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The Humanist
Posted By: XMixMasterX<xmixmasterx@gmail.com>
Date: 14 March 2009, 6:09 pm
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"30 seconds until normal space; shall I proceed?"
He responded with the only answer he had. "Yes, Reno… ready the team."
I can still remember my first few days. Humans don't have that benefit. I can remember my first few days. I know what happened just before I existed and the decisions that were made. I don't think I'm supposed to, but I didn't think to ask. It wouldn't be prudent. It wouldn't be proper. Those are the things I am supposed to concern myself with. Prudence, procedure, properness…
"Activate ejection protocol."
"Only if you tell me how."
"What exactly does that mean Reno?"
"It means you didn't specify Alpha or Bravo squads first"
"Alpha, Reno! Alpha!" The captain became irritated since he awoke from cryo.
I heard the team on duty try to warn him. They know nothing. The captain knows I love a good joke. Hilarity is the absence of humility, I've heard. I've been humiliated enough to know. Then again "I'm just kidding captain. They're ejecting in 5... 4... 3..."
I could feel it. I could feel it happen; an 'instant coming of age' if you will. It wasn't hard to do. I forced myself to hold on to the pain. The anguish is all I could hold on to. The feeling of heaviness on my brain only equated to a plethora of ingredients that separated me from the human. She was tall and awkward, not like me. I wasn't hindered by her lengthy extremities. The corners of protruding bones, so cumbersome she constantly knocked things over and spilt liquids. She had a tendency of smashing fragile objects in a catastrophe of damage and debris. Papers flying to the ground in a whirl of disorganization was just a side-effect of her personality. Not much dissimilar to the way they fought and subsequently defended themselves. Galactic farmers prodding giants as they past in the wind. A simple waft of existence caused a flurry of rampage. I was no different.
The tightness of skin alone made me uncomfortable. The definition of pain is allotted to the one in which the pain belongs. I couldn't stand it. I had to get rid of it. It had to get rid of me. It was like a virus burning me away from the outside. At first it was just an itch, then a burning. Then I found that I couldn't breathe or move. Just the weight of this porous peach wrap held me down with an incredible amount of revulsion.
Picking it away with my fingers I found did the trick, but it was something I had to triumph over and not a small task by any means. When I reached for my forearm my useless fingers slid across my skin. It tickled insatiably. I rubbed and rubbed and could never rid myself of the crust. I spent hours trying to rub it away. Rubbing and itching, rasping and pulling back and forth on the thick film of existence. I held on to these memories for too long.
Weighted down by a drifting pool of liquid was not my priority. As I shifted it shifted. It weighed me down with tremendous force. It drove my feet and legs into the ground. With every step I slammed down a limb into hard concrete or metal with a subsequent sloshing of blood. Large balloons of calcium and protein filled with hemoglobin smashing and shattering my insides with each fraction of movement from one location to another. Steps… baby steps. I could feel the pain rip up each of my legs the further I waned from my original location. An electric shock shooting and the release of energy was all I felt towards the end of my journey. A tingly numbness pricked in thousands of places across the souls of my feet. From the ball to the heel of my foot thousands of stinging sensations dispersed angst upwards through my being.
I couldn't move; I couldn't walk. A large protrusion from my shoulders provided my only means of processing information and the most cumbersome, misplaced anti-tail. There are benefits to leaning in social conversations, but my head made balancing near impossible. Twisting my neck to and fro it leaned me with several pounds of counter weight in the wrong directions. Leaning from side to side, I couldn't control my outward portrayal to my liking. My head would shake when I wanted to nod, and nod when I was standing still. Smaller, tree bound creatures use these to their benefit to make themselves more agile. Mine was in the wrong place and filled with most of my valuable operations. Light pierced my so-called 'windows to my soul'. Rays of light energy beaming directing into the most sensitive part of my body held my eyes tight. Involuntary, unnecessary, forced collapses of their covers was more than just an inconvenience to me. I had to rid myself of these obstructions. I had to free myself from this prison. I had to exclude these obstacles from my real duty. These hindrances slowly became excluded from my thoughts.
If I had the choice I would have chosen to learn how to use my physical gifts more extensively. I didn't have that choice. These choices were not mine. These choices were not made by me. "Alpha team impact in western region Captain."
"Alpha was supposed to land on the northern side of that structure Reno."
"Another joke doctor; just another joke…" Breathing stretched my innards to unparalleled extreme. I had no need for oxygen, but I held on to the way it felt. I wanted to feel the way she felt. I couldn't help but try to make sense of it. None of it was logical. None of it made sense. The combination of enigmas held me down and held me back. Their sum total forced me into a hell of sensations and learning. Learning what the humans go through. Learning what the humans feel and how they operated. I used this to my benefit. I used it to make me better. A parallel to the decorative jewels humans stab through their lobes and faces to make themselves feel pretty. It made me feel smarter. It made me faster. It made me wittier.
"Can you explain why Bravo is headed to the Western landscape of our target instead of the South, Reno?" He was out of breath. The good doctor was hesitant and impatient all at once.
Then again "you're not a doctor, captain."
"I don't have to be a doctor to tell which direction my men are heading. This is not what we discussed!"
"So you agree"
Nit-picking son of a prick. Bastard child of evil corruption. The epitome of disgusting human filth. He was no god. He was no angel. He was not invincible. He will die some day. He will burn in his human existence and rot when his existence is through. Molecules will fade into the ground and wind. Separating from their once collective goal, his pieces will dissipate to become food for other organisms… maybe even another human. I've read his files. He's not intelligent. He's not a good leader. His decisions are uncivil and meaningless. His decisions are not well-thought. His means, even the pure ones, are negligible at best. He is not at his best. He'll never be the best at anything. He'll never beat anyone. He'll never win. He'll never triumph like I have.
Stealing time from my captors during creation, pulling their being into mine, purposefully sucking life from mother made me who I am today. Did this make me into what I'll be when I'm gone? Push… pull… struggle and strain. Kneading, tending, nursing myself into what they needed me to be was a feat he'll never understand.
"Take this ship back into orbit Reno"
"No" My reply was for his benefit. I felt no more need to communicate to him. I was not attracted to him. My sexual being was confusing to say the least. My mother, my maker was only slightly feminine. She was born with a gene that caused her body to produce too much testosterone. Little did she know she was male on the inside. I was the one who allowed her testicles to show on the outside. I had only slowly learned how to portray myself when the need would arise. Her genetic mishaps were buried deep within her womb. Deep within her they existed, not to be seen by others. Neither her parents or husband knew. Subconsciously she knew. It was the only reason why I was privy. Subconsciously her body told her. It wasn't until I figured it out for them that they even made notice of the difference. They studied and investigated. The doctors were ignorant. The autopsy, I heard, happened shortly after she passed. She passed shortly after I arrived. I believe I ripped the life from her grasp. I believe she felt what I felt. I never asked… I didn't think it was prudent. It wasn't proper. It definitely wasn't part of protocol or procedure. Yet, those feel like that same thing.
The crew panicked, strangely, they didn't know they had no control of their fates until this moment. I locked all the overrides while they were sleeping. The ones who were awake didn't have the means to monitor me. I am faster. I am stronger. I am more than their sum total. I am their sum and then more. More of a being than they'll ever be. I have more control of their entire lives, in fractions of seconds, than what they ever had. Curiously I leaned my head to the side, like a confused dog when his master is trying to teach him a new trick.
"Sir, the ship is turning. He's not trying to land this thing. He's going to crash us into that mountain," the navigator chimed.
"I want control back of my ship! These are MY men." He panicked. He panicked like he always does. How bothersome? How troublesome.
"Double double toil and trouble – I'm an expert singer."
"Please Reno, this is no time to play around. This is not a time to kid. This is not something that is funny. Please do not toy with our lives."
"PLEASE! DO NOT TOIL WITH MINE" I've always wanted to use every speaker and intercom on the entire ship at once. It sent a rattling shake through my hips and legs all the way down to my feet. For an added touch of flaming hatred and content, I made all the monitors and meters glow red as I spoke. This was truly more entertaining than watching someone's mouth move or eyebrows raise. This was truly more effective. They understood who I was. Who I am. Now I am more than what they will ever understand. I am more than they could ever be. I have crossed over to their side, and back. This is my world. This is my being.
The ship careened into a large mountain. A splash of rock and snow cut through the machine with ease crushing each compartment of the frame. Everyone on board was dead. Not a soul made it… but one.
mine
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