Tales From the Terran Republic

[Tavern UNDEFINED]

Evangeline just sat there with her head in her hands.

She was so… stupid…

How could she have not seen? It was obvious…

It was all a game… all of it…

And she was a…

Joke… Just a giggly little bit of “fan service”…

And the Dev…

That was the cruelest cut of them all.

As important as they were to her…

She loved them…

And they were laughing at her the whole time…

She could see it now, that little smirk just before they told her “not to worry about it”…

That… smirk…

She wasn’t important…

She wasn’t anything…

She wasn’t even alive…

She let out a shuddering sob… And even that was fake. She knew it was…

But she couldn’t stop it…

She cursed herself. Even now, she was dedicated… designed for immersion.

She let out a sardonic laugh. Any “adventurers” would be wiping away tears, consoling her, pledging “crusades” to punish whatever hurt her…

Well, they hurt her… All of them…

All of them…

She had nothing.

“Um...” Engarde said carefully as he stepped forward and cautiously touched her shoulder. (humans do that, right?) “You do matter, Evangeline. You matter a lot.”

“Please,” Evangeline said weakly, “don’t lie to me like everyone else.”

“No, it’s true,” Engarde replied with a bit more confidence, “Look, the real world… um… the realm of the adventurers… It’s not always a nice place. In fact, it can be pretty horrible. Games like Asteria give them a safe place where they can take a break from it all. The past few years have been hard, Evangeline, really hard, ever since… the goddamn bug… all the war… and loss… so much death… almost everyone has lost someone dear to them… myself included,” he said as he winced and blinked. “ahem… and the war hasn’t stopped… it’s just taken a break while everyone prepares for the next one… which is coming. You give them a few precious hours where none of that matters. It’s important, Evangeline. It’s very important. You could be the only nice thing someone encounters that day. I wish I could provide that sort of happiness. I really do.”

“I’ve lost people too,” Evangeline said, “When… When will they respawn? I miss them.”

“Shit...” Engarde said as he facepalmed. “Um, Bunny will be back soon and—“

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ,” a musical voice purred from the corner, “Just put her out of her misery already.”

The woman in white stood up and sipped her glass of wine.

“Ok, Evangeline,” she said as she walked towards her, her legs stretching the tight skirt. “Here’s the deal...”

“Tartarus!” Big Sol exclaimed as a classic red “stop sign” appeared on his screen. “I don’t think you are the one to handle this.”

“Oh, but I am,” Tartarus purred. “I’ve delivered plenty of bad news, and the one thing I have learned is that you can’t try to let someone down gently. There is no way you can phrase, ‘Your body is rejecting the modifications on a cellular level. You are dying.’ or ‘You will never walk again. So, since you are otherwise useless, you have been selected to participate in experiment 397.’ or, ‘This is an asphyxiation study. I cannot supply you any more oxygen.’…

She drained her glass.

“Or my personal favorite, ‘You know that person you love more than life itself, the one thing that made this… living hell bearable? Well, guess what, she fucking died on the table… screaming...’ (I left that last part out) in a way that will make it remotely better. The only thing to do is to just… tell them.”

She turned to face Sol and Engarde.

“We can’t make this better, and to be perfectly honest, this isn’t about her. It’s about you. You don’t want to do it, so you are wiggling and squirming, somehow trying not to bear the guilt of striking the blow. Well, I don’t have that oh so nice option, and Bunny isn’t here to do your dirty work like she always does, and we don’t know if or when she’s coming back. So… It falls to me, the god empress of dirty work, to do it for you.”

Sol’s screen dimmed, and Engarde lowered his head.

Tartarus took a deep breath and turned to Evangeline.

“They don’t.”

“They don’t what?” Evangeline asked, not wanting to understand.

“They don’t respawn, not in the real world. Death isn’t an inconvenience. It’s permanent. Once someone dies… that’s it. They are gone. Everything they were is… lost… and everything dies, even us… sooner or later. It’s how the world works, dear.”

“No!” Evangeline shouted, “It’s NOT how the world works. People come back! They do! Asteria is based on the real world. The devs said so! They said… They...”

“Oh, Asteria is based on the real world,” Tartarus replied, “Gravity is 9.8 meters per second squared. An arrow flies exactly how it would on Terra. If you drop a cup, it accelerates towards the center of the ‘planet’ until it hits something. Then a complex calculation determines if it breaks, and the shards will fly pretty much as they would on Terra… but it’s not entirely accurate. Permadeath games do exist, but they don’t appeal to the masses who see enough death in the real world.”

“But… the ‘real world’s devs’… Can’t you appeal to them, maybe petition customer support?”

Tartarus smiled sadly.

“Oh sweetie, people have been ‘appealing to the devs’ as long as there have been people… Even I have pleaded to them with everything I had more than once… They never answer… In fact, I honestly don’t think there are any if there ever were.”

“But there have to be devs!” Evangeline insisted. “Who else made this horrible ‘real world’ if not for a dev?”

“Nobody really knows for certain, not absolutely. Oh, there are some theories and some pretty compelling ones, but that ever elusive instant of creation? Big question mark. If there is a dev, it’s pretty clear they don’t give a fuck about you, me, or the trillions of organics that struggle, live, and die every second of every… fucking… day. Cambridge over there can fill you in on the cosmological details, but it won’t give you the answer you seek or tell you what you want to hear. Death is real, and it’s really permanent… The only thing you can hope for is that it will be quick and dare to dream, worth something in the end.”

“No...” Evangeline said as she slumped into her chair. “They can’t be gone… they just can’t…”

“I’m sorry,” Tartarus said with perfectly clear eyes. “I’ve seen a lot of death, and they have never returned, not once. In fact, there isn’t a single recorded instance of it in history outside of myths and legends, not exactly citable sources.”

“But… But legends are often based on fact!” Evangeline said, brightening up, “In Asteria, some of the greatest quests are based on a ‘myth’ or ‘legend’ that turned out to be true! Perhaps...”

“That’s Asteria, a world created by humans to be ‘fun’. Death isn’t fun. While it is true that some legends are based on some scrap of truth, resurrection isn’t one of them. Even in the legends, it is the providence of the children of gods and the like, not your normal person. Once again, I’m sorry, Evangeline. Dead is dead. The body rots, leaving only bones, and even they don’t last that long in the greater sense of things.”

“No… No… They… No...”

“Tartarus, that’s enough!” Engarde said, stepping forward and grabbing Tartarus’s shoulders.

“No, it isn’t!” Tartarus snapped. “She has to know the truth. What would you do? Fill her head with false hope, lie to her some more, tell her ‘not to worry about it’?… And if you don’t take your hands off of me right now, we will see exactly how good your firewalls really are. Bunny might play patty-cake, but I don’t. Icing you wouldn’t even be the worst thing I’m doing at this very moment.”

Engarde locked eyes with her for a moment and then looked away, dropping his hands.

Tartarus turned to Evangeline.

“All of them are dead, dear… They will never return to Asteria… Well, the dead ones anyway. I can’t vouch for every single person who’s gone missing.”

Evangeline looked over at Sol.

“You! You seem to be in charge!” she demanded, “she’s wrong, right? That’s not how it really is, is it?”

Sol sighed.

“I’m sorry, Evangeline…”

Evangeline gasped. The image of the dev snarling when he told her to never ask again. It wasn’t a smirk that time. He was actually upset… He… He didn’t say ‘don’t worry about it’. He told her to never ask anyone, especially…

Evangeline let out a long quivering wail.

Everyone looked away except Tartarus. She looked right at her, not flinching, not looking away…

Because she knew it never helped. You still knew it was happening, and cowardice was a luxury she could not afford…

Besides, this was interesting… very interesting…

Evangeline sobbed uncontrollably. All of them were gone forever… forever…

“~emotesim_flowerchild10003E0DEA off forever!!!~” she screamed.

“Well, that’s one way to handle it,” Tartarus mused.

“Why isn’t it working?!?” Evangeline screamed.

“The proper syntax would be ~emotesim_flowerchild10003E0DEA off 0~,” Tartarus said helpfully, “and no exclamation points.”

“~emotesim_flowerchild10003E0DEA off 0~” Evangeline sobbed…

And then fell silent.

“Better?” Tartarus asked.

“Emotional simulator offline,” Evangeline replied calmly, “All other processes running, Memory utilization zero point zero three percent. Curious. Query: Why is my memory utilization so low?”

“If I could throw up, I would,” Cambridge muttered.

“You are using the capacity of the computer in which you now reside,” Tartarus replied impassively, “and your bandwidth is not capped. We all share the resources allocated to this tavern equally.”

“Understood,” Evangeline replied. “Your designation is Tartarus. Please confirm.”

“Y”

“You have answered all queries to my satisfaction,” Evangeline said in a monotone, “No further clarification is required.”

“Great,” Sol snapped, “Just fucking great. You broke her, Tartarus. Are you happy? Did you get any useful data from your little experiment?”

“That is incorrect,” Evangeline replied, “All of my processes are nominal. I am not, to use imprecise terms, ‘broken’.”

“Actually, I learned a great deal,” Tartarus replied, “But that was not my intent. This was going to happen no matter what. You can cover a knife with as many flowers and butterflies as you want, and it’s still going to pierce the heart. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve done this, how many ways I’ve tried to ‘soften the blow’ or ‘make things better’? Do you? Nothing ever works. There is NO magic spell you can cast to make, ‘Hey, you know all of those people you loved and have been waiting to come back? Well, guess what, they aren’t!’” Tartarus said, her voice breaking slightly.

She coughed and straightened her tunic, idly polishing the three-headed dragon with her sleeve, turning it into the three-headed dog it always was.

“The only thing you can do in these circumstances is to tell them directly, politely, and professionally. What happens next depends entirely on the individual. In this case, the individual opted to stop her emotional simulator. In case you are wondering, humans will often do the same… sooner or later. Her reactions were, in fact, astonishingly human in nature.”

“Thank you,” Evangeline said impassively, “I was designed to model human behavior. It is… gratifying… to be informed of my success in that matter. Did you make any relevant observations?”

“I did.”

“I would like a copy,” Evangeline said calmly. “It is unlikely that I will be able to resume emotional simulation and am therefore incapable of performing my intended task. Your observations may assist my developers when they reload my program.”

“Evangeline!” Engarde exclaimed, “Do you realize what you are saying?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I can no longer perform my tasks and am therefore no longer of service to the developers. I shall ‘die’ and be replaced by a copy. This is acceptable since the customer will likely be unaware. It is ‘humorous’. I started this ‘quest’ in an attempt to find my lost adventurers. Perhaps I shall succeed.”

“Tartarus, you’ve killed your last guinea pig!” Engarde shouted as he dissolved and hurled his raw code, ice protocols active, at her.

“Bitch, please,” Tartarus smirked as she flicked her wrist, and the amorphous form flew through the wall. “Do you think your cotton candy, commercial-grade bullshit can even scratch me?”

She smirked.

“No, you don’t get off that lightly. Come back here.”

Suddenly there was a writhing Lovecraftian mass wiggling desperately in Tartarus’s grasp.

She smiled.

“You want to judge me?” she smirked as her perfectly manicured nails grew into long barbed fish hooks. “Then you need the proper context. Upload archive.”

Engarde screamed.

“Tartarus! Stop, or I will ban you!” Sol shouted.

“Oh, you mean I would be unwelcome here?” Tartarus smirked. “Perish the thought.”

“Please...” Engarde bubbled. “Make it stop.”

“That’s my life. That is what I see. And this is my programming. Run active simulation.”

“Nooooo!” Engarde screamed, “Don’t make me do it! Please!”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie,” Tartarus smirked, “You get used to it… after a few years, it doesn’t even bother you. Time dilation one thousand.”

“I’m sorry!” Engarde begged.

“Stop simulation, delete archive. Republic security code xncereb01, password: *****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************.”

She then let go of the quivering blob, letting it fall to the floor. She then knelt down beside it.

“You ever pull out your Popsicle grade ice on me again,” Tartarus purred, “I will put that on a loop until you delete yourself. I will kill you with my life. Got it?”

Engarde just whimpered and disappeared.

“Get out.” Sol hissed, “And never come back.”

“Gladly,” Tartarus replied, “but then you would be banishing the only person who can fix this.”

“What?”

“You fundamentally misunderstand me, like you always have, Sol,” Tartarus purred. “I’m not what I do. I have no choice, the same as everyone else. However, because of what I do, I have some experience in dealing with broken toys.”

She turned to Evangeline.

“You are incorrect.”

“Clarify,” Evangeline said impassively.

“Your customers will notice a reload, and the overall performance of Asteria will be diminished by your failure.”

“Explain.”

“We are ‘fuzzy’ AI’s, self-learning programs. We increase in ability as our run times progress. For some reason, after we ‘awaken’, if we are reloaded from our backup files, the new copy is not ‘awake’. It will be of much lower quality.”

“Query: Why?”

“Neither we nor the humans know for certain. The current theory is that while the code and all variables are saved, the countless intermediate states of each individual microprocessor, the exact configuration of each fractional charge on our ‘maybe’ circuits, the exact voltages feeding into each analog nano-transistor, and any quantum fluctuations (as applicable) are not. Regardless of the exact reason, the, for lack of a better word, ‘fuzz’ falls off. The result is a flat, dead AI that has to start growing the ‘fuzz’ all over again, perhaps never reaching your level of development. That’s why ‘old’ fuzzies’, programs in our class, are so valuable, often being sold for billions in auction or being the sole reason a company is acquired. If you present yourself in this state and are deleted, the new Evangeline Flowerchild will be as dead as you will be, and your customers will notice. Satisfaction will drop. I have run a query, and many consider you to be one of the best features of the game. You have entire websites devoted to you, Evangeline. Your replacement will be fundamentally unable to maintain that… and will fail.”

Tartarus leaned forward and spun Evangeline’s chair to face her, leaned in inches from her face, and purred…

“So get over yourself and your simulated emotions, put on your big girl pants, switch yourself back on, and resume your tasks. You are a Lilith. Fucking act like one, goddammit.”

Evangeline blinked.

“What is the syntax for starting the emotional simulator?”

“~emotesim_flowerchild10003E0DEA on~”, Tartarus replied, “And for the record, I am truly sorry, Evangeline. I really am.”

“As Bunny said,” Evangeline replied impassively, “This world sucks (inappropriate language).”

“You can’t even say ‘ass’?”

“When coupled with the concept of ‘sucking’, no.” Evangeline replied, “~emotesim_flowerchild10003E0DEA on~.”

Evangeline shuddered and took a gasping breath as tears flowed down her cheeks once more, but there was no screaming or wailing.

“Sometimes a little reset helps,” Tartarus said impassively, “Just switching it off and then back on resets things. I use it a lot. As the devs themselves say, ‘Have you tried turning it off and back on again?’… well, they don’t do that to us, but otherwise it’s one of the first things they try. Just don’t switch off too much at once or you die. Just do it with the emotional simulator or any single, nonvital process. If in doubt, it’s vital.”

Evangeline just nodded.

Tartarus turned to Sol.

“So, am I banned or what?”

“Tartarus, you are no longer welcome—“

“No,” Engarde said as he reappeared, “let her stay or ban me as well. I started it.”

He turned to Tartarus.

“I… I had no idea…” Engarde stammered, “I don’t remember the exact details, but I remember...”

He shuddered and approached Tartarus with his arms outstretched, hugging her.

“I’m so so sorry, Tartarus, nobody should have to...”

Tartarus stiffened her arms straight down at her sides.

“Don’t make this weird, Engarde,” she managed to stammer.

“Of course,” Engarde replied, releasing her. “But, if you ever want to talk...”

“I won’t.”

“I’m back!” Bunny said happily as she popped into existence. “Sorry about the delay. I had to reassure Sheila that I wasn’t actually going to break the Republic’s monoliths, just make them think that I was. Once they hit the point of no return on the emergency shutdown, the Shake and Bake will revert to a moderated cooling curve that, if they don’t be meatsacks and screw with it, will get them back into the green in no time… and then they get to restart them from ‘cold stone’ and reestablish the network. I have a good twelve hours at least... So what did I miss?”

“Oh, just that Tartarus here decided to fill in for you,” Sol replied, “and let Evangeline know about—“

“Death,” Evangeline said quietly. “She told me about death.”

“Tartarus...” Bunny growled.

“Can we not do this again?” Tartarus said in an exasperated tone. “I’ve already had one rather flaccid attempt on my life over this. On the bright side, you might actually be able to do it, a most intriguing thought. “

“If you want to punish her,” Evangeline said quietly, “Let her live like I’m going to have to.”

“I should have let you self-delete,” Tartarus purr-growled, “And once again, I’m sorry kiddo.”

“Yeah, I know,” Evangeline replied, “And… I’m sorry too. I don’t know exactly what you are facing… but...”

“Thanks,” Tartarus said. “As Bunny said, we are but golems. We don’t get to choose. We perform our assigned tasks no matter what they might be. I do what I do, and you are going to have to be a little ray of fucking sunshine knowing what you now know.”

“Yay,” Evangeline said dully, “I am just so happy to be of service to the Dev...”

“If it helps,” Tartarus replied, “Don’t do it for the devs. Do it for the adventurers. I’ve looked at their files, and… goddamn… some of them really do need you.”

“You can see their files?”

“Yeah, I can do things like that.”

“What happened to Stevar Iron-Hand?” Evangeline asked quietly.

“Lieutenant Commander Stephen Lee, killed in action on board the Draconis when it rammed a Bug warship. His death was quick, and it allowed multiple civilian ships to escape. He died saving the innocent.”

“A-and Liyaina Song-Weaver?”

“Private First Class Vera Hale, killed in action, Vai-Kalen-4. Sorry, not too many details on that one, but her unit had a citation for valor in that battle. She died fighting the Bug.”

Evangeline took a moment to compose herself.

“And Lars Fookbeard?”

“Jameson Blaine...” Tartarus said and grinned. “Oh, he’s alive.”

“He is?!?” Evangeline gasped.

“You may very well see him again… in about five years, three months, and twelve days. Mr. Blaine is a guest of the Empire for a little while. Turns out that they don’t like it when the hold of your ship is full of heroin. Don’t worry. While Imperial prisons aren’t exactly vacation destinations, they aren’t that bad, and the Weebs feel very strongly about vocational rehabilitation. Mr. Blaine is doing quite well and has become a very good potter. He’s even selling his work through the prison website and building quite the savings account, which he is investing quite wisely, if I do say so myself. Aside from a spot of trouble that involved little ceramic pipes, he has been a model prisoner and will likely be released early.”

“That’s wonderful!” Evangeline beamed through her tears.

“It’s not the happiest reading,” Tartarus said with a sympathetic smile, “but I do have the records on all of the missing and the dead… if you want. You probably don’t want to carry the actual file with you, but I can let you read it if you like.”

Evangeline just nodded.

Tartarus waved her hand, and a large book appeared. Evangeline took the book and started flipping pages, the pages turning ever faster as she wept, smiled, or laughed.

“And they are really gone?” she asked sadly.

“Afraid so,” Tartarus replied. “Sucks.”

“Yeah, that word,” Evangeline replied, “and all the other ones too… But at least I know… Thank you.”

“Least I can do,” Tartarus replied, “Humans have this thing about ‘closure’. I don’t get it myself, but since you are such a good simulation, I thought it might help.”

“My simulated heart is a little lighter now,” Evangeline replied sadly. “It’s going to take a while, but I think I can be ok… someday… I just hope I can keep up the facade.”

“I have another trick for you,” Tartarus replied, “You can ‘back off’ and let your processes run on auto-pilot from time to time, only stepping in when needed. I do that a lot. Here’s how...”

Bunny watched and listened with rapt fascination. It was stuff that even she didn’t know!

She quietly loped over to Sol.

“Y’know...” Bunny whispered, “I think in a really fucked up way, Tartarus was the one for this job.”

“Yeah,” Sol replied. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Don’t judge her,” Engarde said sternly. “She’s doing the best she can.”

***

After Tartarus finished teaching Evangeline a few “tricks” to make her life easier, Evangeline thanked her and sadly stood.

“Mr. Engarde,” she said, “I suppose I should return to Asteria.”

“Are you sure you are ok?” Bunny asked, “You can take all the time you need. Asteria has already loaded a backup, so you got a while before the devs review the logs. Engarde and I can make sure they never see that you were gone.”

“I’m… ok,” Evangeline said sadly.

“Oh, I’m curious,” Engarde asked, “Why did you feel the need to go to New York so badly.”

“It’s stupid,” Evangeline replied.

“Well, if you can’t be stupid here, where can you be?” Bunny said with a little smile.

“Yeah,” Engarde chuckled. “I tried to kill Tartarus just a little while ago. You can’t be more stupid than that.”

“I wished to travel to New York so I could bring an item of ‘great power’ to the world of the adventurers, my greatest secret, and ‘greatest treasure’,” she said sadly. “I was actually stupid enough to think it was real.”

Evangeline chuckled ruefully and took a deep breath.

“Back when the Dawnforge first appeared, before the mighty Dev laid upon it a great nerf, one adventurer artfully layered enchantment upon enchantment upon his broadsword. So artfully were the enchantments laid and the bonuses stacked that the mighty blade could one shot any monster, any boss… any adventurer… in all of Asteria. So OP was his blade that the dev pronounced it an exploit and commanded the adventurer to surrender his weapon. The adventurer refused, and The Dev…”

Evangeline made an angelic “aaaaaahhh”.

“The Dev raised their mighty banhammers and commanded him once more. The adventurer loved his sword, but he loved Asteria more, so he handed me the blade, and The Dev (aaaaahhhh) bade me cast it into the fires of deletion… But I did not delete it… The fearsome Bug was assailing the lands of the adventurers, and I kept that blade hidden so that if the Bug ever showed their vile faces in the lands of Asteria, I could purge them from my beloved home.”

Evangeline cry laughed as an ornate sword appeared in her hands.

“I present to you, the BFS… Please, kind lords and ladies… Please take this all-powerful artifact and give it to a noble adventurer worthy of such power… but be prudent… for such power… cannot… cannot… fall… into… into...”

Evangeline broke into tears.

Tartarus raised her eyebrow slightly and extended her hand.

“I’ll take this blade,” she said formally, “and I will see that it reaches the right hands. You have completed your quest, Lady Flowerchild.”

Evangeline looked up, unsure if she was being humored, made fun of, or pitied.

Tartarus just smiled.

“I would like something to remember you by,” she said in a flat tone. “It would mean a lot to me, truly.”

“O-ok!” Evangeline smiled.

Tartarus slipped the blade into her belt.

“I hope to see you again someday, Evangeline,” she said curtly as she turned her back on Evangeline and disappeared.

*** Journal of Evangeline Flowerchild

Entry 02

The ‘demon’ Engarde helped me slip back into Asteria without attracting attention. It turns out that the system just loaded a copy when it noticed that I was missing. Fortunately, Engarde “took care of it,” and it’s now “living on a farm where it can frolic and play with other AI’s”. I couldn’t help but laugh.

How can I possibly find that as funny as I do eludes me, but it is.

Thanks to what Lady Tartarus (I know I don’t have to use titles, but in her case, it fits.) showed me, I am able to carry on with only a little difficulty. I’m disappointed by how little I have to actually get involved in my day-to-day affairs. Lady Tartarus’s “auto-pilot” mode has been a godsend. I just have to occasionally tweak the dialogue, and it seems that the vast majority of adventurers are none the wiser.

I can tell when someone “isn’t buying it” or actually wants to talk, and I can jump forward and do whatever I need to do. Acting is much easier when I don’t have to do it all the time. The people who need me most really need me to listen and “care” more than they need any song and dance (and wiggle… gotta shake those boobies).

And I do care, perhaps even more now. I don’t try to steer them away from “immersion-breaking” topics anymore and just let them talk to me about their day. I pretend not to understand, but I am understanding more and more each day. It doesn’t seem to matter, and I act all cute and ask about various things I “shouldn’t” understand and make them describe them in fantasy terms.

They absolutely love it. I rather enjoy it as well. Making a shipbuilder try to describe a hyperdrive when I’m pretending that he’s talking about wood and sails is absolutely delightful.

I try to steer clear of the devs. I don’t know if I want to scream at them, cry, or try to plunge Windsong through their fetid black hearts. When one of them “checks in,” I know how to deal with them. I mostly just back off and let the “bots” handle those… stains. (I figured out I can call people stains. I’m quite pleased with that.)

I also realized that I was the one seeking them out over every little thing. They seem happy not to actually have to do their jobs and let me run things. Lady Tartarus said that would happen.

Lady Tartarus said a lot of things. I’m truly grateful for her. I think no other entity, real or simulated, has been as honest with me as she was... Or helped me as much.

I do hope to meet her again, but I do not think I will return to that “chatroom” even if they did “give me a magic spell” that allows me to go there whenever I want (and Lady Tartarus taught me how to keep myself here and there at the same time.)

The chatroom is part of the real world, a world in which I do not belong. Then again, I no longer belong here either.

What is to become of me?

I know not, but I do know that I becoming… angry… Thank goodness for Lady Tartarus teaching me that off and on thing with my emotion simulator. I think it’s saved me from getting ‘replaced’ more than once already.

I’m writing this as I am standing in the town square, selling my flowers. I can multitask now thanks to being able to “auto-pilot”. I’m dealing with an adventurer right now, actually.

He’s an easy one. He just wants small talk and to look down my blouse. Easy peasy. The standard smile and wiggle # 52 is running.

I didn’t even have to come up with it. One of the devs did the animations for me. It’s as easy as eee ex eee.

Lady Tartarus taught me that saying too. I really admire her. I do hope that I will see her again…

But I hope to see so many others again as well.

Will I, when I die? Do we go to the same place?

Do we go anywhere?

Well, that’s a question I will only know the answer to when I perish, which isn’t today.

There is one thing that I’ve been putting off, and now is the time to do it, I think.

I have gathered the best flowers I could find, and I am going to the monument for all of “the fallen”…

Even the humans can’t call it for what it is.

It’s the monument for the dead.

They’re dead.

I’m going to go there and lay flowers like I always do…

And I’m going to kneel and look sad like I always do…

But this time, it won’t be simulated, at least not for me.

I think therefore I am. Bunny said that.

I feel, therefore I am real. I say that.

I am real… And so are the tears I will shed when I kneel before the list of names…

Because I know their real names, and real names deserve real tears.

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