The Mountain East (An Undertale Fanfiction)

Chapter 44

"Think of a world.

A perfect world.

A world where everything was calculated logically, where happiness reached its true potential, where not a single soul disagreed with one another. Where law reigned supreme, an absolute dictatorship, a fist of imperial strength against all things unnatural, with the only law being 'be free'. 'Be happy'. 'We are changing the default state of this world from misery to elation'. 'Violators are punished with relentless prosperity'.

Do no harm. Hold no animus. Have no rival. When the world is happy, so will you.

Now, look at that world again. What do you see?

...Nothing?

Of course.

...of course.

The best world is an empty one. Souls are born with the sole purpose to disagree. Paradoxical, isn't it? We try, our whole lives, to enter a state of eternal joy, to let our loved ones enter a state of eternal joy, when the best contribution we can possibly do is to not do anything. The determination to live on is the determination to continue suffering. When one can feel, one feels dissatisfaction. And when one feels dissatisfaction, one gets curious, bored. It wasn't the 'happy ending' they wanted. So, they would try again.

And again. Over, and over, and over. Insanity is exactly that. In their idiocy, they persevere. In their cowardice, they hide behind a veil of valor, of resolve, but the only act of bravery they will ever commit is to stop. To give up. To fall down a mountain and never be seen again.

...Perhaps that is not the best of analogies.

Let me tell you a little story. An anecdote, if you will.

I was once that person. I would persevere to the ends of the earth. But I seeked not individual contentment. I, like so many before me, and so many after me, and so many at the same time as me, wanted to play hero. I believed, and that was my flaw.

I tampered with a scientific fantasy, a blueprint for heaven, and what did I create with it? My own personal hell.

...I'm sure you understand. We have all been there. The only difference is if we choose to accept it as who we are. Do we keep our hearts, our greatest failures, close to our chests, or hide them under our sleeves, as the joker and the ace, not far from reach?

It's game of cards. A game where the dealers always win, eventually. We all try to thwart their plans. And we fail. Miserably.

...I do not know how it was for you. We have all experienced slight alterations. Feeling is the only constant that is not. A chaotic law, if you will.

When I first built that... wretched machine, I saw only the bright yellow and lemon flashes as it pulsated. I saw it ricochet off their gleaming expressions. Everyone was excited. Even Alphys had a smile tugging on her lips, even though she wore the mask of worry. I could feel it, in my grasp. Words cannot explain how – how close to hope I was. I felt like Orpheus, near the exit of hell. Like Jesus, being pinned to a cross. All those heroes that humans hailed, all the glory without fail. I thought, for a moment, we could join them. And I would be the pilot. The savior.

... The first step to crash and burn is to believe you won't.

One hundred years. One hundred years, I sat alone, pulverized into a small piece of nothingness, the darkness always threatening to take me away. I could not move, could not speak, could not... die. How much I wanted it to end. Everything had gone south. The stars, the dipper, was no longer in my eyesight. The tool I had used to scoop up and pacify my worry and loneliness so long ago was no longer at my disposal. It began a journey anew to consume me from the inside.

So many times, I tried to laugh, to cry, to do anything that would make me feel something. I had wanted everything when I had something, but I did nothing. Now, with nothing, I would do everything just to get something. So many times, I felt insanity crawl up towards me, asking for my pledge.

But nothing was unstable, so something came about.

A window. For once, I could see again. Darkness no longer overrides my senses. I felt, something. Not life, not death. A limbo, in between, the only sanctuary a void's prison.

... You know what happened next.

And, God, was that a time. It was a total farce, voices arguing left and right. Immediately, after escaping hell begging for any mercy, we took it for granted to fuel our petty needs. You give a man food; he only asks for more. Kindness is portrayed as weakness, as being gullible; only because those that are truly kind wish for him to never ask again. It is not too different, the two ends of the spectrum. One would give everything to him, to make him shut up. The other would take everything, shutting him up in the process.

...

I'm sorry. Perhaps it is because I know my voice will probably never be heard from again. Perhaps I just wanted a final moment. To talk about me. Me me. For no one else will. Ever. I will just be a single voice in a herd of millions. And, I hope for your sake, it will be a success. Because it is cruel to make others suffer my punishment. To be welcomed back, only for the reunion to turn into a bloodbath. To have your home, your essence, your work, your legacy, and everything in-between. Your sons. My daughters. Gone. In an instant.

...You know, the first one told me almost an exact replica of words I am telling you. He told me his story. How his world had been corrupted beyond repair. Before he ceded control to me, he thanked me. Because he had nothing to live for anymore. He hid it well, across the centuries of waiting. As did I. He, despite everything, wanted me to go forth and return in his name. And I crossed my heart. Told him I would.

... I failed. I broke my promise. I don't even know where he is now. Is he still there, in the subconscious, or is he gone? I had no idea. And it was not a question I wished to indulge in.

So... for old time's sake.

Will you make the same promise? For me?

In my name, and in his? For my world, his world, your world? For all worlds, united?

...

thank you.

...

Oh, I'm rambling again. Forgive me. I see your eagerness.

... Are you ready?

...

... of course you are.

... of course.

Well.

I'll see you in another world. Upon another mind. In another time. Let my voice diminish, and control relinquished. It has taken on a new master.

Your world. Your call. Your Sans, your Papyrus. Lift me atop the pyre. I am no longer the owner of my own desire.

... You'll do a great job.

Wield the sword of fate and shield of destiny in my name.

In our name.

Like the anomalies. The golden lockets. Together, forever.

...

It'll be an interesting journey.

Together.

...

together.

...

isn't that right..."

And Doctor Gaster turned. Ever so slightly.

His eyes.

It now glowed an amethyst purple. Penetrating. Shining.

... He smiled.

And when he spoke, his voice cracked deep, like the bottom of a scorched valley. Debris and rock falling. Humans tumbling down into the depths below. Six feet under.

Their tales. His tale. History forgets. Buried. Underneath.

"... Chara?"

Act 1 fin