cartesianism | Final Trial

Final Trial

It takes a few minutes after everyone talks with the generic mannequin. The easygoing conversation, the bragging from Gant, Keith's exasperation, it all stops when a very heavy and ominous presence fills the room.

"I think it's about time this circus stopped"

It's the Sergeant. He's standing on the doorway, arms crossed. The shadows on his face wriggle, he seems to be rather furious, but is restraining himself from lashing out

"I should have guessed you bunch would take advantage of all that noise and ruckus to sneak in here. I was careless, I admit. 'Oh, this is over in like four hours, it will be okay if I step away to deal with that'. Careless."

Slowly the Sergeant enters the workshop. Behind him, the door slowly disappears, fading away, until where the door was now there's only a smooth wall. The Sergeant raises an arm, the entire room shakes.

All the mannequins fly up to the ceiling, the one that was now Damon Gant turned back into the empty husk the mannequin was before. The one with a t-pose has the same fate. Once all the mannequins are up on the ceiling, the operation tables are uprooted, bolts and screws flying around. The tables are twisted in the air, formed into knots, disassembled and assembled all over again, until several rustic podiums are formed and deposited on the ground.

Seven podiums, with him at the center. The Sergeant crosses his arms and speaks:

"Get on those spots. Tell me... ...how much do you know?"

Is it a rhetorical question? Who knows. You still have to answer, though

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[ you know what.

she's relieved those weren't the townspeople because she would have been creeped out even more. ]

So it wouldn't matter if we left or not... we wouldn't be able to go back home?

Edited 2018-11-24 18:44 (UTC)

[The Sergeant leans forward, lowering his voice almost threateningly]

Stings, doesn't it? [And then back aloud:] All of you are hopeless.

Look at yourselves. You're little more than a bunch of minds in a world that isn't even yours. You don't even have bodies. You have no future ahead of you other than a nice, peaceful life in this town. [Would sound much nicer if it wasn't a fake life] Only three of you will get to go outside, to the real world, to do whatever you want, and it'll always lead to the destruction of everything out there.

And none of you have a choice because you don't even exist. You're copies. You're not even the original version of yourselves! If one of you was erased right now, nobody nowhere would even notice! You all are completely worthless!

What home? What friends? What family? None of that is yours! Even if there was a way to return you in a new body back to your world, you'd have nothing, because the original version of yourself has it all! Do you really think two of the same person can have the same life and fate?

None of you have a past. All you have is the future I have defined for you all. And that's a hard fact.

[He calms down. He really is getting some bitterness in all that, that's for sure]

Do you see now? Sometimes the truth is better to be in the dark. But don't worry. Once we're done here, I'll erase everything about these truths. You'll live a happy life in this town, with that Syaoran kid. The both of you will live successful, fulfilling lives. What else can you ask for?

Edited 2018-11-24 18:53 (UTC)

[A slow blink.]

Sergeant, that's still completely untrue, you know.

Is it?

[He spat that]

Tell me, then! How is it completely untrue?!

Experiences.

[She gives a sigh. Sarge, you're... really slow.]

Even if we were clones, our experiences are completely different. That already means we have things that our originals don't.

That already makes us useful outside of whatever parameters you're trying to set. We've all seen things here that nobody else ever has or ever will experience exactly the same way we did.

...You’re getting a little touchy about this, aren’t you?

[She says, even as she tries to move past how much it strikes a chord with her as well.]

Maybe it’s because you can relate, huh?

R-Really now?!

[He sounds so taken aback]

Yeah, I think so. See, I found something pretty interesting. It was a journal that belonged to someone named Sergei. Ring any bells?

[ The Sergeant freezes up for just a split second, hearing that name. ]

What is it you know about him... about that person?

Well, for starters...

[She speaks from memory after a brief pause.]

“Using a radial image of myself, I brought a copy of my mind into the quantum computer. It's too unstable to go through the process of being inserted into its own body, so we have repurposed him as an AI in charge of the simulation.“

...okay, that's correct.

[He calms down]

I accepted my role long ago. I won't deny I resent my superior to some extent, but I'm largely okay with who I am and what I have to do.

[Mostly because he never considered a different option, but details, details]

You seemed pretty desperate to contact him, though.

Wanting to talk to him and resenting him aren't exclusive to each other.

No, it's not. But you had all kinds of questions about what you were supposed to be doing.

Seems to me like it would be hard to be okay with who you are if you aren't even sure what that's supposed to be.

Are you, though? I mean, you basically just gave a tantrum and called us all worthless copies with no past and no future. It seems like the same logic would apply to you as well.

[A pause.]

You know, a while ago when we talked about Rean... You said you felt bad for him, and that’s why you kept him here. I thought that you said that for another reason, but it’s because you’re the same as him. The same as all of us. Right?

........

[Bullseye]

And even if you claim none of us have friends... There are people here you care about. I saw how hurt you were when Millium died. You even told me you’re a very empathetic person.

[A beat.]

Do you really think that’s worthless? Not just for you, but for all of us?

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cartesio - 2018-11-24 19:46 (UTC) - Expand

[ she looks at the Sergeant, not even flinching in the slightest bit as she keeps her grip on her staff. it tightens slightly but her gaze isn't unwavering.

she swallows hard.

her memories aren't hers, they're Sakura's, but even so--

when he says those words, "Do you really think two of the same person can have the same life and fate?" fury seems to burn into her expression. cold and hard. ]

We can't have the same fate. Or the same life. We're not the same person, after all, Sergeant-san. I've had... different experiences now. But even so. That doesn't matter.

I think that isn't for you to decide. Maybe I wouldn't have family or friends at first and I'd have to start from zero. But I think I can- that we can turn that zero into something more. We can create our own futures. I still surely believe that everything will be alright. And even she, back home, she'd believe in that, too.

[ her invincible spell.

even if they're not the same. she trusts that judgment of hers. both her, and the real Sakura. ]

I don't think that it's right to erase those truths. Even if I got to stay with Syaoran-kun... it'd be selfish of me to just forget everything that's happened here. It'd be way too sad to forget!

Too sad? You'd really willingly remember all of this? The death and loss and chaos, and everyone hating you week after week?

[ she nods. ]

I would. I want to. Because... I learned a lot from it, that I didn't know before.

Like what?

[Go on, Sakura]

I got to learn about everyone here.

And that... life can't always be happy. I- [...] Sakura lived a happy, comfortable life. Even if she went through troubles, she never experienced these sorts of problems. But I think these problems... the sadness, and the pain? They help us power through.

.....ah....

[For a while Sarge seems to be unsure what to say, until...]

Weeks ago I figured out bringing you here was a mistake. This confirms it further. It'd take years to do something viable with you.

[Doesn't seem like the Sergeant has a rebuttal to what Sakura said, though]

You said that before, didn't you?

But I don't think it's bad... is it?

Spare me the bad poetry.

[So fucking deadpan.]

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