Subject: [SHORTFIC] My Snapshots
From: Chris Davies
Date: 12/10/1997, 1:07 AM
To: fanfic@fanfic.com


	Profuse thanks to Time Runner, for giving me this idea.  Just three 
so far though, because I wanted to avoid the obvious ones.
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ONE
---

	It's not so bad, really.  We finished the mission, we did what we
were supposed to do, even if we didn't know what we were doing.  Even if
what we were doing would have horrified and disgusted us when we did it.

	We stayed true to our ideals, even when the ones who'd inculated
them in us betrayed them.  That's a victory, if nothing else is.  And
tomorrow ... tomorrow will be brighter for what we've done.  I have to
believe that.

	My last companion's voice whispers to me across the distance.

	"And so everything ends ..."

	I clutch the broken remnants of a medal to me, and whisper an 
answer.

	"Or perhaps, just begins."

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TWO
---

	I hate you.  I hate you more than anything else in the world.  I
wish that you had never been born, that you had died in your mother's
womb, and never been released to plague me.

	And I see how weak you truly are.  Ever and always the seductive
touch, the attempt to pull me down to where you are, to make me see your 
weakness as a strength, to make me as weak as you are.  You have always
tried to make me weak, I know, but all that you have done has only made me
stronger.

	Today, you almost hurt me.  Almost.  But I'm going to be just 
fine.  I hate you, and I despise your weakness, but I will *never* fear
you.

	Frail humans need fear nothing anymore, Brian J. Mason.

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THREE
-----

	I look down at what's left of her in mute stunned horror.  It's not
fair.  It's just not fair.  Nothing in the world deserves to end like this.
No matter what came before this ... this shouldn't have been the ending.

	I slowly walk away, walk away from all of it, that's the only way
that I'll ever be able to keep on walking, when I hear their voices.  My
saviors.  Her executioners.  "I hope you're satisfied," one of them says.
"She died as a woman."

	Did she?

	"In this town," the other one says, "it doesn't matter if you're a
human, or a Boomer.  It all ends the same."

	I slowly turn and look at them.  My executioners.

	Does it?  Does it really?

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