Sæglópur
Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2018 6:48 pm
Olivia sat in the corner of a cave, knees up to her chest, face hidden in those knees. On the corner across her, facing her back was a camera. She swiveled her neck to check if it was still aimed at her, and it was.
She really wished it would stop doing that.
She had been in this position since the start, ever since she woke up. She didn't mind the slippery, sharp rock she sat on, or the dripping, this constant indoor rain that had slowly but surely left her soaked. She didn't pay any attention to the waves as they inched their way closer and closer to her feet, or to her bones as they creaked and ached, begging for even the slightest bit of motion. No.
She hadn't gone through most of the motions yet. She hadn't started crying hysterically, or kicking rocks and chairs or punching sand. It wasn't a good look. Crying never looked good. No, what she had been doing, while she hid her face in her knees, was biting her nails, biting them raw despite the presence of nail paint. She hadn't minded the bitter, artificial taste of acrylic, because she needed something, anything to keep herself from screaming. And it worked. She was hyperventilating, yes, biting through keratin, panicking. But she wasn't crying. And no one could hear her, see her so vulnerable in this place, wherever she had woken up. She was sure of that. She was alone here. By herself. That was good enough for her. But now there wasn't anything left to bite. Any more and she'd be biting off her fingertips.
So, instead of hiding into herself, she risked another look, but not at the camera behind her. She raised her head a bit, and saw rock. A cave wall. That's all she was in really, some cave. This cave, it seemed so hidden from everything else. From this one glance, she could not see if there was any other land. That meant it was hidden from the game. Maybe if she just stayed here, face hidden, curled up in this corner, no one would find her. Again, she was alone. Oh god, she was alone. But that was good, really, great. Again, no one to see her vulnerable, to prey on her, to
she couldn't go there yet. She couldn't think about that yet. This was all she had to think about, all she had to know. She was alone.
Except no, one could never truly be alone in SOTF. It wasn't the case that no one could observe her. Everyone could, from thousands of miles away in front of some computer desk. The game had found her already, had her cornered. The world had, with this camera. It was just waiting for her to turn her back, to face the camera. It waited for her to face it, to face the world, to suffer, to struggle, to degrade herself, to weep, to cry, to suffer, to kill, and then, finally, to die.
And she wouldn't give them that.
And for this period of time, she found herself stuck in this weird mix of denial and acceptance. There was no denying that she was in SOTF, no denial of the fact that she had not waken up in her bed but in this cave by the ocean, no denying the memories of the auditorium, of no one following, of Mr Graham's dea- no, she couldn't go back there. It was enough to acknowledge that she was not in Kingman. But yet, she'd convinced herself that, if she simply never faced the camera, then the game wouldn't start, and she could be safe. Out of sight, out of mind.
This was idiocy.
Olivia prided herself on being smart. It was all she had. And the camera would continue to film her, whether she looked at it or not. If she tried convincing herself otherwise, she'd be depriving herself of the one asset she had.
And she couldn't really escape this island, even if she retreated into her cocoon.
But one could dream, right?
No, one couldn't dream.
She positioned her hands on top of the bag, the one the terrorists gave her, one hand gripping the zippers. And then she pulled that hand away from the zippers, and instead, wore the bag on her back, with the other bag she brought on her shoulder. One step at a time.
She exhaled, and inhaled loudly. She could do this. She could. Maybe staying alone would work for the first minute, the first hour, yeah. But the first day? The week? Alone, isolated, with no one to rely on, to lean on, like some second grader waiting for someone to eat with her yet no one would because
She definitely couldn't go back there. Olivia would not condemn herself to loneliness forever, no matter its safety. So, there was a plan, the point B to her point A. And she'd never get to point B if she stayed in this cave. Unless she let people find her. No, that's not how she wanted to get to point B. Too risky.
So, she began. She laid down her legs, revealed her face to the ocean, and took a long, hard look at the outside world. It was so big. Endless. She rubbed her collar, tried to itch some spot hidden deep inside. How small would this island be?
She'd find out. But for now, what she could do is this. She would stand up, put on her bags, and stop facing the wall. She would walk towards the ocean, towards the rest of the island.
And then she'd look directly at the camera.
And that's when her game would begin.
G062: OLIVIA FISCHER - START
((Olivia Fischer continues in Until all our yesterdays are lighted fools...))
She really wished it would stop doing that.
She had been in this position since the start, ever since she woke up. She didn't mind the slippery, sharp rock she sat on, or the dripping, this constant indoor rain that had slowly but surely left her soaked. She didn't pay any attention to the waves as they inched their way closer and closer to her feet, or to her bones as they creaked and ached, begging for even the slightest bit of motion. No.
She hadn't gone through most of the motions yet. She hadn't started crying hysterically, or kicking rocks and chairs or punching sand. It wasn't a good look. Crying never looked good. No, what she had been doing, while she hid her face in her knees, was biting her nails, biting them raw despite the presence of nail paint. She hadn't minded the bitter, artificial taste of acrylic, because she needed something, anything to keep herself from screaming. And it worked. She was hyperventilating, yes, biting through keratin, panicking. But she wasn't crying. And no one could hear her, see her so vulnerable in this place, wherever she had woken up. She was sure of that. She was alone here. By herself. That was good enough for her. But now there wasn't anything left to bite. Any more and she'd be biting off her fingertips.
So, instead of hiding into herself, she risked another look, but not at the camera behind her. She raised her head a bit, and saw rock. A cave wall. That's all she was in really, some cave. This cave, it seemed so hidden from everything else. From this one glance, she could not see if there was any other land. That meant it was hidden from the game. Maybe if she just stayed here, face hidden, curled up in this corner, no one would find her. Again, she was alone. Oh god, she was alone. But that was good, really, great. Again, no one to see her vulnerable, to prey on her, to
she couldn't go there yet. She couldn't think about that yet. This was all she had to think about, all she had to know. She was alone.
Except no, one could never truly be alone in SOTF. It wasn't the case that no one could observe her. Everyone could, from thousands of miles away in front of some computer desk. The game had found her already, had her cornered. The world had, with this camera. It was just waiting for her to turn her back, to face the camera. It waited for her to face it, to face the world, to suffer, to struggle, to degrade herself, to weep, to cry, to suffer, to kill, and then, finally, to die.
And she wouldn't give them that.
And for this period of time, she found herself stuck in this weird mix of denial and acceptance. There was no denying that she was in SOTF, no denial of the fact that she had not waken up in her bed but in this cave by the ocean, no denying the memories of the auditorium, of no one following, of Mr Graham's dea- no, she couldn't go back there. It was enough to acknowledge that she was not in Kingman. But yet, she'd convinced herself that, if she simply never faced the camera, then the game wouldn't start, and she could be safe. Out of sight, out of mind.
This was idiocy.
Olivia prided herself on being smart. It was all she had. And the camera would continue to film her, whether she looked at it or not. If she tried convincing herself otherwise, she'd be depriving herself of the one asset she had.
And she couldn't really escape this island, even if she retreated into her cocoon.
But one could dream, right?
No, one couldn't dream.
She positioned her hands on top of the bag, the one the terrorists gave her, one hand gripping the zippers. And then she pulled that hand away from the zippers, and instead, wore the bag on her back, with the other bag she brought on her shoulder. One step at a time.
She exhaled, and inhaled loudly. She could do this. She could. Maybe staying alone would work for the first minute, the first hour, yeah. But the first day? The week? Alone, isolated, with no one to rely on, to lean on, like some second grader waiting for someone to eat with her yet no one would because
She definitely couldn't go back there. Olivia would not condemn herself to loneliness forever, no matter its safety. So, there was a plan, the point B to her point A. And she'd never get to point B if she stayed in this cave. Unless she let people find her. No, that's not how she wanted to get to point B. Too risky.
So, she began. She laid down her legs, revealed her face to the ocean, and took a long, hard look at the outside world. It was so big. Endless. She rubbed her collar, tried to itch some spot hidden deep inside. How small would this island be?
She'd find out. But for now, what she could do is this. She would stand up, put on her bags, and stop facing the wall. She would walk towards the ocean, towards the rest of the island.
And then she'd look directly at the camera.
And that's when her game would begin.
G062: OLIVIA FISCHER - START
((Olivia Fischer continues in Until all our yesterdays are lighted fools...))