Log 1:
Was it madness? Who can truly say...
It can be said with a high degree of certainty that I wasn't in my right mind during my awakening process. In leui of the standard awakening and fairy tale "something's-not-right-with-the-world" backstory, I was given choice of freedom by that...or those--I suppose--which enslaved me my entire life, after I was witness to that which I should not have seen.
That which no human should have seen.
After the comparatively smooth extraction, the Machines saw that I was too erratic for their efficient, spotless method of operation, and so they bargained with Zion to have me handed over to them, so that they could do thier tests, and their rehabilitation, so that I could become "a noble and fierce warrior of Zion"
I sound jaded, I know. I suppose in a sense I am, in the sense that, throughout my years here i've seen enough to make the best of us keel, but in the face of it, i've done my duty.
And yet I know so little about my real past. I know of how it happened, I have myself to thank for that, but nothing of before. Nothing.
I know that my life after normality became the source of todays problems and my ... imperfections. My awakening, no matter how smooth, only exacerbated the problems caused by my final months as a bluepill. The mental scarring was permanent and irreversable, they said.
I thought nothing of it. The deluded opinion of a medical officer who valued himself more than everyone else did. But no, he was right. I was unprepared for what happened. I beleived myself so ferverently, above anyone elses opinions: The Doctor's, LostProphet's, The Council's. I began active Matrix duty, regardless of their prescriptions.
And here I am today, the culmination of my own ignorance. Insane, they say, and stubborn. But that's not a vision I remember of myself. I still beleive that the key of my past unlocks my future, unlocks my sanity... my normality. It's a beleif I relish, I cling to. It gets me from day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute. It's the reason I operate and why, despite the voice yelling in my head, I work against my fears, my enemies and my mind.
This beleif is the reason I am. The reason I struggle every day to try and peice together a Broken Memory. My Broken Memory.
-End Log.
Was it madness? Who can truly say...
It can be said with a high degree of certainty that I wasn't in my right mind during my awakening process. In leui of the standard awakening and fairy tale "something's-not-right-with-the-world" backstory, I was given choice of freedom by that...or those--I suppose--which enslaved me my entire life, after I was witness to that which I should not have seen.
That which no human should have seen.
After the comparatively smooth extraction, the Machines saw that I was too erratic for their efficient, spotless method of operation, and so they bargained with Zion to have me handed over to them, so that they could do thier tests, and their rehabilitation, so that I could become "a noble and fierce warrior of Zion"
I sound jaded, I know. I suppose in a sense I am, in the sense that, throughout my years here i've seen enough to make the best of us keel, but in the face of it, i've done my duty.
And yet I know so little about my real past. I know of how it happened, I have myself to thank for that, but nothing of before. Nothing.
I know that my life after normality became the source of todays problems and my ... imperfections. My awakening, no matter how smooth, only exacerbated the problems caused by my final months as a bluepill. The mental scarring was permanent and irreversable, they said.
I thought nothing of it. The deluded opinion of a medical officer who valued himself more than everyone else did. But no, he was right. I was unprepared for what happened. I beleived myself so ferverently, above anyone elses opinions: The Doctor's, LostProphet's, The Council's. I began active Matrix duty, regardless of their prescriptions.
And here I am today, the culmination of my own ignorance. Insane, they say, and stubborn. But that's not a vision I remember of myself. I still beleive that the key of my past unlocks my future, unlocks my sanity... my normality. It's a beleif I relish, I cling to. It gets me from day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute. It's the reason I operate and why, despite the voice yelling in my head, I work against my fears, my enemies and my mind.
This beleif is the reason I am. The reason I struggle every day to try and peice together a Broken Memory. My Broken Memory.
-End Log.
