[Fan Fiction] Finis Coronat Opus

The Ghost of Ember 12-22-2005 10:56 PM
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Finis Coronat Opus
‘The End Crowns The Work’
Fanfic by the Ghost of Ember, 12/22/05
Takes place during episode 24-25, from Schwarzwalds perspective.
I don’t own Big O, please don’t sue me, ‘cause I’d lose.
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There was a jolt as Duos arms jerked upwards, the converted drill-hands twisting into the shape of the propellers they once were. Its rockets flaring, we began our ascent into the sky. The clown in Duos cockpit clawed ineffectually at the controls, and I afforded myself a chuckle at his wasted effort. Had it not been for Duos desire to ‘feel out’ the new pilot, then the subjugation would have occurred long ago.

I feel nothing but contempt for the clown. He is-- was a conglomeration of man and machine. The first of his kind in forty years, but he was the unfortunate fusion of refuse from both man and machine. With human nature he took satisfaction in the suffering of others. Strong like a machine, but lacking any purpose-- no goal, no destination, no soul. He was not capable of one truth, one primary purpose, any singular goal... or even have vague inkling of such a prospect. The fixation on mindless pain and death made him unfit to be a dominus.

It was an amusing irony that the clown had linked himself directly into Duo. This relieved the Megadeus the burden of forcing such a connection. Additional linkages continually added themselves until there were enough to allow a full transfer, but that hardly mattered. It would be over soon and the fruitless struggling would stop. He would become the slave and Duo the master.

As an extension of Duo, he would become a simple tool, carrying out the actions that Duo and I desired. The self-restrictive programming that limited a Megadeus’ independent actions made such a tool necessary. Only then would Duo be capable of doing anything we desired. It was regretful that we had to use someone as despicable as Gabriel, but beggars can’t be choosers.

I look down at Paradigm city engaging in its petty squabbles as we climb higher and higher into the heavens. Humanity is a twisted thing. When it comes to out achievements, we are giants that match even the Megadeus in stature. Although we seem to be the creators of this city that we call a ‘world’ and the reason for all its activity, we still remain chained to routines by our weak-willed nature-- held in check by our fear and unwillingness to discover the truth, much less come to terms with it.

...Yet I had been willing to break free of those chains, and others will surely follow. I only needed to show them the way, that it could be done, that we have the power to resist the primal energy called fear which keeps us all under its control.

Duo and I will show them, in a way I could never have dreamed when inhabiting the restrictive body of a man. Before joining Duo, I had assumed that the truth was buried underground... that the memories of the events that occurred forty years ago would be sketched into some proverbial tablet hidden in a long forgotten subway labyrinth.

How foolish I had been. The origin of the truth had been staring me in the face all along. Duo was the representation of the truth, even down to its seemingly dual nature, which was in fact merely an illusion. It is the harbinger and deliverance, the vassal by which the truth would be revealed. Duo was not a machine designed to bury itself in the ground-- as that Paradigm dogs Big had-- it is a flying machine, and that is where the truth is located. Here amongst the heavens is its resting place, lofty and inaccessible to grounded man.

The true memories will be in my possession shortly. The veil of clouds that cover Paradigm is thinning, and the vague shapes in the sky take form...

I am struck by the visage that appears before me.

The denizens of Paradigm City look up to the sky and hope that behind the veil of clouds there are deities that watch over and protect us. Even the wildest theories of God that the people below have created could not account for this.

This is no god, no deity, or even the farcical concept called the sun which lurks in our memories. It is merely abandoned equipment. Another false sky, stage lights, grids, electric equipment, sound systems, fog generators, air scrubbers. Another construct of glass and metal, workings of the hands of man.

Gradually understanding comes to me, and I can’t resist laughing. It is not the triumphant laugh caused by discovering the truth, but rather the realization of a vast cosmic joke. Paradigm city: nothing more than a grand ostentatious stage. No ‘God’ looks down on us, only twisted creatures like ourselves, who take amusement from the pain of others. This is a comedy! The folly of humanity is nothing more than a punch line!

The true memories were nothing but false shadows. Designed to send us on a humorous tirade, to prod us into making mistakes and harming one another. It was too hilarious to stop laughing, and Duo inquired on behalf of my condition, broadcasting worry. I assured him that all was well and adjusted our course.

I myself appreciate the nature of comedy. Here is my addition to the punch line.

--

Nobody noticed the debris of Duo falling to the sky, nor did they see falling shattered form of the stage light, or the grid that hung behind the veil of clouds. All they saw was divine thunderbolts, raining down from the heavens, ordered by an angry and jealous god.

No one got the joke.