It was dark, a void in which he could not comprehend, nor think of anything at all. Scratch that- it wasn’t darkness. Calling it so would be like calling what a blind person sees “black,” and even that couldn’t truly capture the gap between the word “dark” and what he was experiencing in that moment. It seemed that this state of things would continue forever, which perhaps his non-existent consciousness would find somehow comforting… Yet, there was something there, a tiny pinpoint of light that slowly got bigger and bigger, gradually increasing in size, until suddenly- It grew far beyond the rate that it was supposed to, and he was consumed by the blinding expanse.
“...!” A kick to the gut quickly followed the indecipherable sound, and another light once again filled his vision - this time, far more subdued and mild than the one that came before. A kick? He knew what that was, unlike before, where he didn’t know a thing about anything at all. Then, more and more pieces started to form in his mind, greater and greater shapes took form, until once again: it expanded far beyond its rate of growth.
The information came rushing into his mind. Everything: the war, the rifle that he was hugging in his sleep, and the amazingly deep shit that he was in. He recalled everything about the state of the world, from the collapse of Brazil, to all the shit that led up to that event, including the fact that he himself was dealing with the consequences of such a tremendous political happening. He was a soldier, that enough was confirmed when he watched the jackboots of his commissar hovering above his previously unconscious - and utterly ignorant - face.
The voice of the commanding officer told him enough - it wasn’t the rage-infused, fiery voice that always greeted him when he messed up, but a coldness that would have sent a shiver up his spine, if not for the fact that his nerves were so messed up.
“This is the last straw, Private.” A voice that was once kind and respectful, tolerant of his mess-ups, now spoke with a fury that he knew meant that he had FUBARed for the last time in short career. The middle-aged man’s face became clear as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, and the familiar, scarred face of the officer became as clear as the sun hanging above.
Of course, he knew what this meant, that he had fucked up badly, and that he was most likely going to become cannon fodder. Thoughts of- THWACK! An unexpected blow would come to his head, and he would be knocked clean.
The commanding officer looked at the living corpse in front of him, and merely frowned, “I don’t want to do this.”
Maybe he didn’t, but what would come for the next would not be something remedied by mere regret.
Darkness greeted him again, enveloping him as if he was a babe fresh from the womb, but instead of knowing nothing - being ignorant of who exactly he was - he remembered everything that transpired, though to a blurry, messy degree. This comfort would not be long-lived however, as the light would once again consume him, this time, before he could even witness it expanding.
“Wake him up! We’re about to-”
“Damnnit, why the hell did I sign up for this?!”
“Sergeant, please stay with me! Oh god, please!”
He picked up his shovel. Confusion encompassed him fully, but his body and mind knew the instincts that he was supposed to use in the stretched out moment that he was in. Vibrations would run up what he knew were his legs, both from the objects falling from the sky, and from the steps that he took. His eyes received light, but his mind did not see, yet he continued to march on.
The vague object slung on his back was useless, and the rest of the equipment were things he knew were inferior even to the stuff that people used in the 2020s - whatever that meant in the confused state he was in.
Vibrations crawled up his arms this time, these ones feeling much closer - far more personal than the indifferent bombs and artillery pieces falling to the ground. Another set of vibrations would greet him again, and then, some moments after, he felt more vibrations crawling up his arms, then more, and more, until eventually the cacophony stopped.
The vision that had been clouded began to return to him, and the ringing in his ear that he didn’t even know was there subsided. The environment was torn. What was once a fertile jungle was now nothing but patches of discolored dirt and mind, a variety of pallets painting the canvas of the land with the brush of the various chemical and biological weapons used in the battlefield. This was clear to him due to the fact that he was standing at the edge of a cliff, overlooking hundreds upon hundreds of smoke clouds, bullets whizzing by, and cheap, mass-produced drones dropping their payloads onto unsuspecting trenchmen.
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The way he viewed it, it was almost a surrealist painting, with all the different pieces moving together as if the painting had come to life. Yet, he knew that he could not reminisce on his thoughts any longer, and he turned to the men that he suspected that he saved. He saw their wide eyes, the blood on their faces, and he knew that what they had just witnessed was something worthy of being relayed over a warm campfire.
The young private looked down to his side, noticing the dangling piece of flesh that was once his left arm, but most importantly: the three corpses that stood beneath his jackboots, “Did I do this?”
One of the men sheepishly nodded, before another yelled out in fear: “ARTILLERY!”
“Wha-” That was the only sound that came out of the Private’s mouth before the artillery piece landed on his squad’s position. He was thrown back, painfully hitting the back of a makeshift shack before blacking out for a few moments, then waking up. He almost thought that he had somehow survived the impossible, but looking down, he noticed the distinct lack of a lower half.
“Oh shit…” Oh shit indeed. His breathing became slower and slower, part of his lungs burnt and exploded due to the energy of the blast. Consciousness would quickly leave him, even as he desperately tried to hang on to dear life. He saw his squad - they too were dead men - due to the evident fact that there were no advanced life support machines around that they could conveniently hook themselves up to.
Darkness would once again consume him, going back to that good night where he began.
“...” He didn’t feel like he was dead. In fact, he felt quite alive. As alive as floating around in a black void was.
“Ch ... .eck…..ing” A voice, almost artificial, rang out in his head - it was painful, far more painful than anything he had ever felt in his life. You could say that the worst pain that he had ever experienced was like a pin cushion to an elephant when compared to this. He tried to move around, but found only that darkness was all that accompanied his will.
“So… . ul…. Integ….ity….Nomi…..nal.” The pain was lessened this time, but still quite the thing to experience. Once again, he saw a pinpoint of light, slowly expanding, until he was enveloped. This time, it was far more gradual, much more comforting to his lost soul.
As he woke up, he noticed that he was… sitting? In a chair no less, made completely out of metal. The cold sensation that afflicted his buttocks was at least something that he assumed was made out of metal.
Touch was the first sensation to come of course, on account of him actually feeling something below his buttocks. The second sensation to come was sound, which came with a silent hum of what he assumed was various forms of machinery. Then taste came, accompanied by the taste of something metallic on his tongue. Smell would come next, but its sensation was so subtle that he could barely even notice it.
Finally, came the sensation of sight, and with it, he saw a scene that was utterly baffling to him: an office. Yes, an office, like what you would see in those old films about businessmen and Wall Street from the 20th Century. In fact, it was exactly like one of those offices, with outdated, oversized computers in cubicle desks - which of course, were in cubicles.
Because of the interior architecture - which he knew was far more stylized and expressive than the utilitarian and brutalist architecture of his time - he saw windows, which seemingly had a view of an abandoned 1990s city skyline. From what he saw, it resembled the old city of Detroit the most, but he could never be truly sure.
“Welcome.” Where there was no one before, there was a lady standing over him. Her features were vague - as in it was like looking at a blurry photo instead of actually looking at a person - which unnerved the young private quite a bit.
He had many questions, most importantly were the ones that concerned his apparent survival and where exactly he was at the moment? Perhaps this was the afterlife, or maybe his little comment before he supposedly died actually came true after all - if so, he would like to thank whichever health firm was somehow able to retrieve his body.
“What?” That was all he could say, yet as his voice came out of his mouth, even more surprises were revealed: his voice wasn’t his. In fact, it was completely different, and also robotic, like he was somehow speaking through a comm unit instead of his body.
“You may be confused.” The blur said.
“Hell yeah, I’m confused! Why the hell do I sound like this?! Where the hell am I?!” He began to suspect that he wasn’t taken in out of some act of kindness, but instead as a labrat for one of those firms that experimented with cybernetics.
“You are currently in the Southern headquarters of Salva Industries. Please remain calm, I will display a much more truthful view, as it seems that this particular display is disturbing to you - as familiar as it is.” When her word ended, the whole scene changed, and somehow he ended up in what looked to be a room made entirely of concrete. What was strange about the place - which he didn’t notice at first - was the fact that the concrete was so pristine, without cracks or imperfections. It was as if someone had created the archetypal ideal of “concrete” and used it to construct the room.
A door opened up from the perfect seams of the “concrete,” interrupting the private’s thoughts. What he saw when the door finally fully opened was utterly baffling to him: a city. Or at least he thought it was a city. Truth be told, it was bizarre, with spires that pierced the clouds and stretched beyond the horizon, and countless buildings with architecture that looked straight out of a sci-fi movie. His hypothesis that he was in the afterlife seemed to become more and more possible with every moment that he looked at the skyline, with all the density of its population, the beauty of its buildings, the majesty of its technology and the enormous size of its megastructures.
“You may be confused.” The blur appeared again, this time right next to him.
“...” He was speechless, staring awe-struck at the view in front of him. The blur of a lady looked at him, seemingly confused at his expression, which he noticed.
“Of course I’m speechless, dumbass.”