The Artifact
The Artifact (Prologue)
Heads up: Character pairings are not pre-determined. Spoilers. The story takes place in an alternate world but some knowledge of both 13-2 and 13 is required. Sometimes I override what FF has explained - like a good host, I will always let you know.
[NAN] = "No Authors Note." If they exist, they will always respectfully be as short as possible.* Full Tags: (Incl. Future/Minor Themes) AU Abuse AFFO Anal Angst Bi BDSM B-MOD CR Contro D/s Dom Exhib F/F Fet Fingering H/C HJ Humil M/F M/M MCD MiCD M/s Oral RapeFic Racism Rim SH Solo S/M Slave Spank Tort Toys UST Violence Voy WIP
*Admin DemonGoddess061 approved this in-chapter tag condensing on 03 February 2013.
"If men were angels, no government would be necessary." --James Madison
You hold in your hands an object that does not exist. The concept might seem strange to you, and once it would have seemed strange to me too. You don’t believe me right? It’s a sentiment I’ve encountered many times in the many lives that I’ve already lead. Like this object, we come from a world that does not exist. It did at one point, you see… But no, not any longer. I—no, we—abandoned that home when I was merely 18 years old, and through the graces of the time goddess, only once did it earn a backwards glance over the shoulder.
I’m talking about something bigger than you and me. I’m talking about Algorithmic Modification of Time. (Don’t try to pronounce it. It’s a term a friend has tried to describe many times with a talent that I can’t replicate to you on paper.) A lot of the people that I’ve met didn’t believe in such a thing, and none of them now possess the memory that would prove to them otherwise. So here we are, you with my memory in your hands and me naught but a fading streak of blood scratched onto probably crumbling parchment. If it’s anything that I’ve come to learn about matter – which is really nothing at all – I’ve learned that it simply doesn’t withstand the erosion of time very well. It’s like a river cutting into a cliff. We used to imagine that the rush of the water was doing the cutting, but I’ve recently discovered that it’s time. As time changes, twists, rushes forwards and leaps sharply to the side, it carries with it the most important fragments of our memories that can otherwise serve to define who we are. My body is young but my soul is old. Without a home to return to, I’ve been jumping from one dimension to the next, experiencing the same events over and over in a different way. My memory hasn’t served me well lately. I’ve been discovering that it’s been increasingly difficult to remember what has happened and what could have happened. It’s important to preserve these memories. I think that If I create a way for me to organize these thoughts and memories it won’t disrupt the flow of time. Unfortunately, the only medium I have that I know will withstand Etro’s tests is this notebook from our home village. Someday, I will have to destroy it. Paradoxes are simply not meant to go unsolved. Until then, I’ll introduce you to what you’ve forgotten, one page at a time. I’ll start with a memory that takes place in 10 AF. That is, it takes place 10 years after the fall of Cocoon and also not the fall of Cocoon, in the local year 2655.*Attack of the split infinitives! Ahhhhhh!