( it isn't that four is surprised by the decision to have elan ceres himself attend his own graduation; it makes sense. that is what he tells himself. because it is true. if anything, each waking day was a surprise: i'm still here i'm still here i'm still here. he can't even say until it wasn't, because even on the day of the ceremony it happens as it often does on days not beset by the fallout of continued permet experimentation and such consistent dissociation from reality's basics that one would suspect four of being dedicated to it, commanded to it, even.
four opens his eyes, lets the austere room swim into its grayscale view. four lifts one hand, surveys for the subtlest glow of permet which sometimes exists even without the tandem discomfort. four covers his face, which is not his face, closes his eyes and breathes. four turns on his side, lets his refocused vision follow the pale line of his arm out the the thin of his wrist and the upward askance of his palm, the default open soft curl of his tapered fingers. only at peil does he wear something aside from the school uniform: the plain shift which makes checkups easy and tests much the same. there is also no need for the school uniform here, since on premises, clones do not leave their respective units, lest they cause the kind of confusion it's a wonder the world hasn't experienced yet.
even though four has moved through the years between pages and pages of philosophy, he tries not to be philosophical about himself with greater and lesser turns on success. there seems to be no point in wondering things such as: is this some kind of joke? for the past few weeks there hasn't been a day he's woken without crippling pain.
but today, when he can't leave, when he isn't needed perhaps anymore at all: nothing.
he feels fine.
he is fine.
he is.
when he curls on his side again, he pretends to sleep until he's actually asleep.
just fine.
. . .
the first knock brings him awake. the second knock brings him to his feet. autopilot. it's not a voice he wants to hear. your own. not your own. your own. not your own. but he can't ignore him either. even if he did, it is not as though elan ceres of all individuals could not simply waive himself access into the room. master keys exist for this reason, after all. a sigh congests in four's chest, disfavored with abrupt movement and the silent bare footed half stumble that smoothes out before he lets the door open and elan ceres into the room that is as bare as the one at the school, well, more so.
what he expects, he isn't sure. what he doesn't expect: the small tomato plant that sticks out like a newborn star on the overloaded cart, and certainly not —
— this.
he blinks. what is this for?
that question intersects imperfectly perfect: the crosshairs of what is this for and why are you doing this.
his gaze veers away. it takes him a too long moment to understand why it's hard to breathe. his chest feels tight, but it's everything, as if tension often attributed to his economy of movement has taken a further step, the subconscious acknowledgment of no longer serving a purpose. against all odds, he's lived until now but to what end? an antiquated proof of educational promotion. a milestone in a child's life even to this day however many years after the earth was abandoned but not her conventions.
disheveled, four still wears the peil sanctioned earrings as a habit. the soft light in them emanates a bit brighter because the units peil keeps each clone in at any given time are fairly dark. they didn't just fix four's lackluster vision after all; it was improved, some kind of augmentation based more on animals than people, a tricky thing given they still needed the eyes themselves to look human.
like a specific human at that.
identical green eyes to the ones that look at him, look away with a persistence that's frayed and long practiced at pretending it isn't.
four does not even realize he slept through to the next day, not yet putting the pieces of clockwork together to make the reasonable conclusion that of course elan ceres wouldn't have been able to get here on the day of. not that four wanted him to anyway. not that four wants. not.
even in his peripheral vision, the nameless diploma is blinding.
his thought from the day prior resurfaces anew: is this a joke?
at his sides, his empty hands tremble.
"i've got your stuff."
that's what elan ceres had said.
four swallows. it feels sharp and expands like a bad habit in his throat. what should he say? why is he so...
eyes downcast, they take everything in on a multiplied level involuntarily, images laid over one another on repeat as if four has been thrust into a visual loop he cannot step outside of: the books, the tomato plant, the diploma, elan ceres, over and over and over.
he's so...
a moment passes, and four breathes. just like he is supposed to. he closes his eyes and opens them, grasping his own calm in a chokehold as if to say: don't fail in this too. yet his gaze rests not on the items on the cart and not on the diploma, but rather at elan ceres' shoulder. not quite neutral territory but as close as four can manage.
as close as he can afford.
inhale. exhale. inhale —
"elan ceres will go, as we're sure you anticipated. with graduation, your role as a student is of course complete. we will resume focus on making strides with the uses of permet enhanced bodies as you were originally used before the duels for miorine rembran began. you may retire to your unit until we next have need of you. belmeria winston will contact you at that time."
smh
four opens his eyes, lets the austere room swim into its grayscale view. four lifts one hand, surveys for the subtlest glow of permet which sometimes exists even without the tandem discomfort. four covers his face, which is not his face, closes his eyes and breathes. four turns on his side, lets his refocused vision follow the pale line of his arm out the the thin of his wrist and the upward askance of his palm, the default open soft curl of his tapered fingers. only at peil does he wear something aside from the school uniform: the plain shift which makes checkups easy and tests much the same. there is also no need for the school uniform here, since on premises, clones do not leave their respective units, lest they cause the kind of confusion it's a wonder the world hasn't experienced yet.
even though four has moved through the years between pages and pages of philosophy, he tries not to be philosophical about himself with greater and lesser turns on success. there seems to be no point in wondering things such as: is this some kind of joke? for the past few weeks there hasn't been a day he's woken without crippling pain.
but today, when he can't leave, when he isn't needed perhaps anymore at all: nothing.
he feels fine.
he is fine.
he is.
when he curls on his side again, he pretends to sleep until he's actually asleep.
just fine.
the first knock brings him awake. the second knock brings him to his feet. autopilot. it's not a voice he wants to hear. your own. not your own. your own. not your own. but he can't ignore him either. even if he did, it is not as though elan ceres of all individuals could not simply waive himself access into the room. master keys exist for this reason, after all. a sigh congests in four's chest, disfavored with abrupt movement and the silent bare footed half stumble that smoothes out before he lets the door open and elan ceres into the room that is as bare as the one at the school, well, more so.
what he expects, he isn't sure. what he doesn't expect: the small tomato plant that sticks out like a newborn star on the overloaded cart, and certainly not —
— this.
he blinks. what is this for?
that question intersects imperfectly perfect: the crosshairs of what is this for and why are you doing this.
his gaze veers away. it takes him a too long moment to understand why it's hard to breathe. his chest feels tight, but it's everything, as if tension often attributed to his economy of movement has taken a further step, the subconscious acknowledgment of no longer serving a purpose. against all odds, he's lived until now but to what end? an antiquated proof of educational promotion. a milestone in a child's life even to this day however many years after the earth was abandoned but not her conventions.
disheveled, four still wears the peil sanctioned earrings as a habit. the soft light in them emanates a bit brighter because the units peil keeps each clone in at any given time are fairly dark. they didn't just fix four's lackluster vision after all; it was improved, some kind of augmentation based more on animals than people, a tricky thing given they still needed the eyes themselves to look human.
like a specific human at that.
identical green eyes to the ones that look at him, look away with a persistence that's frayed and long practiced at pretending it isn't.
four does not even realize he slept through to the next day, not yet putting the pieces of clockwork together to make the reasonable conclusion that of course elan ceres wouldn't have been able to get here on the day of. not that four wanted him to anyway. not that four wants. not.
even in his peripheral vision, the nameless diploma is blinding.
his thought from the day prior resurfaces anew: is this a joke?
at his sides, his empty hands tremble.
"i've got your stuff."
that's what elan ceres had said.
four swallows. it feels sharp and expands like a bad habit in his throat. what should he say? why is he so...
eyes downcast, they take everything in on a multiplied level involuntarily, images laid over one another on repeat as if four has been thrust into a visual loop he cannot step outside of: the books, the tomato plant, the diploma, elan ceres, over and over and over.
he's so...
a moment passes, and four breathes. just like he is supposed to. he closes his eyes and opens them, grasping his own calm in a chokehold as if to say: don't fail in this too. yet his gaze rests not on the items on the cart and not on the diploma, but rather at elan ceres' shoulder. not quite neutral territory but as close as four can manage.
as close as he can afford.
inhale. exhale. inhale —
"elan ceres will go, as we're sure you anticipated. with graduation, your role as a student is of course complete. we will resume focus on making strides with the uses of permet enhanced bodies as you were originally used before the duels for miorine rembran began. you may retire to your unit until we next have need of you. belmeria winston will contact you at that time."
— exhale. )
I don't understand.
( i don't
wanti don't
knowi don't. )