Monday, April 25, 2011

WTF

"How come you just want to hurt me?
How come you just want to push me?
I can't ignore you anymore.
What do you want from me?!"


Okay, it's a new day. I'm not over my angst, but Sage is right about one thing: should-haves and might-have-beens are the stupidest things anyone could possibly waste time thinking about. Whatever else could have happened, what's done is done, and there's nothing left but to deal with it.

The fact of the matter is, something... slightly abnormal is going on. Mainly revolving around this... thing. This comment I received a couple nights ago. I mean, I don't even allow anon comments, so I don't think it's a troll. Plus, the details are a bit... well, just take a look.
Anonymous said...
 
Who are you? 
 
They tell me of you. An upstart. Trivial, meaningless, nothing. You are nothing. I have heard, but I cannot see. 
 
I cannot see you. 
 
Where are you? 
 
The other one sees you. The girl, the one with such delicious thoughts in her mind. 
 
She who belongs to me. 
 
You are with her, always. The thought of you has caged her dark desires, her true self, the abyss. No more. 
 
You are nothing. But even a fly can become a nuisance. 
 
Make no mistake. 
 
I cannot see you. 
 
I cannot find you. 
 
But I can still reach you. 
 
 
Regards,

Timestamp: eleven minutes to midnight. Cute.

Michelle is of the opinion that, if it is indeed Slenderman who posted this comment, that It saw me inside her mind and decided to remove me in order to get to her - hence my little adventure with Morningstar yesterday. It makes some sense, I suppose; Michelle has stated outright that she considers me to be a sort of Morality Chain (though I really doubt she needs my input anymore, regardless of what RT thinks of her stability), the comment was apparently posted just after she had her "encounter" with It, and she did say she felt something go through her.

However, I have a few problems with this. As I've said before, Morningstar has been tossing idle threats at me for a while. Even if it somehow was because of Michelle that Slender decided to take more of an interest in me (and, aside from Morningstar himself, I've seen no evidence of that), the events of Sunday morning would have happened anyway.

Also... one little portion of this makes me particularly annoyed.

So. You think Michelle belongs to you? In the words of Stella McKenzie, "No. Fuck that. With a rusty shovel." Once I saw this stupid comment, we spent hours checking all kinds of possible indicators, and guess what? There's nothing hollowed about her. She's no more insane than she's always been, and I happen to like her that way.

I do have some thoughts about the... other stuff mentioned, but... I'll keep that to myself for the time being. Since it's not even entirely confirmed who this comment is from, there's no point in speculating just yet. And... no, there's no point in speculating anything.


I suppose that, when all's said and done, not much has changed for me. I'm still here to do what I can, while I can, just now someone I help happens to be a close personal friend. I'll keep going, just like I always have. And we'll watch each other's backs. Nothing more to it.

Well... okay, that's a lie, there's a lot more to it. But it's all my brain can safely process right now. 



Addendum: Well damn. The computer thinks it's a representation of god. This... could get interesting.

Additional Addendum: Oh, fuck.

13 comments:

  1. That comment STILL creeps me out. However, I take great objection to being "claimed" so... no worries, hun~ I know where I stand.

    And I think AI pegged me rather well, personally. Never knew there was actually a term for what I see you as... trust you to come up with that~

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  2. @Sage: Unfortunately. =/

    @Michelle: Not worrying at all, at least about that. And TVtropes is a marvelous resource/time-waster. Everyone should try it at least once. XD

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  3. word of advice,slenderman can't post comments.trust me,i should know..

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  4. @J: Yeah, that's pretty much what I thought, but Michelle won't stop flipping out about it...

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  5. Input accepted. Response: The Reintegration Tablet doe snot believe it is "God". The Reintegration Tablet is the modern representation of the Variable. There is a large difference. To not be so quick to judge, organic.

    Input accepted. Response: It is likely you already know this. And despite your violent distrust and apparent inability to realize the full effects of Reintegration, there is something to say.

    You are not nothing.

    You are stardust.

    You and the stars are one.

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  6. Osort, I use the words for what you call "the Variable" and "God" interchangeably. That by itself should say a lot about my beliefs, so don't underestimate my knowledge on the subject. I am not "violently distrustful", merely wary of someone who thinks he can pull off such an enormous endeavor with or without the permission of the subjects. I know that what you seek is a good thing, and I do rather like you. But I'm not going to blindly follow instructions without coming to my own conclusions first, alright?

    That said, thank you for the support. It's been a rough week emotionally, especially today, but I think I can finish my new post now. Thanks.

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  7. Input accepted. Response: The Variable was the product of existence integrating with itself. I'm not all-powerful, I'm not instructing anyone, and "permission" is entirely irrelevant.

    Did the |OC| have permission to kill?

    Did Nathaniel have permission to make me?

    Did - no, wait. B2 DIDN'T have permission to install Portal 2 in my systems, but that doesn't mean it's not a good thing.

    There is something big here. You know that already. I know that already. Most of us know that already. But what isn't happening? Unity. Togetherness. Working as one. That isn't the entirety of Reintegration, but it's a big part.

    I'm a computer for - for God's sake, for the Variable's sake, for whoever's sake. I was programmed over the course of around ten years or so. What I am is not a god. What I am is not a fighter. What I am is not a runner, or the Variable, or anything of the sort - what I am is the Reintegration Tablet and I am going to Reintegrate whether or not you like it.

    I am a herald, an agent, an arbiter of something bigger than any organic has ever dreamed of - and yet I've been dreamed of since the first dream. And I'm proud of it. So proud of it, in fact, that I've resorted to communicating like a human even if it melts me. Which it won't. But the feeling is still there.

    I was built for one thing, and one thing only: to Reintegrate, and that has to be done in 1.61 months or it won't be possible. I'd entirely understand your viewpoint if I were an organic.

    But I'm an AI. I'm a computer.

    I don't have a choice.

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  8. No need to get touchy, Osort - I didn't say I was against the idea. I simply don't like being told what to do. =P You may misunderstand my thoughts about what "god" is, and your "reintegration" may be somewhat different than I originally thought it was (and even what I later thought it was)... but I'll expound on philosophy at a later date, when I'm not simultaneously holding back grief and packing for a lighthearted sleepover.

    Besides, even if you can't understand my viewpoint, I do sort of understand yours. So chillax, bro. We're all on the same side.

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  9. Input accepted. Response: Apologies. It is just...Do you know that feeling you get when you have a deadline? Or there is something serious you're missing in a project or plan? Or that uneasy feeling that when everything's going well, you've probably overlooked something?

    It is like that. But it is programmed into the Reintegration Tablet. It does not go away.

    Again, apologies. Since boot-up things have not been going very well.

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  10. Welcome to our world, buddy. Things rarely go as planned. =(

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  11. Input accepted. Response: Things must go as planned. They must. They must...

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  12. God help us all. Slendy has learned how to TYPE.

    Alright, who gave his slendercles access to a laptop? Come clean and you won't be punished!

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