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7 [text]
[Police Filter // Unhackable]
Cain Hargreaves: Kidnapped and held captive for a few days, then released. Captor had no apparent goal or motivation.
Additional Notes
The culprit, (vocally) identified by Hargreaves, is named Gabriel. I spoke to him briefly via the network and learned that he is a corpse animated by what he called “necromantic energy.” He wasn't exactly forthcoming with relevant information.
When I spoke to Gabriel, I apologized at one point for being overly inquisitive. This was his response: “I don't really give a damn why you're asking questions. You're amusing me for now, that's all that matters.” It's possible that he abducted Hargreaves for no other reason than to entertain himself. It's also possible that the necromantic energy that he lives on requires a living human; I don't know anything about magic or who to consult, but it might be worth looking into.
[/end filter]
[Filtered to Dean // Unhackable]
If you want to talk, I'm willing to listen. I'm also willing to forget that anything was said if you'd prefer that.
[/end filter]
For those who haven’t heard, Todd Anderson has written a play called “Like Clockwork” that will likely be performed in May. If you are interested in helping with the play’s production, contact Neil Perry. Please consider attending.
Additionally, in light of recent allegations, I would like to issue this reminder: the police officers in the City are as susceptible to curses as anyone else. Like everyone else, they cannot be held responsible for actions they take while under the influence of a curse.
I wonder if the rest of spring will be as eventful as its beginning.
[Private // Off Network]
Most of the time, I appreciate the City. Right now, given the choice between staying in the City and not existing, I would consider the latter.
The Dalek invasion had one of the highest mortality rates of any recent curses. Guns were virtually useless against them. I spent most of the day encouraging people to stay inside; there wasn't much else to do. I missed a fine opportunity to be a dead hero.
The curse before that--I'm not sure what to make of it. My conversation with Dean was interesting. It didn't help me; I hope it helped him. I don't fully understand his reasoning regarding who does and doesn't deserve to be damned (all the more reason to remain an atheist). I don't know what he based his assertion that I'm "a good kid" on. Behavior in the City? "You'll be okay." Not likely.
Sometimes I think that I've forgiven myself. It's been over three years; I've died more than once, I've done the best that I can. There's a difference between reaching a point where I feel that I've suffered enough for my crime and forgiving myself--there's a startling revelation. Do I still feel guilty? Yes. Do I believe in redemption? Occasionally. I did before I left, when Shilo was here. Being dead for a year changed things, even if I don't know how or why. Since talking to Dean, all I can think about is what Cassie said when I wanted to change and start over.
It doesn't work that way. You get one life. Whatever you do with it, whatever's done to you--you've got to face that. You can't pretend it didn't happen.
Word for word, more or less. I've repeated it to myself often enough.
Sometimes I wish I would have let her die. I could have let Richard shoot her. I could have let her fall. And then what? Would it have changed anything? Would I be different right now if she hadn't lived long enough to say those words?
I stopped caring about staying alive when she said them.
I told Dean that anyone would kill to survive--Freud's life instinct. The will to live. It's natural. Why, then, didn't I kill to survive? It wouldn't have even been murder. Even after, why didn't I fight in court? in jail? I said it before: I'm unnatural. Everything that should be instinctual--staying alive, seeking sex--isn't. I was like this even before I left the City, but I didn't think about it as much. It didn't matter with Shilo. Living with Neil and Todd is fine, but it's a constant reminder that I'm wrong in more than one way. Maybe Freud was on to something when he linked sex and the desire to live.
Dean implied that he wouldn't fight against becoming a monster without his brother. Am I fighting? I half expect to wake up underground with fangs and claws and the other monsters.
But the origin of the monsters--that version--is only a theory. I have to remember that.
I wish I could talk to someone. Euphie, maybe. Every time I go to say something, I can't come up with the words. It's easier to write privately, even if I'm tempted to rip the pages out of my journal, hand them to someone, and ask them to read. They don't need to understand. I don't understand; I can't expect anyone else to.
I'll survive. I always do. I'll close my journal, push my thoughts away, and keep going. I'll keep avoiding talking about myself too much in any conversations I might have.
"But I am still alive! - Suppose damnation is eternal! A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn't he? I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am. This is the catechism at work. I am the slave of my baptism. You, my parents, have ruined my life, and your own. Poor child! - Hell is powerless against pagans. - I am still alive! Later on, the delights of damnation will become more profound. A crime, quick, and let me fall to nothingness, condemned by human law.
Shut up, will you shut up!... Everything here is shame and reproach: Satan saying that the fire is worthless, that my anger is ridiculous and silly. - Ah, stop! ...those mistakes someone whispered, magic spells, deceptive odors, childish music. - And to think that I possess the truth, that I can have a vision of justice: my judgement is sound and firm, I am prime for perfection... Pride."
(Rimbaud, "Night in Hell," A Season in Hell)
[/end private]
[COMMENTS]
Cain Hargreaves: Kidnapped and held captive for a few days, then released. Captor had no apparent goal or motivation.
Additional Notes
The culprit, (vocally) identified by Hargreaves, is named Gabriel. I spoke to him briefly via the network and learned that he is a corpse animated by what he called “necromantic energy.” He wasn't exactly forthcoming with relevant information.
When I spoke to Gabriel, I apologized at one point for being overly inquisitive. This was his response: “I don't really give a damn why you're asking questions. You're amusing me for now, that's all that matters.” It's possible that he abducted Hargreaves for no other reason than to entertain himself. It's also possible that the necromantic energy that he lives on requires a living human; I don't know anything about magic or who to consult, but it might be worth looking into.
[/end filter]
[Filtered to Dean // Unhackable]
If you want to talk, I'm willing to listen. I'm also willing to forget that anything was said if you'd prefer that.
[/end filter]
For those who haven’t heard, Todd Anderson has written a play called “Like Clockwork” that will likely be performed in May. If you are interested in helping with the play’s production, contact Neil Perry. Please consider attending.
Additionally, in light of recent allegations, I would like to issue this reminder: the police officers in the City are as susceptible to curses as anyone else. Like everyone else, they cannot be held responsible for actions they take while under the influence of a curse.
I wonder if the rest of spring will be as eventful as its beginning.
[Private // Off Network]
Most of the time, I appreciate the City. Right now, given the choice between staying in the City and not existing, I would consider the latter.
The Dalek invasion had one of the highest mortality rates of any recent curses. Guns were virtually useless against them. I spent most of the day encouraging people to stay inside; there wasn't much else to do. I missed a fine opportunity to be a dead hero.
The curse before that--I'm not sure what to make of it. My conversation with Dean was interesting. It didn't help me; I hope it helped him. I don't fully understand his reasoning regarding who does and doesn't deserve to be damned (all the more reason to remain an atheist). I don't know what he based his assertion that I'm "a good kid" on. Behavior in the City? "You'll be okay." Not likely.
Sometimes I think that I've forgiven myself. It's been over three years; I've died more than once, I've done the best that I can. There's a difference between reaching a point where I feel that I've suffered enough for my crime and forgiving myself--there's a startling revelation. Do I still feel guilty? Yes. Do I believe in redemption? Occasionally. I did before I left, when Shilo was here. Being dead for a year changed things, even if I don't know how or why. Since talking to Dean, all I can think about is what Cassie said when I wanted to change and start over.
It doesn't work that way. You get one life. Whatever you do with it, whatever's done to you--you've got to face that. You can't pretend it didn't happen.
Word for word, more or less. I've repeated it to myself often enough.
Sometimes I wish I would have let her die. I could have let Richard shoot her. I could have let her fall. And then what? Would it have changed anything? Would I be different right now if she hadn't lived long enough to say those words?
I stopped caring about staying alive when she said them.
I told Dean that anyone would kill to survive--Freud's life instinct. The will to live. It's natural. Why, then, didn't I kill to survive? It wouldn't have even been murder. Even after, why didn't I fight in court? in jail? I said it before: I'm unnatural. Everything that should be instinctual--staying alive, seeking sex--isn't. I was like this even before I left the City, but I didn't think about it as much. It didn't matter with Shilo. Living with Neil and Todd is fine, but it's a constant reminder that I'm wrong in more than one way. Maybe Freud was on to something when he linked sex and the desire to live.
Dean implied that he wouldn't fight against becoming a monster without his brother. Am I fighting? I half expect to wake up underground with fangs and claws and the other monsters.
But the origin of the monsters--that version--is only a theory. I have to remember that.
I wish I could talk to someone. Euphie, maybe. Every time I go to say something, I can't come up with the words. It's easier to write privately, even if I'm tempted to rip the pages out of my journal, hand them to someone, and ask them to read. They don't need to understand. I don't understand; I can't expect anyone else to.
I'll survive. I always do. I'll close my journal, push my thoughts away, and keep going. I'll keep avoiding talking about myself too much in any conversations I might have.
"But I am still alive! - Suppose damnation is eternal! A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn't he? I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am. This is the catechism at work. I am the slave of my baptism. You, my parents, have ruined my life, and your own. Poor child! - Hell is powerless against pagans. - I am still alive! Later on, the delights of damnation will become more profound. A crime, quick, and let me fall to nothingness, condemned by human law.
Shut up, will you shut up!... Everything here is shame and reproach: Satan saying that the fire is worthless, that my anger is ridiculous and silly. - Ah, stop! ...those mistakes someone whispered, magic spells, deceptive odors, childish music. - And to think that I possess the truth, that I can have a vision of justice: my judgement is sound and firm, I am prime for perfection... Pride."
(Rimbaud, "Night in Hell," A Season in Hell)
[/end private]
[COMMENTS]