video

[darkov]

--uh-!

[a little gasp. this thing's kicking on again, doing things. this it's not sounds-- it's...his face? Martin stares, baffled, holding his breath as he stares. slowly, he tilts his head, turns, recognizing this is...him? really? he's not terribly familiar with his face; his own reflections in the glass around here have been spooking him - one more terrible thing to add onto this experience.

he's quite the mess: grimy, sweaty, bangs smeared against his face, looking like he's just spent a day being chased by a pack of wolves. that...that might've gone over a bit better, actually.

after this beat of realizing this is his face, he makes an unhappy sound, his expression twisting unhappily.

his voice is very small, whispering:]

I-I don't...I don't know... [a sniff. he drags a hand across his face; the device is tilted, so the screen sees only the sky and the two buildings he's hiding between. late afternoon somewhere. the top of his head bobs in and out of a corner of the picture, and there's some rustling of pages and an abrupt crumple.]

I don't know. [a huff. the picture wobbles and there's a clack as the device is put on the ground; nothing but a steady stream of sky and some muffled sounds as ambiance.]

Comments

[darkov]

It's-- it's different. [it just is.] We... [exhale. how's the best way to explain it? probably the way Grandfather does.] We're weapons...for people. But they don't see us. Because then the monsters will come for them. So, so we fight them. And the people stay safe.

[foreshadower]

So you're a weapon? Not a person? You have no thoughts or feelings, or ideas?

[ He's not buying it, it sounds like brainwashing. ]

[darkov]

[oh-- finally. Martin's nodding quickly at first, then-- wait. uh--

no thoughts, or... wait. he stops, frowning.]

No, that's...I mean, that's not it. It's not about...thinking or feeling... [his eyes wince.] It's just that-- the more important things...staying away from people. Killing the monsters...

[foreshadower]

You can't do that around people?

I'm afraid, ah, in the worlds that many of us live in, we're permitted to do both. Here, you'll be considered a person.

[darkov]

But...

[a little sound. world, world...he doesn't really get it.] What about the monsters?

[foreshadower]

What monsters, precisely?

Not that there aren't any, but gives me no direction as to which ones you mean.

[darkov]

Al-all of them... [confusion:] There's...they aren't here? It's...just me? Alone?

[foreshadower]

I suppose you are, yes.

Occasionally there are monsters, but you'll know when they come.

[darkov]

[then...then he has to hunt monsters here? alone?

Martin gulps, exhales.]

I...I never fought them. Alone. [quickly:] But I will, if...that's what I have to do. If that's why I'm...I have to stay...

[foreshadower]

Well, I suppose if you need meaning, then this could be it, yes.

[ He doesn't get it. ] You'll find that there are other heroes, however. They will be just as interested in saving the world as you are.

[darkov]

Other-? [what? like him? he looks briefly surprised, hopeful even, before dropping back to a confusion that's becoming pretty default.] It's-- people, doing it? Not...Darkovs. Or is it?

[foreshadower]

Of course it is. None of us have anything called Darkovs.

[darkov]

Oh...

[fidgeting, going quiet again to chew on his lip. no Darkovs, people taking care of themselves. sun too big, air too hot, grass too green... worlds, whole worlds? how much that even could be is too big for him to imagine. things bigger than the compound are hard to visualize already...

he sits, getting stuck in his head on this, forgetting to say anything at all.]

[foreshadower]

[ He waited. For a long, long time.

Waited for him to say something.

But it went a while, and eventually he had to say something. ]

Something on your mind?

[darkov]

Uh! [he startles, straightening up, eyes big. after a second, his face starts flushing.] Ss-sorry, I! Um... I don't know. Sorry for not...paying attention. If you told me something else, and I didn't... [grimacing.] I'm sorry. I'll pay attention. Since I don't know anything.

[foreshadower]

I was waiting on you, actually. Are you alright?

[ There's a pause. ]

You seem to be in shock.

[darkov]

...Oh... [yikes.] I'm...Sorry. [he hastily drags his knuckles across his forehead, smearing bangs to one side. they stick.] I'm not good at-- a lot. This-- talking to people like this. Talking...

[foreshadower]

Not used to it, are you? That's the merit in practicing, I suppose. Come now, is it that bad?

[darkov]

Sorry. I don't know. [looking away, watching a couple and their dog walking by the alley.]

[foreshadower]

Which part? Whether it's that bad or not?

How do you feel right now?

[darkov]

[...

without looking away from the street, voice thick and eyes blinking fast:] ...Stupid...

[foreshadower]

Merely naive, I think. Not quite the same thing, actually.

[darkov]

[a little sound, looking down.] But not. Not good.

[foreshadower]

It is what it is. I don't think it's bad or good, unless you don't want to be that way.

[darkov]

[that's a weird way to think of something...as something that just is. Martin frowns.]

But it...doesn't help anybody. Or fix anything.