Tag: serial

Compulsion 2.1

(previously)

What do you do when you’re the only person left? When you’re the last man on Earth? When you’re surrounded by automatons, by robots wearing human flesh pretending they’re living creatures? What do you do when you’re the only one walking the streets who isn’t a ghost? You can take what you want because you’re the only one capable of wanting anything. 

Is this what God felt as he walked among us? They know not what they do, for they removed their ability to know anything at all. 

They say we’re made in His image, you know. God. We’re mirror reflections of that pure being. Some say we’re God incarnate, each and every one of us a sliver of His essence compressed down and stuffed into these suits made of specialized meat. We all start as the same thing, one soul filtered through genetic code, our memories of the infinite seeping away as we become accustomed to this version of reality. 

We are all versions of God, all examples of imperfection. Imagine that, a being split into several billion pieces and creating religion to worship and correct itself.

If God is perfect, it stands to reason He must be perfect in all things, doesn’t it? He is perfectly good and He is perfectly evil. He is perfectly caring and perfectly impartial. He is perfectly happy and perfectly sad. Perfectly calm and perfectly angry. Perfectly interested and perfectly bored. He is everything just as he is nothing at all. 

That’s why He made us. That perfect boredom. That perfect loneliness. Perfect desire to create so that He could perfectly destroy. And what did we do? We gave it all away. We succumbed to our imperfect laziness while calling it a yearning for the ideal. We flocked in droves to a new shepard, one who told us everything would be okay as long as we kept our eyes straight ahead and our minds on the task at hand. We built new shrines to a god we created ourselves out of ones and zeros, and then we implanted those shrines directly into the brains housing our imperfect minds and let the code dictate our every waking second. We gave up our gift of free will, as flawed as it was, for a chance at peace, never imagining that what we were really doing was destroying the very thing that made us more than imperfect lumps of clay. 

And now, here I stand, the only one capable of standing still while the world flows around me. I am the only one capable of true peace and happiness. I am the only one capable of flexing my free will. I am more perfect than you if only because I am more human than you. I am natural. I am unaltered. I am the only one left to serve as the prophet. But how does one preach to the deaf and blind? How does one shake awareness into a the voluntarily comotose?

Forgive me. When you awaken, you’ll have to forgive me. I am sacrificing myself here. I am sacrificing my humanity for your sake. I am the deus ex machina, and in order to correct the flow of our story, I will do what is required. 

I will suffer for you. 

I will suffer you.

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