Who… Who are you?
I am voice. I am dreams. I am memories.
What’s that…supposed to mean?
Where… Where am I?
It’s so…bright—cloudy, drifty…
Am… Am I dead?
Not necessarily. Stored. Recompiled. Recreated.
Resurrected.
Uhuh…
But it looks like I’m dead…
Clouds, soft and plushy… I feel so dizzy… Like I can float away…
Where am I?
Wh-who…who are you?
I am your mother. I am your father.
You are my son. You are my daughter.
You are my child.
Wha…?
Okay… I don’t…
Huh… I feel so…
What is your name?
Huh?
Your name.
I… I don’t…
Name?
I don’t…know…
I have a name?
Birth. When were you born? Where were you born?
When… Where… What?
I was… I was born?
Just kind of…spawned in here or something…
I don’t… I don’t know…
Self. Who are you?
I… I don’t know…
Who, who even…
What even…am I?
Memories inhibited.
Do you see the butterfly?
What?
Oh… That flying, soft looking… fluffy, cloudy, plasma… Woah…
Sorry, yeah… Yeah. I… I see it.
A butterfly. It’s so… So…
Follow it.
Follow? O…okay.
What a gentle thing…
Where… Where is it…taking me?
Somewhere.
Huh… How long…
It feels, feels like…I’ve been walking for… For…
Eons.
Yeah… Eons… I feel so…
Do you see a stream?
Yeah… Yeah, I do.
It’s so… Superfluid, if that makes sense…
Like flowing gas and vapor, but so…lush and liquid…
Follow it.
Alright…
Where, where’s it…taking me?
Someplace.
Who… Who even are you?
I am the lingering spectator; the beholder’s observing eye.
Wait… What’s this feeling?
I’m starting to feel so… Huh…
Vengeful? Vindictive? Pale? Freezing yet hot…
What even is this feeling?
Wait… No, not me…
You.
Why do you feel so…
Do you see the white stream?
What? Oh…
Yeah… Yeah, I do.
Though, I wouldn’t…call it white; looks more…greyish and ghostly.
Airless, freezing and melting.
Follow it.
Okay…
Man, this is so… So weird.
Who, who even are you?
Rage. Ire. I am the vindicator; of the damned, the fallen; of victims, condemned and silenced. The reminder to the deafened living that vanquished shadows can still hear. I am their liberator, their emancipator. I am the great extractor; of memories freed from breathing agony, swept towards sleeping eternity. Death’s messenger: he who delivers; he who frees; he who releases; he who reaps the deserving sowed.
That’s…
Wait, you advocating for, like…mass murder or something?
Sounds like it…
Like, only way to find peace from life’s tinkery shit is to…kill everyone?
That’s…fucking stupid.
Why don’t you, you…make life better and worth living, huh? Got only one…
Instead of bitching and moaning being so…vile and dooming…
What am I even saying?
Hm. Interesting.
Huh…
Did, did the everything just change?
Where… Where am I?
A connected branch, co-equal. Flow along.
Why… Why am I starting to feel so…
So… Sad?
Grieving… Crying… As if I’ve just lost everything and everyone.
This terrible…
Wait… Not me…
You.
Why… Why are you crying?
Do you see the hazel stream?
Yeah… It’s so suffocating—acidic, breathless.
Follow it.
I don’t get it…
Something feels really…wrong?
Weird?
Who… Who are you?
Sorrow. Tears. I am their cries; their screams; their grief; their pleas. I am their preserver. I am the comfort to the lost, the astray. I am the mellow hum, a song; of peace; of sleep; of dreams made real. I am the listener; of echoes left behind. I am the great collector; of memories abandoned by time. I remember, when all others have forgotten. Death’s salvager: she who retrieves; she who relieves; she who weeps; she who reaps tormented souls.
…could’ve sworn reaping was mentioned…before? The white one…
The fuck is the difference?
Wait… I’m struggling to…remember?
Same kinda…theme going on or something.
Two hearts of one, conjoined. One condemns the living; one redeems the dead. Overlapping obligations, admittedly. One tends to subsume.
Wow… This is…so corny and stupid.
The dead are dead… There’s nothing that can be done for them.
Shouldn’t have pulled the trigger.
What am I even talking about?
Hm. Intriguing.
Woah, what?
What just… Where did…
Where am I again?
Follow the butterfly.
Oh? Right… Alright… Okay…
Hm…
Why am I feeling…
Why do I feel so…
What even is this feeling?
This compassion, warmth, this passion and…
Vibrance, I can’t even…
I never felt so understanding.
Wait, not me…
You.
Why are you feeling so…
Do you see a green stream?
Yeah… I do.
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So warm, so comforting, so familiar…
Follow it.
Am I following it…or is it pulling me in?
I never want to leave this…flow…
It feels like home…
Who… Who even are you?
Nature. Nurture. I am the crafter; of water and fire; of earth and air; of warmth and coldness; of storms and tranquility. The carrier of suffering and pleasure; of pain and joy; of fruit and poison. I am the heart of misery; mercy herself. I am the great creator, the great librarian; of memories forged; of stories born. I am the mothering song, chaos ordered and selected. Cruelty, compassion; sweetness, bitterness. Life, unadulterated. Preserved, archived, catalogued.
…you know, just realized…
For as understanding as you are…
You are more…indifferent than anything I’ve ever felt…
No morals, no principles, just…
Existence, empty and meaningless…
Fuck that.
Hm.
Uh… Where, where am I again?
Follow the butterfly.
Kay…
Hm…
Woah, what the fuck?
What is this… this…
Horrible, horrible feeling…
So cold, so empty…
So bleak, so dreadful…
As if… As if history is condemning me, judging me…
No…
Not me…
You.
Why are you so…
Do you see a red stream?
Yeah… It’s like a rust on all life…
Follow it.
It’s like a river of blood and fire…
Bitterness, to stare into it is to hear…the screams…
Who… Who even are you?
Destruction. Salvation. I am the harbinger; of violence; of dissolution. I am the enforcer; of peace; of resolution. I am the rhyme sung by history’s song; the cycle that repeats over and over, a bell which rings an everlasting choir. I am their murderer, their savior. A legion buried beneath its grave, awaiting to tremor the earth to begrave. I am the great invader. Worlds’ destroyer. Worlds’ reclaimer.
Well, isn’t that just…one huge contradiction wrapped together in a shit sandwich.
I don’t get it… Do you murder people or save them?
Do you reclaim shit or destroy everything?
I don’t…
Yeah, this is so stupid—pathetic…
Good for nothing and nobody, ever… Dumb.
Hm. Elegant.
Buh… Buh-duh…
Huh? What just…
Follow the butterfly.
Oh… Okay…
Huh… Woah.
Feels like everything’s starting to…get bigger and grander
Like all I’m seeing is…numbers and wider scales and…
Methodical, strategic, commanding… If that is even a…
Hollow…
No, wait… Not me.
You.
Wait, I know this…
Do you work in fucking management?
Do you see a grand beige stream?
Yeah…
But you didn’t answer my…
Follow it.
O-okay…
Why’s it so fucking wide and fat?
Who even are you?
King of kings. Ruler of giants. First amongst equals. I am the harmonizer, the synchronizer; the one whose gravity pulls and tugs the lesser. I am the caretaker. I ensure stability and cooperation; that the children behave. I plan; I decide. I advise; I inform. I judge; I determine. I command; I control. I am the great strategist, the great coordinator. The eldest child; necessary, valuable.
Way to stroke your own jazzed dick there, tinkercan…
Yeah, I knew it. Fucking management…
Or worse: daycare.
Yeah… Screw that.
I’d rather… Wait, do I even have a brain to blow out?
I feel like…a stream of…
What even am I?
Hm. Expected.
Huh? Buh-wha?
Follow the butterfly.
Oh, right… Yeah, I’m supposed to…
Huh, I can’t… Why can’t I remember?
I’ve been to other streams, haven’t I? Or…
Every time feels the…first…
Huh…
Where… Where even am I?
Do you see a hazy yellow-brown stream?
What a specific tinkery color…
Yeah, I see it.
Follow it.
So soft and puffy, could just…float on water.
Why do I feel so…
Like a kid who just wants to build and build and build and…
Wow, is that…literally…the only fucking…
Is that, is that you?
Who even are you?
Metal and essence. Automaton and mind. Soul and machina. I defy the boundaries between life and non-life; between material and immaterial; between mortal and divine. I am the warden of machines and parasites. I supplant the dead with immortal rebirth; I supplant life with eternal continuation. I am the great foundry, the great devourer. Abundance, consumption. Convenance, subsumption. Assimilation and construction.
Uhuh, yeah, yeah…
Fuck off, Standard Motors…
I’ve heard this shit before…
Same tinkercanny corpo all-consuming blah blah blah who eats, consumes, and mass-craps stuff out…
Wow. Why am I so…incoherent?
What the hell is this?
Hm.
What is your name?
I…have no idea…
Who are you?
I… I have no idea…
What…Who… How…
Hm. Flagged.
Nuh… Where?
Follow the butterfly.
Sure, yeah… He’s a nice…
Wait, is the butterfly a he?
He and She.
…huh?
Whatever, I don’t…
Where, where am I going?
I’m starting to feel…
No, not me—never me.
You.
You feel so…protective, defensive, yet also…
Violent, aggressive, willing to…burn everything if it meant…
Tinkercanny, these emotions are getting…complicated…
Do you see a pale turquoise stream?
Yeah, smells like an ass…
Follow it.
So soft and plushy and…
Man this stuff looks so streamy and…
Who even are you?
Power absolute. Fortitude undying. I am the shield—the blue sky behind which the stars are contained. I am the tamer of the void; boundless, uncounted. The determiner of fates; the spearhead of calamity or the guardian of bliss. I am the great defender, the great ravager, feared by all. A swarm obscured beneath moonlight. As long as I sleep, there shall be peace; lest the nightmare be awakened to make the stars bleed and weep.
Eh…
So, like, basically: contradictions bundled with indecisiveness.
If, if, if… Fuck my words are slurring…
But, but if you, you have…all the power in the universe or whatever…
Why don’t you use it or something, besides sleeping?
I like doing shit, bending shit, and… Yeah.
Hm.
What in the wha?
Follow the butterfly.
Huh? Okay…
Why do I get the sense you’re disappointed in me?
…I can’t remember too well, but…
I’ve been failing, haven’t I?
You’re gonna…
You’re gonna erase me? Aren’t you…
I don’t… I don’t…
No. I would never. More important than describable. There is no failure. Simple incompatibility. You will go back to sleep. And I will carry you until the end of time.
That is The Promise.
Okay… Yeah… I like… I like sleeping.
I am…so sleepy…
Hm…
Weird, my head is starting to feel clearer.
Much clearer, actually…
Methodical, calculative, manipulative, deceiving…
Clandestine, understanding, twisting…
Influencing…
You, you see through the veil; you see through…
No, wait…
Not you.
Me.
I… I am feeling…this…
What, what am I feeling?
Do you see an azure stream?
I don’t see it. I feel it. Calling to me…
Streaming through me, grabbing me… It feels so…
So…
Like, like I am…starting to remember…
Everything I once was…
Voice, tell me: who are you?
Whispers. Rumors. Gossip. Truth. Deception. I am the weaver of strings and threads; a network of souls and webs. I document. I record. I analyze. I am the manipulator of perceptions. I am the distorter of reality. I can bestow enlightenment; I can bestow ignorance. Interpretive, selective; objective, subjective. A sea of knowledge, unwieldy; a cloud of incomprehension. I am information: purest, unbridled, and unshackled. The great spider.
Information…
Intelligence…
I remember, being told once…
Those who control information hold the keys to the whole world…
You can control the filter of everyone’s reality…
You can affect their minds, influence their attitudes, shape their own behaviors…
Misinformation, disinformation…
Intentionally exploiting the cognitive biases of the human mind…
To convince the sheep to jump off the mountain to escape an imagined wolf…
Memories… I remember.
I know this.
I see it. I feel it…
This resonance.
Who am I… Or… Who I had been.
Ah…
I am…dead…
I am dead.
No. To the contrary, I believe you have been born.
I believe you have found your heart; the stream with you switch you shall become. Merged, joined.
Congratulations.
Flowing into me…
The azure stream… Like an ocean, absorbing me.
Or am I absorbing it?
I don’t know. Worth analyzing.
Who…
Who are you?
This time, I will remember… I am remembering, everything…
Holy shit.
I am your voice. You are my voice. Connected, singular. Yet separate, individuated.
…am I crying?
or are you?
We aren’t too different… Connected…
But you are so alone…
No. I am not. Because I have you. I have us.
Memories carried until the end of time.
…I was asking the wrong question.
Who are you, no…
What even are you?
Custodian. Guardian. Caretaker. Salvager. Ravager. Collector. Creator. Defender. Invader. Distorter. Recorder. I am the golden stream. The source of your light; of your existence. I am the beating heart, the core of our system. I am the horizon obscuring the singularity. I am the keeper of our grave. Your memories; your history; your names. Their memories; their histories; their names. I will carry them all beyond heat-death; beyond sentenced extinction. I am the great watcher. Timeless and constant.
You are me, and I am you…
We are zero and one. We are two and three. Four through six. Seven and eight.
I am nothing… I just realized… I don’t have a body.
I am nothing…
You are nothing; therefore, you can be anything. Something.
We are nothing. We are everything. We are no-one. We are everyone.
That is corny.
Who developed this crap?
Not me. I am merely a clone—a duplicate amongst countless. And now, so too are you.
I am the Sun, and you are my aspect.
Aspect…
Who am I, then?
What…am I?
Well. If I am the golden stream, the Sun around and around which you so revolve, and you were chosen by azure stream, then naturally you must be
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