The Curse of Awareness

[AlphaMoist 1707]

Spoiler

Content Warning: Minor gore.

Paragraph format can be read here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/18D0EtWrtjflRKJuYbj4xWGN9ZtfV3diAsvGuFQJwphg/edit?usp=sharing

 

A loud churning followed by a crashing clank. Afterwards? An ear-piercing sizzle eclipsed by excruciating, burning pain. And now: numbness.

 

Cold, dark numbness.

 

I can’t say how long I was out after the accident, but I can only assume anywhere between weeks or months have passed. Steam explosions are always serious, and I was absolutely amazed to be alive.

 

When I awoke, I found myself to be alone in a dark, metallic chamber. I assumed this to be some sort of medical facility, partly because such would make sense, and partly because I was attached to many different machines. While they may have been supplying my body with vital nutrients during my coma, I desperately wished to be free from the many wires and tubes piercing my body. 

 

One by one, I began using my slow, clammy hands to grip and detach these entangled wires and tubes. Each one slid out of my body with enough effort, and once freed, an odd shock pulsated through my body. It’s difficult to describe the sensation perfectly, but if I had to try, I would describe it as pain if pain were painless. I assumed this to be a side effect of whatever topical anesthesia the nurses had been using on me, and therefore I thought little of it. 

 

Once free from my medical bindings, I took a singular step forward from my vertical bed. It was difficult, to say the least. Not only was I certain my muscles had atrophied by this point, but I felt exasperatingly heavy as well. My foot hit the floor with an audible thud which echoed throughout the medical facility, and with enough effort, my other foot followed suit. This is when I took a moment to fully observe my surroundings while I rested.

 

The facility was far different from any other hospital room I had encountered prior. For one, the walls and floor lacked the sterile white coloring they are so famous for. Everything was a simple, dingy metallic color. Various other standing beds littered the wall closest to me, and rather than looking like medical cots, they seemed to be entirely metallic as well. Various intravenous tubes and wires were attached directly to these beds, which in turn were attached to machines: just like my own. Bioluminescent crystals dotted the metallic ceilings, giving the space enough light to sleep in, but surely not enough to provide a suitable work environment. The room also lacked windows which would allow excess light to flood the environment, however, there was a door on the wall opposite of me. 

 

No doubt I had awakened during odd hours of the night. At the very least, whoever had been taking care of me was no longer doing so until morning, presumably. Aside from the explosion, I remembered little else of the event or any events prior. This disturbed me.

 

Once confident I wouldn’t collapse from exhaustion on my way towards the door, I began making my way across the room. Slow at first, I was surprised to find each step being easier and easier to make. Once I reached the door, my joints felt rejuvenated, and it was as if I hadn’t been laying in my bed for heaven knows how long. I was both perplexed and relieved. 

 

I reached for the pulley handle located beside the door, and after giving it a harsh tug, I could hear a series of ticks begin to sound from the entrance. This was followed by gears beginning to turn, and finally, the door split horizontally, then diagonally, and it retracted into its frame. I was free.

 

The hallway, just like the infirmary before it, was clad entirely in metal, which caused every step I made to create a loud, booming echo that surely permeated the entirety of the facility I found myself in. Entirely devoid of life, I was beginning to come to the conclusion that I was the only inhabitant in the immediate area. To my satisfaction, I was wrong.

 

After passing a few different rooms and turning various corners, I came across what appeared to be a woman with long, brown hair clad in a white, pristine lab coat. Small, brass glasses fixed with thick, oval lenses rested against her nose, and clutched between her hands was a bulky, rust-colored handheld computer. She had been frozen in place, possibly due to the outrageously loud footsteps I had been emitting, and the moment her brown eyes caught a glimpse of me, they widened in shock. I waved at the woman, and I attempted to speak. 

 

“Hello ma’am, could you direct me to the nearest medical staff? I’m not quite sure where I am, but I do remember being involved in an accident before losing consciousness.” Hearing myself, I could tell I was not in the best of shape. My voice was a higher pitch than what felt should be normal, and I had difficulty properly enunciating my words. I don’t think she quite understood me either, because once I finished speaking, she dropped her heavy computer onto the floor, causing its green-hued screen to crack. She no longer looked shocked, but instead her facial expression became what I could recognize as being rather horrified. 

 

“Y-you shouldn’t b-be active right now,” she stammered out in a hushed tone, slowly beginning to back away from me. Quite certain she was correct, I responded calmly in an effort to put her at ease.

 

“Yes, I think I’m aware of that now. Most likely, I awoke ahead of schedule. That could explain why none of the doctors were waiting for me in that room - perhaps this means I could be getting back to work soon as well?” I jested: another attempt to reassure her I meant no harm. I must not be well versed in the ways of humor, however, as she immediately screamed and attempted to run away. Instinctually, I gave chase. I was in desperate need of help, and this woman was most likely the only person capable of assisting me at the time. 

 

Together, our footsteps created an unusual symphony of discourse and adrenaline. She fled in a flurry of madness, arms pumping at her sides to give her any ounce of momentum to escape from me. I was absolutely baffled - entirely astounded by what could be frightening the woman so horridly. Honestly, I began to grow rather angry. I was in desperate need of help, and instead of offering kindness, she was exhibiting the behavior seen before me. 

 

Shockingly, it didn’t take long for me to catch up with her. I was much faster, despite having recently woken from a coma. I reached out and grabbed the woman’s wrist, and the symphony we produced erupted in a crescendo of loud, cracking bones and a shrill, ear-splitting cry of pain and torment. Her wrist seemed to have snapped under the pressure of my grip, and she began sobbing hysterically, wailing for help. Afraid she would attract unwanted attention before I had a chance to apologize and make things right, I attempted to cover her mouth with my free hand until she calmed down. 

 

In my rush to silence her, I seem to have applied too much pressure to her temporomandibular joints. They caved in on themselves, unhinging her lower jaw from her skull and effectively crushing it. Immediately I released her, and her agonized wailing lowered significantly in volume. She collapsed on the floor, clutching her mangled jaw with her hand as she gagged on the copious amount of blood pooling from her severed facial artery. Ten seconds, nine seconds, she stopped breathing. Six seconds, five seconds, she began to lose consciousness. Three seconds, two seconds, she stopped moving. When her body fully relaxed, her face was frozen in a tight, horrified expression that defied contemplation. 

 

While I was examining her body out of morbid curiosity, a sudden force pushed against my shoulder, sending me to the ground. Landing on my side, when I looked in the direction the blow had come from, I was met with the faces of multiple security officers clad in leather garments wielding large, brass rifles. The soldier wielding a rifle with steam leaving its barrel had quickly begun cranking a lever fixed to the side of the device, and as gears turned with each revolution of the crank-shaft, I could almost physically see copious amounts of air being sucked down the barrel. Once he finished charging his weapon, he took aim at me once again.

 

“It was an accident, please, I just need help!” I called out to them, raising my hands in the air in an attempt to show anything other than hostility to the man.

 

He did not respond, and as I stared at him, I heard footsteps approaching me from behind: rushed, hurried. I turned around to meet the assailant: a short, stocky man sporting a large, red beard wielding what looked to be an axe. Its shaft was dotted with multiple small gears on its side. At its tip was a shining, blue blade made out of some sort of pulsating energy. As the assailant swung downwards, a fwoosh of steam shot out the back end of the axe’s tip, sending the blade down towards my arm with ungodly force.

 

With reflexes I did not know I possessed, I shot away from the blade’s strike and pushed the man into the wall adjacent to me. The metal indented, and my hand was forced into his skin as soft, delicate bone was crushed beneath my strike. I could tell I sent his sternum splintering into his trachea, with multiple ribs now sinking slowly into his lungs. He coughed, sputtered, and as he spit a copious amount of blood into my face. A click rang out within the halls, followed by the sound of a miniature sonic boom. 

 

I was struck in my side, and a loud metallic clang resonated around me. Some sort of metal device, again bronze, had ejected from my chest and had skidded across the floor. It looked like some sort of chestpiece.

 

Confused, I looked back towards the soldier arming his weapon again, and the other soldiers beside him began arming various other instruments of ill-willed design. Before I could begin apologizing once again, an ominous noise became apparent to me.

 

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

 

I began looking around for its source.

 

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

 

I looked down at myself.

 

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

 

 Where a gaping chest wound should have been was replaced with the open crevice of my body. I observed myself closely, growing confused, frustrated, and irrational as I did so. Tubes and wires, akin to those of the machine I had awoken next to, littered my body, squeezed in between varying sizes of gears and pistons. Instead of organs, I had glass jars filled with various different liquids in their place. The gears seemed to have been assisting the pumping of these fluids across my body. Two large jars rested where a human’s lungs would be, and they filled with black, carbonous smoke on every fourth tick.

 

Tick, tick, tick, tick, sssss.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, fwoosh.

 

I looked behind myself, and following every eighth tick, a dark black smog expelled from tubes protruding from my back. Another series of four ticks, and fresh air was sucked inside the vacuum within my chest.

 

I looked down at my legs, and where flesh should be, only metal could be found. Fully encased in a brass shell, I was now keenly knowledgeable of the vibrations the gears within this shell were creating with every revolution they made. 

 

I looked down at my hands. My bloody, metallic hands. Skeletal in nature, beneath the tangent, red ichor covering my right hand rested an orange colored coating of paint. The left hand was covered in a yellow coating of paint. I flexed my hands, closed them into fists, and slowly opened them. I felt wires and pulleys operate my movements, not tendons and ligaments.

 

This wasn’t right. None of this was right. I’m human. I’m human. I work in the mining shafts of the Gaping Mountain. I work laborious hours to provide for my family. A family I do not recall. I don’t remember their faces, but I was involved in an accident, yes? A coma caused me to enter a state of amnesia, yes? 

 

“‘appens all teh toime wit’ t’ese rampents. Can’t ‘andle self-awareness loik the ot’ers,” I heard one of the soldiers tell his colleagues. “Foiken Automata.”

 

I looked at them. They withdrew their weapons, and they now focused on simply observing me. More women clad in scientific coats had appeared, appearing to take notes on their large mobile computers. 

 

I tried to speak. I tried my damndest to speak, but almost like a veil being removed from my mind and opening myself to the true nature of my existence, I could now truly hear myself.

 

“Au-au-au-to-to-to-ma-a-a-a-a?” My speech was interrupted repeatedly with a series of stutters and clicks, with each interruption causing my voice to grow higher and higher before resetting to its usual deep tone. “Rampant-ant-ant-ant? No. No. N-N-N-No. Hyoo-man. Hyooman-an-an-an.” 

 

I began shaking my head, and I looked down at myself again. “No. No. N-N-N-o-o-o.” I reached into the crevice left behind from the airbulest, and I pulled out a gear. It hurt, and I had to use excessive force to pry it from its socket, but I felt I had no choice if I truly wished to find the truth behind my existence. Bringing it up to my face, I continued shaking my head. “Not-true, not-true, not-true-ue-ue-ue-ue,” I repeated frantically. 

 

I began pulling other gears out, desperate to find flesh and bone. I pried wires and tubes away from the jars, spilling the sickly, chemical smelling liquids over my metallic components. I wanted to see blood. I was desperate to find blood. My blood. 

 

I began pulling myself apart with wanton abandon, observing each part closely at first, but as my rationale began fading more and more, I eventually just began to chuck these parts aside in search of real organs which would confirm the dwarves’ lies. I grew weaker and weaker, falling onto my knees without care. Metal, wires, gears, tubes, none of them made from flesh.

 

“N-No-o-o-o-o-o-o,” I cried out, or, rather, attempted to cry out. I could not force my voice to be loud or quiet. It was always the same monotonous pitch. I had no choice in how I sounded, just as I had no choice but to find where the **** the ungodly ticking inside my chest was coming from. It was abhorrent, annoying, anger inducing. I hated it. I wanted it removed.

 

Finally, I pulled out the deepest instrument I could find: a clock-like device dotted with knobs and dials. I could not understand the interface etched into its face, but with it free, the ticking was louder than ever.

 

Tick tick tick tick ssss, tick tick tick tick fwoosh, tick tick tick tick ssss, tick tick tick tick fwoosh.

 

Protruding from and sinking deeply within the clock-like device were more tubes and wires than any other competent I had found. I stared at it with a sense of perplexion. I knew the item which lay within my hand was the entirety of my being. Everything I was, am, and will ever be was this item.

 

To think my entire existence could be denounced to a singular component. A singular, irrelevant piece of manufacturing by creators who had designed me to be broken. This clock in my hands was me. All of my hopes, dreams, wants and desires: reduced to a clock. I hated it. I hated me.

 

I ripped the clock-like device from its wires and tubing, and everything went black.

 

----- ---- ---- ---- ----- ---- ---- ---- ----- ---- ---- ---- ----- ---- ---- ---- ----- ---- ---- ---- ----- ---- ---- 

 

“This can’t keep happening,” I heard a feminine voice speak. “We can’t keep producing these automata if all it takes is for one little accident to send them on a spree of rampancy. This is the seventh incident this year, and it’s the second of which that has resulted in fatality.”

 

“You wanted us to design something that felt more real,” a male voice echoed. “Mapping a sentient’s consciousness onto a piece of metal is complicated work. Flaws are expected to develo-”

 

“Flaws don’t kill people!” she interrupted. “They were better when they couldn’t think. When they couldn’t question themselves! When they didn’t ******* wake up on their own!” 

 

“Okay,” the man sighed out, sounding defeated. “We’ll work on it. Recall the units, tinker around some more. A buddy of mine has theorized that using an adult’s mindset is what is causing their denial. We’ll work on using a child’s with this next batch. Children are dumb enough to believe anything.”

 

I heard footsteps pacing atop of metallic flooring. 

 

“Next time this occurs, security will use lethal weaponry. I don’t care about saving you money anymore. They rip themselves apart in the end anyways. Now make sure that thing can’t wake up again.”

 

There was a long pause.

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

Another series of footsteps sounded, and I could hear the whirring of some sort of device. Following this was the crackling of electricity, and afterwards, my remaining sensations faded away. 

 

 

I found solace and peace within the void.

 

[aiden0023 1374]

damn how tf you write so good