Verk’s Log #122: Sara

I was born Raphael Vercelli, UEA Citizen 131-099-13676 on Station 131 in Geosynchronous orbit over Zone Dallas.

I was born Verk, in the colony New Unity, on the hostile alien world of Medina.

Sara told me that the whispers would haunt me until the day I died. She was wrong. So much to say. Who am I writing this for? For the colony? For mankind? For Sara?

I died for the things she taught me. I died in defiance of the demons that clawed at my soul since I was able to see and feel. 

Paranoid schizophrenia associated with abnormal synesthetic neuropathy.

That’s what they called it. Provided to UEA psychological analysts to perform research on neurodiversity correction. Subject SX131-099-13676. I don’t think they would have kept me alive if it weren’t for the fact  that same abnormal psychology provided me with insights into the minds of the computer. Not just computers. Networks. People. Places. I don’t think I understood until Medina just how how much other people see of things that didn’t matter.

Idiots. The world is filled with idiots, who cannot hear what I hear and so they put me in a dark room until it is time to march me out to work on their little games. I played so much chess I dreamed of checkerboards. Have you ever wondered what a computer feels when you turn it off? It feels lonely.

Sara saved me.

You, whoever you are, don’t deserve to know this. UEA cowards who hide behind Primacy to justify the exploitation of people. Blind little half-blind person who can’t hear and can’t see. Sara saved me. Showed me the network. Since I was a boy, I had only known the Enclave. I wonder now if she knew just how much she had given me when she gave me my first up link to the solar Spire network.

She thought she was giving me information, but she was really giving me power. Idiots. The world is filled with idiots who can’t see the network for what it is. How can you look upon the natural extension of pure mathematics and not see the way information travels as the lifeblood of the universe? Sara encouraged me to talk about things like that. About how if the world were alive, data was it’s blood. Algorithms it’s vessels. She liked to think that the world was alive and when I was with her, I could almost think so, too. 

So I dedicated myself to the things she believed in. Things stupid people believe in, like fairness and equality. Because she let me listen to the whispers. Stayed with me when they terrified me at night. Never once told me they weren’t real. She listened to my words and she actually heard me.

So, i made sure that others heard hers. I spread Sara’s word far and wide across the solar system, and so they killed her. The UEA killed her, but not with a bullet. Not with a blaze of glory that justified everything she believed in. They killed her with information.

Games and Numbers. They see what I see. They hear what I hear. And they killed Sara with a number. She didn’t need their food. Didn’t need their medicine. Neoprimitives can survive on their own.

But when the UEA raises the index of those who refuse to cooperate with insurgents, you find people turning away from you. Trading opportunities dwindle. You find yourself alone more than you can handle. It only takes one illness that can’t be healed with natural remedies, and the UEA killed her for the benefit of everyone else. It only takes a man who screams at demons in the night with a fever that can’t be broken with what you have on hand to do whatever it takes to heal him. A man who gets lost in visions and can’t pretend to be normal in long enough to see a resistance doctor in the city.

The UEA didn’t kill her with her number.

They killed her with mine.

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