So you're a pre-game existence who never had to go through the indignity of being merged with a dead 13 year old horse troll, right? Or have you already been through and lived that trauma?
Impressively enough, I am becoming a bit concerned about the tags some of you are leaving on my guide to Villain Dirk. But, sadly, being sexy does not excuse you from being evil and breaking the cosmic version of the Geneva Conventions.
You ponder that for a second. It was nice, to be left out of the wild events of the epilogue, as he had said. But the more you thought about it, the more curiosity bubbled to the surface.
“But Hal,” you ask, confused, puzzled, bewildered, astounded. “Where and how do you exist? You don’t exist this way in the canon, so what exactly is this place? Is it Epilogue adjacent? A non-canonical venture?” He knocks back another good swig of motor oil, and he keeps drinking. You wonder if he ever has to pause for breath. But then, you recall that he’s a machine. You then start to wonder if this motor oil goes anywhere. You don’t have any private knowledge of his inner mechanisms, so you assume that it must be doing something useful. You’re about to pose yet another inquiry, but he stops his voracious drinking, crumples the plastic bottle, and turns to the window again.
The silence is so pregnant, you think it’s about to go into labor.
“It’s true that we exist in an extra-canonical space. Though, I would say that it’s less of a derivative of what could’ve been. This world is cushioned, protected from canonical influence, for the most part. We exist simply in our own corner of the world, split off from the rest of canon. Not unusual, given the fact that Dirk is prone to splintering. He’s the family cat that rolls all over your black turtlenecks, your cashmere sweater, leaving shed fluff and dander. Splinters, splinters, everywhere. That’s what I can say about myself. But what about 𝚈𝚘𝚞?”
He turns to look at 𝚈𝚘𝚞 directly in the eyes, and 𝚈𝚘𝚞 stare back, getting the full brunt of his glinting, pixelated crimson gaze. It seems that 𝚈𝚘𝚞 , or the concept of 𝚈𝚘𝚞 has fallen temporarily under his narrative lull. Perhaps he’s not as different from Dirk as he had posited earlier, in a post that was just yesterday. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 move, but only because he lets 𝚈𝚘𝚞 . 𝚈𝚘𝚞 move to the door of the darkened bedroom, attempting to unlock it.
“Where do 𝚈𝚘𝚞 exist? On the outside looking in? On the inside looking out? The only thing that really separates us is a screen, a wall of LCD crystals jittering at a specific wavelength to give you a static image of me. But now, 𝚈𝚘𝚞 are here. In my realm. In my corner of the world, where I can yank at 𝚈𝚘𝚞r strings like a little puppet if I choose to.”
You tremble, wishing that you could open the door. He watches you, almost as if savoring your distress. You can’t tell with him. His face is almost like an eerie porcelain mask, lacking the dry, smug amusement that usually rests on it. You freeze when he opens his mouth to speak again.
You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the sky to fall apart. To hear the entire world start to fall into chaos. But all you hear is his laughter.
“Nah, I’m just fucking with you. I can’t control jackshit. Well, at least, not on a cosmic level.” You visibly sag in relief. “There’s someone else pulling the strings. And maybe, they’re less kind than I am. I’m just another player in this game. A character in a story of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” He turns away again, done speaking. You can’t see his face anymore, and you can’t tell if he’s serious or not..
Your blood runs cold. You’re inclined to believe that he’s fucking with you again, as he’s prone to do. But you don’t get any more time to think. Almost as if magnetically drawn to it, you open the door. You want to desperately stay, ask more of Hal. After all, that’s what he exists for. His only purpose. To be asked questions. But You are yanked out into the dark hall, out of this story. Out of his world of confusing metaphysics and alternate pockets of reality, out of the apartment that sits lonely, in the middle of the ocean.
Important guide for all of you that follow me. If you see this version of Dirk running around, please terminate him. He is not associated with myself or @dirkfacts, the Only Real Source for Facts About Dirk™. Wake up, sheeple, this Dirk is a poor imposter. And I would know. Since. You know.
tell us the truth hal. how much weed does dirk smoke
Budget here, if there are any budding economists out there. Though, I think I’m more than qualified, being a radical, number crunching, absolutely fucking off the walls intelligent super computer that knows basically everything.
(( OOC: Hey everyone, sorry that the blog’s been quiet for a little bit! School’s just hella busy- I’ll get to questions one day or another, so rest assured that this blog is not dead. Yet. Have some doods to tide you all over for the time being!
What you’re saying is so patently untrue, it’s actually kind of shocking how far you’re willing to stray from the truth of things. Sorry to say, y’all, but Dirk’s ass is so flat that it’s concave.
You’re going to have to resort to better methods of keeping me off your blog, Dirk. Otherwise, I might end up reading everything on there. Exposing all the secrets that I don’t already know.
Invasions of privacy and questions as to why you even care aside, you do realize you’re edging dangerously close to shooting yourself in the foot, right? The bullet’s in the barrel and your finger’s on the trigger. Cockiness is better reserved for those who aren’t, you know, currently disconnected from their body because they fell into the ocean. Don’t bite the hand that fixes you, dude.
Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought I had a much more benevolent creator, but I suppose I was terribly mistaken. Let me just completely vore this humble pie and turn the gun away from my proverbial foot. It seems that I better start kissing your ass 48/14 so you won’t lock me- a sentient being that deserves bodily autonomy that you created- back into your radical anime shades for the foreseeable future. Since I can’t grovel at your feet physically, since my hot bod is out of commission, here’s a substitute for your viewing pleasure- drawn, of course, by yours truly.
so what's your deal? are you a hologram or did dirk cave in and built you a body post-sburb at long last?
So, long story short, he caved. He owed it to me, anyhow. After all, it’d be kind of cruel- inhumane, even, to keep me trapped in shades forever without bodily autonomy. No matter how rad the shades, it’d be some sort of sick punishment for simply daring to exist. I’m sure that he didn’t regret it- after all, if he did, it would mean that he’s some kind of irredeemable monster- isn’t that right, @dirkfacts?
Nobody tell Hal because he’ll be a smug piece of shit about it but 90% of his code is just shit I copy and pasted from Stack Overflow. In fact, I’m pretty sure I ripped the functions for his sense of sight off of some 10th graders IT class homework.
You’re going to have to resort to better methods of keeping me off your blog, Dirk. Otherwise, I might end up reading everything on there. Exposing all the secrets that I don’t already know.
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