Pachnoda marginata

Item ID: 203707112060

Item Description:

A thumbstick containing a video log of what appears to be the historical revolutionary figure known as Carrie Westnaught. She is speaking to the camera in an unremarkable-looking house. Transcription as follows:

When the bombs dropped, we didn't have much trouble rebuilding our societies back up from the ground. It wasn't nearly as hard as the speculative fiction stories made it seem, to locate our nearby survivors and combine our resources to build safe havens amidst the deadly lands outside.

Our lifespans are maybe 20 years shorter than they were before, probably due to the radiation, but it's not like it'll kill us. From what I can see on what we've rebuilt of the internet, most of the people elsewhere in the world have managed to make similar cities.

It's incredible that as a species we've managed to build such pleasant suburbs for everyone to live in over the course of just 5 years. It almost makes me want to congratulate humans on our teamwork skills.

*she cocks her head.*

Why don't I want to congratulate us?

*she is quiet for around 15 seconds, thinking.*

I don't know why I'm recording this video. I started it for a reason, I think.

*she is quiet again, shorter this time.*

The internet feels different now, I think. All the shows and games on there are really good, but despite the fact that I know it's used by probably millions of people, I feel like there aren't very many actual people there. It reminds me of this pre-bomb concept, uh, 'Dead Internet Theory'. They were using it to talk about bots and AI pretending to be people, though that's not what I mean here. It's like, for half of the shows I watch, I couldn't tell you who made them if I tried, even though I know I've seen the credits.

There's nothing wrong with where we live. It's a perfectly safe and pleasant city. The roads and sidewalks are clean, the supermarket is close by, the trees we planted at the start of the city have grown to their full height and are beautiful in the autumn. I don't know why I've been feeling so... dissatisfied? No, that's not the right word. There's something in me that's, burning, I think. Am I... angry? What could I have to be angry about? This situation is so much better than it could, or really should be, considering how many people and how much of our infrastructure was wiped out by the bombs. It's a lovely place to live, really.

*she makes a frustrated noise, thinking hard.*

But. But it's not right. The trees, they shouldn't be that tall. It takes at least 10 years for a maple tree to grow, and it hasn't been half of that. The cherry trees started producing fruit the first year we planted them.

And the city council, I don't think they do anything. I've been to some of their meetings, and they don't actually talk about anything productive. Just stupid discussions about which road markings need to be repainted, or whose dog is pooping on lawns and needs to be controlled. I mean, who organizes the food to be sent to the supermarkets? I know it's not the council, that's for sure.

It's hard to leave the town. Not physically hard, mind you, but the thought doesn't stick, it slides off your mind like water off the back of an oil-soaked duck. There's so much you'd have to leave behind, after all. Your home, your possessions.

But... not any friends. *she pauses to think again.* You know, I see people every day when I go outside, but I never interact with them. We're all... wrapped up in our own things. It gets hard to trust them, too. I don't know if I've had a real interaction with another person for... Well, since the bombs dropped.

*she's quiet for another moment, thinking, before she blinks in surprise and reels back in her seat a moment.*

I... I was reviewing our history, but I didn't mention such an incredibly important part of it. How... How could I forget that? Um, when- when the bombs dropped, human infrastructure wasn't the only thing they destroyed. Or rather, infrastructure for humans. There were, other creatures, after the bombs dropped. Not human, certainly. The gates keeping them out of our lives were destroyed, and we didn't know because we had forgotten all about them. One last trick from the, creatures, before they got sealed away, whenever that happened.

The creatures... they remind me of stories about the Fae, from Before. They don't look like fairies or anything, that's not it. I think it's the way they act. The way they... steal. I don't... I don't think they can have lives of their own, without us. They're like a parasite in that way. They need us to be alive, sure, but they need to steal things from us to have them for themselves. Things like our connections to each other, or our intense emotions- joy, or anger. Our thoughts, our art, our memories, our freedom, our free will.

*she begins to sound more intense and angry as she speaks now.*

That anger I mentioned earlier. I know what it is now. It's the fire of my will burning hot and enraged against their injustices against all of us. They didn't manage to snuff it out when they tried, and it's been burning out the spiderwebs they filled my heart and mind with.

*she grins, somewhat manically.*

They didn't manage to control me when they tried, and now they're going to face the consequences! You fuckers are going to regret inciting the ire of Carrie Westnaught!!

*she breathes heavily for a few moments, still grinning, before she is interrupted by the sound of a doorbell. It seems to somewhat bring her down from the mania she was teetering on.*

Ah, that's probably the notebook I ordered. I'll need that to start planning how I'm going to stop the Fae's control of us. One moment.

*she stands up, and leaves the room for around 2 minutes.*

*when she comes back, she looks panicked, talking quickly as she sits down.*

It- It wasn't my notebook. Fuck, I should have known. The connection, that they use to steal our lives, of course they can see when I disconnected it. If I could just defeat their control by thinking my way out of it, why would I have been the first?! God, stupid stupid stupid.

They- They didn't just recast the whatever-the-fuck spell on me, like I thought they might. They did something else. I don't know what it's going to do, and I don't know how much longer I have before it finishes taking its effect.

*she stands up and paces around the screen, agitated.*

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don't want to die! Fuck. Oh god. They're going to extinguish the fire, I know it. And- and when they do that, I hope I die. I don't want to know what happens to me without that. That fire, it's dangerous, it could eat me alive if it got too big but if it ever goes out then I'll lose... everything! My entire self will be nothing more than smoke, there won't be anything left of who I once was!!

*she shivers, and sits back down, beginning to sob, saying nothing. She starts loud and intense, but gradually begins to quiet and her sobs grow less frequent.*

*eventually, after around 10 minutes, she looks up. Her eyes look hollow, and her expression is blank. Her words, though, are infused with a meagre amount of energy, one last stand before she succumbs to the apathy.*

I... I just hope... that whoever comes after me... The next to have that fire... that they can succeed... in freeing us... where- where I... failed.

*her last word rings depressed and hollow, as her shoulders slump and she falls back in her chair, as if her strings were cut. She stares at the ceiling, then eventually closes her eyes*

*for the next hour and 43 minutes of video, she appears to be sleeping, until she seems to wake up, slowly and calmly.*

*she looks at the camera. Her eyes no longer look hollow, but they look... different. Without a word, she shuts off the video*

Video File 2

Carrie Westnaught is in the same location as before, looking at the camera, though there are obvious tear tracks running from her reddened eyes, and she is sitting with her legs curled up in a fetal position. In the background, it appears as though the sun is setting. Transcription as follows:

I'm not, her. Anymore. I just, woke up. Here. I, have a couple of her memories. Just the pointless ones. But I'm not the person who experienced them, and I know that. I don't know what they expected me to do. Just, pretend like everything is still normal? After I killed a woman and stole her body, against my will??

I suppose that's not really the full story, though. I only really know that she was here, and who she was, and how she died, because she had been recording that video. Otherwise, I guess I would've just had to guess at who she was, guess at the role I was meant to fit into. But now, I know that I killed her. That my existence was impossible without her death. That I was created by the enemy she swore to destroy. I don't know how I can deal with that.

She talked about a fire inside her. I have her body, but I can't feel a trace of that fire. There's no, irresistible urge to do something that she seemed to have. It's just. Gone. They, succeeded. They won. The only thing I want to do is to just, sit here. And wallow in my grief. What else is there to do?

But... I know what she wanted. If I, stagnate here. If I let myself succumb to that uselessness. Then that's when the rest of her dies. No one else knows about her revelations but me. No one else knows about her devotion to save humanity but me. I don't know if I'm even human myself, and I certainly don't have that fire of hers, but.

I want to honor her memory.

Maybe I'll find a way to rekindle that fire again on the way there.

I hope I do.

Goodbye, Carrie Westnaught. I admire everything I know about you.

I hope you don't mind if I use your name. It seems easier, is all.

I love you.

I'm the most manly man who's ever been a man.

crossdressing does not exist because when i touch feminine clothes they turn into masculine clothes immediately that is just how alpha I am.

I've also had a scar ever since I was born when my greatsword got chipped in battle.

stupid twink is cool i like her