The Unquenchable Thirst 02/09/2012
Nothing can describe the rush of awareness that floods into the capsuleer's being when she connects with her ship. Suddenly the physical plane falls away as systems and diagnotics flood in. Flesh and muscle is replaced by armor and hull, antibodies with nanobots. Sometimes I swear I can feel them, skittering across the surface of my ship, repairing this bit of damage or that scrape. When I inhale, the light from a thousand ancient stars fills my lungs, and when I clench my jaw, ranks of blasters sit upright and arm themselves. In the pod, I am strangely free from the ache of want that permeates my body when I walk of my own will. I am an experience addict. This addiction supercedes and consumes all the others. Boosters. Sex. Isk. Knowledge. Adrenaline. Endorphines. Pain. Pleasure. Everything I do, every indulgence, every need, every desire, feeds this need to feel, to connect, to be more than I am. My life in flesh is a life of searing, burning want. Of a deep, pulsing, insistent need that must be pursued and cannot be filled. The unquenchable thirst. In the pod, all these needs are sated. In the pod, the hunger abates. It is my favorite drug. The perfect lover. Add Comment A place I can call home 01/05/2012
This will be a record of my thoughts. My secrets. My sanity. I'll start from the beginning. My father was a physicist. My mother, a sculptor. My family was Intaki, but we lived far from the homeworld on Luminaire. I found beauty in numbers, followed my father in the path of science. Life in the lab left something to be desired. Sidebar: I'm a posthumanist. Always have been. The capsuleer program is, to me, an essential step to our further evolution and if properly implemented, can and will virtually eradicate illness, injury, aging, and death from our species as a whole. I entered the program to find evolutionary enlightenment. The money wasn't difficult to find. My inheritance was generous, my research paid well. I emerged something new. More than human. Immortal. Clone and capsule. But enlightenment eluded me. Capsuleers were largely ignorant of the quantum leap they have made, instead focusing on their newfound power and utilizing it to amass personal fortunes and oppress others. The empires, rather than discouraging this, utilize their ruthlessness to further their own agendas. I was safer in the lab. I ran away, to make a difference. I was idealistic then. I ran to the homeworld, to Intaki. To liberate my people. I spent as much time on the surface as I did in space. That's where I met Carson. Carson was an artist. He and I met during a recovery trip, I was delivering cases of antibiotics to a local hospital. He was ill. I don't know why I stayed with him, but I did. We became lovers. I spent less and less time in the pod and more in his bed. And so did every other woman in the system. I don't know when I realized I was addicted to boosters, but I think it was just after that. I started taking them when I got into the pod, of course, from time to time. Helps the mind wrap around the concept of controlling an entire starship with pure thought... but I kept taking them on the ground. When I left Carson, I fell into bed with my booster supplier. We had an intense, livid affair. It included his wife. And occasionally, his friends. When he wasn't between my legs, he put me back in the pod, running drugs for Serpentis. But when my supplier started diluting my own supply, I started stealing from the company. In a matter of months I was skimming millions of isk in a week. The night he tried to strangle me in bed, that was the night that Al'keh heard us. Something about my screams must have been different because he burst in and found me, purple-faced and kicking wildly, inches away from loss of consciousness, and pulled my attacker away from me. The night was a blur. I know I took his eye. I don't remember how I pried it from his skull, if I used a weapon or my bare hands, but I remember having it later, in my hand, while Al'keh and the other Angels smuggled me through access corridors toward the hangar. It was attempted murder of an immortal. My clone had been compromised. I would have ended, if not for the keen eye of the Cartel. And here I am. A fallen artist and rising Angel. A would-be mistress to the strange and charmed; disillusioned by enlightenment, an exile from home and humanity; hungry for sensation, naked of understanding. Perhaps this time I'll find my place. | 
Name: Skylah FairchildeAge: 29 Archives |
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