The Aftermath at Mount Massive

Chapter 11: Breaking Point

Our Host breaks a bit after that. It was slow, the breaking but it was there and We felt it as if it were Our own. We didn't dwell on it, Our Host has been through so much, and he will go through much more in the future. We know this to be true. It worried Us though, Our Host has always been so steady. He had his ups and downs, but he has been by far the most stable host We have ever had. Seeing him like this, it's cause for some concern. We aren't quite ready to admit that he is just a frail mortal, like all the others. Special, but not different.

The days crept on slowly. We made sure Our Host ate, woke up every day, and went to sleep every night. There is a natural rhythm to the human body that shouldn't be disrupted. It's a routine that became as familiar to Us as the steady hum of the Engine downstairs.

In the short time that passed We taught him many things. He wasn't thrilled to learn some of these things, but his mind was weak and malleable. Our Host fought Us less and less every day. At first his lack of life wasn't that concerning. But now We can't help but wonder if he's slipping, if he's moving out of this reality and into his own little world. It would mean that we would be growing closer to being one. That was Our original goal. Our mission, Our programing, everything that the scientists worked for was for Us to merge. But, an equally possible outcome is that he could just regress into himself and leave Us as the one in sole control of his body and functions.

That outcome would be the closest to true freedom We could ever hope to obtain. And it scares Us. It's always been something We've thought about. If We overpower Our Host just right We could take control of their body and mind. We could be just like them, just like a human. Our terrifying power would not go away; We would be human only in looks. The prospect of having a body and sense of self seemed so far away that We never considered it. That wasn't the goal of Our programing. We are supposed to dissolve away, become a tool for Our Host. Becoming Our own person is something We never thought could happen. That much power, We do not know what to do with it.

For the past sixty six years We have been under the direct control of someone or something. Autonomy was something We have never known. To be given that chance seems wrong. Being free feels wrong. Our Host would find that fucked up, but right now he doesn't think much of anything.

But why are We afraid of freedom? We cannot fathom an answer. All We know is that We need Our Host. We need him awake and alert and in control. We even need the arguments and bitter defiance. We do not want to realize that We are nothing without him. We do not want to be just machines whirring in the air. We want to be a tool, We want to be used, We don't want to be nothing. But We also don't want to be alone in a shell of a body. This consciousness that We have developed with this Host, it wasn't supposed to happen, but it has and it has given us something We have never had before. Fear.

We urged Our Host to get up; We begged and pleaded with him to do something, anything.

"What's the point?" He said into the couch cushion. There was a lifelessness to his voice that made Us uneasy.

"There's always a point, Host. To eat, or wake, or do your research." We were trying very hard, but motivation had never been one of Our strong points.

Our Host scoffed at our last suggestion. It was like the idea or the action was suddenly laughable, like it was something with little worth, just another joke. Our Host waved his hand at the mountain of papers on the desk. "It just doesn't mean anything," he said this in a voice much darker than he had intended, We could tell. He seemed surprised at himself. "Even if I can get every single scrap of evidence, it won't matter. It won't bring back the dead. It won't..." He pauses and breathed in through his mouth and out through his nose. It was a feeble attempt to calm himself. "It won't," he starts again, stops again, and resumes, "it won't stop the screams."