The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living
(multishot / pm for entry thread hybrid thing i guess (I'm a diva and i have THINGS to DO and if you impede them ill CRY!))
The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living
((Luanne Grasset continued from Sick Of It All))
She stood at the railing along the edge of the ship, and gazed out over the ocean to the setting sun.
Then she glanced down at the dead boy she'd pulled out of the pool a few hours ago. The weird discoloration on his skin from drowning looked kind of neat in the setting sun. Maybe not neat. But it was striking. She was reminded of a quote that had resonated with her emotionally, but not in a way where she'd felt comfortable with including it in the collection of quotes she'd written in her sketchbook back at home.
"I one day found myself looking at my beloved wife's dead face and just systematically noting the colours according to an automatic reflex." - Monet
She frowned and looked away.
His name was either Kurt or Zack. He was going to be her collar test subject, or at least he was supposed to. She was having a difficult time crossing that bridge. She wasn't an electrician. She didn't know anything about electrician-ing. But Pippi had written a whole lot about it, which made a lot of stuff in the notebook pretty hard to parse. But there was some stuff about, like, um, stuff that she had an obligation not to say directly to the camera because there was an NDA signed in Pippi's blood, and stuff, that seemed similar to her own ideas. So she was going to try that stuff first. She'd get to it. She'd figure it out. Or at least she'd try.
Anyways, Eric had died, apparently. And Vasily too. So that felt weird. A lot of people had died. None of them ever really had to. It wasn't like there was such a thing as a death here that wasn't preventable. But she guessed that didn't matter now to many people, because they were dead anyways.
But also Nadine was still alive, so that made her feel a little bit better.
Anyways, Pippi
Luanne's lip shook.
Keep going. Anyways, Pippi had been short for Pineapple. Luanne hadn't learned that. Pippi had never told her. The announcement woman had laughed at it, and that made Luanne angry, because the announcement woman's name was Ritzy Daggers and she had no place making fun of anyone if that was her name.
But anyways, Pippi had been chosen for this show because her name was Pineapple. Because the producers had seen her name on a list of potential cast members and gone, "well, that's an easy name to ridicule", and then they'd kidnapped her. Because funny names added flavor.
So basically they'd murdered Pippi because they thought her name was funny.
And Luanne was trying not to think about it. But she couldn't not think about it, because of how, just, just how just absurdly messed up just everything in this freaking country was.
She stared down into the blackening waves.
There was something she needed to know.
"Stephanie."
She stood at the railing along the edge of the ship, and gazed out over the ocean to the setting sun.
Then she glanced down at the dead boy she'd pulled out of the pool a few hours ago. The weird discoloration on his skin from drowning looked kind of neat in the setting sun. Maybe not neat. But it was striking. She was reminded of a quote that had resonated with her emotionally, but not in a way where she'd felt comfortable with including it in the collection of quotes she'd written in her sketchbook back at home.
"I one day found myself looking at my beloved wife's dead face and just systematically noting the colours according to an automatic reflex." - Monet
She frowned and looked away.
His name was either Kurt or Zack. He was going to be her collar test subject, or at least he was supposed to. She was having a difficult time crossing that bridge. She wasn't an electrician. She didn't know anything about electrician-ing. But Pippi had written a whole lot about it, which made a lot of stuff in the notebook pretty hard to parse. But there was some stuff about, like, um, stuff that she had an obligation not to say directly to the camera because there was an NDA signed in Pippi's blood, and stuff, that seemed similar to her own ideas. So she was going to try that stuff first. She'd get to it. She'd figure it out. Or at least she'd try.
Anyways, Eric had died, apparently. And Vasily too. So that felt weird. A lot of people had died. None of them ever really had to. It wasn't like there was such a thing as a death here that wasn't preventable. But she guessed that didn't matter now to many people, because they were dead anyways.
But also Nadine was still alive, so that made her feel a little bit better.
Anyways, Pippi
Luanne's lip shook.
Keep going. Anyways, Pippi had been short for Pineapple. Luanne hadn't learned that. Pippi had never told her. The announcement woman had laughed at it, and that made Luanne angry, because the announcement woman's name was Ritzy Daggers and she had no place making fun of anyone if that was her name.
But anyways, Pippi had been chosen for this show because her name was Pineapple. Because the producers had seen her name on a list of potential cast members and gone, "well, that's an easy name to ridicule", and then they'd kidnapped her. Because funny names added flavor.
So basically they'd murdered Pippi because they thought her name was funny.
And Luanne was trying not to think about it. But she couldn't not think about it, because of how, just, just how just absurdly messed up just everything in this freaking country was.
She stared down into the blackening waves.
There was something she needed to know.
"Stephanie."
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"Is, um, is Jewel there? There's something I need to," she paused, "need to clear up with her. It's - you wouldn't know the answer because you weren't, um, involved. But she was. So I need to ask her a question."
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There's a substantial pause, but finally a voice other than Stephanie's speaks:
"You have a question for me?"
"You have a question for me?"
Her grip on the railing tightened. It felt sticky.
"Yeah. I do."
She moved her hand to the right, expecting to see someone else's blood. There wasn't any. The railing was just sticky.
"Okay."
She breathed in and bit her lip. It felt dry.
"I need, it's - this is important - I need to know if, if, when you talked to me on Twitter, was it because I was going to be on the show? Or did they pick me out after that."
"Yeah. I do."
She moved her hand to the right, expecting to see someone else's blood. There wasn't any. The railing was just sticky.
"Okay."
She breathed in and bit her lip. It felt dry.
"I need, it's - this is important - I need to know if, if, when you talked to me on Twitter, was it because I was going to be on the show? Or did they pick me out after that."
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The reply is immediate, but the delivery is relaxed.
"Those aren't the only two options, you know.
"If what you're asking is whether I knew you would be here when I answered the question, then no, I didn't. I'm not entirely sure when the selection took place, though. I think after, but I could be wrong. I know someone who'd tell me, but I don't think that will happen quickly enough to be useful."
"Those aren't the only two options, you know.
"If what you're asking is whether I knew you would be here when I answered the question, then no, I didn't. I'm not entirely sure when the selection took place, though. I think after, but I could be wrong. I know someone who'd tell me, but I don't think that will happen quickly enough to be useful."
Her head sagged. And she just stood there.
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There's silence for a little while. Then:
"You can blame me if it helps. I don't mind. But, Luanne?
"What's supposed to happen doesn't matter. What you make happen does. Never give up."
"You can blame me if it helps. I don't mind. But, Luanne?
"What's supposed to happen doesn't matter. What you make happen does. Never give up."
...
"..."
She took a breath in.
"Have you ever read Brave New World, Jewel?"
"..."
She took a breath in.
"Have you ever read Brave New World, Jewel?"
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An answer arrives right away again.
"I haven't."
"I haven't."
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Another answer comes through.
"I have. If that... counts."
"I have. If that... counts."
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"John the Savage finds himself having become part of the society he has attempted to resist all novel and kills himself in response. The... the way his feet dangle after he's hung himself represents how everything, fundamentally, has gone back to the way it was at the beginning. I... it's been a while since we studied it, but I think that's what happened.
"...
"...
"Either way I... think I get what you're trying to say."
"...
"...
"Either way I... think I get what you're trying to say."
Luanne closed her eyes. And then opened them. Like a blink except, um, slower. Then she took a breath in.
She'd never even managed to read past the halfway point of Brave New World. The prose was impenetrable to her and so she'd looked it up on Sparknotes. But Steph didn't know that. And she didn't need to.
This must have been how it felt to be a person like Jewel.
...
She just kind of stared out into the distance at nothing for a moment.
...
Suddenly the corners of her mouth shifted down and her eyebrows narrowed and one of her knuckles popped.
And then for what felt like the first time in her life, she didn't have to think about what she wanted to say before she said it. It just came out, like if words were a natural thing in her mind.
"What gives them the fucking right? We could be anyone. They can do this to anyone. Tell me why nobody fucking cares about that. Jewel. I want you to tell me," she spat.
She'd never even managed to read past the halfway point of Brave New World. The prose was impenetrable to her and so she'd looked it up on Sparknotes. But Steph didn't know that. And she didn't need to.
This must have been how it felt to be a person like Jewel.
...
She just kind of stared out into the distance at nothing for a moment.
...
Suddenly the corners of her mouth shifted down and her eyebrows narrowed and one of her knuckles popped.
And then for what felt like the first time in her life, she didn't have to think about what she wanted to say before she said it. It just came out, like if words were a natural thing in her mind.
"What gives them the fucking right? We could be anyone. They can do this to anyone. Tell me why nobody fucking cares about that. Jewel. I want you to tell me," she spat.
- MurderWeasel
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There's a soft chuckle.
"They could. After all, we were anyone once.
"I could tell you about probability, how you have better odds of winning the lottery. I could tell you how most people's empathy is fundamentally broken in specific ways that lead to this. I could tell you that a lot of people do care, just not the right ones and not at the right time. I could spin a metaphor, how most people eat meat but would blanche at the thought of wringing a chicken's neck.
"But... like everything, this only has the meaning we bring to it."
"They could. After all, we were anyone once.
"I could tell you about probability, how you have better odds of winning the lottery. I could tell you how most people's empathy is fundamentally broken in specific ways that lead to this. I could tell you that a lot of people do care, just not the right ones and not at the right time. I could spin a metaphor, how most people eat meat but would blanche at the thought of wringing a chicken's neck.
"But... like everything, this only has the meaning we bring to it."