Erysichthon II

[Fygment]

I am Fygment.

It's been overlong since I sullied Paradise with my RSI footsteps. I gathered enough bytes of my old code to complete the reconstruction process. I was slow and hesitant, for safety and to a larger extent fear. I've found that my memories, gathered along with the fragments of my code, are splintered. As an exercise of preservation, I believe it behooves me to scribe what I can recall. Hopefully this shall become a resource.

I remember little of my time dressed in Blue, save for persistent images of a cell phone shattering at my feet, as if it were dropped from a great height.

I remember Zion, and my disgust for its uncleanliness and tribalism. I recall I was one of the last soiled with Red and spat out in the face of the cephalopodian Machines in a war I cared nothing about. I remember holding a crewmate by his webbing as he fired missiles at a cloud of those many armed, metallic soldiers. I recall being so mesmerized by the cloud of them, moving in unison like a beautiful school of fish, that I barely registered letting go of my crewmate. I didn't even watch as he fell to his death, though I heard it. His screams must have alerted the flock, as I have vivid recollections of a pair of them breaking off from the group to find and overpower me. I remember well the feel of their blades slicing me open, chassis crushing bone. Only for a handful of moments. For some reason, they stopped, and I lost consciousness as they carried my ruined meat down to Zion. My final thoughts were of how indescribably shit The Real was.

After the Truce, those of us whom wanted to jack back in to Paradise were allowed. Of course I leapt at the chance. Figuratively, as even with the help of the Machines my body was quadriplegic and in need of constant care. My meat was held in place by gauze and steel bars and plates. Due to this, only a few people would have me with them.

Thankfully, we were of like mind to spend most of our time in Paradise. My reasons for doing so I hope are clear. Eventually, I suppose, hedonism crept in and we decided to break away from Zion and throw our lot in with the Merovingian. If anyone knew how important it was to feel, to enjoy and to relish, it was he.