This Is my Truth, Tell Me Yours

I thought that I would enjoy living in a tidepool. Staring at the ocean from my hut on the Cliffs of Phrastus, I couldn’t stop the longing that grew in my heart every day. At first I projected the guilt onto sunny days, on account of the gemstone beauty of the water. I don’t think anything is as beautiful as sunlight reflecting off the ocean. Light and matter collide to give birth to such a gentle but constant dance it’s... well, it’s so pretty it hurts. I would stare and stare, seeing the blaze of that star diffused into that hypnotic little masterpiece. Everything made sense to me when I looked at the ocean in sunlight. Everything made sense, everything was in harmony, everything (including me) was in its proper place and I felt content.

But then it rained. When it rains near the ocean you feel it so much more than you do when inland. The contrast of the tranquility of the scene I just described, the rising intensity of the ocean, you’re reminded so acutely of the destructive power wielded by the universe, and you’re struck by the realization that the damn thing is alive. Even when the rain is mild, the greyness of the sky alone pulls the rug out from under you (you’ll have to pardon my vernacular, I am aware that I don’t have feet). The melancholy is pervasive on those days. There’s no escaping it, even in a nice hermit shell like the one I found.

So I got to looking at the tidepools again, and I imagined being in the shallow water, safe from being drawn out to sea, and instead being disturbed by the rain I'd be rocked to sleep by the waves it while tucked in a sandy little nook at the bottom. I like color, too, and there’s more colors down there to enjoy. So I flew down (no feet, remember) and I jumped in. I am meant to be the sacrifice, after all. Clever Dr. Yamin with his insidious name schemes. I hold to this day that what you name your child will determine in advance a great many things about their persona and their life, much moreso than the stars, gravity, electromagnetism or even your approach to parenting.

It was fun at first, but after a while, when the anemones and urchins learned what I was and where I was from, they became curious. Soon I was surrounded; caught by tentacles and stuck with spines, and subject to all manner of invasive inquiry. When I heard Netz calling for me, I managed to slip free and hide. I didn’t want her to see me like that, and most of all I didn’t want her to suffer what happened to me. So I hid and snuck away, hoping to reach a safe place to call her name from so I could lure her back to our side of the shore. But I never did find a safe place, so I ended up leaving her there, and when I crawled back onto the sand, I felt too ashamed to face anyone, so I hid from Mal and Hod too. Sorry guys.

I missed them, and it killed me to see their wind trails in the sand. I wanted so bad to show myself, to just come out of my hut and wave to them. Or maybe find a way to make it look like I’d just come out of the ocean. But I choked every time, and silently cried while they frantically ran along the shore calling out for Netz. And then, with horror, I realized Mal was alone. Because I heard her calling for Hod, and the other voice I heard was not his but that of a human. He was a boy, with a voice enough like Hod’s that I excused myself for my mistake. He helped Mal for a while, but soon he got hungry, and asked for food. She foraged for him for a bit, but when she realized Hod was missing too, then she could think of nothing else but finding them. Oh how I ached during those days. I’m telling you, guilt is the supreme torture.

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When the boy, on the brink of starvation, found that he could eat her, I felt enough anger to finally emerge. But there was nothing I could do to stop him. I saw his eyes and realized I would just be eaten next, so I hid, and I watched. I didn’t want to watch! I had no choice. I dare not risk being seen, so all I could do was bury myself as much as possible and then lay still until she was gone.

I wandered the beach for years then, eventually making my way inland. I didn’t go far inland, just a ways. Just the thought of a city or even a suburb was painful. It was that preemptive pain, like when you imagine running into your ex at the store and you feel the cinching in your gut even though the thing hadn’t happened. I didn’t want to be reminded of where I came from, because that would remind me of what I was and I couldn’t handle that. So I stayed in the middle, in earshot of the waves and far enough from the road that I could not quite hear the traffic.

And that’s when I found Hod.

Welcome to Bastion, the sign said. If ever I saw a ghost town, this was it. The feel that it was currently being lived in was so strong it was almost oppressive, only there wasn’t anyone there at all. I searched for days through the houses, the rec centers, the libraries and VRcades. I went to the police stations and admired their laser rifles, went to the army base and the hospital. I lingered in its parks and sat submerged in its fountains and I thought that I’d discovered a place built just for me. I don’t even know how long I’d been there before finally stumbling upon his tomb. He had a small monument over him, and I cried after exhuming him. He too had been devoured, but not by an animal like the boy who ate Mal. He’d opened himself up; revealed his heart so his ohr could be siphoned out clean and I then knew where the power came from to have built such a perfect city.

There was a cosmodrome on the outskirts. I took him there and fashioned a rocket from spare parts. I sent him on a voyage, knowing his love of deep space. Where he is now, I do not know. I only know he died nobly, paying the sacrifice I was meant to. We were made as an attempt to understand ohr, the living photon. But our purpose, refined by the enlightenment Dr. Yamin did not expect his research to catalyze, grew beyond his awareness. If only our souls had grown as well. Hod, my brother, you have redeemed us. Sail forever on the deep black sea. Netz, my sister, forgive me. I loved you and I pray that you will one day be rescued. Mal... I'm sorry. I can’t.

And now we come to it, the purpose of this letter... Only I don’t know why one writes a suicide note. It’s not for me, that’s for sure. I suppose I want people to know that the ones I failed are noble, and that I became a monster. I know that’s only a guess, and you who read this likely want more. But as you can imagine, my mind is a scary place, and I don’t have the fortitude required to endure another second of the horror that is my thought. So I’m signing off, wishing all of Briah the best. I once was, but no longer am Yesod, favorite child of Dr. Yamin.

Goodbye.

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