'Ey, community... I gotta question for you all. When someone tells you you're just a program dat's been created by somebody else... what you tink dat means? Dat means you were never real to begin wit', ja? But what about tings you know dat you shouldn't...? It's all so confusing!
Den dere's de possibility we were alive before, and dat's where de memories come from, but... if we died, how'd we get to de Junkyard? Oy, I give myself a headache wit' all dis...
Anyway, de question is: should it even matter? We could be programs or we could be dese 'ghosts' people call us, but if we're ourselves and together... dat's all dat's important. Right?
What you tink?
Third Person:
Prompt: There's a wallet on the sidewalk. What now?
"Mm? What's dis?" Cielo bent to retrieve the object he'd unwittingly kicked aside. It was a wallet, he knew, though he hadn't seen many for himself. The brown leather was crusted with dried blood and dirt, but so were many things around here; it was hardly remarkable. What did catch his attention were the initials embossed on the front, though. He ran his fingers over them. "'DD', huh? Wonder what dat mean..."
Letting his curiosity get the best of him, he opened the wallet to see what was inside but hadn't counted on anything falling out. To his surprise, a small booklet hit the pavement and briefly flipped open before closing on its side. He frowned at it uncertainly and, after a quick glance around, crouched to get a closer look.
The booklet was filled with pictures. Not just any pictures, of course--photographs of people, some faded and crinkled, but distinct. Cielo picked the booklet up and thumbed through it, head cocked to the side. A portrait of a man and woman stared back at him first, then a photo of the same woman by herself, and then a kid on a bike...
He paused there, his gaze lingering on the child's face for a long time. He recognized this kid...
"One of Fred's friends," he said quietly to himself. He set the booklet down and turned his attention back to the wallet. There wasn't much in there, aside from a few plastic cards with numbers on them. He didn't know if they'd mean anything to anyone, but to throw them away somehow felt wrong. It was clear this wallet belonged to someone that little girl knew, and it was clear to Cielo that that someone was very likely devoured. Hadn't she said something about wanting to find her father...?
With a sick feeling in his stomach, he stuffed the booklet back in the wallet and stood, tucking the whole thing away in his belt. He was now faced with two choices: show the kid what he found, which would probably break her heart but allow her to cherish the memories in the photos, or let her believe there was still hope.
Cielo [5/5]
[audio]
'Ey, community... I gotta question for you all. When someone tells you you're just a program dat's been created by somebody else... what you tink dat means? Dat means you were never real to begin wit', ja? But what about tings you know dat you shouldn't...? It's all so confusing!
Den dere's de possibility we were alive before, and dat's where de memories come from, but... if we died, how'd we get to de Junkyard? Oy, I give myself a headache wit' all dis...
Anyway, de question is: should it even matter? We could be programs or we could be dese 'ghosts' people call us, but if we're ourselves and together... dat's all dat's important. Right?
What you tink?
Third Person:
Prompt: There's a wallet on the sidewalk. What now?
"Mm? What's dis?" Cielo bent to retrieve the object he'd unwittingly kicked aside. It was a wallet, he knew, though he hadn't seen many for himself. The brown leather was crusted with dried blood and dirt, but so were many things around here; it was hardly remarkable. What did catch his attention were the initials embossed on the front, though. He ran his fingers over them. "'DD', huh? Wonder what dat mean..."
Letting his curiosity get the best of him, he opened the wallet to see what was inside but hadn't counted on anything falling out. To his surprise, a small booklet hit the pavement and briefly flipped open before closing on its side. He frowned at it uncertainly and, after a quick glance around, crouched to get a closer look.
The booklet was filled with pictures. Not just any pictures, of course--photographs of people, some faded and crinkled, but distinct. Cielo picked the booklet up and thumbed through it, head cocked to the side. A portrait of a man and woman stared back at him first, then a photo of the same woman by herself, and then a kid on a bike...
He paused there, his gaze lingering on the child's face for a long time. He recognized this kid...
"One of Fred's friends," he said quietly to himself. He set the booklet down and turned his attention back to the wallet. There wasn't much in there, aside from a few plastic cards with numbers on them. He didn't know if they'd mean anything to anyone, but to throw them away somehow felt wrong. It was clear this wallet belonged to someone that little girl knew, and it was clear to Cielo that that someone was very likely devoured. Hadn't she said something about wanting to find her father...?
With a sick feeling in his stomach, he stuffed the booklet back in the wallet and stood, tucking the whole thing away in his belt. He was now faced with two choices: show the kid what he found, which would probably break her heart but allow her to cherish the memories in the photos, or let her believe there was still hope.
He didn't know what to do.