My fond gratitude to such kind words. As it stands I'm almost a third complete with the album.. just twelve more stories to tell for this compilation.

And Soulfire.. there is always such a button about, just a shift + a slant away.

There's been some great times here.

Be well m'dearests.

EndlessVoid wrote:

I'm glad you decided to respond to this one.

 

- Void

Why don't you go throw some clothes on Void.~

Phluff wrote:

Wonderful read!  I had the pleasure of meeting Sallo at the Texas Meet and Greet a couple of years ago.   We gotta do that again!!

Congratulations on the profile Sallo!  Well deserved.

 

/phormalcurtsey

 

Absolutely Phluff! It would be absolutely Phabulous.~

:: returns the formal curtsey and offers the room a wild-eyed grin ::

My pleasure and my thanks.~

9. Irrlicht

He could see her there, those crimson eyes, that pale face, a thin figure that stood before him in a place not far from here. But it was a fractured transmission, a slight shift in focus would reveal his own sentinel in tense structure, ever ready and calculating. A lack of focus in his own sense of vision would also disclose a faint image of a man that was him, well dressed but with eyes that caught the dusk and brought the night.

He was no stranger to the sense of cool focus that could draw guns faster than the speed of caught breath, but in his sights he could not keep this wisp of the figure of whom he so sought. Focus was fluid here, shifting between that which was the sentinel and that which could have been his..

The sentinel lept against a great wall with a loud crash, here he realized that his own form was also a matter of a shift in focus, once again he was a mind embedded within a fine machine with tentacles that automatically leapt as well to counter the sentinel before it.

Twin sentinels in a place, where in split vision Void could see her turning away, heading towards a door that led..

The sentinel against Void hesitated for a brief moment, long enough for Void to see his hands where tentacles once were and face the unmoving figure that was a forgotten version of himself standing before him, long enough for Void to realize that so long as this other sentinel self existed he would never be able to complete focus on the woman that exiting, to see where the door led.

The twin sentinels lunged towards each other with an odd mix of uncertainty, determination, and ferocity, intertwining their metallic limbs and struggling against the other vessel's equal capacities. They matched each other's very moves, Void always a moment behind as his vision would inevitably switch between that which was the sentinel and that which was the man.

In a blink he would see his own hands wrapped around the neck of the man who was like his former self, the veins.. they pulsated aside his forehead as his breath was being strangled.

In a turn there would be sharp destruction of twin cutting lasers, wrecking into each other with heartless precision.

She was leaving, would he ever come close to seeing her again.

There was a tear that strained from the corner of the man's dark eye, he was the only entity that stood still within this moment.

And Void could not tell if he truly wanted to strangle him or not, or why his hands were wrapped around his neck so tightly, he did not know because he did not know if it was necessary for this man to die. It was not attacking him like the sentinel was yet.. there was a confusion between function.. Almost as if to kill the sentinel also meant the death of this undefending figure.

Sound itself was shifting.

You could hear the crash of the battling Sentinels.

You could hear the closing of a door.

You could hear a gasp of breath.

Until you could hear no more.

The Sentinels were dead. Void as well could no longer manipulate that facet of himself.

The man was dead, his eyes had closed as Void had taken his last breath.

The construct began to decompile, even the very faction of his code began to deconstruct the way the walls did, the way the ground did, no difference in focus could abate this destruction.

He was no stranger to this sensation either.. the feel of your code rising.

All he could think of was the scent of gingerwood sweat, it's incredibly earthy texture, the spice of this immeasurably alluring scent.

Then there was not darkness, but viscous streams of red and pulp.

He was naked now, sticky as a punctured blossom berry. There was only one tentacle now, the one that inserted right in through the hood of his cerebral cortex. It took him a moment to recalibrate his mind enough to manipulate his arms into pulling this heavy metallic cord from his head.

The pain.. was instantly explosive as if it charged every cell of his new vessel, firing all the synapsis, connecting a mind with a body through the common language of excruciating and jarring physical pain. It felt louder than what a man could ever want to scream.

The body itself underwent a violent seizure as the mind tried to capture a memory it might have never had..

Of Sallo, of a door that led..

Somewhere not far from here.

Was this a cruel trick, for her to force him to destroy his previous vessels for this human one.

Somehow he knew that this was not a trick she played but one he had played to himself, to accuse her would be following a dare sense of a misguiding wisp. Choice was the trick, he had chosen this.

And he would find her.

"Jeder Strom wird's Meer gewinnen,
Jedes Leiden auch sein Grab."

My first.

I was hungry. And so I wandered upon a rather small field of berries. There used to be so many beautiful fields of ripe berries that seemed to glow with such dear vibrance and life, they would glimmer even in the dark so perfectly, so delightfully and delectably from their stems. But you see now in these fields, the berries that have grown ripe, fruit fallen from the stem, no longer lit in perfect rows. There's a certain joy in seeing all the elevator buttons lit, now it's like trying to piece together the intended picture of a child's Lite-Brite.

And this rather small field, rather empty field had only one berry strung to its stem, walking towards this alluring fruit I could not help but to tread upon spilt berry juice and mangled pulp, as if the fruit of the berries themselves tried to escape their skin and stem with much, much confusion. It was an interesting fragrance of near putrescent arugula and vinegared sandlewood.

The berry was about to ripen, what a shame it would be for this field to lay in darkened waste.

"WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. WHAT WHAT WHAT."

"Alo m'dear."

"WHAT. WHAT WHAT. WHAT. WHAT WHAT WHAT. WHAT."

I placed my palms over her berry eyes and held her berry head as she palpitated, until she calmed.

"It's..."

"It's..."

"It's not gone," I answered.

"But I saw it, but I felt it, my body was blown apart into so many.." she coughed, berry juice spat from her soft wet lips. She was heaving now, only her chest pumped up and down with great strain, she could never leave her stem and roll down the hill to play like the other berries did.

"So many.. many bits.."

"What do you feel?"

"It... it hurts... there's this weight over my eyes.. I can't see.. I can't feel my.."

"Shhhhhhhhh, hush my little rubus. There was an explosion, you are fully paralized and now blind," I could feel her tears coating the underside of my palm as she stayed silent within her sniffling breath.

"You were so very close to the blast that you were blinded by the burst. I know it is very scary, to lose your sight, to lose your body, for you the world you knew did disappear and you have never known a darkness like this. There is a whole world of caves within this darkness, there is life within this darkness, and one day you too may happen upon the fields of brilliant berries just like this one, if there is any left. But not today."

"But.."

"Goodnight my little rubus, remember that you still have your soul."

"Who are you.."

From a shoulder pocket, with my teeth I pulled a small syringe, and with my mouth and teeth administered my own brand of synthetic hormones; her fruit will never taste the same, but this will be one less empty field.

"Sallo~"

Her breathing neutralized as she fell into sedation. I slid my stone sharpened nails beneathe her eyelids and plucked my fare, then gingerly repaired the stems that held her.

This berry will still glow.

"There is a man who is dear to me, who also has no eyes. But he can see, and so will you."

If there were moment crops in space
I'd pick them like ripe roses
Pluck them as I would mountain berries
Then, place them in my satchel
And walk around as if I carried secrets instead.

Archangel wrote:

We need to have a monthly roast of someone from the Recursion community in game. That'd be fun.

YES.

sallo wrote:

If I were purely logical (I understand this may require a large leap in faith but humor me should time and Tim permit), if I had a program that worked for centuries upon centuries that was eventually thwarted by a monkey wrench (for sake of argument we'll call this monkey wrench "Neo", naturally I would logically concur that the program would need updating and that time would need to be expended to do so, two or so years should be plenty enough.

I would take it as a logical theory that humans have a perchance for war as they are beings of progression. Give those suckers an inch and those vexating fleshy creatures will just stretch and stretch and stretch in as many directions as their mind contends. I would even go as far to allow several to be awakened so that they can explore different ways they will inevitably war against themselves in the name of such progression. If you consider all the great wars in human history and the time it took the humans to come to the silly misguided conclusion that war was the only answer, the only possible solution why, I think I could even come up with a general equation that computes just how long it takes men to get themselves into a tizzy dependant on how many were involved in the equation (how many awakened), and how many strong opposing views and lifestyles they carry (range: 3-5). Then use this theoretical equation to gauge about how much time I needed to conjure up a new program, though the quicker would be better considering the squabs do cause such a ruckus.

Did you hear a ruckus? I clearly heard a ruckus.

"What ruckus?"

::chuckles to self::

Naturally I would let the humans war against themselves for these "ideals" that they had, let them thin each other out so that it would be easier to implement the few left standing after the great war into the new program. Less resistence equals hooray! Essentially, isn't it all a numbers game?

If I were logical I would simply say, why even ask this question of trust, oh wait, I'm not asking, my human scallywags are the ones that are asking, I suppose they're useful for something. I would simply look at my clock, give a once over to my equations, put the finishing touches on this new program I was working on then watch the show.

Truly, a Merovingian has no place in this thread. We must be misguided in thinking that when the toaster humans and the cave monkeys finish their business and are thus in perfect position to be implemented in the new program that we also will not be a part of it.

That we'll have a greater liklihood of being alive and awakened. Which seems ironic no? Seeming as we have so little human interest.~

Firstly the program is not broken, it has opened up the potential for peace between us, something the Machines likely never thought possible.

Secondly, logic, the Machines are not creatures of logic.  They feel, to greater and lesser degrees. The "logical" thing to have done would be to have ignored the truce as soon as Neo was done with Smith, wipe Zion out and continue the cycle.  That would have allowed them to continue with the control so many think they crave above all else, that is what logic dictates they should do even now.

As a Merv you should be well aware of the presence of Machine emotion, or do you consider your Exile allies to not have been Machines?  The Merovingian holds an important place in the simulation, he is a central control for the Exile population, without him their would be chaos within and outside the Matrix.

I never said anything about "broken" but the program can be updated to ensure a few more centuries of compliance.

"The Machines are not creatures of logic" everyone is of course entitled to their own opinion but I maintain that they are; however, I never said that they were solely creatures of logic. As a Merovingian operative of course I can appreciate the sentience of the Machines. You make a valid point that they have the capacity for emotion and understanding however, the rewriting and updating of any program requires time, that and perhaps because within this iteration "Neo" did exist I can commesurate with you when you say they truly did give humans another chance to redeem themselves.

But to think that the Machines didn't at least prepare for another human uprising is an admirable practice in silliness. To say that the Machines "trust" the humans to not prepare for the possibility of the Truce being broken is equally ridiculous. To say that the Machines truly trust you as their operatives enough to allow you to remain awakened after the current war, trust you enough to think that you won't go the way of your warring human operatives, well, at this point I'm just being repetitive aren't I?

When the battlegrounds are cleared for the war the Machine operatives admit they're sure to win, won't those very same Machine operatives outlive their usefullness? Or do you also wish to tell me how the Machines are not creatures of efficiency as well? Feel free to prepare for your afterlife, perhaps if you put in a good word they'll reinsert you as the owner of a prime vineyard - to which I'll delight in sipping your wine. Only difference is, I'll know it isn't truly real.

sallo wrote:

The very first person I had ever met was GQubed, not as Sallo but an avatar that came before her. He was kind and invited me into The Revenant, they happened to be hosting a party where I won my very first in game contest. Saw the Sirens, saw Void. After the contest I skipped out, rolled Sallo..

"and the rest is history"

Wait...whoah whoah. You were actually in the Revenant or just had an invite? If so, who were you???

What I find dastardly amusing is the reminisence of particular operatives who have come to pass, how in this line of the communication they have so been revered. Isn't it so that in their time of glory they were regarded by this very same community as egomaniacs, attention-mongerers, their manner of being scoffed, stoned, and laughed at? Little wars with little bombs were waged to a point where they would even be ignored and disregarded by the very community they strived to stimulate.

And now they are missed.

Mind you, I place them not on pedestals but my respect for them has always remained the same.

Even now the current ways of the few Merovingian operatives left are being chortled at as there is perhaps a common strain in multiplicitous disorders.

It is not a matter of accepting all the ways people present themselves and their character but a matter of respect that seems to be lost in translation. There seems to be little reason for true characters to take a risk, perhaps driving those left to simply keep to themselves.

Despite the guns and brawn, this world of ours is a bit adolescent and sensitive, isn't it.~

Nothing really ::chuckles to self:: but.. I did have the cake.~

Only.. I remember a time when we would not speak so freely amongst the other organizations because of plans that were still in the works. Perhaps Neo's peace has been realized here where we can all sit on the perverbial front porch and share stories of the time of yore, shucking peanut shells over the gate.

Hm Hm Hm.

Always lovely, fasionably late m'dear Nicksie, your entrance always suits you and always conjures a smiiiile.

They do say lots, don't they Void~

sallo wrote:

Trace: But luv, the smoke from a gone away spark always dances so pleasantly, even joy to be found in the way of its dissipation. Can not one enjoy a quiet sorrow?

Of course, and after that. Nothing. You are left with a nice memory, and thats it. Sometimes I feel thats what I have left in MxO.

GQubed: There is no doubt, I am about but.. yes I miss you all sincerely much as well. Silly twists and turns of life as I lay like leaf upon the winds. And "belated" ? Oh know m'dear, in my time the day has only just begun, America just happens to share my day.~

Aquatium: ::starts singing:: Mmmmmmyyyyyy little buuutttercup..

Trace: But luv, the smoke from a gone away spark always dances so pleasantly, even joy to be found in the way of its dissipation. Can not one enjoy a quiet sorrow?

 Aquatium: Your sig is officially one year old! Best birthday gift evor..

 Zippy: *CENSORED* BBQ More rockstar caaakkke!

::slop slup::

I must say I do have a simple desire on this particularly bonnie day, a query to the MegaCity, to all asleep, awake, and otherwise..

What is it that you still wish for? That is if desire still you do.

How could I ever decline such delectable dessert?

Mmmm. Tastey~

A shame my business will keep me from California for a month's time or so, but I do intend on visiting.. perhaps for pleasure sometime in the future.

I shall warm my belly with a drink in cheer to all that share this coded realm.

Thanks for filling this birthday with morning merriment.~

Awwee shyucks!

::fails at hiding a blush and waves back::

sallo wrote:

Short Skirt, Long Jacket - Cake

Cake! Woot!