“Aren’t you both vaguely horrific people?“
“What’s your point?“
A story about someone who likes to make things that break other things.
I get it, catastrophes happen, but when you are probably the best breaker down-er on this planet, catastrophe is just another part of your daily routine. Ruin buildings, ruin lives, ruin yourself, whatever, just a normal day.
Somethings were easy to break; bricks, hearts, eggs, will to live, actual lives, steel. All of those things could be broken easily with the proper skills, but just because I knew that didn’t mean that I wanted to break them all. See I wasn’t THAT immoral.
But sometimes even the best of us slip up, even when there’s way more at stake than you should be in charge of. And that shit can ruin you.
And I ruined myself in a way I’d never thought possible doing just that. Slipping up.
And I don’t mean it in a melodramatic way like I got fired from my job or some shallow shit like that, but I killed a man. A whole person, never to be seen, heard, listened to ever again. Because I couldn’t be bothered to double check a simple switch. Just one spark and I ended a man with my fucking impatience.
So I drank myself into oblivion from that day on, got a divorce, depraved myself of human contact, the few words I spoke everyday limited to the bartender to order another one. Didn’t get a new job, lived on the streets; I turned into every guy who couldn’t handle reality ever, and I hated myself for it but this was my self inflicted punishment for being so fucking careless when some many lives were on the line.
What would I have done if there were any more casualties? Killed myself? Turned mad?
Lord only knows what I should’ve done with that time, but after that incident I gave up on all religions so I couldn’t care less what he’d propose.
I lived this way until I met Kepler. I was a sad, sad man, drinking my future away, living life barely awake.
But then a man, obviously military as he held himself outrageously high, sat down next to me at the bar. Didn’t take much to get me talking honestly, he only had to buy me a drink.
I told him my whole fucking life story and he gave me a damn business card. His only words, “Call it if you decide that you want to stop feeling so goddamn sorry for yourself and get on with your life.”
It had the name of a corporation on it, Goddard Futuristics.
And the rest is history. This one shot is based on the podcast Wolf 359 and the character Daniel Jacobi, and I am super duper disappointed in myself but whatever man. the world still goes round.
On a completely separate note though, happy early halloween to everyone and if you want to send my some candy feel free cuz I don’t plan on leaving the house so Cheers!
This is me,