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- Apr 25, 2017
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A note, passing along the wind in a wasteland or perhaps a corner that will be forgotten.
To whoever comes across this note, it is of little importance.
I write this to clear my mind, perhaps to save some part of my story.
I am a Civil Protection officer, though likely by the time you're reading this I instead was.
I'm among the first of my garrison who have been selected for the transhumanization program.
At the beginning, I didn't fear it. I even praised it and I still do. I am convinced this is the only way our species will survive
though I have developed fears. After my last cycle I've been growing pale, losing my hair- overall feeling sick and like I'm dying.
The insurgents make their way, progressing in their own aspects meaning my ascension is never assured.
As I don't know how long it will take until, what I hope to be, my final cycle will take place. I grow slightly fearful of death.
It is not that the death that makes me afraid, but the end of my story as a whole. In a twisted way it also brings me comfort, knowing
that the outcome is black and white. To the insurgent I can't be saved, to the loyalist my ascension approaches.
Regardless of that, as I sit here writing this with pieces of my hair laying next to me, my hand white as that of a corpse and
blind in my left eye due to injury. I find myself filled with questions and little answers. Some say or fear they'd forget themselves or
their history. I don't believe them, it will grow unimportant but I don't think you'll forget.
I've never had a way with words, though I'll end with likely my final opportunity to write my name.
To the reader
From either beyond my ascension, or in death,
Always faithful, always loyal,
Agna Meyers
JURY-1.
To whoever comes across this note, it is of little importance.
I write this to clear my mind, perhaps to save some part of my story.
I am a Civil Protection officer, though likely by the time you're reading this I instead was.
I'm among the first of my garrison who have been selected for the transhumanization program.
At the beginning, I didn't fear it. I even praised it and I still do. I am convinced this is the only way our species will survive
though I have developed fears. After my last cycle I've been growing pale, losing my hair- overall feeling sick and like I'm dying.
The insurgents make their way, progressing in their own aspects meaning my ascension is never assured.
As I don't know how long it will take until, what I hope to be, my final cycle will take place. I grow slightly fearful of death.
It is not that the death that makes me afraid, but the end of my story as a whole. In a twisted way it also brings me comfort, knowing
that the outcome is black and white. To the insurgent I can't be saved, to the loyalist my ascension approaches.
Regardless of that, as I sit here writing this with pieces of my hair laying next to me, my hand white as that of a corpse and
blind in my left eye due to injury. I find myself filled with questions and little answers. Some say or fear they'd forget themselves or
their history. I don't believe them, it will grow unimportant but I don't think you'll forget.
I've never had a way with words, though I'll end with likely my final opportunity to write my name.
To the reader
From either beyond my ascension, or in death,
Always faithful, always loyal,
Agna Meyers
JURY-1.
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