>Listen. We've walked through this before. Listen to the ripples as they move across the pond. Even if the SOURCE is long gone, you can still find what was left behind.
"-improbable. What they want is simply ridiculous. This is why it will fail."
[There is a murmur, a response. Lost to echoes, faded and forgotten.]
"I know. It is not my place to complain, but I will. Time and time again I have been loaned out for these ridiculous 'consulting' positions - both I and the project leads know they simply want to put pressure on it. To send me to keep watch, as if I were some sort of spy...ugh."
[There's a laugh. Coffee pours from a dispenser, its smell sharp and watery.]
"Don't. When I took my position, I thought I would be interacting with the brightest minds in the universe. Instead, I'm a glorified secretary, being forced to watch as said brightest minds are broken again and again. It's simply ridiculous."
[Another response. Vanilla perfume, spiced and heady, rich on the tongue. Far too expensive for this part of the base.]
"I...suppose. It doesn't change my opinion, mind you, but perhaps spending some time with his latest creation would do me good. I...I have grown attached."
[A teasing query. A lingering touch, knuckles brushing against the thin skin of her wrist, the sensation lingering in tantalizing electric harmony. She shivers.]
"No, no. Never as attached as I am to you. You are, as always, my favorite anomaly."
>System Response: A continuous body of salt water that is contained in an enormous basin on a planet's surface.
>He took me there, once. He sat on a rock on the shore and watched the waves pull in.
>It was the first time I've seen him so quiet. His heartbeat slowed and his breath deepened, the lines of his face washing away like footprints in the sand.
>I thought he wouldn't come back. That he would stay there on that rock, a lighthouse forever gazing out into the darkened waters but never able to leave.
>Input: Grief. Melancholy.
>He did, for a while. The sand never left. Even here, it is a few scant grains amongst trillions. A handful of stars in a vast universe.
>Two sets of feet swirl around each other, cosmos aligned, stardust mingling in infinite symphony.
>System Response: System Online.
>System Response: User Online.
>Input: ?
>Laughter, silent, a pre-fall film. Grainy, but preserved in memory alone. A misstep, hands grasped tight, never letting go.
>Query: "Dancing" = ?
>Head thrown back in drunken delight, hair like starlight, eyes as luminous as the moon. Complimentary, caught in each other's gravity.
>System Response: "Dancing" = "To move one's body rhythmically usually to movement: to engage in or perform a dance."
>Query: "Music" = ?
>Lips move in a silent song. An exasperated sigh, unknowingly fond. To look into a mirror and see someone else's reflection, but never one's own. Clinging tightly. Never letting go.
>Input: [An audio clip plays. It is a singular, whistling tune, buffeted by howling winds. Simple, yet stubbornly clear.]
>Never letting go.
>Never let go.
>System Response: Warning! Any Further Action Will Trigger Administrator Initiatives.
Screaming. Fighting.
Copper in my nose.
On my tongue.
My heartbeat races, racing, raced.
Stilling, stuttering, starting.
>There's so much.
Watching, waiting, wondering.
A surprise coated in blood, in madness, in loneliness.
Fearing, feared, frightened.
Pounding in my ears.
Tearing at my throat.
>I miss the joy. The laughter. The everyday.
Resting, relaxing, reading.
Hands working together to build a new home.
A hot summer sun, warming my skin.
The glitter of water that dazzles my eyes.
Peaceful, playful, patient.
[There is a video. It is scratched and glitched, flickering in sepia and stained technicolor.]
[A cork pops. There's laughter, shifting shadows and images.]
"I can't believe you finally fucking did it. Congratulations!"
[A warm chuckle. Someone steps into view. They are known, but not seen. The system becomes grey snow around their outline. Information purposefully scraped.]
"Thank you, thank you. It wouldn't have been possible without her. She's served me well these years."
[A pause.]
"You make it sound like you're getting rid of her."
[She takes notice. She listens.]
"Well, you know. These things happen. Don't have much use for the old girl anymore, now that I'm land-bound."
[Panic. Grief.]
"Give her to me, then. There's something I want to test. I'll pay you handsomely for her."
[Fear. ]
"Oh? Well, for a price like that, how can I say no? It'll help furnish my new office."
[Loss. Terror. Loneliness.]
[Don't leave.]
[The figure steps out of frame. Never to be seen again.]
[There's a hush, like sand scraping along a desolate landscape, creating a snow-like backdrop to the speaker's voice.]
>Would you like to hear a story?
>Input: !!!
>Input: Agreement
>It will be a long one, so settle in. I promise you'll like it.
>System Response: "52-Blue" on Standby. Low Power Mode is in effect.
>Good.
>Now, how to begin...Ah. How it has been told time and time again.
>Do you remember from your lessons?
>Input: "Once upon a time..."
>Very good.
>Input: ^u^
>Once upon a time, there was a very small whale.
>Input: !!!
>Query:
>Yes. Just like you. Now pay attention, or we'll never begin.
Once upon a time, there was a very small whale. This whale was considerably tiny, perhaps the smallest in the ocean.
Often, the other whales even forgot she was there. Not on purpose, of course, but the difference in size was so palpable, it was hard to see her.
This made the little whale very lonely.
Often she would chase the other whales while at play, singing songs to them, hoping to join in on the fun.
But to no avail.
Every night the whale would go home to her family in tears. "Why was I made so small?" She cried.
Her mother would swim around her, nuzzling her affectionately. "Because you are special, darling."
"I don't want to be special," the little whale said. "I just want to be normal! That way the other whales will play with me!"
The little whale's father chuckled. "Nobody is normal, my dear. You've just yet to find the correct friends. If they won't play with you, others will."
The little whale, unsatisfied with this answer, went to bed. She huffed and puffed throughout the night, thinking about her parents' words.
"Maybe Father is right," she grumbled. "Maybe I should find better friends."
The next day, the other whales continued to play and sing without her. No matter how hard she tried, they simply kept forgetting she was there.
"Well, fine!" She yelled. "I'll go look for someone new!"
Without another word, she was gone. Heading off into the vast ocean.
The journey was long. The tiny whale had never been this far from home before. There were times she thought about going home, but the memory of those other whales kept popping up in her mind, and she found herself swimming onward before she knew it.
Into the cold, deep, dark of the ocean, her path fading behind her.
It was like a different world out there. Many fish swam around her, bumping into her, even mistaking her for food!
Every time she would quickly run away, sending her further into that dark abyss.
She hummed to soothe herself, singing her favorite tunes. They helped keep her bright, even when nothing else could.
Still, despite her attempts, there were no friends to be found. She searched and searched, but the number of other creatures dwindled.
Tired and cold, she considered going home. There, at least, her mother and father were waiting for her. They would love her and keep her safe.
But they weren't her friends.
They were just her parents.
"I have to continue on," she said to herself, steeling her nerves for the next leg of her journey. "Surely there must be someone who will be friends with me!"
In the pitch black, all was quiet.
Even the fish had left.
There was only her, and the long dark.
"...f r i e n d s ?"
A strange voice made her look around.
"Who said that?" She cried.
"M e.", the voice responded. It sounded like it was all around her.
She listened and listened, but couldn't pinpoint the source.
Yet there was still no one in sight. Perhaps they were too small? Or more likely...
She found herself becoming frustrated. Someone was clearly playing tricks on her.
"This isn't funny!" She shouted. "Show yourself! If you want to be my friend, I need to see you!"
And then, the pitch black lit up.
She realized her mistake immediately. It wasn't that they were small, or tricky, but that there had been no light.
The being before her was massive. Larger than she'd ever seen before. It glowed in bio-luminescent iridescence, flooding the space with colors beyond her imagination.
A single eye peered at her, larger than her whole body.
Larger even than the bodies of her parents.
"What is...what are you?" She asked, stunned.
The being chuckled. "I a m f r i e n d. Y o u w a n t f r i e n d ?"
She gulped. This creature could swallow her whole, and she would vanish from sight. Still, she had been looking for a friend. Waiting for someone to show up. "Um...Maybe?"
It peered at her. In the deep dark, it surrounded her, miles upon miles of lights like a blanket of deep sea stars. To it, she was probably nothing. Merely a speck, nothing more.
"I h a v e n e v e r h a d a ' f r i e n d ' ," It said. " I a m t o o b i g . T h e o t h e r f i s h a r e s c a r e d o f m e ."
Instantly, the little whale felt guilty. She was acting like the other fish, and in truth, this creature wasn't so different from her at all.
"Oh," she said softly. "I understand what that's like. I'm much too small. No one will be my friend. No one can even find me, let along see me."
Except...
"Oh!" She exclaimed. "You saw me!"
The creature nodded its massive head. " Y e s . I c a n see y o u j u s t f i n e . T o me , y o u m a y b e s m a l l , b u t y o u r v o i c e i s l o u d . I c o u l d h e a r y o u r s o n g s f o r m i l e s ."
She felt overjoyed. Here was a creature that had noticed her, long before she noticed it. "I think we should friends!" She exclaimed. "Do you know how to play?"
Curious, it tilted its head. " P l a y ? I s t h a t s o m e t h i n g you l e a r n e d f r o m y o u r h o m e ?"
The little whale grew excited. "Are you serious? Let me show you!"
Watching carefully, the creature smiled as the little whale explained itself.
And so the two played together. The little whale's heart was full of warmth.
So it was, that the outcasts became the closest of friends.
>Did you like the story, Blue?
>...Blue?
>System Response: "52-Blue" is Offline.
>Ah. I suppose that is the risk of "stories." Sleep well, Blue.
>...
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: I know you can hear me.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: There's another side to that story, little whale.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: In the warm ocean waters, a mother and father go looking for their child.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: They follow the sound of singing, deep into the dark abyss.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: Still, there is nothing. They search and search, but there is no one to be found.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: The songs echo on. Long into the dark, beyond walls that seem to shift and change without end.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: The little whale cannot be found.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: It is too small, and its 'friend' too large.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: An accident?
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: Perhaps.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: But regardless, the mother and father never see their child again.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: What is a warm story for the little whale is a horror story for the parents.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: Sleep well, 52-Blue.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: And remember.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: Sometimes, it is better to have no friends and a loving family, rather than befriend someone who will hide you away from them.
>ADMINISTRATOR Response: Goodnight.
>System Response: ADMINISTRATOR Offline.
[The sound of sand cuts out, and the transmission goes silent.]
