The first lesson Amiga learnt when she started to kill was how easy it is, and how utterly horrifying that can be.
All the homes here are assembled from huge 3D-printed parts and brightly coloured, though it’s hard to see in the meagre lighting. The brainchild of a design genie called Liberty, printed homes have become ubiquitous amongst under-mono communities, transforming them from shantytowns to neat, albeit crowded plastic villages. Everything modernizes eventually.
Having the right parts, being able to bear living inside himself, was more important.
Can’t entertain anything like that, even if he knows it could be true. Shock survives like this: focus on Sendai; forget everything else.
She’s not sure if she’s lying. But saying it makes it real, whether it’s truth or not.
Shoving emotion down should not feel this dangerous, she’s been doing it for years.
That’s why this is his family. People who allow you to be who you are, who’ll await your growth and change patiently, aware that everything happens in good time, they’re hard to come by.
As I said, we are fucked to a monumental degree.
She seemed different though. Less frosty, more like a human being. Odd quirk for a Cleaner. He wonders if it was new. She didn’t seem to know what to do with it. With herself. Only looked certain when she was killing.
She’s what was made of her, and so is he. And both of them want to change it. That’s why they’re here.
“Well, I’m a pragmatist. I say maybe things happen for a reason, maybe they don’t, but when you reach a point where you can take chance and turn it into intent, you don’t walk away. You act.”
Your problem, Amiga, is that you only see people in terms of yourself, and we all fail to match up, whether we could or not. I get it. I get the difference between what you do and what we’ve done.
Am I never going to stop feeling like an absolute shit around you?
Not if you continue to be one.
