I thought I'd start with a short story. If it doesn't quite make sense,
that's all right. Todd will tell you I tend to write for the Big Picture
most of the time and throw hints left/right/centre which may only make
sense several chapters (or stories) later.
C&C appreciated.
Final Note: This story uses the PW/ORP timelines. If you prefer
McKinney's or the Comic's, you're out of luck. ^_^
--------8<--------8<--------8<--------8<--------8<--------8<--------
The Protoculture Wars
Aubry Thonon
Protoculture War 4
Children of Hope,
Children of Despair.
This book is dedicated to the following people:
- Zoner (megazone@wpi.wpi.edu) and his
Undocumented Features;
- Peter Walker for his support in getting these
things straight in my tiny little mind;
- All those who contributed to Misfold,
particularly those who wrote about Ivory Tanaka
Nice to see that my messing about with a
Veritech's mind inspired others.
This work is (c) 1986-1996 Aubry Thonon, except for those names,
songs and concepts copyrighted to the appropriate owners (how
do I know who they are? They know, that's good enough).
Feel free to copy this book and distribute it as long as:
A) The copyright notices are left in;
B) If it is used in a fanzine or any other free,
non-profit publication, could you mail me a copy
please?
Ascension
The ground flies past me as I glide over it, engines barely
producing thrust against the friction of the wind. I slide on
the wind, trying to emulate the birds around me, trying to
become one with the moving air whose medium I am passing
through. I loose speed to the friction with that self-same
medium and, eventually, I start to stall, forcing me to power
up the engines inside me to add to my momentum. I leave the
birds behind.
Below me, the red-brown of the wasteland gives way to the
harsh green of the revegetating areas. The dull-green grass
soon changes its colour to a healthier, lighter green. Bushes
appear, followed by trees. Flowers cover patches of ground
here and there, life finally winning against the destruction
wrought to the planet itself.
I bank left, thinking. It has been nearly eleven years
since I tried to commit suicide after finding out who I was -
no, who I wasn't. To look out and see yourself standing in
front of you, to know that they are you and that you are but a
pale copy of them... It was enough to prompt me to kill
myself. I sometimes think I should have died in that rain of
missiles. If no-one had interfered, I am certain I would
have. But someone did interfere, not allowing me to choose my
own exit from this pain-ridden world.
For months I was prodded, studied, cajoled back into a
semblance of rationality. I had begun to recuperate at last
when the news reached me of my alter-ego's death in a freak
accident. Lang assured me that she did not suffer as her ship
disintegrated into nothingness. I believe him. It is easier
to believe him. I want to believe him.
The remnants of New Macross City pass me by. I scan them
over quickly, not wanting to see the carnage that happened
here. I was spared having to take part in this action, thanks
to my being unfit for duty at the time. Unfit for duty - a
polite way of saying stark-raving mad. I seem to remember
wanting to escape the confines of Tokyo Research and go free
all of the toy robots from their imprisonment by little kids
and toy manufacturers. Stark-raving mad, just like my alter-
ego. At least she was handed an easy way out of her lunacy, a
way which is not available to me, a complete and utter
blanking of her mind. Sometimes I wake up at night, and I lie
there looking at the ceiling, wondering where all my hopes and
my dreams have gone.
Dreams. A writer once said that `dreams are wishes your
heart makes'. I do not have a heart any more. Maybe that is
why I no longer seem to dream. But philosophy was never my
strong point. I always was a very down-to-Earth person, even
before the incident which transferred my alter-ego's
consciousness into this metal shell. I was the copy and she
the original. I was the Artificial Intelligence and she
was... what?... The Natural Intelligence perhaps? N.I. Ni.
A Veritech contemplating the truth of intelligence... A
knight who says `Ni'...
I really need some sleep.
I leave the ruins of New Macross behind, as I try to leave
the shattered remnants of my past behind me. She the original
and I the copy. Only now... Only now she is dead and I am
alive, the copy made the original by virtue of there being
nothing else. Ironic. I so want to see her again, to tell
her I hold no grudge against her for being a pale version of
the finished product, that I am proud to be her... her what?
Her daughter? Why not, Lang tells me parenthood is a very
compelling force in the Universe at large. So why shouldn't I
consider her my progenitor? She gave me life and shaped my
being. I hope she would approve what I have become, were she
still alive.
The on-board clock buzzes its alarm at me, warning me I am
falling behind schedule. I accelerate towards my destination
and my new posting. I have received word that my transfer to
the 13th AVAC has finally been approved thanks to the strings
pulled by Lang. Emile is a nice enough man, always trying to
help. I once asked him why. He answered that he owed it to
somebody. To whom? My mother? Why? So many questions
remain unanswered. And soon they will have to wait as Lang
leaves with the SDF-3 for Tirol. I will not see him again for
a long time, ambassadorial missions never go as planned, if
history is to be judged. I head towards Monument City and my
engagement, keeping my sensors peeled for the departure of the
SDF, for the leaving of my last link to my mother.
I reach Monument City with only seconds to spare.
Overhead, in Lunar orbit, the SDF is manoeuvring to launch
position. Once in the center of town I start to climb,
perpendicular to the ground, pointing myself at the departing
ship. As it folds into hyperspace I punch in the afterburners
and pump reaction mass into the engine as fast as I can. I
surge forward, breaking the sound barrier in an instant,
causing those below me to look up as I fly off. The
thunderclap behind me shakes buildings and collapses windows.
I smile.
I am Veritech, hear me soar.
Neoculture (Crash-Test Dummy On The Information SuperHighway)
-------------------------------------+------------------------------------
Dans le froid glace de l'Olympe noir | Dans le vide de l'espace infernal -
Les Dieux malins ont en vain | Fatigue, lasse, vainqueur -
Use de leur puissance, leurs pouvoirs| Ulysse pres d'une Aurore Boreale
Contre Ulysse 31. | Rechauffe un peu son coeur.
-------------------------------------+-------- Aubry.Thonon@qed.qld.gov.au