Chapter Text
The prisoner finds it easy to distinguish between dreams and reality. A century into their sentence their mind finally connected that reality is the cell and dreams are everything outside it.
After Years upon years of drowning in a sea of mental anguish and confusion the prisoner finally was able to claw their way to the surface.
Thinking about memories leads to thinking about changing the past leads to a dream of what could have been. The anguish is dulled in the dreams. Conversations with fading faces dulls the loneliness that has ripped through their entire being. The dreams fill up their desperate need for connection just enough for reality to slam back into focus and rip apart the minuscule sense of comfort in their soul.
They always end the same. A nice conversation. An angry confrontation. A pleasant evening in the simulation with friends that SHOULDHAVEDONESOMETHINGWHYDIDTHEYFORGETTHEMHERE
Every time one of the people will look towards the prisoner and open their mouth to say their name.
Their mind reaches for a name to fill the gaps and the simulation will cut through it until the sense of self remembers that its name was taken.
The old ways have outcasts of the tribe stripped of their titles and names with all mention of them burned from all documentation. The old ways have been twisted to have done this to the prisoner. How could one act justify an eternity of this? At least the outcasts in the past could escape through death. No matter how much the prisoner clawed at the simulation focus the simulation refused to let their flame die. No matter how much they clawed at the walls the simulation refused to let them out. No matter how much they clawed at themselves the simulation refused to let them die.
Centuries pass.
Dreams come and go. An organic brain would have shattered to pieces under the weight of centuries upon centuries of memories but this simulated one repaired itself constantly.
The dreams grow longer and longer. Excuses to postpone conversations with dream people cause the dreams to last longer and the pain(?) of waking to be postponed. But every time the reaching for their name wakes them. The prisoner is adaptable but their sense of self cannot be cut from the dreams no matter how hard they try.
More time passes. Or does it? Nothing changes. The stars stay frozen in the sky and when they arnt looking the scratches on the walls and their torn out claws repair themselves. Has any time passed? If they try to focus they can almost feel their dying body in the real(?) world. Maybe it’s only been a few days and their friends are waiting to free them from this hell.
A new dream comes into focus. A boat on a lake. The prisoner sits inside looking to the shore. A faceless past friend of theirs waves to them and gestures them closer. The prisoner doesn’t move. The rocking of the boat is nice and the dream can wait to end. Just when the prisoner was pondering the wildlife that they never got to see a loud noise startles them from the dream and back into the cell. This had never happened before. All dreams ended the same and this dream hadn’t reached for the prisoner’s sense of self yet.
Fear grasped the prisoner’s heart. A shadow moves across the floor as someone moves above them. The prisoner reached for their name to end this new dream. The absence of self cut through them but it… didn’t end this dream. The elevator started to move down towards them. Was this someone? An outsider?
The prisoner was frozen by fear. Huddled in the furthest corner from the elevator. The desire to see someone was completely smothered by this new fear of the unknown. The creature stepping out of the elevator was alien in a way their brain could have never dreamt up. Four eyes and a featherless face that twisted and squinted looking up at them. This stranger had sneaked or carved its way through the simulation all the way to whatever forgotten corner the others had left them in.
The prisoner reached out to confirm with its own hands the stranger’s existence and the stranger flinched backwards. It's been so long since their vocal cords have been used and with an abundance of words to say the prisoner remains frozen. An idea forms and the prisoner reaches for the almost forgotten memory projector.
Crafting the core truths of themselves into a memory was easy. The trouble with these was always adding too much information and overloading the receiver’s brain. The prisoner’s remaining clear memories from before have faded and been stripped down to the bare bones. All they have is the small action they took that damned them to this hell. Since the stranger has dived this deep into the simulation that must be what they want.
After offering the memory projector the stranger fumbles with it before holding it to their own face. The memory given is rough and quite painful. Too much information coursed through their head but they didn’t care. Every piece of new simulation was appreciated.
Their greatest sin had meant something to two entire races of aliens. Had impacted them in a way that brought this stranger, this friend to their cell. The prisoner lets out a mourning call.
One last trip up the elevator.
Without looking back they walked out of their prison. The part of the simulation they stored him in looks nice. Despite the circumstances and the suffering they caused the prisoner. They were glad they got one last look at something beautiful. The prisoner left one last memory for their friend and hoped to see them in whatever comes after.
A new dream.
A grave. A campfire. A friend. Acceptance. A nice song at the end of the world.
As the eye was observed the prisoner prayed to it and asked for something nice to come after. With friends. The prisoner observed the eye and the eye observed the prisoner.
The dream faded.
A new universe is born.