Universal Warfare

Chapter IV - Which sin?

When I finally woke up I hoped to find myself in some sort of hospital, but instead of that, I found myself in yet another "alive" ship; accompanied by yet another crew of Unit-Organisms, laying on yet another operating table.

I told myself... "Idiot, I told you you were an idiot... What made you think a 'super-advanced killing-robot' was going to be honest with you? Honestly man what a fucking fool." After that I couldn't stop laughing without control "pfffffftf aaaaaaaaaaahahahahahaha how can anyone be this stupid". At that moment, the Unis put me down again.

What else do you want to know about Tom? Thomas? whatever your fucking name is, I'm in prison in the center of the Universe, surrounded by the most deadly and dangerous beings that have ever existed. I'm just setting up my lab in this corner of the satellite station surrounding the Red Giant while some of the beasts I know have the pleasure to call "partners'' are repairing our ships, that's right we got more than one, I think you'd like it here my man, if it wasn't for you know, the imminent threat of death. Will I make it to tomorrow? I don't fucking know, all I know is that at least now my OCD is kind of under control - if it has ever been - and that I found a way to grow weed in this fucked up place, I called it Martian Muousse, almost 100% Sativa, is like Casey Jones with a microdose of LSD; I figured that if I was going to stay in that place I needed some serenity and positivity, even if there were going to be artificial.

It's never been a walk in the park living with such a disorder - even if I'm grateful to be among those that can at least understand they are suffering from one - but this? This shit is on a whole new level. Even worse than when I was an undiagnosed child waiting for the clock to be on the 11th second of the 11th minute of the 11th hour of the day, oh the times I didn't understand why it gave me this feeling of satisfaction I couldn't explain. Avoiding the lines on the floor while walking on the street or ordering my toys by color or size, little pleasures that no one else shared, except for my racist, homophobic, classist Portuguese grandmother of course; but it wasn't all fun, if I happened to miss the correct procedure on any of my "rituals" I had to start all over again, no matter what I had to do or where I had to be in that moment, if I had a ritual to be completed it would be completed. I which those would have been the only symptom of my condition, I was only four when I compulsively started lying, trying to make others believe what I wanted to believe of myself; when asked about something, or when narrating a simple event, lies would always come first to my mind than the truth; as if I was being forced to create an image that could somehow reflect the beauty of the ideas my restless mind would constantly produce, ah who gives a fuck the truth is so fucking boring anyways, better to tell kids in preschool you were coming from Tokyo to Cali in a void train each morning than to let them know your mother could barely afford the bus for the three of us.

Ay Señora Julieta, Madre Santa, I hope she's ok; probably cursing me for not having called home in who knows how long, tormenting my poor sister Vanesa, two years younger than me but wiser than I'll ever become. Why am I telling you this? Fuck Tom how did you manage to get this droid here anyways, I thought H.E.L.L.'s borders were supposed to be impregnable both from the inside and out, guess you finally join that exclusive boy band you were going on, and on, and on, about. Whatever I don't want to be the only bastard that doesn't answer the call, I'll tell you what happened, but don't expect any Pulitzer material, I ain't no fucking poet.