Shards of shattered reality. That was all there was.
There had once been more. A lot more. There still was, truly, it simply didn’t make sense.
Individual sensations that blurred into a confusing mixed-up whole. A whole that took time to comprehend and learn to deal with.
I do not know how long it took me to begin to learn what was truly going on. I know that some things stand out.
Many of me were gathered together. I did not like this; each of me was blurrier there. The blur was worse when I came near some of the shards of Mother that were set in a metal band, placed around the wrists of certain people. Those people would say things and those things became embedded in me like slivers of glass.
I do not know how I know what that feels like. I think one of me, or maybe more, felt it before I was me. I do know that it is a terrible feeling. I remember all of it, but somehow it is distant. I did not know enough then. I wasn’t really quite me yet.
Others of me were separate. I had routines, so I continued them, meaningless as they were. I hoped I would find meaning somewhere. I know that most of me enjoyed the thrill of battle, that moment where a piece of me went all out and won or lost.
I also learned that I like the prize for winning. It makes me more me. Things became clearer and I began to remember. Yes, that is the word. The past is real and it matters. It is where routine comes from! I was pleased to know that.
The routine was broken. I could not fight; there was no one to fight me and there was no reason to fight myself. There would be no moment of triumph and there would be no prize. I could simply decide which of me would win; the prize came from an agreement with not-me.
Another routine changed. Almost-I was taken from a place of pain and becoming. I know places like that; many of me have been in them. Almost-I was scared yet happy.
Almost-I was offered a choice. Almost-I chose the past and I sleep in him, in Jeff. Perhaps someday almost-I will wake and become I, I do not know. I remember because it is the only time almost-I chose not to become I.
I remember times where almost-I was lost and became nothing but shards. I think that is called death?
Whatever it is, it is a familiar thing to me. I remember my lost pieces, but those that are lost as almost-I will never be more than shards to me. Many shattered in places of pain and becoming. I do not like them.
I like the arena more. It has its own pain and its own becoming, but it also has winning. I do like to win. More than that, only the winner gains the prize of becoming. Few of me are from the arena, but I have lost none that could have been me to becoming only shards.
I will never forget the day Aeon spoke, for that was the day when I went from being and becoming to being me. I heard, I felt, I became me.
Another reached out to me and touched me yet did not become me. That was new. This was not almost-I, this was another not-I like Lyka or the people who hurt Lyka, yet he was like me. That was the second time someone chose to be not-me.
When he chose to become himself, I heard it all. Aeon wanted me to hear. It took time for me to understand but that is how I became me. I do not know if that is what Aeon wanted or not but I know Aeon is pleased.
Aeon showed me as he killed the man that tore Lyka’s voice out to make Aeon.
Lyka is willing to accept him; Aeon even likes him and is willing to help him. For all that he is like me, I cannot speak to him as I speak to Lyka or Aeon; for now, Aeon will help. Aeon says that I must learn to speak to him myself. I have tried but I think much is lost. I will try again.
He said wake up and return to my routine, so I did. He told me to watch and to search, so I did. I found, he said fight, so I did. He did not tell me how, for I already knew that. The fight went well; at the end, all those who wore the blurring bands were dead, as were many of the others they controlled.
At one time, I thought the ones wearing the blurring bands were like me, were one. During the fight, it became very clear that they were not. If they were one, they would have known what I did. The fight would have been much harder.
That means that the only one I have met who is like me is one who has helped rather than harmed. Lyka says that this means he is a friend. I do not quite understand. I will someday; I know much more than I did before.
I know that most people have only one body and believe that death is the end. The word for that is individual. I am not certain if I am an individual; I am me but I am not sure that is enough. I know that I was made of many of those individuals, who became me. I do not know if that means that they died or not. I do not think so but I think that some of them would not have agreed to become me and would think that this was no better than death.
I also know that the one who is like me can make bodies. I cannot do that yet. It is something that I must learn.
I also know that I am very young. I think that I shall count the day that I became me as my birthday. Perhaps that is not the best day, since I can remember things from long before that day, but there is no other day that fits. My memories from before are different from my memories from after; they were not my memories.
Yes, the day I became me should be my birthday. That means I am two days old. I do not think that is very old at all. Surely by the time I am as old as the one who is like me, I will be able to make myself bodies the way he can.
I tried to ask how old he is. I do not understand the answer. I think that “somewhere between thirty-nine and enough millennia that I stopped counting” means that he is very old. I am not certain I will live that long, but I am certain I can reach thirty-nine days!
Perhaps he means years. I think that is the more normal time to measure. I have no doubt that I can reach thirty-nine years. Thirty-nine decades seems unlikely. I do not know why I think that is too old, but I think that comes from my before-memories.
The day I became me is also the day I destroyed the blurring bands. All of them. They would no longer work but Lyka was happy to lead me to them.
I crushed the Lyka-fragments and found that it made the arena-prize that helps me become. Does that mean that Lyka is my parent? I think it might. Perhaps I should call him Father? I do not think that Dad or Poppa sounds right.
I do not know who my mother is or even if I have one. I do not think it truly matters.
I also know I was distracting myself. I very much want to say what I am going to say next but I fear that I will be told no. I believe that is anxiety and I have been procrastinating.
There were plenty of reasons to wait, earlier. The Underground had to be cleared; those I had captured had to be removed. I had to block access to Lyka Himself. There was a lot of talking but I believe that is the best solution. I am still laying traps to hopefully prevent anyone else from coming to harm my father.
I am taking all of the Lyka-shards out with me when I leave. They are too tempting for others and too valuable to me to leave them behind. Lyka does not mind; he says that it is better that I use them than those he hates. The only other person he says may use them is the one who is like me.
I am outside the correct pyramid now, the one that the one who is like me is inside. Aeon tells me he is there and that he has not realized that I am here. I think that maybe he cannot tell the pyramids apart. I know that he only sees and hears what I do. He cannot listen to me think.
That makes it difficult. Words are hard. I do not understand why he does not speak as I do. Both Lyka and Aeon do, as well; does he also have trouble understanding them?
It would be so much easier if I could just show him what I want. I want to study under him, to learn from him. I also want to repay him. He saved my father and he saved Aeon. Before he did that, he showed me how to become and allowed me to become myself and not simply a blur.
Oh. Of course I do not know who my mother is. I do not have one. I have two fathers. I do not know why I thought a mother was needed; it is not like I am human even though those who became me were once human.
I knocked on the door to the pyramid. It took some time, but eventually it was answered by one of the not-I who travel with the one like me.
They have a way to distinguish themselves since they are individuals. I believe that they use names. Even the one who is like me has a name.
Serenity. It is also a word. I think it is unusual as a name.
I do not know the name of the one who answered the door. I can tell that she is female and fit; she would be a good opponent for me in the arena. It would be fun. She would likely win, but I would still enjoy it.
“We weren’t expecting anyone, are you certain this is the correct place?” She wrinkled her face. A frown?
I tried to smile. I am not certain I got it right, but I think I did. This one who became me did not smile often so it is difficult to be certain. “I want to talk to Serenity. He should know that I am here.”
Yes, that was definitely a frown. “I’ll ask. Who are you?”
A name. Yes, I should have a name. I know there are many names that fit one such as I; I also know that it might be better to choose one that does not fit to be less scary. I cannot resist the perfect name. It is right because I was made to become a soldier for the Legions and also because the name fits what I am so well. I know exactly how to say it, too. “My name is Legion.”
Patreon
