"Stop. Just, stop okay? She's gone. She's not here. And she's never coming back, okay? Just.... Fuck. Just go to your fucking kennel."
"Command accepted." The lieutenants disgusted face left my vision as I turned away, and left her almost empty room. Bodies passed me by. Some turned away from me, some reached out a hand before someone else pulled it away. None touched me. They couldn't.
I killed the last person who dared.
I stood in front of my pod. I couldn't connect to it without her. I waited. She'd come soon. I stared at it.
"Do you need help, pilot?" A voice called from behind me. I turned, and looked at their shoulder. Engineer. Third rank. I didn't look at their face.
"Request denied. Unclear intent. Please state intentions."
"... Do you need help connecting to your pod, miss?"
"DENIED. ADDRESS PILOT BY RANK." It can't call me miss, only she can call me miss, I am not miss, I am pilot, pilot pilot, leave me alone alone alone.
"S-sorry..." It left.
I stared at my pod. She'd be here soon. She'd tuck me in. The lights dimmed. The attack on the base must've needed a long meeting to sort things out. She had to be busy. She was busy.
My legs trembled, aching.
I fell before the lights rose again. I sat on the floor, and stared at my pod. She was coming. She always put me to sleep before going to bed.
Did she forget? She must be tired. Too many meetings. They always put her in too many meetings. Always worked her too hard. Too many logistics she had to handle for me.
"Pilot. Stand up." A voice called.
"Orders received. Confirmed." I stood up, and looked at their shoulder. A commander. I saluted. I didn't look them in the face. I can't look them in the face.
"How long since you slept?"
"Current operation is at fifty two hours, thirty nine minutes. Requesting handler."
"Request denied." I flinched. What? "You're being reassigned. Lay down in your pod."
"Orders received...." I couldn't move, couldn't say the word. "Denied..." I whispered. "Requesting handler!"
"Request denied." The voice sighed, deeply, frustrated. "You need to sleep, pilot. You are... not functioning properly."
"Pilot is operating above mission parameters!"
"And what parameters are those, pilot?"
"... Survive."
"You cannot complete that mission if you do not sleep."
"Confirmed. Request Handler to complete mission."
"... oh, Kit...." I flinched on hearing my name. No. No. No.
"PILOT. I AM-"
"Be quiet, pilot." My mouth snapped shut. I felt my tears slide off my face, hitting the metal plate beneath my feet. "I know you've been told. I know how you reacted. I know you killed the doctor. None of that is your fault. It's time for you to go to sleep."
"... Order denied. Please. It.... I... I can't..."
"Your handler is dead, Pilot." The words hit me like an AP round. A wail grew in the air. "You're being reassigned to a new handler. Out of the system. You... you're being retired."
"No! No! No! Requesting handler! Stop hiding her from it!" I couldn't move. My legs wouldn't move. I needed to kill this thing in front of me. A spy, a fake, an enemy wearing the uniform of the commander, he's not real, he's not real. I couldn't move my legs.
"You held her hand, Pilot. Who gave you your last order?"
"Handler!"
"When was it received in this operation cycle?"
"Order received at hour 8 and seventeen minutes!"
"That was two days ago. What was that order?"
"... Survive...."
"What were the exact words, Pilot?"
".... It can't.... it can't...."
"Repeat them to me."
"Confidential information! Cleara-"
"Override! Security clearance level 8, two nine alpha three seven Kilo Indiana Tango. Repeat your last orders to me!"
Her words flowed out of my mouth, repeated like a mantra in my head for so long they made up more of me than I did. "You have to survive, baby. Don't let me die in vain, you have to live! Get off me, doc, let me say goodbye. Let me tell her to live. Listen to me, Kit. My little Kit. Oh, I love you. You did such a good job for me today. You saved a lot of people, okay? But now you have to think about you. You have to survive. Priority one, okay? Confirm for me, baby. Authorization two nine alpha three S-seven.... Kilo. Indiana.... tang- tango. Good..... -rl"
"Priority one, Pilot. What is your next step in this mission? Your handler is not available."
".... Command: Sleep."
"Lay down in your pod, Pilot."
"Order.... confirmed..."
pilots who no longer receive orders
pilots who tune into their commanding officer’s frequency every day, but only hear static
pilots who watch their screens for any sign of enemy movement even though the enemies have moved on to bigger battles
pilots who ran out of ammunition months ago but are still ready to fight with their bare hands
pilots who cannot follow protocol because there is no protocol for this
pilots who cannot die
pilots who cannot live
when you worship something you get remade in its image. btw.
lately ive been imagining bright strobing lights and demonic thoughtforms 24/7 in order to make my psychoscape uninhabitable for any malicious telepaths trying to gain access
i have been noticing recently that people younger than me are too sensitive, while people older than me are not sensitive enough. which, if i'm correct, should be taken as a sign that the total reality penetration vortex is operating as intended -- within as few as five or six generations we may very well be producing babies who can directly perceive the wound at the heart of the world
Johnny Mnemonic (1995)
-The Toilet-