So this is kinda just an idea of tracers experiences and thoughts after the incident with the slipstream.Ā
It was surreal. A fiery red glow consumed everything in itās path, sweltering heat melting the street signs of what was once Kingās Row. Home. My home was gone. An instant stretched into hours stretched into days, the sun raged with unrelenting force as it grew and grew itās once pleasant and calming yellow aura was dead and in itās place was an angry red hue. For a moment everything stopped, time stopped, and then there was a flash where in a fraction of a second the sun destroyed all of the life that it once nurtured and supported.
āChronal Disassociationā Winston called it, the big ol guy was trying his damnedest to try and find a way to fix me, but for the time being, I was a ghost. Picture the time from before you were born, complete and utter nonexistence, a blank screen. Sometimes it was like that, other times I saw things. Slices of time, a number of infinite possibilities for each moment folding in on each other and unfurling all at once, like a river forking off into diverging paths. I saw an omnic walking down the street once, he brushed passed some folks. they shoved him from behind and beat him nearly to death, they were strangers exchanging nervous and tense glances at each other, and they were his mates grinning warm friendly smiles as they passed by. Ā Ā Ā
It gave me time to think, the world is a dark place but it really doesnāt have to be. The world could use more heros, heros who can see the best in any situation. At any given moment we have the choice to extend the olive branch to those we may not fully understand, to those who may have wronged us, offer a good hug and a bad joke to the lonely people who just need a friend. A hero doesnāt have to be a soldier, they can be someone who inspires and instills hope and optimism in others, or a kid at school standing up to the bullies picking on someone else.
Before this happened Iād been listening to Techartha Mundattaās speeches, heās such an inspiration preaching unity, kindness, and love. If I ever get back to normal I wanna go and see him speak in person. What would he be like? Could I talk to him? Could I get him to laugh? One day heāll lead the path to a brighter world, one where humans and omnics can peacefully coexist together. The shambali are an amazing group of people and I wish I were more like them.
Ā I miss Lucio. The guy had gone on tour before the slipstream test, but he had promised that weād hit the town after he made it back. Ah Lucio, he and I were inseparable. Weād sing, dance, race, and just sit and talk for hours on end; heād ask me the silliest questions saying it would help him write his music. I donāt know how long itās been since this thing happened. He couldāve finished his tour for all I know, came to my place in Soho and seen the place empty and abandoned. Poor guy. When Iām better I swear Iām gonna find Lucio, sneak up behind him, and give him the biggest hug heās ever gotten.
I saw a family, watched them age and grow. I saw as they became more and more distant, cracks forming in bonds that were once stronger than steel. It was like watching a movie set to fast forward, I couldnāt hear anything but I could see the faces of the parents flicker with anger, the worried faces of their children as the father aggressively shoved his fingers in the motherās face. Tears started to run and I tried putting my hand to her face to dry them, but I couldnāt touch her. I couldnāt do anything. Their kids grew older, moved out, ignored calls from and avoided their parents. Wow. Iām no family therapist but I wish I could just sit them all down together and talk to them, help them forget their worries, anything. I wish there was something I could do, someone I could run to and cheer up, I just feel so useless like this. Ā Ā
