What Do I Fight For?
It's scary when everything seems to shake when you know you're standing still. That's my problem. Being a paradox and all. It seems everything I do has an opposite reaction while it's counter still exists. Like Peace with War. Hot with Cold. All rushing down together in an unholy swirl of impossibility.
I'm looking at myself in the mirror. I always do as I think. I'm entranced by the neon, rose-colored hair. The pure blackness of my eyes. The digital wires seen just below the surface of my olive skin, blinking as the signals get sent to my still human brain. I'm a living abomination. It's obvious to anyone who can look me in the semi-flesh. I guess that's why they want me dead.
Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. If I'm going to leave this for future generations, I must start from the beginning. How else can this be prevented? I have to admit, though, it would be dreadfully boring for me to go back a few hundred years. Let me start from the beginning of this decade. That's when all the good stuff happened. The key word here is "good".
As a former member of the human race, I was amongst the masses that believed we were going to be wiped out. We were going insane with research to preserve our genetics. After all, what would life be without us? We made lives here like no other creature. And I believe that's exactly why we were beginning to suffer.
Somebody up in those clouds became angry. We began experiencing plagues like nothing we've ever read or created. People spontaneously bleeding until their skin became a sheet of crimson. Screams being heard from miles away as humans ran from deformed creatures that had to have manifested in hell, it's several thousand eyes hungry for everything they gazed upon.
Now, I know what you must be thinking. We are MAN. We can FIGHT. What kept us from defending ourselves? That's where I come in.
I am The Savior. That's it. If I had a human name once, it is long lost. I don't even know how old I am. Or rather, was. I am currently ageless. I'm sure you've heard it all when it comes to bionic people. Do I have the cliché super strength? Yes. How about the ability to fly? Check. Oh, let's not forget the ability to feel like a human, but fight like a machine. Absolutely.
I was built for one thing: To save what remains of the humans. I was the final experiment that actually worked. If my memory serves me correctly, I was a quadriplegic anyway. I wasn't in dire need of anyone's pity, but would you pass up the chance to walk again if given the chance? The chance to move your arms and wiggle your fingers? Those little things we take for granted.
I turned to look out the window of what is now my home. It's a tiny, cubic space. It has nothing in it but that window this broken piece of glass I call a mirror. Though I've only just arrived here, it's still home to me. Why, you may ask? Because it's the first one to allow me to see myself. I was one freak turned into another. I felt names and feelings resurface as my heart tried to pound through my impenetrable steel. What the hell am I? Some cruel joke? Though I don't hear anything, I know somebody somewhere is laughing. It's as loud as thunder and as hurtful as lightning.
Looking out this window, I feel no better. There are demons eating the city alive. I don't even remember which city this is. I don't even remember what planet I'm on. That's not what I was built for.
I do realize the creatures bathed in red must be eradicated and the ones covered in white with wings must be allowed to pass. Angels, I believe they were called. The remains of human souls desperately trying to fly past the dusty, rust-colored sky. If they cannot pass, they cannot be remembered. Even after death.
I can jump out this window right now and pull out all the stops. I have lasers and machines guns at my disposal. But something is keeping me here. Something that is making my heart beat the electric pulses through my body too quickly. What am I doing this for? After I save the humans, would they love me? Is this all for love?
These are the same people who never gave me a chance. They left me without a home after my parents abandoned their broken child. It's all coming back as though from a parallel universe. I can feel memories coming through the mirror, asphyxiating me.
Stop! This is my mission! If I don't do this, I am a failure! I can't fail at two lives, can I? I can't be helpless again!
I change my right hand into a gun and fly out the window, the gas from my pedicle rockets propel me unseen. It's surprisingly quiet out here. There is dust everywhere. If my eyes needed water to function, I would be incapacitated.
I see a target! Is this really the last of the creatures in this part of the world? I don't even remember killing the rest of them. It looked up to me with what had to be about a thousand eyes. After recalculation, I see it's exactly 2,152 eyes.
It has one massive mouth that can consume anything into its cast iron stomach. I feel uneasy as the corners of it's mouth turn upwards. Did it actually smile at me? Is this a joke? I didn't find it funny.
I came down like a meteor. The smile remained permanent as I shot out hundreds of it's pulsing, red pupils. I wanted to beat the grin off it's slimy, brown skin. It stood up on it's six, spider-like legs and mocked me.
I began punching it in the mouth. I knocked out teeth and even chunks of it's enormous tongue. Instead of it wailing in pain, it began to laugh! Really laugh!
It's voice was booming and severe. I could feel it in my very soul. All eyes were on me as it chortled. Blood and electricity began building up throughout my false veins. My body temperature damn near shut me down with a violent crash as I allowed me emotions to control me.
All became quiet as I said the first thing I've said in years. I had forgotten what my voice even sounded like. It was full of pain and anguish.
The creature just looked at me, the smile finally gone. I was breathing heavily. I thought the smile being gone would make me feel better, but it only made me wonder what it thinks of me.
Suddenly it felt like I got smacked in the face. This is all just about acceptance, isn't it? I did all of this just so I can be looked upon favorably. I'm such a jackass. I don't care about the human race at all! I never did! I only did this because I felt like it would make me worth something. And look at me! I'm the last one left! I'm surrounded by angel dust of the ones I let get away. It burns upon my metallic flesh because I am not worthy to be the savior. I'm nobody's savior.
As I moped, I noticed the chunks of tongue and the gauged eyes of the creature began morphing into more creatures. There were hundreds around me in seconds. I didn't even bother fighting back as they surrounded me. One by one they began laughing. Funnily enough, I think I actually enjoy it. It's what I expect when people look at me. It's actually comforting.
I allowed them to close in on me as I fully allowed myself to be crushed. They were licking me and grazing their teeth on me. Eyes drank me in as I felt dirty. Like a sick sex puppet that was about to fulfill its purpose yet again.
I couldn't take it anymore. I flew away as the music of their cackles followed. I flew back home with the swinging broken glass waiting for me. Flew into a section of my mind that reminded me of what I am and what I could never be as I stared back at my hideous reflection. As I heard everything around me being destroyed, everything within began to break down.
Everything began to hurt when I knew that I was finally at peace. Once again, it's the paradox in me. No matter what I do I will never know what's right. I will always end up the one with the huge burden. A burden that I can do nothing with, all rushing down into a pool of promise and regret.