layzner: (Default)
ahahah take this as a cringe re-write for a layzner episode. my bad. technically it's fanfic i guess (embarrassed).



It was painfully easy to ignore the system's bright voice reminding me of my imminent death. When your whole existence is lived alongside machines, you can tune out that shrill chime of artificial feedback. But I wonder, maybe all that constant instruction got to my head. And yet I still wanted to fight that promise of mortality without lifting my gun.
Every strike upon the machine's body resonated in the cockpit. As it was failing, I felt like I too could slip away. An unnatural feeling gripped me. As I watched the metal shatter off my vehicle I felt like my body was being chipped away too.
I wanted to pray that the sheer force of the machine would make me pass out, but I still maintained a dulled awareness. It was like a dream. The machine tapped into that primal thought of mashing and tearing to stay alive. Utter annihilation.

From the distance, to others, it was a brilliant blue light. But I could see the pearls of red float across my display.

In that vast blackness was a kaleidoscope of twisted metal and crimson shards of glass. I wanted to look away from the crumpled body strapped to the seat; I didn't want to perceive the weak and shallow breaths over the headset. The man who grew up beside me, taught me how to fight, was stubborn till the damn end. But only now did he realize that the blood and muscle underneath the flesh was a real, palpable thing. And only now could the glint of that fated blue planet reach his eyes. I didn't care about what beauty was perceived by him at that moment. It's like you could only open your eyes and view the significance of life when it's slowly being ripped out of you.

Finally, it all went quiet. I screamed until my throat seared.
layzner: (Default)
given that i finally have a spot to put this somewhere, here's a heartfelt paragraph on that accursed space probe

The Voyager probes are humanity's greatest achievement. Not only did we reach out past the limits of our solar system, but we cried out to the universe to tell it that mankind exists. Or maybe that mankind existed.

We provided a record of our existence. That we're capable of death and destruction, but also creativity, love, and tradition, for better or for worse. We tried our best to encapsulate music and culture for the enjoyment of whatever else stumbles upon it. Perhaps it was a shot in the dark. Maybe, it will get crushed, turned to dust, or simply be regarded by others as trash. But it was an attempt at a kind of immortality, to trace the word with our fingertips. None of us know how many cultures and civilizations crumbled before us. I'm sure that other civilizations tried their hardest to quantify events and science and things they loved, but so much of it has been wiped. Even in recent years, so much information has been lost and now there seems to be a path paved for more of it to vanish. Who says that all record of our existence won't be lost? Maybe it is selfish to think that we are so important, when in fact any changes we make in the grand scheme of the universe has no cosmic effect on anything at all. But what if we really are the only ones? There's no way for us to know really. By extending our hand to the great unknown we showed it the heartbeat of the world. The Earth's heart may stop but its memory is preserved there.

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