Without the context given by the zine, I suspect this story will be slightly more difficult to interpret. That's fine. I don't intend to enforce one particular interpretation of it. However, I do encourage interpretation beyond the story's face value.
The expedition’s seventh observer was named Sound of Progress, in his creators’ language. He was smaller than either his predecessors, though his eyes were larger, a prized ratio of about a third of his head. Instead of grace he moved with conviction, every action punctuated in sharp movements, the angles of his construction jutting out with every twist of his body. When he was first extracted from his handler’s rib, his creators approached him only at a wide berth, for fear his next step was actually a kick, his next grab an attempt to cut with thin and long fingers. The proportion of torn and broken oddities in Sound of Progress’s possession during his brief existence served as proof that they were right to give him space. He, like all observers, was slender and pale and light of gait. His creators discarded those that weren’t.
As a creature extracted from their bodies, he resembled his creators. Yet this resemblance was more than anything symbolic, as white spots splattered upon black are accepted to be stars. Observers had larger eyes so as to better see, quicker hands so as to better work, smaller frames so as to better be subjected to force, the discrepancies in form between observer and creator allowing the former to serve as a proxy. Sound of Progress was something of a sport, lacking any kind of familial similarity to his handler. His handler’s eyes were small and squinty, obscured by skin spotted by age, with a gait encumbered and shuffling and devoid of all conviction. Their single likeness was in their voice, both burdened with enunciation coarse from lack of practice.
When Sound of Progress had learned of his expedition, he was unsurprised, though he had not heard of such a thing prior. As an observer he was to observe, and thus he felt it was only natural upon hearing of his mission. In a distant ravine off his home planet there was a laboratory, one situated in conditions too harsh for his creators’ fragile bodies, his handlers creatures unable to withstand the atmospheric contents and pressure. There he would spend the subsequent while observing and recording the simulations set up there, visions of a kind he was told could not be replicated elsewhere.
As a creature extracted from their bodies, he resembled his creators. Yet this resemblance was more than anything symbolic, as white spots splattered upon black are accepted to be stars. Observers had larger eyes so as to better see, quicker hands so as to better work, smaller frames so as to better be subjected to force, the discrepancies in form between observer and creator allowing the former to serve as a proxy. Sound of Progress was something of a sport, lacking any kind of familial similarity to his handler. His handler’s eyes were small and squinty, obscured by skin spotted by age, with a gait encumbered and shuffling and devoid of all conviction. Their single likeness was in their voice, both burdened with enunciation coarse from lack of practice.
When Sound of Progress had learned of his expedition, he was unsurprised, though he had not heard of such a thing prior. As an observer he was to observe, and thus he felt it was only natural upon hearing of his mission. In a distant ravine off his home planet there was a laboratory, one situated in conditions too harsh for his creators’ fragile bodies, his handlers creatures unable to withstand the atmospheric contents and pressure. There he would spend the subsequent while observing and recording the simulations set up there, visions of a kind he was told could not be replicated elsewhere.
Most of his waking existence from that point of notice was then spent training, until the time when he met with the other eight observers. Upon first meeting them Sound of Progress had no urge to speak, and thus secluded himself within a closed room for most of the ride, exiting only on the occasions in which the enforcers on the ship compelled him to. They arrived at the laboratory in such good time Sound of Progress had no comments on the journey. He and the other eight observers were roughly shown out as the ship made touchdown, the heavily armored, gas-masked enforcers grabbing their light little bodies and practically shoving them out with ease.
The laboratory was a building constructed in two rings. In the outside ring were several rooms to serve as personal quarters, thirteen in total. Observers were able to enter rooms that were assigned a number equal to or less than their own, leaving four rooms to serve as common areas. Then, separated by a wide, circular hallway was the inner ring, the simulation chamber. First observer Garden of Glass had volunteered to show around two others, seeing it his duty as the eldest. Sound of Progress admired him, tall and moving with an almost dance-like grace, though his eyes were thinner than was generally desired of observers. They were accompanied by Third Aeon Adamantine, created within a short while of Sound of Progress, just in time to have gone on one expedition prior and in that time gain enthusiasm enough that his every movement seemed accompanied by a little popping sound effect. Sound of Progress found it obnoxious.
To Sound of Progress’s eyes, the laboratory was dauntingly bright. None of his creators had ever seen the building’s interior— to them, the laboratory’s atmosphere was noxious, the sort that would kill them slowly even if they were to no longer breath it— but it was they who designed it nonetheless, and he suspected none had realized how the harshness of the light would molest the wide-eyed observers. Still, he said nothing, noticing that no other observer had commented, not even Melancholy Made Diamond, who had spent the entire trip there attempting to chat up Sound of Progress. So Sound of Progress decided that perhaps he was just weird, that if this level of light was tolerable to his creators, he ought to learn to tolerate it himself.
It took some time for them to reach the inner ring, Garden of Glass insisting on thoroughness with his tour, even if Question Logical Truth had already circled through both rings and was now taking some time off to bully his juniors, which Garden of Glass showed open disapproval of. What Sound of Progress learned as Garden of Glass rattled off an array of facts about the building’s construction was mostly that he was not one for architecture. The only comment Sound of Progress had was that the rooms were vastly different from those kept by his creators, and he wondered if the other observers could truly be comfortable in them, though he kept that to himself.
When they finally did go through the large door into the simulation chamber, Third Aeon Adamantine had been overcome with anticipation, and the sound of his steps as they walked down the long, raised walkway to the terminal ring were erratic and bouncy such that Sound of Progress clawed at the exposed flesh of his thigh in his determination to remain silent rather than snap at him in annoyance before they reached their assigned terminals. Garden of Glass’s was straight on from the end of the walkway, while the rest were spread around the circumference of the raised, circular platform. Sound of Progress was stationed to the right of Garden of Glass, and Third Aeon Adamantine to the right of Sound of Progress.
They waited in the simulation chamber for the other observers to arrive, upon Garden of Glass’s request. Sound of Progress took the time to familiarize himself with the terminal— a near identical model had been used in training, but there were a few noticeable differences. This terminal was a bit taller than the one he had used previously, had one control moved to the other side of the terminal— a few more discrepancies, but all things he easily detected. Soon all the other observers had arrived and Garden of Glass called them into position, his voice so loud and so clear that Sound of Progress nearly forgot to process the words as he became absorbed in their sound. Still, he readied himself with little issue, and he followed suit after Garden of Glass began the activation sequence.
Simulation control is cooperative, Sound of Progress had been told, and an active process. Achievement of Heaven, stationed nearly at the end to Question Logical Truth’s right, had stepped out of time, declaring confusion with the terminal’s UI. Immediately Promotion in Quandary, stationed to Achievement of Heaven’s right and whose terminal activation signaled Achievement of Heaven’s, snapped at him, and Sound of Progress scoffed at Promotion in Quandary’s invection. Garden of Glass cut off Promotion in Quandary’s accusations— clumsy, stupid— yelling that they’d all start again and throwing a pointed glare when Question Logical Truth laughed. The second time around, all went right, and the observers moved in time, Sound of Progress feeling for a moment as though Garden of Glass’s hands guided his own by string, too enchanted to notice any missteps by his peers. Then it was over, and though many observers stayed behind to talk, Sound of Progress went to his room without so much of a goodbye.
Sound of Progress had never been told why, exactly, he was to watch these simulations. He hadn’t felt any particular need to ask. Melancholy Made Diamond had, though, had walked right up to Garden of Glass and asked, receiving only the rather predictable command to not stick his nose into things, to which Sound of Progress gave a quiet little smile as he watched from a few feet away. Then Secret Behind Window’s voice rang over the intercom, saying the simulations had become active, and all the other observers raced to the inner chamber.
In his haste to get through Third Aeon Adamantine pushed Sound of Progress aside as they crossed the walkway to their terminals, and Sound of Progress nearly fell off the edge before Garden of Glass caught him, one long-fingered hand covering his eyes, and pulled him up until he stood. Both knew it was dangerous to look at the simulations contained within the pits of either side of the walkway through any lens but that of their respective terminal. Garden of Glass asked if Sound of Progress was alright, why he was shaking. Their bodies pulled apart with no sound but that of rustling fabric and their heels against the hard floor before each returned to their own terminal.
Once, Sound of Progress had asked what the simulations would be like, and his trainers said nothing, so he did not ask again. Instead he was given sets of numbers, parameters he had been told to follow, scales by which to measure things. With all such numbers in mind he was to record all that he observed. It was an act of translation, the learning of a lingua franca into which he would interpret his observations. A hand brushed his arm as he stood petrified in front of his terminal. Garden of Glass smiled, told him in a gentle voice he had been nervous his first time too, but they couldn’t start without him, so, Sound of Progress, please be kind… Sound of Progress steadied himself, the reassurance having made it easier to ignore Question Logical Truth's jeering from across the room. He got into position, watching and waiting for Garden of Glass to start the procedure.
Synchronization was what made it safe to view simulations, Sound of Progress had been told. The observers once again moved in time and Sound of Progress observed with wide eyes, the right steps and sways coming naturally as his vision of the simulations began to focus, and what was once a sort of vague knowledge of a presence became a clear sight of something before him. It moved like they did, he realized, the simulation following the gestures of their arms and legs as though it were watching them.
Little time needed to pass before Sound of Progress’s initial observation became obsolete, however; though he felt the impression of something not quite within his perception following alongside their movements, what he witnessed was unlike anything he could begin to mimic. The simulations began to fold in on one another, on themselves, their shapes clashing together in a way the observers were not allowed. He watched them tremble, peaks falling onto one another, glowing and dimming, sighing as their forms wrapped around themselves and melted and disappeared. One separate from the rest writhed pathetically against some force, folding in on itself, collapsing and inflating, shivering, at times arching and then Sound of Progress felt the flash pain of a rail through his head and everything stopped as Promotion in Quandary cried out.
Darkness took over for the briefest period of time, but soon Sound of Progress’s vision returned and he looked around to see Promotion in Quandary on his knees head in his hands while Achievement of Heaven stood beside him, sobbing, and Intense Gale Told placed a gentle hand on Promotion in Quandary’s back. Garden of Glass called for the end to the observation period, marched to where Promotion in Quandary had fallen. Sound of Progress stayed behind, hand clutching the edge of his terminal. Third Aeon Adamantine leaned over, whispered that that was what happened if those further down the chain messed up, that Achievement of Heaven must have stepped out of time and Promotion in Quandary took the fall for it. A laugh encroached on his voice as he said Achievement of Heaven better watch out, that was the kind of slipup that got you decommissioned. Then he softened, pointed at Question Logical Truth, said he didn’t know the guy could stop smiling but would you look at that. Question Logical Truth’s eyes were trained on Achievement of Heaven, eyes narrowed.
Intense Gale Told carried Promotion in Quandary out, Garden of Glass running ahead of them to see about treating whatever had happened to Promotion in Quandary. Soon the others followed, though all hesitated through the power of some sort of collective unconscious. Achievement of Heaven and Question Logical Truth were the last to leave, the latter standing in front of the former as Sound of Progress left, Question Logical Truth’s back to the entryway, saying something to Achievement of Heaven that Sound of Progress could not make out.
The next time Secret Behind Window called over the intercom, Sound of Progress and Garden of Glass had approached the doorway to see Promotion in Quandary, no longer injured. He had even regained enough strength to resist Question Logical Truth as the elder attempted to pry him from the doorway to which he clung. Achievement of Heaven stood behind Question Logical Truth, mumbling something probably along the lines of an apology. A stomp rang through the hallway, the sound of Question Logical Truth’s heels against the hard floor enough of a shock to make Sound of Progress jump. Equally shocking was the verbal abuse towards Promotion in Quandary that follows, Question Logical Truth announcing that if Promotion in Quandary refused to work, there was no reason why the rest of them should coddle him. Question Logical Truth then took Achievement of Heaven’s hand, storming off with his younger following so closely they nearly tripped as their legs got in each other’s way.
It took a good while for Garden of Glass to coax Promotion in Quandary up, passing him off to Intense Gale Told before telling the other observers to go back to their quarters. Garden of Glass followed quickly after Question Logical Truth and Achievement of Heaven, pale hair fanning out behind him and Sound of Progress managed to raise a hand so that it just brushed against his fingertips. Just as Sound of Progress made to leave Third Aeon Adamantine emerged quietly from the inner chamber, groaning when he realized they wouldn’t do any work until the next time the simulations became active.
Later, after everyone had been resting in their quarters for a while and Sound of Progress began to wander around the laboratory with boredom, he would run into Secret Behind Window, who’d been spending most of his time in the inner chamber so there’d be someone to announce when it was time to work. He was one of the oldest, only Garden of Glass and Question Logical Truth exceeding him in age, though none of their lifespans came close to the length of any of their creators’. Still, his eyes had a more gentle quality than either of his elders’, and he seemed to smile more genuinely than Question Logical Truth, more frequently than Garden of Glass.
Secret Behind Window told Sound of Progress it’s strange, you know, how the simulations work, that there’s nothing anyone can do to change how they behave and instead people send their creations to watch them like the simulations have a life on their own. The simulation had some sort of power, Secret Behind Window thought, and through observers they would tell people something they couldn’t see on their own. Until then, it did strange things to observers. Promotion in Quandary and his injury was one example— he’d actually been on more expeditions than Garden of Glass, somehow. It seemed Question Logical Truth wanted to be like people after a while. Once, he had asked Secret Behind Window to touch him.
There was no incident for their next few times observing. Promotion in Quandary managed to enter the inner chamber, do his job with not much in the way of grumbling. Question Logical Truth chauffeured Achievement of Heaven inside, slapping him on the back, laughing with the same sort of lighthearted bullying he had prior. Sound of Progress could not decide whether he looked forward to the observation sessions or dreaded them. He enjoyed the feeling of working the terminals, moving alongside Garden of Glass, their bodies nearly coming to touch as they came to such a close degree of synchronization. Yet, the simulations themselves never failed to make his stomach turn as they pressed against each other, as though reaching out, as though clawing and biting and tearing as they folded upon themselves and shook until they burst.
Midterms were approaching, when the observers would go back to their handlers and report directly all that they had recorded. After a good while spent helping Achievement of Heaven after he had misplaced all of his collected data, Garden of Glass had been left rather worn, resting against a wall in the hallway while Sound of Progress watched from afar. Unsure how else to help, Sound of Progress approached him, leaned on the same wall about a foot away. Noticing him, Garden of Glass sighed. Those records Achievement of Heaven had lost were hidden on purpose by Question Logical Truth, at least, Garden of Glass said it with quite a bit of conviction.
At least they’d be seeing their handlers again soon, and Garden of Glass smiled warmly once he brought up their coming midterms. When Garden of Glass spoke of returning, his tone became light and thoughtful. Simulations held little interest for Garden of Glass, though he always observed and recorded with enthusiasm. It was to be able to see his handler pleased with him, the satisfaction of having brought his handler closer to that dream which all people seemed to seek. He declared his handler as being of high esteem, said he was the first observer to be born from his handler’s body, a clear point of pride for Garden of Glass. There was no shame as he spoke of his feelings, no hesitation whatsoever. Sound of Progress did not speak the entire time, did not move, only listened with eyes half closed.
Little time remained before the ship to their handlers came to the laboratory for their midterm departure. Promotion in Quandary was more irritable than usual, even Intense Gale Told apparently unable to do anything about him, and Garden of Glass was left to deal with any arguments Promotion in Quandary sparked while Sound of Progress watched silently in what he considered to be support. It made roll call difficult, as no one wanted to be in the same room as Promotion in Quandary, but eventually Garden of Glass was able to round up all of the observers except for Question Logical Truth and Achievement of Heaven. Through Promotion in Quandary’s groaning a search was organized, splitting into pairs with Promotion in Quandary being left the odd one out. Sound of Progress followed Garden of Glass, who determined that as they were able to find neither Question Logical Truth nor Achievement of Heaven in any of the common areas, Garden of Glass would be forced to use his administrative power to open the door to Question Logical Truth’s private quarters.
Unlike their creators, the bodies of observers did not have a particular smell after death. They did not rot, their bodies remaining exactly as they had been upon receiving the killing blow unless tampered with by some outside force. Still Garden of Glass’s expression sank with understanding the moment he entered and laid his eyes upon the embracing bodies of Question Logical Truth and Achievement of Heaven, stripped of their uniforms and huddled in the far corner of the room. Sound of Progress stayed back, watched as Garden of Glass pulled their bodies away from one another and inspected them, opened their closed eyes to see no light behind them and confirmed their deaths. A few moments passed where Garden of Glass did nothing, expression blank, before he suddenly burst into tears, falling to his knees. Idiots, the two of them, Garden of Glass said. Such selfish idiots, killing each other just because they wanted something they couldn’t have. It should have been obvious what they were planning. It could have been stopped.
When the ship arrived the bodies of Question Logical Truth and Achievement of Heaven were carried off in bags, separate from one another. They were loaded into the ship first, though Sound of Progress couldn’t tell where precisely they were taken. Garden of Glass had stopped crying, said at least their positions were at the periphery, it would be easy to reformat the simulation chamber for seven people… and the observers were called to board in reverse order, so Sound of Progress and Garden of Glass were briefly separated.
The ship ride to their handlers was just as uneventful as the one to the laboratory, but while Melancholy Made Diamond did make another attempt to talk to Sound of Progress as the elder sat knees to chest a few feet from an exhausted Garden of Glass’s side, there was less casual conversation. Given the time to reflect, Sound of Progress realized Question Logical Truth had been the most outgoing of the group. Third Aeon Adamantine was the second most chatty by a large margin, Melancholy Made Diamond apparently too scared to talk to those much older than himself, and just about everyone found Third Aeon Adamantine’s singular topic of conversation to be creepy. Simulations weren’t meant to be talked about outside of work.
It wasn’t until it was time to leave that a shouting match broke out, or, more, Promotion in Quandary had begun to yell at a rather shaken Garden of Glass. Promotion in Quandary had made another attempt to block the exit, insisting that he did not want to return to his handler. For whatever reason, Garden of Glass had made no progress in talking him down. Sound of Progress sighed, sought out one of the ship’s crew members. Soon he was leading a small band of workers to Promotion in Quandary, and while Promotion in Quandary kicked and yelled, his body was deliberately made to be light and fragile and such that those who were not observers could subdue him with relative ease. They picked him up, dragged him off the ship, and that was that.
Upon returning to the building of his creation— large, dark compared to the observation laboratory, with living quarters built for his creators to actually live in instead of just sleep— Sound of Progress grew increasingly restless. Though he had felt little anxiety to return prior to his arrival, he was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to see his handler. It consumed him, and he began to pace nervously through the building as he searched, unsure why his handler had not been there to meet him and unsure what he would do once they reunited but taken by the conviction that the two must come together again, and soon.
Staff eventually stopped him, one of his many creators, taking him by his delicate shoulders and holding him in place and saying that his handler was nearby, come on, and Sound of Progress was led to his handler who had apparently become one with a chair in a common area. Upon seeing Sound of Progress his handler did not flinch, though they made eye contact, Sound of Progress was certain. With no regard for propriety he marched up to his handler, nails digging into his thighs as he attempted to control himself, and once the two were within a foot of each other Sound of Progress did something he had not meant to do. He began to cry. Sobs escaping him, head bowed, Sound of Progress asked that he be removed from the expedition, that he be allowed to stay with his handler. His handler said no.
Soon the midterm break period was over— Sound of Progress’s work was deemed acceptable and he was booked to go back to the laboratory without reprimand. When he arrived he saw Garden of Glass, standing straight and tall with a smile more earnest than any Sound of Progress had ever seen him wear. Third Aeon Adamantine was next to arrive, though he looked a bit put out. Then Melancholy Made Diamond, a bit closer to his usual self, more chipper— then Secret Behind Window, who kept his head bowed— then Intense Gale Told, who Sound of Progress still could not get a read on— then at long last arrived Promotion in Quandary, rather uncharacteristically boarding the ship without complaint, not even acknowledging the other observers.
Garden of Glass gave a quick pep talk once everyone had boarded, talking about how their work was more important than ever, that his handler had said that the people were on the precipice of a breakthrough, that soon, they would achieve their dream. If it had taken any longer, Sound of Progress was sure that someone would’ve fallen asleep— probably Melancholy Made Diamond, he seemed to have the smallest attention span of the bunch. Still, he enjoyed watching Garden of Glass move, a genuine enthusiasm permeating his every word, his gestures made with such force and grace that the wind seemed to accompany them in the atmosphere-controlled ship, hair and clothes flowing to accentuate his movements. Observers may not be able to dream, Garden of Glass said, but people can, and observers find joy in bringing them that dream.
Though Sound of Progress had at that point long since gotten to know the other observers— except for Intense Gale Told, perhaps, but Sound of Progress suspected he had a thing for being unknowable— he had no compulsion to speak with any of them for the duration of the ship ride. He thought of his handler, of the staff member who had grabbed him by his weak shoulders and held him there and Sound of Progress was made immobile. Then, sitting down in a common area, he managed a light sleep.
Upon arrival back at the laboratory Garden of Glass immediately made it his mission to reformat the inner chamber, listing off a bunch of rules, and in the end three observers moved even though only two places were lost. Secret Behind Window took Achievement of Heaven’s place, while Melancholy Made Diamond and Promotion in Quandary traded. Garden of Glass said it was best to have the second and third eldest at the end and well, things had to be symmetrical, of course, and it was better if younger observers were next to older ones, which was why Promotion in Quandary and Secret Behind Window had to change sides… he then very pointedly stated he would not be changing anyone else’s position, and if any observer didn’t like his, he’d have to suck it up. Immediately Sound of Progress looked to Promotion in Quandary, but he raised no complaints.
Again Secret Behind Window called that the simulations had begun, and Sound of Progress rushed to find Garden of Glass, to follow him into the simulation chamber. Soon everyone had arrived but Promotion in Quandary, and after a short period of being patient Third Aeon Adamantine had begun to snap and groan, insisting that the other observers go to look for Promotion in Quandary. Garden of Glass said that enough time had passed that it would be better to just rest in their quarters, that no good work would come without Promotion in Quandary, so Garden of Glass would go berate him personally while the others returned to their quarters.
All shuffled out, even as Third Aeon Adamantine complained, Garden of Glass assuring everyone that work would continue normally as soon as possible. Melancholy Made Diamond took to trying to chat up Secret Behind Window, who answered his attempts at conversation with curt, single word answers, though from his smile Sound of Progress got the impression Secret Behind Window was quietly amused. Then the group stopped, Garden of Glass having frozen in place with the others soon behind him, stationary in the circular, widely lit hallway.
Intense Gale Told pushed his way to the front, though Garden of Glass attempted to ward him off. Having never drifted far from Garden of Glass’s side, Sound of Progress had already seen what made Intense Gale Told drop carefully to one knee, hands shaking near imperceptibly. Promotion in Quandary had collapsed in the hallway, body unmoving, and from Garden of Glass’s expression Sound of Progress could tell he was too shocked to move before Intense Gale Told had pushed him aside.
Fallen to a kneel beside Promotion in Quandary’s body, Garden of Glass tentatively nudged Intense Gale Told away so that he could inspect what lay before him. A test of his eyes showed that Promotion in Quandary had not died, though no response could be garnered from him no matter how Garden of Glass prodded. Eventually Garden of Glass stopped, hands resting stationary on top of Promotion in Quandary’s stomach before Intense Gale Told began to pick Promotion in Quandary up, Garden of Glass letting own hands fall to his sides as Intense Gale Told carried Promotion in Quandary gently in his arms. Face twisted in grief, Garden in Glass asked aloud, did Promotion in Quandary’s handler do this? And none had an answer, so Intense Gale Told informed Garden of Glass it was his intention to let Promotion in Quandary stay with him until a ship came to pick Promotion in Quandary up.
Sure, that’s fine, please take care of him, other additional sayings fell from under Garden of Glass’s breath as Intense Gale Told walked off, halfheartedly shooing away Secret Behind Window as he followed him in an attempt to help. Unsure what else to do, Melancholy Made Diamond made to return to his own room. Third Aeon Adamantine and Sound of Progress exchanged looks before Third Aeon Adamantine left. Garden of Glass still refused to move. He and Sound of Progress stayed about a foot away from each other, Garden of Glass kneeling, Sound of Progress standing, silent until after a long pause Garden of Glass leaned gently to one side, head resting on Sound of Progress’s leg, and let out a sob.
It was his first time leading an expedition, Garden of Glass said, and he was the only observer to be extracted from his handler’s body. If the expedition turned out to be a disaster, Garden of Glass was unsure of the repercussions on his handler. He didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Listening to him sob unsettled Sound of Progress. Though he was smaller than Garden of Glass, he bent down, sat on the floor, let his elder rest his head on him.
Was this alright? Sound of Progress didn’t know, so he asked Garden of Glass, who didn’t understand the question. They’re all such idiots, Sound of Progress said, for dying like that without a fuss. What morons, to break down without breaking everything else first. He said it quietly, his voice near a whisper, coming out as though obstructed. Garden of Glass sat straight, off Sound of Progress’s shoulder, then stood up, eyes trained on him, then saw him try to stand himself and then planted a heel on Sound of Progress’s chest, pushed it in, arms crossed and brows furrowed.Sound of Progress could see up his skirt, but decided it wasn’t the best place to look, even as he shook slightly against Garden of Glass’s heel, even as he let his eyes trail their way up Garden of Glass’s thigh.
Don’t call them idiots. Don’t call them that, Garden of Glass barked, they could have done so much, and they’re gone now, they went away, and all the progress they could have made for the world went with them, and Garden of Glass wiped his eyes against his palm. He took his foot off Sound of Progress’s chest, glaring at him one more time before walking off with his hands fisted at his sides, his steps landing with just a bit more force than usual. Sound of Progress didn’t get up for a while, just let his fingers rest against the sore part of his chest where Garden of Glass had dug his heel in.
They ran into each other one more time before they were to once again observe simulations, just after Garden of Glass had finished reformatting the observation terminals yet again. Sound of Progress began to tell Garden of Glass what he meant to say— that the two of them were better than the others, that they could escape them, go back to their handlers together— but Garden of Glass cut him off, told him to his face he didn’t want to hear from him again, though he was unable to help the crack in his voice as he did so.
With only six serviceable observers remaining, the simulation chamber had to be reformatted such that the central terminal— where Garden of Glass had been, to Sound of Progress’s left— was left unused. Instead Garden of Glass was at the terminal immediately left of the central one, where Intense Gale Told had been. Sound of Progress did not have his terminal moved, such that the terminal to his left was empty, and the terminal to his right was occupied by Third Aeon Adamantine. Sound of Progress made no attempts to speak to Garden of Glass, though he continued to steal glances at him even as the sequence began.
The simulations were the same as ever. They pulsed and writhed and folded and collapsed upon each other, touching here and there, and Sound of Progress moved with them, but it felt different. Disgust remained, of course, a sort of base discomfort Sound of Progress doubted he’d ever be able to move beyond. Yet somehow, it felt easier to watch them— or, no, he decided, it wasn’t easy, for there was still the repulsion burning in his body, still the intense desire to turn away. Some part of him had gained a sense of satisfaction from watching them. A sudden desire to reach out and grab at the simulations overtook him— impossible as that may be, he’s not an idiot, he knows they can’t be touched— he wanted to take them between his fingers and claw and tear at them until the disintegrated into little fluttering pieces still shaking and sighing and moving so horribly.
Once the simulations dissipated Sound of Progress felt strangely sated, though more exhausted than he’d ever been, leaning against his terminal to steady himself as the other observers left. He remained for longer than he’d intended, eyes closed and contemplating, until Third Aeon Adamantine tapped him on the shoulder and chirped something along the lines of hi, how are you doing? Which woke Sound of Progress up, his eyes opening as he came to a proper stand so he could give Third Aeon Adamantine the right sort of questionable look. Third Aeon Adamantine smiled, asked Sound of Progress if he had seen something different, which Sound of Progress ignored as he made to leave.
It’s not shameful, Third Aeon Adamantine called, even if they tell you it’s shameful, it’s not shameful. There’s no shame in pleasure. Sound of Progress ignored him, returning to his quarters without another word. Yet later when they ran into each other, Third Aeon Adamantine in the midst of making some kind of joke about Promotion in Quandary while Intense Gale Told gave no response whatsoever, Sound of Progress felt unusually compelled to talk to him. He didn’t get the chance, instead preoccupied by avoiding Melancholy Made Diamond’s attempts at getting to know him, his junior talking endlessly, clinging to his arm even as Sound of Progress tried to throw him off. There was a compulsion, though. To actually hear Third Aeon Adamantine out.
The next couple of observation sessions went similarly— Sound of Progress would look to Garden of Glass, who gave him a deliberate cold shoulder. Third Aeon Adamantine would stand to Sound of Progress’s right, looking pleased as ever. They would begin, Sound of Progress moving, watching those simulations as they moved with him in their own squirming, shuddering way, and the disgust he felt as they convulsed remained as powerfully as ever yet a growing part of him was captivated by it, to such an extent he began to look forward to the sessions. It would end, and Third Aeon Adamantine would harass him every time, until, finally, Sound of Progress looked at him and let him speak.
Third Aeon Adamantine said Sound of Progress would need to watch out, that their handlers didn’t like when observers got personally invested in the simulations. If you weren’t careful, he said, they’d probably give you some kind of penalty. His handler didn’t really like him much anyway, never had, so, and he laughed. Maybe if Promotion in Quandary had loosened up a little, he wouldn’t be where he is. There’s some reading out there, Third Aeon Adamantine had done some reading. It said something about stress shortening the lifespan of observers.
After that Third Aeon Adamantine and Sound of Progress began to speak to each other more, in between observation sessions, though Sound of Progress still found him repulsive. Best not to say those kinds of things aloud. In a way he had hoped Third Aeon Adamantine would understand. In a way he thought he did. The two saw each other, exchanged something along the lines of friendly words, such that it became a little easier to ignore Garden of Glass as time went on. Even if Melancholy Made Diamond had at some point taken to interrupting conversations between the two with the most inane subjects, Third Aeon Adamantine was able to laugh it off, and in a sense Sound of Progress admired that. More observation sessions went by, and Sound of Progress found the simulations easier to think about. It became something to contemplate in between each, to talk over with Third Aeon Adamantine, who didn’t seem to get it, but seemed happy to listen.
And thus it went on, and Secret Behind Window announced that the simulations had become active, so Sound of Progress went to the inner chamber while markedly avoiding Garden of Glass, and Third Aeon Adamantine was already there, waving politely when Sound of Progress entered the room. The last to arrive was Intense Gale Told, a bit behind as usual, who did not look at either Sound of Progress or Third Aeon Adamantine. Then the observation session began, and Sound of Progress no longer felt tension in his movements, letting his arms and legs move freely about in time with the others, in time with the simulations, which he watched with a fascinated intensity.
They writhed and gasped and shuddered, as did Sound of Progress, but as he watched he noticed they were different— bigger, more violent, seeming to inhale more deeply and instead of simply leaning and folding and crashing upon each other they slammed against one another with force, as though it were deliberate, and they felt large enough to consume Sound of Progress whole. Excitement overtook him even alongside fear, and he moved with more determination than ever before, with the kind of breaking force his trainers had tried to coerce out of him. They grew larger, more boisterous, and Sound of Progress was terrified and ecstatic and disgusted and he swore with how he put his heel down he could have broken the floor and then suddenly a great pain tore through his body and he collapsed.
Though he did not know how much time had passed until he woke up, all were still in the simulation chamber. Immediately he searched for Garden of Glass, before he went to stand, even, scanning the room and seeing him with his hands at his temples, bending over in pain, though Sound of Progress’s vision was too blurry to make out his expression. He thought of the simulations next, of how they swelled so magnificently just before the pain had struck him, yet he found himself unable to replicate them in his mind’s eye. Then he leaned back, thought he saw Third Aeon Adamantine and Intense Gale Told still standing, moments before Third Aeon Adamantine’s body fell away from the terminal and Sound of Progress saw the great gaping hole through where his right eye had been.
Sound of Progress stared, made no reach for Third Aeon Adamantine’s body. Footsteps fell at the left side of the simulation chamber and Sound of Progress could barely make out Secret Behind Window’s voice, asking if Garden of Glass was alright, receiving no answer. Intense Gale Told had stepped out of synchronization somehow, stepped far out, enough that the force— and Secret Behind Window didn’t continue, and Sound of Progress stopped listening as he blacked out again.
The second time he woke up the simulation chamber had devolved into a four-way argument— or, no, Sound of Progress realized as he began to actually process the words spoken, it was just everyone was yelling in such a way that it sounded like an argument. Melancholy Made Diamond was at his side, holding his arm, and when Sound of Progress made a shaky effort to stand Melancholy Made Diamond helped him to lean his weight on the terminal behind him. Though Sound of Progress looked beyond the terminal, trying to see any simulations running while it was inactive, they had all dissipated in the time he’d been unconscious. Third Aeon Adamantine’s body laid exactly where he last saw it, though in the last while his body had begun to degrade such that Sound of Progress could barely make out the seams where Third Aeon Adamantine’s fingers connected to his palm. Sound of Progress’s head still rang, his body tense, and he closed his eyes, imagining the shadows of the simulations when he did.
They didn’t know what to do with Third Aeon Adamantine’s body. Garden of Glass was inconsolable, sobbing that he was sorry, that he didn’t know how this kept happening, that none of them deserved this while Secret Behind Window tried to yell some sense into him and Intense Gale Told stood nonchalantly to the side. Sound of Progress sighed, let Melancholy Made Diamond hold him, hating the feel of his skin against his. In his rough and shaky voice Sound of Progress called out that he’d take Third Aeon Adamantine’s body, let it stay in his quarters until their handlers came to pick them up. That seemed to get through to Garden of Glass, somehow, yet he cried in a forlorn, apologetic voice that no, he didn’t trust Sound of Progress to take care of it. So then Melancholy Made Diamond spoke up, said he’d take it, if Garden of Glass would let him.
Consideration led to a brief pause, but Garden of Glass agreed nonetheless. Third Aeon Adamantine was bigger than Melancholy Made Diamond, and so reluctantly Sound of Progress began to help him, unstable on his feet as he was. Garden of Glass began to leave with Intense Gale Told and Secret Behind Window, saying he’d come back to reformat the terminals later. Together Sound of Progress and Melancholy Made Diamond lifted Third Aeon Adamantine’s body, carrying it all the way to Melancholy Made Diamond’s quarters, setting it gently on the floor once there.
Melancholy Made Diamond told Sound of Progress said he was glad he came to help, that they finally got to speak in private. He said he’d been trying to get Sound of Progress’s attention since they first met, that Melancholy Made Diamond had always been interested in him. Like Sound of Progress, Melancholy Made Diamond was an unusual third observer born from a single handler, that like Sound of Progress, his handler’s second observer had not lived as long as his handler’s first. Apparently, he had done some research into his peers before they had gone on their expedition. Sound of Progress felt nothing but apathy, yet did not tell him. Instead, he asked about simulations.
Simulations, huh, Melancholy Made Diamond had answered in a voice that was too obviously pleased, well, from what he’d read, and from what he’d managed to get from Secret Behind Window, well, he wasn’t sure how true it all was. But apparently— well, they say the simulations are supposed to show people, their creators— it’s supposed to show them where Heaven is. Sound of Progress felt compelled to laugh but did not. Instead, he asked if Melancholy Made Diamond would do him a favor.
Third Aeon Adamantine’s body had begun to come apart at its seams, fingers detaching from palms, palms detaching from wrists, arms detaching from shoulders such that he’d taken on the appearance of a deconstructed doll. His legs were stuck on more firmly than his arms, though, and when Sound of Progress lifted up his skirt to see where his legs met his hips the seam between the two had only just become visible. At his feet was Melancholy Made Diamond, grabbing him firmly by the arch. On the other end was Sound of Progress, bent so that his hips were above Third Aeon Adamantine’s neck, hands pulling at his hips. The two strained against his body’s last residual efforts to stay together, Sound of Progress watching wide-eyed as the seam between the thigh and him grew more visible, eventually breaking so that Sound of Progress could see the dark material of his flesh, all of its bunches and threads tearing with more urgency, louder, until with a great rip his leg came off and Melancholy Made Diamond stumbled backwards.
As soon as his junior righted himself Sound of Progress asked him to hand over Third Aeon Adamantine’s leg and not leave his quarters. Melancholy Made Diamond asked why, yet handed over the leg without complaint, so Sound of Progress did not answer. When Sound of Progress took the leg in hand he could feel the material of its flesh begin to sag, coming off from its core with the force with which it had been torn from its body. After sticking his head out of Melancholy Made Diamond’s door, looking left and right to make sure none would see him, he headed towards the inner chamber with Third Aeon Adamantine’s remains in hand.
The inner chamber was the same as ever, dark except for the shielded lights along the sides of the walkway, no simulations active. Sound of Progress walked calmly to the center of the chamber, looking around at the terminals, identical as they formed a circle around him. He closed his eyes, trying to think back to when Garden of Glass had reformatted them. Vague memories of the shapes of simulations crossed his mind unbidden— he could not envision them perfectly, though he tried, once reminded of them. Where Garden of Glass had touched, what weak points were present on the terminals did come to him, though, so he walked up to the center terminal and began to swing, connecting with the points he knew would cause damage.
Sparks flew as the hard core of the limb in hand connected with what vulnerable parts of the terminal there were, Sound of Progress trying to do as much damage to the interior of Garden of Glass’s former station as possible before he switched to bashing the controls, knocking off buttons and knobs. As he did the room seemed to grow lighter, but he was so preoccupied with his task that he did not think to check why. After he was satisfied with mutilating the central terminal he switched to his own, beating it in the same way, hands on what was Third Aeon Adamantine’s ankle as the flesh began to compress and tear away from the core with the twist and force of Sound of Progress’s assault.
Once done with his own terminal he began to attack at random, becoming captivated by the way sparks flew from the damaged terminals, thinking them something like the simulations he could not replicate in his mind. He could no longer remember which terminals he had damaged and which ones he had not, and thus he became less coordinated, swinging what at that point was the near fleshless core of Third Aeon Adamantine’s leg around in a cold, relentless onslaught.
Soon the room had become unbearably bright, such that Sound of Progress was forced to look up, and he saw, and upon seeing he immediately smiled and thought about how he was not going to be like them. The simulations had come alive with his assault on the terminals, now filling up the room, such that everywhere he looked there were more of them, and his head hurt, hurt more than anything, and he was ecstatic. They were all he saw, even as he kept swinging, and he knew that he was becoming blind, until he stopped knowing that, just repeating what patterns and folds and sighs and shudders and shivers and orgasms he saw in his mind over and over and over until it was all he thought about until he heard something call him.
Eyes covered by his hands, Garden of Glass had stepped onto the walkway, the crack in his voice making his tears obvious even if Sound of Progress could not see, begging that Sound of Progress stop, that he come back, telling him that he didn’t have to leave, that Garden of Glass didn’t hate him and would forgive him if he just didn’t do this anymore. There would be nothing left for Garden of Glass if Sound of Progress continued. Everything they’d worked for would be gone.
Sound of Progress heard him, hands still gripping his weapon tightly, swinging wildly. Somehow Garden of Glass’s words had permeated the static of his mind, even as he felt his connection to his body weaken, felt his limbs go weak and his mind grow further clouded. There was no longer anything Sound of Progress could do to stop the destruction of the simulation chamber. He could not tell if he smiled. Instead he turned to face Garden of Glass, nearly blind as he was, still captivated by the way Garden of Glass’s long hair flowed around his body, still desiring to touch it. Strength had long since voided Sound of Progress’s body, but that was okay. He would not be like the others. It was best to die here than to be like them. He called to Garden of Glass, knowing it would be the last thing he did, voice disgraceful as ever.
“Last I slept I dreamt of you."
The laboratory was a building constructed in two rings. In the outside ring were several rooms to serve as personal quarters, thirteen in total. Observers were able to enter rooms that were assigned a number equal to or less than their own, leaving four rooms to serve as common areas. Then, separated by a wide, circular hallway was the inner ring, the simulation chamber. First observer Garden of Glass had volunteered to show around two others, seeing it his duty as the eldest. Sound of Progress admired him, tall and moving with an almost dance-like grace, though his eyes were thinner than was generally desired of observers. They were accompanied by Third Aeon Adamantine, created within a short while of Sound of Progress, just in time to have gone on one expedition prior and in that time gain enthusiasm enough that his every movement seemed accompanied by a little popping sound effect. Sound of Progress found it obnoxious.
To Sound of Progress’s eyes, the laboratory was dauntingly bright. None of his creators had ever seen the building’s interior— to them, the laboratory’s atmosphere was noxious, the sort that would kill them slowly even if they were to no longer breath it— but it was they who designed it nonetheless, and he suspected none had realized how the harshness of the light would molest the wide-eyed observers. Still, he said nothing, noticing that no other observer had commented, not even Melancholy Made Diamond, who had spent the entire trip there attempting to chat up Sound of Progress. So Sound of Progress decided that perhaps he was just weird, that if this level of light was tolerable to his creators, he ought to learn to tolerate it himself.
It took some time for them to reach the inner ring, Garden of Glass insisting on thoroughness with his tour, even if Question Logical Truth had already circled through both rings and was now taking some time off to bully his juniors, which Garden of Glass showed open disapproval of. What Sound of Progress learned as Garden of Glass rattled off an array of facts about the building’s construction was mostly that he was not one for architecture. The only comment Sound of Progress had was that the rooms were vastly different from those kept by his creators, and he wondered if the other observers could truly be comfortable in them, though he kept that to himself.
When they finally did go through the large door into the simulation chamber, Third Aeon Adamantine had been overcome with anticipation, and the sound of his steps as they walked down the long, raised walkway to the terminal ring were erratic and bouncy such that Sound of Progress clawed at the exposed flesh of his thigh in his determination to remain silent rather than snap at him in annoyance before they reached their assigned terminals. Garden of Glass’s was straight on from the end of the walkway, while the rest were spread around the circumference of the raised, circular platform. Sound of Progress was stationed to the right of Garden of Glass, and Third Aeon Adamantine to the right of Sound of Progress.
They waited in the simulation chamber for the other observers to arrive, upon Garden of Glass’s request. Sound of Progress took the time to familiarize himself with the terminal— a near identical model had been used in training, but there were a few noticeable differences. This terminal was a bit taller than the one he had used previously, had one control moved to the other side of the terminal— a few more discrepancies, but all things he easily detected. Soon all the other observers had arrived and Garden of Glass called them into position, his voice so loud and so clear that Sound of Progress nearly forgot to process the words as he became absorbed in their sound. Still, he readied himself with little issue, and he followed suit after Garden of Glass began the activation sequence.
Simulation control is cooperative, Sound of Progress had been told, and an active process. Achievement of Heaven, stationed nearly at the end to Question Logical Truth’s right, had stepped out of time, declaring confusion with the terminal’s UI. Immediately Promotion in Quandary, stationed to Achievement of Heaven’s right and whose terminal activation signaled Achievement of Heaven’s, snapped at him, and Sound of Progress scoffed at Promotion in Quandary’s invection. Garden of Glass cut off Promotion in Quandary’s accusations— clumsy, stupid— yelling that they’d all start again and throwing a pointed glare when Question Logical Truth laughed. The second time around, all went right, and the observers moved in time, Sound of Progress feeling for a moment as though Garden of Glass’s hands guided his own by string, too enchanted to notice any missteps by his peers. Then it was over, and though many observers stayed behind to talk, Sound of Progress went to his room without so much of a goodbye.
Sound of Progress had never been told why, exactly, he was to watch these simulations. He hadn’t felt any particular need to ask. Melancholy Made Diamond had, though, had walked right up to Garden of Glass and asked, receiving only the rather predictable command to not stick his nose into things, to which Sound of Progress gave a quiet little smile as he watched from a few feet away. Then Secret Behind Window’s voice rang over the intercom, saying the simulations had become active, and all the other observers raced to the inner chamber.
In his haste to get through Third Aeon Adamantine pushed Sound of Progress aside as they crossed the walkway to their terminals, and Sound of Progress nearly fell off the edge before Garden of Glass caught him, one long-fingered hand covering his eyes, and pulled him up until he stood. Both knew it was dangerous to look at the simulations contained within the pits of either side of the walkway through any lens but that of their respective terminal. Garden of Glass asked if Sound of Progress was alright, why he was shaking. Their bodies pulled apart with no sound but that of rustling fabric and their heels against the hard floor before each returned to their own terminal.
Once, Sound of Progress had asked what the simulations would be like, and his trainers said nothing, so he did not ask again. Instead he was given sets of numbers, parameters he had been told to follow, scales by which to measure things. With all such numbers in mind he was to record all that he observed. It was an act of translation, the learning of a lingua franca into which he would interpret his observations. A hand brushed his arm as he stood petrified in front of his terminal. Garden of Glass smiled, told him in a gentle voice he had been nervous his first time too, but they couldn’t start without him, so, Sound of Progress, please be kind… Sound of Progress steadied himself, the reassurance having made it easier to ignore Question Logical Truth's jeering from across the room. He got into position, watching and waiting for Garden of Glass to start the procedure.
Synchronization was what made it safe to view simulations, Sound of Progress had been told. The observers once again moved in time and Sound of Progress observed with wide eyes, the right steps and sways coming naturally as his vision of the simulations began to focus, and what was once a sort of vague knowledge of a presence became a clear sight of something before him. It moved like they did, he realized, the simulation following the gestures of their arms and legs as though it were watching them.
Little time needed to pass before Sound of Progress’s initial observation became obsolete, however; though he felt the impression of something not quite within his perception following alongside their movements, what he witnessed was unlike anything he could begin to mimic. The simulations began to fold in on one another, on themselves, their shapes clashing together in a way the observers were not allowed. He watched them tremble, peaks falling onto one another, glowing and dimming, sighing as their forms wrapped around themselves and melted and disappeared. One separate from the rest writhed pathetically against some force, folding in on itself, collapsing and inflating, shivering, at times arching and then Sound of Progress felt the flash pain of a rail through his head and everything stopped as Promotion in Quandary cried out.
Darkness took over for the briefest period of time, but soon Sound of Progress’s vision returned and he looked around to see Promotion in Quandary on his knees head in his hands while Achievement of Heaven stood beside him, sobbing, and Intense Gale Told placed a gentle hand on Promotion in Quandary’s back. Garden of Glass called for the end to the observation period, marched to where Promotion in Quandary had fallen. Sound of Progress stayed behind, hand clutching the edge of his terminal. Third Aeon Adamantine leaned over, whispered that that was what happened if those further down the chain messed up, that Achievement of Heaven must have stepped out of time and Promotion in Quandary took the fall for it. A laugh encroached on his voice as he said Achievement of Heaven better watch out, that was the kind of slipup that got you decommissioned. Then he softened, pointed at Question Logical Truth, said he didn’t know the guy could stop smiling but would you look at that. Question Logical Truth’s eyes were trained on Achievement of Heaven, eyes narrowed.
Intense Gale Told carried Promotion in Quandary out, Garden of Glass running ahead of them to see about treating whatever had happened to Promotion in Quandary. Soon the others followed, though all hesitated through the power of some sort of collective unconscious. Achievement of Heaven and Question Logical Truth were the last to leave, the latter standing in front of the former as Sound of Progress left, Question Logical Truth’s back to the entryway, saying something to Achievement of Heaven that Sound of Progress could not make out.
The next time Secret Behind Window called over the intercom, Sound of Progress and Garden of Glass had approached the doorway to see Promotion in Quandary, no longer injured. He had even regained enough strength to resist Question Logical Truth as the elder attempted to pry him from the doorway to which he clung. Achievement of Heaven stood behind Question Logical Truth, mumbling something probably along the lines of an apology. A stomp rang through the hallway, the sound of Question Logical Truth’s heels against the hard floor enough of a shock to make Sound of Progress jump. Equally shocking was the verbal abuse towards Promotion in Quandary that follows, Question Logical Truth announcing that if Promotion in Quandary refused to work, there was no reason why the rest of them should coddle him. Question Logical Truth then took Achievement of Heaven’s hand, storming off with his younger following so closely they nearly tripped as their legs got in each other’s way.
It took a good while for Garden of Glass to coax Promotion in Quandary up, passing him off to Intense Gale Told before telling the other observers to go back to their quarters. Garden of Glass followed quickly after Question Logical Truth and Achievement of Heaven, pale hair fanning out behind him and Sound of Progress managed to raise a hand so that it just brushed against his fingertips. Just as Sound of Progress made to leave Third Aeon Adamantine emerged quietly from the inner chamber, groaning when he realized they wouldn’t do any work until the next time the simulations became active.
Later, after everyone had been resting in their quarters for a while and Sound of Progress began to wander around the laboratory with boredom, he would run into Secret Behind Window, who’d been spending most of his time in the inner chamber so there’d be someone to announce when it was time to work. He was one of the oldest, only Garden of Glass and Question Logical Truth exceeding him in age, though none of their lifespans came close to the length of any of their creators’. Still, his eyes had a more gentle quality than either of his elders’, and he seemed to smile more genuinely than Question Logical Truth, more frequently than Garden of Glass.
Secret Behind Window told Sound of Progress it’s strange, you know, how the simulations work, that there’s nothing anyone can do to change how they behave and instead people send their creations to watch them like the simulations have a life on their own. The simulation had some sort of power, Secret Behind Window thought, and through observers they would tell people something they couldn’t see on their own. Until then, it did strange things to observers. Promotion in Quandary and his injury was one example— he’d actually been on more expeditions than Garden of Glass, somehow. It seemed Question Logical Truth wanted to be like people after a while. Once, he had asked Secret Behind Window to touch him.
There was no incident for their next few times observing. Promotion in Quandary managed to enter the inner chamber, do his job with not much in the way of grumbling. Question Logical Truth chauffeured Achievement of Heaven inside, slapping him on the back, laughing with the same sort of lighthearted bullying he had prior. Sound of Progress could not decide whether he looked forward to the observation sessions or dreaded them. He enjoyed the feeling of working the terminals, moving alongside Garden of Glass, their bodies nearly coming to touch as they came to such a close degree of synchronization. Yet, the simulations themselves never failed to make his stomach turn as they pressed against each other, as though reaching out, as though clawing and biting and tearing as they folded upon themselves and shook until they burst.
Midterms were approaching, when the observers would go back to their handlers and report directly all that they had recorded. After a good while spent helping Achievement of Heaven after he had misplaced all of his collected data, Garden of Glass had been left rather worn, resting against a wall in the hallway while Sound of Progress watched from afar. Unsure how else to help, Sound of Progress approached him, leaned on the same wall about a foot away. Noticing him, Garden of Glass sighed. Those records Achievement of Heaven had lost were hidden on purpose by Question Logical Truth, at least, Garden of Glass said it with quite a bit of conviction.
At least they’d be seeing their handlers again soon, and Garden of Glass smiled warmly once he brought up their coming midterms. When Garden of Glass spoke of returning, his tone became light and thoughtful. Simulations held little interest for Garden of Glass, though he always observed and recorded with enthusiasm. It was to be able to see his handler pleased with him, the satisfaction of having brought his handler closer to that dream which all people seemed to seek. He declared his handler as being of high esteem, said he was the first observer to be born from his handler’s body, a clear point of pride for Garden of Glass. There was no shame as he spoke of his feelings, no hesitation whatsoever. Sound of Progress did not speak the entire time, did not move, only listened with eyes half closed.
Little time remained before the ship to their handlers came to the laboratory for their midterm departure. Promotion in Quandary was more irritable than usual, even Intense Gale Told apparently unable to do anything about him, and Garden of Glass was left to deal with any arguments Promotion in Quandary sparked while Sound of Progress watched silently in what he considered to be support. It made roll call difficult, as no one wanted to be in the same room as Promotion in Quandary, but eventually Garden of Glass was able to round up all of the observers except for Question Logical Truth and Achievement of Heaven. Through Promotion in Quandary’s groaning a search was organized, splitting into pairs with Promotion in Quandary being left the odd one out. Sound of Progress followed Garden of Glass, who determined that as they were able to find neither Question Logical Truth nor Achievement of Heaven in any of the common areas, Garden of Glass would be forced to use his administrative power to open the door to Question Logical Truth’s private quarters.
Unlike their creators, the bodies of observers did not have a particular smell after death. They did not rot, their bodies remaining exactly as they had been upon receiving the killing blow unless tampered with by some outside force. Still Garden of Glass’s expression sank with understanding the moment he entered and laid his eyes upon the embracing bodies of Question Logical Truth and Achievement of Heaven, stripped of their uniforms and huddled in the far corner of the room. Sound of Progress stayed back, watched as Garden of Glass pulled their bodies away from one another and inspected them, opened their closed eyes to see no light behind them and confirmed their deaths. A few moments passed where Garden of Glass did nothing, expression blank, before he suddenly burst into tears, falling to his knees. Idiots, the two of them, Garden of Glass said. Such selfish idiots, killing each other just because they wanted something they couldn’t have. It should have been obvious what they were planning. It could have been stopped.
When the ship arrived the bodies of Question Logical Truth and Achievement of Heaven were carried off in bags, separate from one another. They were loaded into the ship first, though Sound of Progress couldn’t tell where precisely they were taken. Garden of Glass had stopped crying, said at least their positions were at the periphery, it would be easy to reformat the simulation chamber for seven people… and the observers were called to board in reverse order, so Sound of Progress and Garden of Glass were briefly separated.
The ship ride to their handlers was just as uneventful as the one to the laboratory, but while Melancholy Made Diamond did make another attempt to talk to Sound of Progress as the elder sat knees to chest a few feet from an exhausted Garden of Glass’s side, there was less casual conversation. Given the time to reflect, Sound of Progress realized Question Logical Truth had been the most outgoing of the group. Third Aeon Adamantine was the second most chatty by a large margin, Melancholy Made Diamond apparently too scared to talk to those much older than himself, and just about everyone found Third Aeon Adamantine’s singular topic of conversation to be creepy. Simulations weren’t meant to be talked about outside of work.
It wasn’t until it was time to leave that a shouting match broke out, or, more, Promotion in Quandary had begun to yell at a rather shaken Garden of Glass. Promotion in Quandary had made another attempt to block the exit, insisting that he did not want to return to his handler. For whatever reason, Garden of Glass had made no progress in talking him down. Sound of Progress sighed, sought out one of the ship’s crew members. Soon he was leading a small band of workers to Promotion in Quandary, and while Promotion in Quandary kicked and yelled, his body was deliberately made to be light and fragile and such that those who were not observers could subdue him with relative ease. They picked him up, dragged him off the ship, and that was that.
Upon returning to the building of his creation— large, dark compared to the observation laboratory, with living quarters built for his creators to actually live in instead of just sleep— Sound of Progress grew increasingly restless. Though he had felt little anxiety to return prior to his arrival, he was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to see his handler. It consumed him, and he began to pace nervously through the building as he searched, unsure why his handler had not been there to meet him and unsure what he would do once they reunited but taken by the conviction that the two must come together again, and soon.
Staff eventually stopped him, one of his many creators, taking him by his delicate shoulders and holding him in place and saying that his handler was nearby, come on, and Sound of Progress was led to his handler who had apparently become one with a chair in a common area. Upon seeing Sound of Progress his handler did not flinch, though they made eye contact, Sound of Progress was certain. With no regard for propriety he marched up to his handler, nails digging into his thighs as he attempted to control himself, and once the two were within a foot of each other Sound of Progress did something he had not meant to do. He began to cry. Sobs escaping him, head bowed, Sound of Progress asked that he be removed from the expedition, that he be allowed to stay with his handler. His handler said no.
Soon the midterm break period was over— Sound of Progress’s work was deemed acceptable and he was booked to go back to the laboratory without reprimand. When he arrived he saw Garden of Glass, standing straight and tall with a smile more earnest than any Sound of Progress had ever seen him wear. Third Aeon Adamantine was next to arrive, though he looked a bit put out. Then Melancholy Made Diamond, a bit closer to his usual self, more chipper— then Secret Behind Window, who kept his head bowed— then Intense Gale Told, who Sound of Progress still could not get a read on— then at long last arrived Promotion in Quandary, rather uncharacteristically boarding the ship without complaint, not even acknowledging the other observers.
Garden of Glass gave a quick pep talk once everyone had boarded, talking about how their work was more important than ever, that his handler had said that the people were on the precipice of a breakthrough, that soon, they would achieve their dream. If it had taken any longer, Sound of Progress was sure that someone would’ve fallen asleep— probably Melancholy Made Diamond, he seemed to have the smallest attention span of the bunch. Still, he enjoyed watching Garden of Glass move, a genuine enthusiasm permeating his every word, his gestures made with such force and grace that the wind seemed to accompany them in the atmosphere-controlled ship, hair and clothes flowing to accentuate his movements. Observers may not be able to dream, Garden of Glass said, but people can, and observers find joy in bringing them that dream.
Though Sound of Progress had at that point long since gotten to know the other observers— except for Intense Gale Told, perhaps, but Sound of Progress suspected he had a thing for being unknowable— he had no compulsion to speak with any of them for the duration of the ship ride. He thought of his handler, of the staff member who had grabbed him by his weak shoulders and held him there and Sound of Progress was made immobile. Then, sitting down in a common area, he managed a light sleep.
Upon arrival back at the laboratory Garden of Glass immediately made it his mission to reformat the inner chamber, listing off a bunch of rules, and in the end three observers moved even though only two places were lost. Secret Behind Window took Achievement of Heaven’s place, while Melancholy Made Diamond and Promotion in Quandary traded. Garden of Glass said it was best to have the second and third eldest at the end and well, things had to be symmetrical, of course, and it was better if younger observers were next to older ones, which was why Promotion in Quandary and Secret Behind Window had to change sides… he then very pointedly stated he would not be changing anyone else’s position, and if any observer didn’t like his, he’d have to suck it up. Immediately Sound of Progress looked to Promotion in Quandary, but he raised no complaints.
Again Secret Behind Window called that the simulations had begun, and Sound of Progress rushed to find Garden of Glass, to follow him into the simulation chamber. Soon everyone had arrived but Promotion in Quandary, and after a short period of being patient Third Aeon Adamantine had begun to snap and groan, insisting that the other observers go to look for Promotion in Quandary. Garden of Glass said that enough time had passed that it would be better to just rest in their quarters, that no good work would come without Promotion in Quandary, so Garden of Glass would go berate him personally while the others returned to their quarters.
All shuffled out, even as Third Aeon Adamantine complained, Garden of Glass assuring everyone that work would continue normally as soon as possible. Melancholy Made Diamond took to trying to chat up Secret Behind Window, who answered his attempts at conversation with curt, single word answers, though from his smile Sound of Progress got the impression Secret Behind Window was quietly amused. Then the group stopped, Garden of Glass having frozen in place with the others soon behind him, stationary in the circular, widely lit hallway.
Intense Gale Told pushed his way to the front, though Garden of Glass attempted to ward him off. Having never drifted far from Garden of Glass’s side, Sound of Progress had already seen what made Intense Gale Told drop carefully to one knee, hands shaking near imperceptibly. Promotion in Quandary had collapsed in the hallway, body unmoving, and from Garden of Glass’s expression Sound of Progress could tell he was too shocked to move before Intense Gale Told had pushed him aside.
Fallen to a kneel beside Promotion in Quandary’s body, Garden of Glass tentatively nudged Intense Gale Told away so that he could inspect what lay before him. A test of his eyes showed that Promotion in Quandary had not died, though no response could be garnered from him no matter how Garden of Glass prodded. Eventually Garden of Glass stopped, hands resting stationary on top of Promotion in Quandary’s stomach before Intense Gale Told began to pick Promotion in Quandary up, Garden of Glass letting own hands fall to his sides as Intense Gale Told carried Promotion in Quandary gently in his arms. Face twisted in grief, Garden in Glass asked aloud, did Promotion in Quandary’s handler do this? And none had an answer, so Intense Gale Told informed Garden of Glass it was his intention to let Promotion in Quandary stay with him until a ship came to pick Promotion in Quandary up.
Sure, that’s fine, please take care of him, other additional sayings fell from under Garden of Glass’s breath as Intense Gale Told walked off, halfheartedly shooing away Secret Behind Window as he followed him in an attempt to help. Unsure what else to do, Melancholy Made Diamond made to return to his own room. Third Aeon Adamantine and Sound of Progress exchanged looks before Third Aeon Adamantine left. Garden of Glass still refused to move. He and Sound of Progress stayed about a foot away from each other, Garden of Glass kneeling, Sound of Progress standing, silent until after a long pause Garden of Glass leaned gently to one side, head resting on Sound of Progress’s leg, and let out a sob.
It was his first time leading an expedition, Garden of Glass said, and he was the only observer to be extracted from his handler’s body. If the expedition turned out to be a disaster, Garden of Glass was unsure of the repercussions on his handler. He didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Listening to him sob unsettled Sound of Progress. Though he was smaller than Garden of Glass, he bent down, sat on the floor, let his elder rest his head on him.
Was this alright? Sound of Progress didn’t know, so he asked Garden of Glass, who didn’t understand the question. They’re all such idiots, Sound of Progress said, for dying like that without a fuss. What morons, to break down without breaking everything else first. He said it quietly, his voice near a whisper, coming out as though obstructed. Garden of Glass sat straight, off Sound of Progress’s shoulder, then stood up, eyes trained on him, then saw him try to stand himself and then planted a heel on Sound of Progress’s chest, pushed it in, arms crossed and brows furrowed.Sound of Progress could see up his skirt, but decided it wasn’t the best place to look, even as he shook slightly against Garden of Glass’s heel, even as he let his eyes trail their way up Garden of Glass’s thigh.
Don’t call them idiots. Don’t call them that, Garden of Glass barked, they could have done so much, and they’re gone now, they went away, and all the progress they could have made for the world went with them, and Garden of Glass wiped his eyes against his palm. He took his foot off Sound of Progress’s chest, glaring at him one more time before walking off with his hands fisted at his sides, his steps landing with just a bit more force than usual. Sound of Progress didn’t get up for a while, just let his fingers rest against the sore part of his chest where Garden of Glass had dug his heel in.
They ran into each other one more time before they were to once again observe simulations, just after Garden of Glass had finished reformatting the observation terminals yet again. Sound of Progress began to tell Garden of Glass what he meant to say— that the two of them were better than the others, that they could escape them, go back to their handlers together— but Garden of Glass cut him off, told him to his face he didn’t want to hear from him again, though he was unable to help the crack in his voice as he did so.
With only six serviceable observers remaining, the simulation chamber had to be reformatted such that the central terminal— where Garden of Glass had been, to Sound of Progress’s left— was left unused. Instead Garden of Glass was at the terminal immediately left of the central one, where Intense Gale Told had been. Sound of Progress did not have his terminal moved, such that the terminal to his left was empty, and the terminal to his right was occupied by Third Aeon Adamantine. Sound of Progress made no attempts to speak to Garden of Glass, though he continued to steal glances at him even as the sequence began.
The simulations were the same as ever. They pulsed and writhed and folded and collapsed upon each other, touching here and there, and Sound of Progress moved with them, but it felt different. Disgust remained, of course, a sort of base discomfort Sound of Progress doubted he’d ever be able to move beyond. Yet somehow, it felt easier to watch them— or, no, he decided, it wasn’t easy, for there was still the repulsion burning in his body, still the intense desire to turn away. Some part of him had gained a sense of satisfaction from watching them. A sudden desire to reach out and grab at the simulations overtook him— impossible as that may be, he’s not an idiot, he knows they can’t be touched— he wanted to take them between his fingers and claw and tear at them until the disintegrated into little fluttering pieces still shaking and sighing and moving so horribly.
Once the simulations dissipated Sound of Progress felt strangely sated, though more exhausted than he’d ever been, leaning against his terminal to steady himself as the other observers left. He remained for longer than he’d intended, eyes closed and contemplating, until Third Aeon Adamantine tapped him on the shoulder and chirped something along the lines of hi, how are you doing? Which woke Sound of Progress up, his eyes opening as he came to a proper stand so he could give Third Aeon Adamantine the right sort of questionable look. Third Aeon Adamantine smiled, asked Sound of Progress if he had seen something different, which Sound of Progress ignored as he made to leave.
It’s not shameful, Third Aeon Adamantine called, even if they tell you it’s shameful, it’s not shameful. There’s no shame in pleasure. Sound of Progress ignored him, returning to his quarters without another word. Yet later when they ran into each other, Third Aeon Adamantine in the midst of making some kind of joke about Promotion in Quandary while Intense Gale Told gave no response whatsoever, Sound of Progress felt unusually compelled to talk to him. He didn’t get the chance, instead preoccupied by avoiding Melancholy Made Diamond’s attempts at getting to know him, his junior talking endlessly, clinging to his arm even as Sound of Progress tried to throw him off. There was a compulsion, though. To actually hear Third Aeon Adamantine out.
The next couple of observation sessions went similarly— Sound of Progress would look to Garden of Glass, who gave him a deliberate cold shoulder. Third Aeon Adamantine would stand to Sound of Progress’s right, looking pleased as ever. They would begin, Sound of Progress moving, watching those simulations as they moved with him in their own squirming, shuddering way, and the disgust he felt as they convulsed remained as powerfully as ever yet a growing part of him was captivated by it, to such an extent he began to look forward to the sessions. It would end, and Third Aeon Adamantine would harass him every time, until, finally, Sound of Progress looked at him and let him speak.
Third Aeon Adamantine said Sound of Progress would need to watch out, that their handlers didn’t like when observers got personally invested in the simulations. If you weren’t careful, he said, they’d probably give you some kind of penalty. His handler didn’t really like him much anyway, never had, so, and he laughed. Maybe if Promotion in Quandary had loosened up a little, he wouldn’t be where he is. There’s some reading out there, Third Aeon Adamantine had done some reading. It said something about stress shortening the lifespan of observers.
After that Third Aeon Adamantine and Sound of Progress began to speak to each other more, in between observation sessions, though Sound of Progress still found him repulsive. Best not to say those kinds of things aloud. In a way he had hoped Third Aeon Adamantine would understand. In a way he thought he did. The two saw each other, exchanged something along the lines of friendly words, such that it became a little easier to ignore Garden of Glass as time went on. Even if Melancholy Made Diamond had at some point taken to interrupting conversations between the two with the most inane subjects, Third Aeon Adamantine was able to laugh it off, and in a sense Sound of Progress admired that. More observation sessions went by, and Sound of Progress found the simulations easier to think about. It became something to contemplate in between each, to talk over with Third Aeon Adamantine, who didn’t seem to get it, but seemed happy to listen.
And thus it went on, and Secret Behind Window announced that the simulations had become active, so Sound of Progress went to the inner chamber while markedly avoiding Garden of Glass, and Third Aeon Adamantine was already there, waving politely when Sound of Progress entered the room. The last to arrive was Intense Gale Told, a bit behind as usual, who did not look at either Sound of Progress or Third Aeon Adamantine. Then the observation session began, and Sound of Progress no longer felt tension in his movements, letting his arms and legs move freely about in time with the others, in time with the simulations, which he watched with a fascinated intensity.
They writhed and gasped and shuddered, as did Sound of Progress, but as he watched he noticed they were different— bigger, more violent, seeming to inhale more deeply and instead of simply leaning and folding and crashing upon each other they slammed against one another with force, as though it were deliberate, and they felt large enough to consume Sound of Progress whole. Excitement overtook him even alongside fear, and he moved with more determination than ever before, with the kind of breaking force his trainers had tried to coerce out of him. They grew larger, more boisterous, and Sound of Progress was terrified and ecstatic and disgusted and he swore with how he put his heel down he could have broken the floor and then suddenly a great pain tore through his body and he collapsed.
Though he did not know how much time had passed until he woke up, all were still in the simulation chamber. Immediately he searched for Garden of Glass, before he went to stand, even, scanning the room and seeing him with his hands at his temples, bending over in pain, though Sound of Progress’s vision was too blurry to make out his expression. He thought of the simulations next, of how they swelled so magnificently just before the pain had struck him, yet he found himself unable to replicate them in his mind’s eye. Then he leaned back, thought he saw Third Aeon Adamantine and Intense Gale Told still standing, moments before Third Aeon Adamantine’s body fell away from the terminal and Sound of Progress saw the great gaping hole through where his right eye had been.
Sound of Progress stared, made no reach for Third Aeon Adamantine’s body. Footsteps fell at the left side of the simulation chamber and Sound of Progress could barely make out Secret Behind Window’s voice, asking if Garden of Glass was alright, receiving no answer. Intense Gale Told had stepped out of synchronization somehow, stepped far out, enough that the force— and Secret Behind Window didn’t continue, and Sound of Progress stopped listening as he blacked out again.
The second time he woke up the simulation chamber had devolved into a four-way argument— or, no, Sound of Progress realized as he began to actually process the words spoken, it was just everyone was yelling in such a way that it sounded like an argument. Melancholy Made Diamond was at his side, holding his arm, and when Sound of Progress made a shaky effort to stand Melancholy Made Diamond helped him to lean his weight on the terminal behind him. Though Sound of Progress looked beyond the terminal, trying to see any simulations running while it was inactive, they had all dissipated in the time he’d been unconscious. Third Aeon Adamantine’s body laid exactly where he last saw it, though in the last while his body had begun to degrade such that Sound of Progress could barely make out the seams where Third Aeon Adamantine’s fingers connected to his palm. Sound of Progress’s head still rang, his body tense, and he closed his eyes, imagining the shadows of the simulations when he did.
They didn’t know what to do with Third Aeon Adamantine’s body. Garden of Glass was inconsolable, sobbing that he was sorry, that he didn’t know how this kept happening, that none of them deserved this while Secret Behind Window tried to yell some sense into him and Intense Gale Told stood nonchalantly to the side. Sound of Progress sighed, let Melancholy Made Diamond hold him, hating the feel of his skin against his. In his rough and shaky voice Sound of Progress called out that he’d take Third Aeon Adamantine’s body, let it stay in his quarters until their handlers came to pick them up. That seemed to get through to Garden of Glass, somehow, yet he cried in a forlorn, apologetic voice that no, he didn’t trust Sound of Progress to take care of it. So then Melancholy Made Diamond spoke up, said he’d take it, if Garden of Glass would let him.
Consideration led to a brief pause, but Garden of Glass agreed nonetheless. Third Aeon Adamantine was bigger than Melancholy Made Diamond, and so reluctantly Sound of Progress began to help him, unstable on his feet as he was. Garden of Glass began to leave with Intense Gale Told and Secret Behind Window, saying he’d come back to reformat the terminals later. Together Sound of Progress and Melancholy Made Diamond lifted Third Aeon Adamantine’s body, carrying it all the way to Melancholy Made Diamond’s quarters, setting it gently on the floor once there.
Melancholy Made Diamond told Sound of Progress said he was glad he came to help, that they finally got to speak in private. He said he’d been trying to get Sound of Progress’s attention since they first met, that Melancholy Made Diamond had always been interested in him. Like Sound of Progress, Melancholy Made Diamond was an unusual third observer born from a single handler, that like Sound of Progress, his handler’s second observer had not lived as long as his handler’s first. Apparently, he had done some research into his peers before they had gone on their expedition. Sound of Progress felt nothing but apathy, yet did not tell him. Instead, he asked about simulations.
Simulations, huh, Melancholy Made Diamond had answered in a voice that was too obviously pleased, well, from what he’d read, and from what he’d managed to get from Secret Behind Window, well, he wasn’t sure how true it all was. But apparently— well, they say the simulations are supposed to show people, their creators— it’s supposed to show them where Heaven is. Sound of Progress felt compelled to laugh but did not. Instead, he asked if Melancholy Made Diamond would do him a favor.
Third Aeon Adamantine’s body had begun to come apart at its seams, fingers detaching from palms, palms detaching from wrists, arms detaching from shoulders such that he’d taken on the appearance of a deconstructed doll. His legs were stuck on more firmly than his arms, though, and when Sound of Progress lifted up his skirt to see where his legs met his hips the seam between the two had only just become visible. At his feet was Melancholy Made Diamond, grabbing him firmly by the arch. On the other end was Sound of Progress, bent so that his hips were above Third Aeon Adamantine’s neck, hands pulling at his hips. The two strained against his body’s last residual efforts to stay together, Sound of Progress watching wide-eyed as the seam between the thigh and him grew more visible, eventually breaking so that Sound of Progress could see the dark material of his flesh, all of its bunches and threads tearing with more urgency, louder, until with a great rip his leg came off and Melancholy Made Diamond stumbled backwards.
As soon as his junior righted himself Sound of Progress asked him to hand over Third Aeon Adamantine’s leg and not leave his quarters. Melancholy Made Diamond asked why, yet handed over the leg without complaint, so Sound of Progress did not answer. When Sound of Progress took the leg in hand he could feel the material of its flesh begin to sag, coming off from its core with the force with which it had been torn from its body. After sticking his head out of Melancholy Made Diamond’s door, looking left and right to make sure none would see him, he headed towards the inner chamber with Third Aeon Adamantine’s remains in hand.
The inner chamber was the same as ever, dark except for the shielded lights along the sides of the walkway, no simulations active. Sound of Progress walked calmly to the center of the chamber, looking around at the terminals, identical as they formed a circle around him. He closed his eyes, trying to think back to when Garden of Glass had reformatted them. Vague memories of the shapes of simulations crossed his mind unbidden— he could not envision them perfectly, though he tried, once reminded of them. Where Garden of Glass had touched, what weak points were present on the terminals did come to him, though, so he walked up to the center terminal and began to swing, connecting with the points he knew would cause damage.
Sparks flew as the hard core of the limb in hand connected with what vulnerable parts of the terminal there were, Sound of Progress trying to do as much damage to the interior of Garden of Glass’s former station as possible before he switched to bashing the controls, knocking off buttons and knobs. As he did the room seemed to grow lighter, but he was so preoccupied with his task that he did not think to check why. After he was satisfied with mutilating the central terminal he switched to his own, beating it in the same way, hands on what was Third Aeon Adamantine’s ankle as the flesh began to compress and tear away from the core with the twist and force of Sound of Progress’s assault.
Once done with his own terminal he began to attack at random, becoming captivated by the way sparks flew from the damaged terminals, thinking them something like the simulations he could not replicate in his mind. He could no longer remember which terminals he had damaged and which ones he had not, and thus he became less coordinated, swinging what at that point was the near fleshless core of Third Aeon Adamantine’s leg around in a cold, relentless onslaught.
Soon the room had become unbearably bright, such that Sound of Progress was forced to look up, and he saw, and upon seeing he immediately smiled and thought about how he was not going to be like them. The simulations had come alive with his assault on the terminals, now filling up the room, such that everywhere he looked there were more of them, and his head hurt, hurt more than anything, and he was ecstatic. They were all he saw, even as he kept swinging, and he knew that he was becoming blind, until he stopped knowing that, just repeating what patterns and folds and sighs and shudders and shivers and orgasms he saw in his mind over and over and over until it was all he thought about until he heard something call him.
Eyes covered by his hands, Garden of Glass had stepped onto the walkway, the crack in his voice making his tears obvious even if Sound of Progress could not see, begging that Sound of Progress stop, that he come back, telling him that he didn’t have to leave, that Garden of Glass didn’t hate him and would forgive him if he just didn’t do this anymore. There would be nothing left for Garden of Glass if Sound of Progress continued. Everything they’d worked for would be gone.
Sound of Progress heard him, hands still gripping his weapon tightly, swinging wildly. Somehow Garden of Glass’s words had permeated the static of his mind, even as he felt his connection to his body weaken, felt his limbs go weak and his mind grow further clouded. There was no longer anything Sound of Progress could do to stop the destruction of the simulation chamber. He could not tell if he smiled. Instead he turned to face Garden of Glass, nearly blind as he was, still captivated by the way Garden of Glass’s long hair flowed around his body, still desiring to touch it. Strength had long since voided Sound of Progress’s body, but that was okay. He would not be like the others. It was best to die here than to be like them. He called to Garden of Glass, knowing it would be the last thing he did, voice disgraceful as ever.
“Last I slept I dreamt of you."
