[CW: Gore]
You truly had a passion for technology. How pieces, parts and mechanisms could come together to form something truly, tangibly greater than the sum of its parts. Even the simplest of physical principles could be exploited to create the grandest of designs. As you tinker with your newest machine you start to hear a faint dripping. That’s problematic, could be a leak in the coolant tank. But… Why is it red? Shit, it's really leaking. A red puddle creeps towards your boots as the dripping turns more and more rapid. You really need to find that leak. But as you search through the metallic components of the machine you only find more warm red liquid, coating your hands. The flow doesn’t stop. You keep trying harder and it keeps flowing faster. You look around, only to find the entire floor colored red. How did it fill so quickly? You can feel some even sloshing over the edge of your boots now. You keep searching. Bolts are tightened. Caps are checked. But everything you do seems to only make it flow faster. It’s coming up your legs now. You can feel its progress. As the liquid submerges your machine, you begin to navigate just by touch. It’s at your waist now. You can’t find the leak. Your tools float up with the sea of red. More appear. Dozens float up. You never had that many tools. You find your eyes drawn away from the unstoppable flow. Fingers. Flesh. Faces. The blood is running up your chest now. You have to get out, this is insane, what is happening. You swim away, but there are no doors or windows here. It reaches your neck. You can start to feel like you’re drowning as each breath turns shallower. Your head touches the ceiling. You’re going to die. You’re going to drown. You killed them. You deserve this. Blood seeps into your lungs as you take a desperate breath. You can’t get it out. You can’t breathe. You–
—
It’s been months since you were deployed. You knew you would be risking life and limb, but you never thought you’d be this… tired. You can’t sleep. They appear suddenly and attack, any hour of the day or night. If you sleep, you die. If you sleep, everyone sleeping in this camp dies. Just a few more hours till your shift is over. Can’t sleep. And then you open your eyes. Shit, you dozed off. You feel soaked. Did it rain? No, this doesn’t smell like rain. It smells… Actually it feels hot. In your periphery you notice light. Fire. Fire dashing towards you. No. No no no no. You know what this is. You don’t want to die like this. And then fire embraces you. No agony you felt before could describe this. You can feel it eating through your skin. It hurts so much. You roll on the ground, you try to smother it, but it just spreads further. You throw off your clothes, but it still doesn’t stop. The fire clings to your skin, like a rabid wolf to its prey. You can’t even hear it, but you’re screaming. The pain is just so blinding. You scratch at your skin trying to get the fire out. You scratch harder and harder. Anything to just make the pain stop. But only chunks of cooking flesh get stuck under your nails. The fire nears your head. Your vision melts as you go blind with flaming white pain. Why did you create this? It burns. It hurts. It won’t–
—
You sit at your desk, waiting for something. Your father comes in. You haven’t seen him in a while. He seems… dismayed. Disappointed? Something must have happened. You can tell that he’s shouting something. Did you screw up? It’s all so sudden. He says he’s going to release everything to the press? Release what? You raise up your arm, a gun in your hand. Why do you have a gun? Wait, what are you doing!? No, you don’t want to kill him! Not again. No, stop. STOP–
Sweat permeates your nightwear, making it cling desperately to your body as you jump awake. It was a dream. Everything’s fine. Just a dream. Every night, a dream… It’s already been months since you changed the world, since you found out that everything was being orchestrated by that child-god. Even knowing that this is all a story you can’t get over it. The people that you killed through your inventions were real. They feel real. It feels like they existed. You should feel guilty. You do feel guilty. Even if they tell you it wasn’t your fault, that it was all made up. They haunt you in your dreams. And you can’t bring them back. You wish you could. You wish you could bring dad back. You just want to see him again. But he’s gone. You know that. You know that you all tried to bring him back. It didn’t work… You’re tired. And this isn’t helping. There’s still a utopia to help run tomorrow. You try to go back to sleep, hoping that maybe this time there won’t be any dream at all. But you know there will be.