08-18-2010, 07:33 PM
Life. Such a funny word. Hard to find a truly accurate description.
Quite some time ago, my life was on the brink of ending. Seems that even with over a thousand years of research, there are some forms of cancer that they still can't cure. I had been diagnosed with a particularly malignant form. It hurt. A lot.
Then, one day, as I was lying in a hospital on Cambridge, Dr. Logan proposed a risky but potentially life-saving procedure. It seems that a rare species not unlike the old Earth mammal known as the wolverine had been discovered on Gaia. Unlike any mammal seen to that point, the so-called Gaian Wolverine had regenerative capabilities normally only seen in reptiles or worms.
The plan was to duplicate the regeneration gene from the Gaian Wolverine in my own body, to fight the cancer that threatened my life. Having nothing to lose (or so I thought), I agreed to the procedure.
And then the voices started.
Hey, what are you laughing at? Can't you see I'm in the middle of a story?
Anyway, the process proved to be mostly successful. The regenerative properties of the Gaian creature were successfully instilled in my body. The cancer no longer threatened my life. But I was not fully cured. The cancer began to race through my body trying to find a place to grab hold, with my newly inherited genetic properties fighting it off before it could take hold, but not fully removing it either.
It hurts.
A lot.
But I've learned to live with the pain.
Live. Heh. There's that word again.
The voices got me wondering. Why did they keep saying "discovery" all the time? Were they explorers? Scientists? And who was this "Igiss" they kept talking about?
I wonder.
The voices also keep referring to a server of some sort. Something relating to these Ion storms Sirius is prone to.
I wonder.
And then I remembered something. Or maybe it was planted in my memories by the voices. I can't really tell. Back on old Earth, there was this video game called Freelancer. It was only mentioned in one of the oldest log discs in the Liberty History Library. Could it be that I was actually a part of such a game?
Hey, I said not to laugh. It's hard enough to think without that racket going on out there.
Naturally, anyone I talked to about the voices and the video game we lived in thought I was crazy. I guess there is some truth to that. I mean, what would you think if you saw someone who heard voices and talked about living in a game? Plus there was the increased aggression and incessant babbling.
They tried to keep me locked up in that hospital. They didn't know my past too well, did they? You see, I had always been a decent pilot, and had some training in hand-to-hand and armed combat. It wasn't long before I managed to secure a small ship and get out of the area.
I traded in the stolen ship for a Roc on Freeport 2 so I could begin my new life. My old self had effectively died on that operating table. I was... Hey, would you stop with the snide comments now? I'm trying to finish my story here. First the laughing, now the sneering. Maybe I should just throw some polygons at you. That seems to work when I'm flying.
Where was I? Oh yeah, my new life. I figured the only way I could escape the remnants of my old life was to give up my old career and name. I would strike against those who angered whoever would hire me. I am the one who heard voices from outside the universe we live in.
I am... Vox.Meta.
What? Too obvious? At least I didn't decide to call myself Deadpool. I mean, who does that guy think he is? Just because he lives in some marvelous universe, he thinks he can hide behind a cheap mask? Pfft.
Quite some time ago, my life was on the brink of ending. Seems that even with over a thousand years of research, there are some forms of cancer that they still can't cure. I had been diagnosed with a particularly malignant form. It hurt. A lot.
Then, one day, as I was lying in a hospital on Cambridge, Dr. Logan proposed a risky but potentially life-saving procedure. It seems that a rare species not unlike the old Earth mammal known as the wolverine had been discovered on Gaia. Unlike any mammal seen to that point, the so-called Gaian Wolverine had regenerative capabilities normally only seen in reptiles or worms.
The plan was to duplicate the regeneration gene from the Gaian Wolverine in my own body, to fight the cancer that threatened my life. Having nothing to lose (or so I thought), I agreed to the procedure.
And then the voices started.
Hey, what are you laughing at? Can't you see I'm in the middle of a story?
Anyway, the process proved to be mostly successful. The regenerative properties of the Gaian creature were successfully instilled in my body. The cancer no longer threatened my life. But I was not fully cured. The cancer began to race through my body trying to find a place to grab hold, with my newly inherited genetic properties fighting it off before it could take hold, but not fully removing it either.
It hurts.
A lot.
But I've learned to live with the pain.
Live. Heh. There's that word again.
The voices got me wondering. Why did they keep saying "discovery" all the time? Were they explorers? Scientists? And who was this "Igiss" they kept talking about?
I wonder.
The voices also keep referring to a server of some sort. Something relating to these Ion storms Sirius is prone to.
I wonder.
And then I remembered something. Or maybe it was planted in my memories by the voices. I can't really tell. Back on old Earth, there was this video game called Freelancer. It was only mentioned in one of the oldest log discs in the Liberty History Library. Could it be that I was actually a part of such a game?
Hey, I said not to laugh. It's hard enough to think without that racket going on out there.
Naturally, anyone I talked to about the voices and the video game we lived in thought I was crazy. I guess there is some truth to that. I mean, what would you think if you saw someone who heard voices and talked about living in a game? Plus there was the increased aggression and incessant babbling.
They tried to keep me locked up in that hospital. They didn't know my past too well, did they? You see, I had always been a decent pilot, and had some training in hand-to-hand and armed combat. It wasn't long before I managed to secure a small ship and get out of the area.
I traded in the stolen ship for a Roc on Freeport 2 so I could begin my new life. My old self had effectively died on that operating table. I was... Hey, would you stop with the snide comments now? I'm trying to finish my story here. First the laughing, now the sneering. Maybe I should just throw some polygons at you. That seems to work when I'm flying.
Where was I? Oh yeah, my new life. I figured the only way I could escape the remnants of my old life was to give up my old career and name. I would strike against those who angered whoever would hire me. I am the one who heard voices from outside the universe we live in.
I am... Vox.Meta.
What? Too obvious? At least I didn't decide to call myself Deadpool. I mean, who does that guy think he is? Just because he lives in some marvelous universe, he thinks he can hide behind a cheap mask? Pfft.