depicting her as a more sympathetic mother. What Ever Though
