[ when it becomes clear that the messages aren't going through, he stops sending them, even if there's an ache in the acknowledgement. he attempts a few of the others too — the doctor, clara, alina, andy — though he doesn't make numerous efforts as he'd tried with marta. viveca made it clear if they're on different sides, communication won't come through.
then again, it doesn't stop him completely. a few days in, he sends another: ]
i'm writing like you told me to. it reads even better than the mr. darcy bullshit.
this place has all kinds of rooms that all look different. mostly just fake bullshit to make everyone feel all cozy. it's all kinds of fucked.
but there's a room that takes you by a lake. the sky's full of stars. there isn't really a sense of day or night around here, with the way this place just constantly feels like an endless white void, but - coming here, it's nice.
[ the final message isn't a text, and instead, it's a voice. it's different from the one she knows, at least in its sound, but the way he carries his words, it's much of the same as the man she's familiar with. ]
Marta. You won't ... know me by this voice. I can't really explain it, but — coming here, people's appearances change. Something about looking "picture perfect", I don't know. I wouldn't say it's perfect, but — well, this is me, actually. The real me. The body I was born into. [ a long pause. ] The last time I was in this body was well over two-hundred-fifty years ago. I don't think I ever told you about that either, did I? How old I am? [ a light chuckle, before a sigh. ] I guess I was about ... forty-two, forty-three years old? When they arrested me. When you jump around sleeves so often like I do, time kind of runs away from you. Never really celebrated birthdays anyway. Stuff like that didn't matter with CTAC, and with the Envoys we just celebrated every day that we were alive. That always mattered more than hitting an annually target date. Anyway, what I was saying — [ he clears his throat. ] After the Envoys died, I spent a few years on the run, switching out of this sleeve into a few others, until CTAC caught up with me — they're the people I used to work for before I joined the Envoys, the ones I ended up fighting against. I've already written down a bunch of stuff I did with them, so I guess you can read that whenever I get the journal to you. So, anyway, they caught me and — shot me down when I resisted. Killed me. So they sent me to prison where they put me on ice, in the dark. Slept for more than two centuries before they woke me up. [ a short pause. ] The dark is ... it's not really a place. It's what happens in the interval while the consciousness isn't in any sleeve. You're not fully awake, but a part of you is still aware. It's ... kind of like when you fall asleep and you can kind of feel some kind of passage of time while you're in a dream, but you can't really piece it together. It's just fragments that move in the same way your mind does when you're flipping through a stack of photographs and you can put yourself into every moment of those pictures instantly, just clipped through time. But it's — it's lonely, Marta. I woke up from two-hundred-fifty years of the darkness and I just ... everyone was gone and it was just me, and I ... I didn't want to do it anymore. [ a long pause. ] A week later, I ended up on Ximilia. I guess you mostly know the rest. Whatever you don't, it'll be in the journal. That was the first thing I wrote out in it. The missions here, the people. Figured it'd be more embarrassing if I forgot everyone around here and didn't have anything to fall back on. [ a scoff with a chuckle. forced sarcasm. the silence falls again. ] I wrote about us, too. [ a long pause. ] I wrote about how we danced. I never dance, so it's the only part of the whole journal you'd find anything like that, so — figured it'd be worth remembering. I guess ... I guess I could leave it all for you to read later. When I see you again. [ a long pause. ] I just ... I hope you're alright. Whenever this shit gets sorted, I'll find you. Okay?
[ it's the last message. caught trapped between communications — at least until the line is repaired, allowing all the attempted messages to finally come through. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text; un: kovacs (1)
marta, you okay? where are you?
[ ... ]
i need you to call me back.
[ ... ]
if you can see this message, call me.
[ ... ]
just tell me you're okay.
(2)
then again, it doesn't stop him completely. a few days in, he sends another: ]
i'm writing like you told me to. it reads even better than the mr. darcy bullshit.
(3)
i was writing about scorpion's bend tonight, but i couldn't remember - was it sally or sandy?
(4)
this place has all kinds of rooms that all look different. mostly just fake bullshit to make everyone feel all cozy. it's all kinds of fucked.
but there's a room that takes you by a lake. the sky's full of stars. there isn't really a sense of day or night around here, with the way this place just constantly feels like an endless white void, but - coming here, it's nice.
you got stars where you are?
(5/end)
Marta. You won't ... know me by this voice. I can't really explain it, but — coming here, people's appearances change. Something about looking "picture perfect", I don't know. I wouldn't say it's perfect, but — well, this is me, actually. The real me. The body I was born into. [ a long pause. ] The last time I was in this body was well over two-hundred-fifty years ago. I don't think I ever told you about that either, did I? How old I am? [ a light chuckle, before a sigh. ] I guess I was about ... forty-two, forty-three years old? When they arrested me. When you jump around sleeves so often like I do, time kind of runs away from you. Never really celebrated birthdays anyway. Stuff like that didn't matter with CTAC, and with the Envoys we just celebrated every day that we were alive. That always mattered more than hitting an annually target date. Anyway, what I was saying — [ he clears his throat. ] After the Envoys died, I spent a few years on the run, switching out of this sleeve into a few others, until CTAC caught up with me — they're the people I used to work for before I joined the Envoys, the ones I ended up fighting against. I've already written down a bunch of stuff I did with them, so I guess you can read that whenever I get the journal to you. So, anyway, they caught me and — shot me down when I resisted. Killed me. So they sent me to prison where they put me on ice, in the dark. Slept for more than two centuries before they woke me up. [ a short pause. ] The dark is ... it's not really a place. It's what happens in the interval while the consciousness isn't in any sleeve. You're not fully awake, but a part of you is still aware. It's ... kind of like when you fall asleep and you can kind of feel some kind of passage of time while you're in a dream, but you can't really piece it together. It's just fragments that move in the same way your mind does when you're flipping through a stack of photographs and you can put yourself into every moment of those pictures instantly, just clipped through time. But it's — it's lonely, Marta. I woke up from two-hundred-fifty years of the darkness and I just ... everyone was gone and it was just me, and I ... I didn't want to do it anymore. [ a long pause. ] A week later, I ended up on Ximilia. I guess you mostly know the rest. Whatever you don't, it'll be in the journal. That was the first thing I wrote out in it. The missions here, the people. Figured it'd be more embarrassing if I forgot everyone around here and didn't have anything to fall back on. [ a scoff with a chuckle. forced sarcasm. the silence falls again. ] I wrote about us, too. [ a long pause. ] I wrote about how we danced. I never dance, so it's the only part of the whole journal you'd find anything like that, so — figured it'd be worth remembering. I guess ... I guess I could leave it all for you to read later. When I see you again. [ a long pause. ] I just ... I hope you're alright. Whenever this shit gets sorted, I'll find you. Okay?
[ it's the last message. caught trapped between communications — at least until the line is repaired, allowing all the attempted messages to finally come through. ]