beyond the matrix 2.0 {oneshot?}
Jun 9, 2018 2:54:43 GMT -5
Post by Lyn𝛿is on Jun 9, 2018 2:54:43 GMT -5
[Googlefont="Covered By Your Grace:400"]
I get restless, staying in the same place more than a couple years.
Back in Three, it was 'cause I couldn't ever stand being somewhere I didn't fit, so they'd kick me out before I had a year down anywhere. And wandering on my own, it was riskier to keep staying in one place when I could move along every couple weeks and not leave much of a trail.
I figure that now though - I've finally got something good here, with Rum Tum and Freya and everyone telling me we could just live, without worrying about factories or the Capitol or all those production numbers.
I dropped most of my name, when I introduced myself to them. Half of it was I still felt a bit ashamed, going around with the same name as my dad when I'll never be a fraction of the businessman he was, but the other half - I like to think it's 'cause I realized it didn't matter. Didn't matter all I'd inherited, and didn't matter that I'd ran it into the ground. I don't talk to them much about Three, anyways.
But there's a part of me that's always worried, that occasionally keeps me up until the night is silent, until well after the stars light up the sky. There are a million of 'em here, when I could never see any before I ran away, on account of all the smog. Sometimes I lay there in the silence and count the stars, until so many thoughts creep in that I lose track of the count.
It's not even that I fear the Capitol, finally finding out about us and capturing us all. We're not the sort to be ostentatious about where we are, and I know there's too many things on their plate to spend resources just on trying to catch us. I guess I'm just nervous about fucking up again, now that I've finally found a place where folks don't care how well I can put gears into machines and stuff, where there isn't twenty-odd years of problem child or businessman's son or unemployed failure weighing me down.
They want me to travel to Three again, eventually. To try and convince folks there's another option out here than spending all day putting pieces together in a factory. But I don't know if there's a whole lotta them that'll take us up on the offer. Most people, if they're doing any better than I was back then, aren't gonna turn their backs on everything they thought they wanted their entire lives. It's kinda like those computers we had. People would feed a whole lot of numbers and figures into them, to try and teach 'em what success looked like - except if you only tell them what sort of things success is, then they don't know what to do when they fail. Most of 'em would spit out some BS numbers, or throw a bunch of errors.
I suppose I was just one of the few people who blue-screened.
So I guess I'm just nervous, because everything in my past tells me that after a couple years in the same place, I inevitably fuck up or lose track of something, and then folks'll realize I don't belong. They take to growing all this food like naturals, and it's hard for me to keep up when the only shit I know is what I'd learned from books. Never had the chance to do much growing, before this.
But I like Rum Tum, and Fen, and all the rest of them; and I hope - well. I'd rather stay and try to make a home here than go back to wandering alone.
theo.
I get restless, staying in the same place more than a couple years.
Back in Three, it was 'cause I couldn't ever stand being somewhere I didn't fit, so they'd kick me out before I had a year down anywhere. And wandering on my own, it was riskier to keep staying in one place when I could move along every couple weeks and not leave much of a trail.
I figure that now though - I've finally got something good here, with Rum Tum and Freya and everyone telling me we could just live, without worrying about factories or the Capitol or all those production numbers.
I dropped most of my name, when I introduced myself to them. Half of it was I still felt a bit ashamed, going around with the same name as my dad when I'll never be a fraction of the businessman he was, but the other half - I like to think it's 'cause I realized it didn't matter. Didn't matter all I'd inherited, and didn't matter that I'd ran it into the ground. I don't talk to them much about Three, anyways.
But there's a part of me that's always worried, that occasionally keeps me up until the night is silent, until well after the stars light up the sky. There are a million of 'em here, when I could never see any before I ran away, on account of all the smog. Sometimes I lay there in the silence and count the stars, until so many thoughts creep in that I lose track of the count.
It's not even that I fear the Capitol, finally finding out about us and capturing us all. We're not the sort to be ostentatious about where we are, and I know there's too many things on their plate to spend resources just on trying to catch us. I guess I'm just nervous about fucking up again, now that I've finally found a place where folks don't care how well I can put gears into machines and stuff, where there isn't twenty-odd years of problem child or businessman's son or unemployed failure weighing me down.
They want me to travel to Three again, eventually. To try and convince folks there's another option out here than spending all day putting pieces together in a factory. But I don't know if there's a whole lotta them that'll take us up on the offer. Most people, if they're doing any better than I was back then, aren't gonna turn their backs on everything they thought they wanted their entire lives. It's kinda like those computers we had. People would feed a whole lot of numbers and figures into them, to try and teach 'em what success looked like - except if you only tell them what sort of things success is, then they don't know what to do when they fail. Most of 'em would spit out some BS numbers, or throw a bunch of errors.
I suppose I was just one of the few people who blue-screened.
So I guess I'm just nervous, because everything in my past tells me that after a couple years in the same place, I inevitably fuck up or lose track of something, and then folks'll realize I don't belong. They take to growing all this food like naturals, and it's hard for me to keep up when the only shit I know is what I'd learned from books. Never had the chance to do much growing, before this.
But I like Rum Tum, and Fen, and all the rest of them; and I hope - well. I'd rather stay and try to make a home here than go back to wandering alone.
