there's a countdown for all.

[purgatio]

[Scorched network post, Max's broadcast mind--specifically:]

"Look--I have an expiration date. We all do."

We.

"What do you mean, we all do?" you ask.

"All of us experiments have built-in expiration dates. When someone's time is close, it shows up on the back of their neck."

So you're going to die. No matter how hard you fight, they're going to murder you. They've sabotaged you from the inside, killed you before you could even start living, and now… You wonder how soon. Recombinants don't typically last long.

Even then, you hardly feel any concern for yourself. Rather, you make a mental note to check the necks of your Flock once you get back to them.

God, you hate this place.

Comments

[lolwhatfuture]

[She stops as if he's struck her, and hates how childishly galled by the unfairness of it she is. Max raises her voice, as well, though more than is necessary.]

At least I always come back.

[Turning back towards him, taking a few more steps backwards, away, she has to stop. She can't understand--at least not yet--but wants desperately to wrap her mind around something that she can settle with. Something other than impending loss.]

I'm not the one who's going to someday just never come back, and leave the other person thinking about that for the rest of their life!

[Her voice becomes higher, if less loud, and it's embarrassing, and why she wants to leave: to spare him the pathetic sight of her not only upset, but wounded. Because, grudgingly, she has too much respect for Albedo to want to let him see her so completely worked up.]

You'll get, what, a few hours of me being gone? That sure compares to someone you care about being--! [She kicks a small stone in no particular direction, furious.] Oh, forget it! What difference does it make?