Jahdeen
Nerf Herder
Lynn,
It's taken me far too long to work up the heart to write this letter to you. For one, you were always amazing with words, and I struggled with them. I still remember those late evenings when the rain would pound on the window outside your bedroom, and you'd say things to me that made me wonder if some divine influence came down to you and granted you some otherworldly inspiration. Or maybe you were secretly the angel herself. I guess that would explain your looks and kindness, too.
I've only done this once before. You remember, right? At least, I really hope you do. I sent it to you for our two-year anniversary when you were overseas, after you'd enlisted in the military when the invasion began. I have no idea if it ever got to you or not. I figured you probably never read it, because less than a week after I sent it in the mail, your parents called me and told me your post had been attacked.
I never knew what it was like to die inside until that day.
Sorry. I'm not good with words. I already said that. I'm just not sure how to write a letter I know you won't read. Maybe when the rain comes again, that rain that you and I would watch until the moon came out and lulled us to sleep together, this paper will decompose and sink into the soil beside the grave I'm going to leave this by. Maybe then the ink will seep down and somehow reach you in the afterlife. Maybe that won't work. I know you're probably watching me from above, not below.
I never stopped thinking about you. Part of me wanted to stop. Part of me wanted to leave you behind, to forget we ever happened, to move on and try to enjoy the sunshine again. But I have a feeling that if I tried to kick you out of my life, I'd crumble. I'd rather feel miserably mournful than feel nothing at all.
I thought things couldn't get worse, but I was wrong. The invasion--the final frontier of the war--came right to my neighborhood's doorstep. I remember hearing the explosion that started it, the smoke rising like some inky belch coming from hell itself. I looked out the window and saw people running outside to see what was happening. I was too scared to do that. The rumble that shook the bedroom kept me grounded, and I ran to the basement.
I knew the Zeta Legion was nothing to scoff at. I knew they were angry. I knew how ugly they were. Gross enough to justify how they came out of the hollow earth in the first place. But I never knew how harrowing the effects really were. I never knew how pungent dead blood could be when it mixed with asphalt and plasma fire. I never knew how fast they could wreck entire buildings. I never knew the terror of hiding out in the street, taking cover wherever I could while I silently prayed for help while my neighbors died without time to scream their last.
Then something happened. Something I wasn't ready for in the slightest.
I was saved.
The elite forces of humanity swooped in, dropping off the A-44 units that had been all over the news. War bots, they called them. And they were a sight to behold. They were ruthlessly efficient. The Zeta Legion forces were wiped out faster than I could have imagined. But it wasn't without loss. I watched as one of those forms crumbled right in front of me, exchanging ammunition with one of the last enemies.
It fell on its side, and the featureless exoskeleton of a face shattered off. My memory gets fuzzy from here, but I know for certain that, in that moment, I knew that they weren't just robots. They were cyborgs. Human meshed with machine through some perverse manipulation.
I said your name aloud as your eyes, glazed over, stared up at me, your smile gone, replaced by something completely blank. I held you in my arms, saying my own name, begging for you to remember. You just blinked like I was lying. Like I was nobody.
Like you didn't remember me.
I had you back in my arms again, Lynn, and the war tore you away from me for the second time.
That was weeks ago, now. I feel like I should be angry. I should be furious at ExTech for lying to the public, for wiping your memory clean and turning you into a pale semblance of the perfect girl I knew my whole life. But I don't. I hardly feel anything anymore. My home is gone. My neighbors and friends are gone. And you're gone. I don't have anything left, and I feel like I've cracked under the pressure.
You said your goodbye before you left for service. Now it's my turn.
You see, the one thing that you kept after you'd been turned into something I could hardly recognize was the way you inspired people. You were part of a team that brought hope to humanity when we had no reason to have it. You were somewhere on those news broadcasts I watched time and time again, saving lives that weren't meant to be taken yet. You helped people. You brought them light in the face of darkness. You forged a legend in human history.
Now they're opening the program to volunteers. I feel the only thing I have left to do is to join you in helping those who need it. The war is rising again. It was never over. And I feel the only way I can feel whole again is to start over.
But I want you to know this before I leave tomorrow for whatever modifications they'll do to me. Nothing will ever wipe you away from my mind. No one could have replaced you. No one could have ever treated me with more love and kindness. And no one has inspired me more.
You brought me the light of the sun every day, Lynn. And I'm going to do the same for others on the front lines. When this is all over, whether that be next month or next century, we'll see each other again. We'll be together beyond this life.
Just like we promised.
Yours,
Xavier
It's taken me far too long to work up the heart to write this letter to you. For one, you were always amazing with words, and I struggled with them. I still remember those late evenings when the rain would pound on the window outside your bedroom, and you'd say things to me that made me wonder if some divine influence came down to you and granted you some otherworldly inspiration. Or maybe you were secretly the angel herself. I guess that would explain your looks and kindness, too.
I've only done this once before. You remember, right? At least, I really hope you do. I sent it to you for our two-year anniversary when you were overseas, after you'd enlisted in the military when the invasion began. I have no idea if it ever got to you or not. I figured you probably never read it, because less than a week after I sent it in the mail, your parents called me and told me your post had been attacked.
I never knew what it was like to die inside until that day.
Sorry. I'm not good with words. I already said that. I'm just not sure how to write a letter I know you won't read. Maybe when the rain comes again, that rain that you and I would watch until the moon came out and lulled us to sleep together, this paper will decompose and sink into the soil beside the grave I'm going to leave this by. Maybe then the ink will seep down and somehow reach you in the afterlife. Maybe that won't work. I know you're probably watching me from above, not below.
I never stopped thinking about you. Part of me wanted to stop. Part of me wanted to leave you behind, to forget we ever happened, to move on and try to enjoy the sunshine again. But I have a feeling that if I tried to kick you out of my life, I'd crumble. I'd rather feel miserably mournful than feel nothing at all.
I thought things couldn't get worse, but I was wrong. The invasion--the final frontier of the war--came right to my neighborhood's doorstep. I remember hearing the explosion that started it, the smoke rising like some inky belch coming from hell itself. I looked out the window and saw people running outside to see what was happening. I was too scared to do that. The rumble that shook the bedroom kept me grounded, and I ran to the basement.
I knew the Zeta Legion was nothing to scoff at. I knew they were angry. I knew how ugly they were. Gross enough to justify how they came out of the hollow earth in the first place. But I never knew how harrowing the effects really were. I never knew how pungent dead blood could be when it mixed with asphalt and plasma fire. I never knew how fast they could wreck entire buildings. I never knew the terror of hiding out in the street, taking cover wherever I could while I silently prayed for help while my neighbors died without time to scream their last.
Then something happened. Something I wasn't ready for in the slightest.
I was saved.
The elite forces of humanity swooped in, dropping off the A-44 units that had been all over the news. War bots, they called them. And they were a sight to behold. They were ruthlessly efficient. The Zeta Legion forces were wiped out faster than I could have imagined. But it wasn't without loss. I watched as one of those forms crumbled right in front of me, exchanging ammunition with one of the last enemies.
It fell on its side, and the featureless exoskeleton of a face shattered off. My memory gets fuzzy from here, but I know for certain that, in that moment, I knew that they weren't just robots. They were cyborgs. Human meshed with machine through some perverse manipulation.
I said your name aloud as your eyes, glazed over, stared up at me, your smile gone, replaced by something completely blank. I held you in my arms, saying my own name, begging for you to remember. You just blinked like I was lying. Like I was nobody.
Like you didn't remember me.
I had you back in my arms again, Lynn, and the war tore you away from me for the second time.
That was weeks ago, now. I feel like I should be angry. I should be furious at ExTech for lying to the public, for wiping your memory clean and turning you into a pale semblance of the perfect girl I knew my whole life. But I don't. I hardly feel anything anymore. My home is gone. My neighbors and friends are gone. And you're gone. I don't have anything left, and I feel like I've cracked under the pressure.
You said your goodbye before you left for service. Now it's my turn.
You see, the one thing that you kept after you'd been turned into something I could hardly recognize was the way you inspired people. You were part of a team that brought hope to humanity when we had no reason to have it. You were somewhere on those news broadcasts I watched time and time again, saving lives that weren't meant to be taken yet. You helped people. You brought them light in the face of darkness. You forged a legend in human history.
Now they're opening the program to volunteers. I feel the only thing I have left to do is to join you in helping those who need it. The war is rising again. It was never over. And I feel the only way I can feel whole again is to start over.
But I want you to know this before I leave tomorrow for whatever modifications they'll do to me. Nothing will ever wipe you away from my mind. No one could have replaced you. No one could have ever treated me with more love and kindness. And no one has inspired me more.
You brought me the light of the sun every day, Lynn. And I'm going to do the same for others on the front lines. When this is all over, whether that be next month or next century, we'll see each other again. We'll be together beyond this life.
Just like we promised.
Yours,
Xavier