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Entry 3

July 24th, 2010 . Posted in Journal, Memories | No Comments »

Waited 5 days to call J. 5 days is a week, right? He seemed amused, for some reason. He agreed to tell me about why his spirit was so angry, but first he wanted to spar. I wasn’t really sure why he would want to do that, but he seems to think that he can get to know me through fighting or something, Maybe he’s right; though honestly I think maybe I got to know me better more than anything.

We met in an abandoned garage of some kind. Most of the fight is a blur to me now, accented with massive spikes of pain in my head as my body reminded me of the many things I can do that I had forgotten. J is a complicated man, but when he fights, he falls back into the patterns that were probably permanently inscribed in his brain by those scientists. If we come from the same place, I wonder why I don’t seem to have that problem; maybe there really is something different in me that the scientists were trying to supress and failing, over and over again. I think we’re pretty evenly matched, despite the fact that I can’t remember ever fighting anyone like that before (though I know I must have done so). I suspect he is more skilled (and his magic does give him a pretty large advantage), but my ability to react creatively mostly makes up for it. An interesting fight, on many levels; as with nearly everything these days, I wish I could remember it more clearly.

After, he finally told me something of who I had been. In a way, I’m as responsible for him being here as those scientists are: I destroyed his world, the base where the scientists were doing their research and building their army originally. As soon as he said that, my mind was nearly overloaded with pain, crashing in waves at my consciousness, trying to keep the memories from re-forming. But a few fragments came through. I remember a thick, clouded night, flying over a series of mountains in the darkness. I remember a deep-seated anger, a fury that I could barely contain, and a relief that finally I could give voice to that anger. So far, no more than that. But I think more will come; I have the continuing lances of pain in my head to prove that the memories are fighting to be let out.

I remembered something else, too. I remembered being there, studying something in the matrix. Remember there being someone else, someone incredibly important to me. I wish I could remember them, whoever they were.

We spoke for quite some time, until J suggested that we move someplace else. I was feeling somewhat claustrophobic by then, so when he mentioned a park nearby, I chose there as our destination. When we arrived, I was caught by the appearance of the swings; something about them pulled at me, so I went over and sat in one. I remember being in one and laughing with someone, taking joy in the feel of the wind on my face as I always do. It is *so* frustrating being unable to remember! I don’t think J has ever played in a swing; I’m not sure he appreciates the feeling of freedom the way I do, but he did finally seem to have a bit of fun with it. It’s odd really, that I can remember how to have fun. I’m glad to have some good memories, even if they’re only fragments.

At the last, I remembered one final thing: I was involved with some kind of assault on a Cult of the Great Hunter ritual, that I think was meant to summon the Great Hunter himself. And I remembered that it had happened before or during the Surge, which happened over 20 years ago. It feels so wrong to think that it has been that long; I wonder when the scientists reclaimed me, and what they were doing all that time. And most of all, how did they get me back? I surely wouldn’t have gone willingly, not if I had felt that anger so deeply that I destroyed their base. I suppose it’s possible these memories are false, but how do I know?

In any case, it was a profitable evening. I find myself liking J, even though I probably shouldn’t. Is this how people feel about their families? Or maybe it’s some latent programming designed to keep us from killing each other. I hate to think that it might be artificial, but it seems to be a possibility in everything that I do. I wonder if I will ever be able to trust my own mind.

Entry 2

July 22nd, 2010 . Posted in Journal | No Comments »

I was attacked today, while I was out wandering the streets of Denver. I had smelled something wonderful in the air and was following the scent back to where it originated when I saw two men in an alleyway up ahead of me. Suddenly the air got extremely cold. Expecting an attack, I dodged back behind some cover. When I looked back down the alley, the men were gone. I scanned around the area, trying to find them before they could attack me, locating them after a few seconds on the roof up above me. One of the men had a clear shot on me, but chose not to take it for some reason.

Surprisingly, the attack came from the very dumpster I was using, rather badly, for cover. It animated and tried to squash me, thumping its lid up and down as it jumped around. I dodged around it briefly, trying to stay out of the gunman’s sights, but eventually decided that a closer look was needed. I jumped up on top of the dumpster, holding its lid down with my weight. It build up a lot of pressure, which eventually exploded upwards and allowed me to jump up onto the roof.

I finally got a good look at the man with the gun. To my complete shock, he..well, he looked a lot like me (only taller). He was looking into astral, so I guess he hadn’t noticed the resemblance. I was so surprised that I couldn’t do anything but stare at him; I barely even noticed the splitting headache. After a few seconds, the spirit from the dumpster followed me up onto the roof, becoming visible and sprouting a mass of what looked like razor-sharp glass or ice shards. It tried to attack me again, but the man dropped out of astral and saw me and I guess stopped it from slamming into me.

We spoke briefly, and he invited me to have pizza with him and his friend. Still, he doesn’t trust me, and I don’t think that I blame him. As many times as my memories have been tampered with, there’s no telling what kind of suggestions have been implanted in my head. He says the spirit is his totem spirit, and that it thinks it knows me from a long time ago. He said it had something to do with an underground base and that, if it had actually been me, I ought to remember it. I don’t, of course, though something about it tugs at me. He eventually said that I should call him in a week if I still want to know.

Thing is, I *do* want to know. I have a difficult time imagining me doing something so terrible as to drive this spirit into a rage at the very sight of me, but if it’s possible that I did, I want to know about it. Maybe knowing what happened will help me remember other things. Maybe I’ll be convinced that it wasn’t me. I don’t know. Right now, I don’t have a direction, and I think I need one. J says that it’s worse to fight the memories and that you just have to let them come back on their own, but I don’t buy it.

In any case, there is no doubt in my mind that I’ll be talking to him again. He’s like me in more ways than one; like a brother, if such a thing is even possible. I can’t just walk away from that, and I won’t.

Entry 1

July 22nd, 2010 . Posted in Journal, Memories | No Comments »
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Decided to start a journal. Think it might help to shake loose some memories.

I guess I should start properly. My name is Dizzy. I think. The scientists at the lab called me Subject T-0, which I hated. I am, as best I can remember, a genetically engineered soldier for the UCAS military, part of a nameless project to engineer an army of completely obedient, perfect soldiers. I am somehow convinced that this project has failed, or should have failed, but now it is being run on a secret (?) space station. I awoke there some months ago, with no real memories. Since then, the scientists had attempted to control me using increasingly imprecise methods, often wiping my memory yet again and starting over when the previous method failed.

I know all of this mostly from observation in my last few weeks on the station. I know that most of the scientists dreaded working with me, that I was apparently a “problem”. I know that many of them felt I was a lost cause and that the project needed to start over from the beginning. I also know now that it is likely the military did not wish to waste more time starting over, because Earth is at war. Horrors have invaded, wiped out a frighteningly large percentage of the population. Where there were once great cities, only empty buildings and ruins remain.

I escaped from the space station before I knew any of this. Two technicians were preparing me for yet another procedure when one of them failed to keep me tightly enough restrained. I broke free and made for the hangar bay, having overheard one of the scientists talking about their new spaceship and its test flight, which was scheduled for that day. I was lucky. I managed to make it all the way there and into the ship before the technicians awoke and reported my escape. And once I was in the ship, they couldn’t stop me.

I don’t think I’ve ever flown in space; it seems so different, somehow. But beautiful. And the ship is amazing, a fighter jet capable of vacuum travel and breaching the atmosphere for terrestrial flight. It’s so responsive. I almost feel bad for stealing it. Almost.

Anyway, once I reached Earth, I headed towards what I now know is the northwest of America, towards Seattle and Zion. On my way, however, I ran into a horrible creature and had to fight it. I think I managed to destroy the Horror, but in the process it took out one of my engines, forcing me to crash land in some ruins down below. There I met Abe and Kino, who I think might be friends. They were stranded out there after an encounter with a different Horror caused Abe’s cybernetic legs to short out and fail. Abe helped me repair the ship, and we all traveled to Denver, where I am now staying.

Denver seems almost normal, somehow, nearly untouched by the Scourge. I don’t know what I shall do here, but for now I believe it is safe enough. And it is far better to blend into a large mass of people than to try my luck hiding in the wilderness. If the Horrors didn’t kill me, the military might discover me and find a way to return me to space. But I have no intentions of going back there. Something draws me towards Zion, so for now that is my ultimate destination. In the meantime, I will have to keep my head down and do my best to fill in the holes in my memory. Hopefully this journal will help.