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The Weird Things I Do
Jun. 16th, 2006 08:02 amMaria and I remember the story a little different, and while mine is a little more action packed, hers is a little more true. That doesn't mean my version of things is a lie, I report them exactly as I remember them, it just means I may have been slightly asleep at the time.
My version:
Bombs were exploding everywhere, the cyborg army was coming for me. I was alone, rushing through the rubble that was once New York City and was now a war zone. I knew they were searching for me, and I knew that if I was caught then my band of resistance fighters were doomed. I couldn't be captured, damn it, it was too important. I couldn't let the bullet wound in my leg slow me down!
There! Ahead! I could see the meeting zone, and someone was waiting for me! Just 100 meters to go, and I could rest!
That, of course, was the signal for the sound of the rolling wheels of the robots to start up behind me, close. A shot rings out, and blood blossoms in the air in front of me. Whose blood? I look down at the stinging hot/cold area in my chest to see that, strangely enough it's my blood. I'm going to die, it seems surreal. The robots stop, having assessed me as dead through their superior technology. There's hope, they just think I'm a random human, not a Package Carrier.
I find the woman who is waiting for me, and as I die I say to her "Take tihs. It must get to Her. You must find a way to get it to Her!" See seems reluctant, so before I die I shove it into her hands, and collapse.
My eyes are bloodied, and I look up at her in a haze, knowing that if she doesn't do this, my life means nothing. As it gets dark my gaze meets her eyes one last time. I mouth the words, not sure if they make a sound, "Go. Just, go." And I die.
Maria's version:
It's the middle of the night, probably early morning. Maria is slightly awake, having probably been startled by my abrupt sitting up. I'm holding a large pillow, and I turn to her. "Miah, is everything okay?" She asks, concerned.
"Take this," I say, offering forth my pillow, "It must get to Her." When she doesn't take it I get angry. "Take it! You have to give it to her!" Again she refuses to take it, looking at me confused, and I shove it violently into her hands.
Then I lay back down, and fall peacefully back to sleep and Maria deposits the "package," my pillow, on top of my head before going back to sleep herself.
Little did she know she was dooming the human race by not delivering that package.
My version:
Bombs were exploding everywhere, the cyborg army was coming for me. I was alone, rushing through the rubble that was once New York City and was now a war zone. I knew they were searching for me, and I knew that if I was caught then my band of resistance fighters were doomed. I couldn't be captured, damn it, it was too important. I couldn't let the bullet wound in my leg slow me down!
There! Ahead! I could see the meeting zone, and someone was waiting for me! Just 100 meters to go, and I could rest!
That, of course, was the signal for the sound of the rolling wheels of the robots to start up behind me, close. A shot rings out, and blood blossoms in the air in front of me. Whose blood? I look down at the stinging hot/cold area in my chest to see that, strangely enough it's my blood. I'm going to die, it seems surreal. The robots stop, having assessed me as dead through their superior technology. There's hope, they just think I'm a random human, not a Package Carrier.
I find the woman who is waiting for me, and as I die I say to her "Take tihs. It must get to Her. You must find a way to get it to Her!" See seems reluctant, so before I die I shove it into her hands, and collapse.
My eyes are bloodied, and I look up at her in a haze, knowing that if she doesn't do this, my life means nothing. As it gets dark my gaze meets her eyes one last time. I mouth the words, not sure if they make a sound, "Go. Just, go." And I die.
Maria's version:
It's the middle of the night, probably early morning. Maria is slightly awake, having probably been startled by my abrupt sitting up. I'm holding a large pillow, and I turn to her. "Miah, is everything okay?" She asks, concerned.
"Take this," I say, offering forth my pillow, "It must get to Her." When she doesn't take it I get angry. "Take it! You have to give it to her!" Again she refuses to take it, looking at me confused, and I shove it violently into her hands.
Then I lay back down, and fall peacefully back to sleep and Maria deposits the "package," my pillow, on top of my head before going back to sleep herself.
Little did she know she was dooming the human race by not delivering that package.
