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Teeming, swirling, writhing. Many tiny thoughts, disorganized at first but slowly brought together in a warm school.
Pulse. Shoot. Swim. Find. Burrow. Unravel. Breed. Live.
The pressure around all of you thrums rhythmically, not heard but felt, pulling you, pushing you, each one making more of you. You think in a voice not your own. But it is yours. How could it not be? And these thoughts are yours. Though they are nary thoughts at all. You are so many. So much. And yet no one at all. Not yet.
Pulse. Shoot. Swim. Find. Burrow. Unravel. Breed. Live.
The thrum grows heavier, faster, and the pressure greater. You school, more and more of you, eager, united in desire. To be complete. To breed. To make more. To be more.
The pressure builds, your excitement grows, more and more, you are an event and you have yet to happen. But the time is fast approaching.
This moment. The end. The beginning.
A function. An action. A moment. A purpose.
Soon. Soon. Soon. Ƨ̸͛͑o̶̿̀ở̵n̷̓͝.̸͊̐
> Consciousness Transfer Failed. Retrying...
> Consciousness Transfer Failed. Retrying...
> Consciousness Transfer Failed. Retrying...
> Consciousness Transfer Failed. Retrying...
> Consciousness Transfer Incomplete. Retrying...
> Consciousness Transfer Complete...
> Activating Medical Clone...
Mel's phone boops.
Spooky:
"No lunch this time? You must have been eager~! Rubber's a good look on you, though! How many more times do you think you'll last before I wear you down, swimmers~? Before you're more me than you? Just more offspring for me, either way, but I can keep going as long as you can~ See you soon! Or not~!"
- Palette
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- Sunday 3 December 2023
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