...

COALITION OF REAPERS(CoRE)
Veil Maintenance Divison
Intervention Report; Thea Station Disaster, Section 4
—02/12/2078–
CoRE Operative █████ ████(E.C) met with the remaining Thea reapers a week following a party raid. The following is a conversation between Operative E.C(posing as a K&Z Internal Affairs officer) & Ishandria Flores, who witnessed the raid first hand. Ariel Flores, Ishandria's mother passed in the attack. Ishandria's age(13) & emotional state made her vulnerable to suggestion.

█████ ████: Ishandria, is it? You have my condolences. I'm here to talk about what K&Z can do for you following this accident.
Ishandria Flores: Just leave me alone.
E.C: Well, I'm sorry, but I simply can't do that. However, K&Z is compensating you for the loss of your mother in the accident.
I.F: It wasn't an accident.
E.C: I'm afraid that it was.
I.F: No, you're wrong. I saw them. The soldiers.
E.C: There were no soldiers. It's perfectly normal for people going through grief to look for answers. Most your age would be inconsolable. But understand, Ishandria, you're not the only one who lost someone in this accident. Do you think they'll appreciate you saying these things?
I.F: But it's true. I'm sure.
E.C: Even so, it's in your best interest to avoid discussing them. Let's go back to what I can do for you? I know nothing can equal the loss of your mother, but K&Z is committed to your bright future.
I.F: Fine, then.
E.C: Normally, in a situation like this, you would be placed in ground foster care. However, given your stellar performance in training so far, we think you're an asset we won't want to lose. We're going to fund your education & would like you to remain on Thea. As such, you'll become a ward of the company. After you turn eighteen, provided you maintain your stellar performance, you'll be given a generous amount in US Marks and a job offer in your chosen field.
I.F: Fine.
E.C: One last thing. We need something from you. This is an NDA. It means you won't talk to anyone about the accident. Everything I offered you, is contingent on you signing this.
I.F: You... right. Okay. I'll sign it.
...

tragedy of a prion

My dreams are of flesh... of cells... of organic matter... of ribosomes and transposable elements. I dreamt of a piloting module infected with Khatri's Waste. Not surprised, it's a Neolite organic... they've a reputation for shoddy genehacking. The disease is caused by a prion—a broken protein. You see, in cells... doesn't matter if they're vanilla or genehacked... are made by thousands, millions, maybe even billions of proteins. Each protein is special, each protein is unique, and each protein has a job to do. Cells are intricate little machines with billions of tiny moving parts... filled with clockwork we can only pretend to understand.

Prions are broken proteins. Prions are broken and sad and they can't do their job. Prions are broken proteins and all they can do is wallow in their pain because they want to be destroyed. But prions can't destroy themselves... and when the cell doesn't get rid of them... there's nowhere for them to go. So the problematic little protein is left to it's own devices. They... they can't hurt themselves, they can't escape, they can't escape their misery. So they try their very best to be healthy... they try to interact with other proteins.

And that's the tragedy of a prion. In it's attempt to be productive... it turns other proteins into prions. It hurts, it breaks, it devastates everyone around it. Soon enough the cell is overrun by miserable little prions. Those prions form complexes... stiff spires composed only of themselves... and the cell chokes and chokes on the prions. Until it lyses... until it can't maintain itself... it falls apart... and the prions are beset upon other cells. There's no cure for Khatri's Waste. The Piloting Module needed to be incinerated.

That's what makes a prion such a problem. It hurts everyone around it.

I wake up crying about my mother.

Oh shit. No, no, no, not now. I can't do this right now... not here... not with Jeremy around. I try to force the tears down but it doesn't work. I can't do this... it'll wake up Jeremy. But it only seems to get worse. I can barely breathe through the sobs. My eyes are on fire and chest is throbbing.

It's 6 after blackout and I'm falling apart in someone else's bed. Well, not someone; it's my friend/coworker/(ex)boyfriend that I've fucked three times over the last year. This was the fourth. Fuck... I roll outta his bed, a dingy twin with bedsheets that haven't been changed in a month, and stumble into his bathroom. And not really a bed—Jeremy's rickety old futon—we broke the bed last time. It was creaky and squeaky and no matter how quiet we tried to be... I'm certain the neighbors could hear everything.

I stumble off the raw mattress and into the  bathroom. Lock the door. Jeremy shuffles around a little... I wait till he stops before turning on the light. Please Jeremy... go back to sleep. Don't wake up, not now.

And then the shuffling stops and I can breathe. Turn on the light.

When my eyes adjust to the brightness, I find myself staring in the mirror. I'm naked but for my socks. Feels like my skin's inside out. I grab my camisole off the counter and pull it over my head. Doesn't even reach my belly button but I don't care. There's a heart-shaped hAPPY patch on my cheek. It's spent. I rip it off. My eyes are puffy & reddened. Strands of raven hair stick to my tear-soaked cheeks. I'm so pale. Well, most people on Thea are; we're always inside on a space station. But I'm paler than usual.

It's almost instinctual... I pick up the inhaler and take a puff. Only realize I did when it makes this pitiful puff... cause it's empty. I exhale and squeeze the little plastic machine. Then I hurl it at the wall. It just plinks off the powder coated steel.

I wipe my face with the hem of my top & look back at myself again. Face is dry. Eyes are slightly less puffy. At least I look a little bit better. But then I start crying again, so I close the toilet, sit down, put my head in my hands.

This time of year... anyone can understand why it's tough for me. But the thing is it's not just this time of year. I'm used to waking up with puffy eyes. It happens a couple times and then it goes away and then it happens again. It's like shitting blood... or depression... nothing you need to see the doctor for. A couple chuckles escape... a calm in the storm... I can't believe how fucked up I am. I can't believe that I... the absolute paragon of mental health... am immortal. Up there, somewhere, God is losing his mind on my behalf.

Dude, look at this! I made the depressed girl immortal! You know what's better than angst? Eternal angst.

Damn proofists.

You know... my mom died this cycle. Well, this cycle is the anniversary of my mom's death. And not just my mom's death actually, nearly eight hundred people were killed. On Thea. Except none of the humans on Thea ever talk about it. Most people don't even know about it. Because those eight hundred people weren't people... they were reapers.

What if I told you there was a secret race of immortals living among you? We're called reapers. Yeah, it's a cheesy name, but if you think about it, it's makes for a beautiful(yet tragic) analogy.

Now, you probably have some questions; why do reapers exist? I dunno;

How many reapers are there? Roughly 3 million, which seems like a lot, but compared to like 10 billion humans, it really isn't;

Why are reapers a secret race of immortals? We call it The Veil... it's a concept of secrecy... a universal law that prevents reapers from telling humans reapers exist. The Factions take it very seriously—it's life and death, which means more when death isn't a constant;

And now you're probably asking... what are factions? That depends. Reaper society is divided into factions. Some are like secret societies, others are like communes, a few are straight-up corporations, several are criminal syndicates, and all of them are somewhat cultish. Every faction's got it's own goals & motivations but almost every faction supports maintaining the veil... or at least, they support keeping the veil around for now.

And that's all the FAQ my spiraling head has time for.

Until five years ago, Thea Station was home to a faction called the Metarachs. My faction. The Metarachs wanted reapers to abandon humanity. Set up our own society, a utopia, as far from Earth as we could. We had set up our community, on Thea's beta ring, a sanctuary far from interfactional conflicts. But living on Thea was just a stepping stone. We wanted to build a utopia in the light of another star.

I remember celebrating this day. This is the anniversary of the day the metarachs first came to space, when we first settled on Thea. Metarachs from all over the system would come visit. We would light β-ring up with candles and neon machines and genehacked fireflies. Blast fireworks out into the abyss. Everyone would gather in the observatory to watch them. I remember... the eighteen year-olds and nineteen year-olds, the ones who'd recently gotten their wings, they would sneak out. They'd put on their vac-suits and their grav-boots and they'd watch from the vacuum. I couldn't wait until that was me.

Nowadays, all I remember is "The Accident." I remember the Hunting Party... I remember everything... but most of all I remember my mother. And I can't get those last few seconds out of my head. They just keep playing in my head, like a looped holotape, again and again and again and again.

But what happened after.... what didn't happen after... I... I... I remember nothing. At least... at least... I think... why is this happening. Oh God... it's flowing... it flows out of my mind like a faucet. Like a faucet I can't... I can't... I can't—I can't remember.

K&Z covered it up. Afterthought covered it up. NASA covered it up. They didn't want you to remember the accident. They didn't remember the accident. Nobody wants to remember the collapse. The attack was always an accident. You don't remember accidents. You don't remember DeadCell. But I remember the Accident. I manipulated K&Z... cause Afterthought owns K&Z. Afterthought manipulated the government. The Space Force manipulated Afterthought. Afterthought manipulated the other factions. The other factions manipulated the news. They manipulated everyone. And everyone is manipulating me. Because the lies are the truth. Because lies aren't true. Because lies are necessary. Because lies don't exist. Because DeadCell never existed. They made it seem like K&Z covered it up, They made it seem like DeadCell covered it up, They made it seem like the Space Force covered it up.... they covered it up cause it'd look bad, that it was an accident and accidents are costly. Cause accidents are just accidents. We don't remember accidents. Numbers changed. One hundred & eighty-six thousand deaths became eighty-six deaths & one hundred transfers. Beta ring became a storage depot & in a year nobody remembered the accident. Because I don't remember the Accident.

It hurts... oh God... I fall off the toilet. The... the cold tile rises up to meet me. My head's throbbing. My eyes feel like they're gonna pop outta my head. My sorrow turns to agony. The pain flies down my neck... it's like a cold stake in my chest. Heart's pounding. Blood down my nose. Iron on my lips. Can barely breathe. I can hardly think.

A second later it's stopped. Like it never happened... except for the fresh bump on my scalp and a bloody nose. I knew it would happen, it happens every time I think about the Accident—particularly about what... happened... during... the Accident. Shit... uhh... don't think about it... don't think about it... think about organics... or sex... or sex with Jeremy... or toasters. I cringe waiting for it to hit me but nothing.

I roll onto my back and sit up. Slide back to a wall. Press my head to the steel and take a deep breath. Wipe the blood from my face. God... my life is so screwed up.

I could... I mean, I know I should talk to Jeremy about my past. Especially with the ways things are going. And he's a reaper too.
Not a metarach, sure... but I like that about him.

Jeremy moved here two years ago. Never told me much about his past... but that's because I've never asked. He definitely knows a little, he's been around Thea long enough to pick up a little about what happened. And he cared enough to insist I spend the cycle with him instead of going to work. Jeremy deserves to know... but... but... I don't want to tell him... really, I don't want to tell anyone.

It was nice. We spent the cycle laughing at old chick-flicks & getting high & making out. Didn't think about mom or the accident once. Then we had sex... really, it was more than sex... it was long and tense and full of twisting feelings. I think... I think we were making love... but neither of us can really admit that's what's between us.

Except what if it's just me? I... I'm sure I'm in love. I've never felt this way before. But what if I'm madly in love and he isn't? I don't think I could survive that... I... I don't know what I'd do...

What would my mom think? If she saw me in that moment? Sitting on the bathroom counter, edge of the sink, my fist clenched around an inhaler. Stoned outta my mind. Jeremy's head between my legs. Arch my back in pure ecstasy. Wearing nothing but socks & an hAPPY patch. And I'm staring up at the ceiling, mouth agape, breathing heavy.

I find myself clenching my fist... digging my nails into my thigh.

Mom would be disappointed. Maybe even disgusted. I don't do stuff like that. I can't fall in love... love is a feeling and feeling don't mix well with reapers... that's... that's why my stepdad died. Love... love always ends in pain. Everyone I've ever loved... they've died or abandoned me and I can't go through that again. I-I can't lose another person.

I'm crying again. And I can't stop.

I just wish my mom were still here. I miss her. I still need her. It's so unfair... why make us live forever if we can still die? Why did she need to die? I miss her so much. I miss them all so much. It hurts so bad. It hurts so bad. I miss her so much.

It takes me a while to stop. Even then, I'm still shaking and sniffing. It takes everything to get up and wipe away the tears. But I harden my will. Then I walk over to the futon & collapse. Clench my eyes shut to keep the tears away. Clench my eyes till I'm gone.
...

"Isha, wake up. It's nine."

I rub my eyes & find Jeremy standing over me in his mechtech jacket & jeans. In a holster on his hip is a large black wrench, the size of my wrist, with a scanner on the other end. A tekwrench. A mechtech's best tool. On his purple jacket, on his chest, is the mark of a voidwalker; a purple silhouette of a human floating amongst the stars. Embossed under the mark in cursive white letters is J. Fey.

For a couple seconds I just stare at him—blankly. Jeremy's the ideal voidwalker. He's young, handsome, unimpeachable in his skills. Jeremy's a hardy look to him—short brown hair and a lush beard. Tattoos on his neck and hands. Most Thean girls would lose their shit over him, but he picks me... one girl who's constantly losing her shit anyway.

"It's nine?" I ask. Then my head catches up with my senses. I roll outta bed. "Fuck! It's nine? Why didn't you wake me up? I got work."

"Cause you're not going." He says "Sachi gave you an extra cycle off."

"What? You made me use my vacation?"

"Relax. This one's extra."

"But I'm fine—"

He interrupts me "You're not. Just take the day to deal with it. You never take time off. We can be without a shipdoc for a cycle."

Except he's wrong. There's a reason I never take time off. This place would fall apart without me. I'm the only orgotek... I'm the only shipdoc on this fucking station. But nobody else realizes how fucked we'd be if I was gone... nobody but me.

"Goddamn it, Jeremy," I say. Except I can slowly hear myself getting louder. "I can take care of myself. Don't need you to treat me like some child! I'm not some fragile little girl you need to protect!"

"Isha... you're in no shape. You can't ignore just pretend you feel okay."

"And how would you know how I feel?"

"I've been in your shoes..." Jeremy sighs "and I wake up at 6 every cycle."

I'm frozen. He heard me? Shit.

"Yeah. If you need to lie and pretend, I get it. But don't lie to yourself."

I crawl back onto his bed and cover myself in bedsheets. Then I look in the direction he isn't. "Fuck you" I mutter "just fuck you. I fucking hate you."

He doesn't say anything. Just grabs his hat and leaves. Then I hear him close the apartment door behind him. He's gone. I'm alone.

Roll on my stomach and bury my face in a pillow and just scream. I'm crying and screaming and my throat is hoarse.  It's like I can barely control myself. But I am. Just gotta keep screaming and hitting the bed until this goes away. Until I'm hoarse.

But it doesn't go away. I just can't scream anymore.

For the second time today, I stumble into Jeremy's bathroom.

I don't bother locking the door & the lights are already on. He hearing me doesn't matter. It's ok. If anything, he's one of the only people left on this entire station I'd trust. But why do I feel like this? I feel confused and scared and angry. I feel cornered. I feel guilty.

My reflection stares back at me in the mirror. Heart-shaped face and clumpy black hair. Feathery tattoos curling up onto my shoulders. Faded brown skin. Freckles across my nose and bloodshot gold eyes. Dainty nose & a dimpled chin. I turn the tap and splash water in my eyes. I... look good...

I grab my joggers off the floor and walk them to his bedroom. Pull open his dresser... mine's the bottom left drawer. Strip off the camisole. Scrunch up the joggers.

Darn... the drawer stinks. It's filled with wrinkly clothes. I really should wash these clothes. I grab the freshest t-shirt I can find and some gym shorts. Close my drawer and raid Jeremy's wardrobe. Grab the first hoodie I find. It should fit. He... probably won't mind.

I remember this one: this is the hoodie he wore on our first date. It's really old—he must've brought it with him when he moved to Thea. It's maroon and gold and reads "SENIORS" and some kind of knight on the front. The back reads "SAN TIANNA HIGH SCHOOL CLASS OF 2076" with a huge list of names underneath it. It's got the sweet scent of starfuel and the sharp odor of lubricant. Smells like him. I press it against my face... it makes me feel a little better... the worn fabric feels so nice.

Pull the oversized sweater over my head. Roll up the sleeves. It's bigger I thought it'd be. I'm pretty tall—I'm almost 5'10—and Jeremy's only a inch or two taller than me. Most of his clothes somewhat fit me. Though, I guess it was pretty loose on him... and I'm far thinner.

I grab some yogurt from his fridge. Find my glaspad sitting on the counter. A clear slab of glass with lights on it. I sit down and my messages grab my attention.

Three Hours Ago...
Stationmind Scheduling System: You used a vacation day! No vacation days deducted. Have an enjoyable cycle! Visit @TheaStationMind.net/Scheduling to view scheduling details!

Two Hours Ago...
Stationmind Rationing System: Happy Wake-Up! Monthly Rations refilled. You've been fined $100 for water ration underuse last month. You've been fined $300 for food ration underuse last month. You've been fined $200 for miscellaneous misdemeanors last month. Upgrade your ration package @TheaStationMind.net/Rationing!

One Hour Ago...
Stationmind Habitation System: Greetings Alpha Ring resident! Rain has been scheduled for this cycle. Season will be "Sweltering Summer" this month. You can purchase seasonal clothing @TheaStationMind.net/Rationing or at assorted Thea Station vendors! View climate and habitat conditions @TheaStationMind.net/Habitation!

I roll my eyes and groan.

Damn stationmind. I'm the one who fixes it and it fines me? For underusing my rations? Really? I mean, I guess I deserved the "miscellaneous misdemeanors." My misdemeanors are very miscellaneous... but the others? God, why does this even annoy me anymore? Freaking shipmind.

Thea Station's got its own neural matrix. Sorta like a steward AI except self-conscious and biological. It a prototype based on the shipminds we use to run spacecraft.  We call it the stationmind. Cause, you know, it's a shipmind but for a space station. My mom's the one who had it installed... back when she was chancellor. It was a clever ploy on her part—nobody but a shipdoc could ever understand it's inner workings. And even them, damn thing's complicated.

The stationmind's responsible for keeping the station going. Everything on Thea is connected to the stationmind somehow. All the intelligent organics on the station have to query the stationmind whenever they want to do anything. They call it the despot. I don't fault the stationmind. Controlling stuff is literally in its genes... in it's design.

Humans are wolves. Reapers are sheep... sheep in wolves' clothing... but sheep nonetheless. A disguise only works from afar, if they look close enough we're done. The stationmind is our secret shepherd. It keeps us safe and separated. That doesn't mean I like the stationmind; I just understand it. It's an organic—my job is to fix organics... and so the stationmind is my chronic headache to deal with. The fines are just icing on the cake.

Also, "sweltering summer" my ass. Administration just wants to save on cooling. Believe it or not, metal boxes in the frigidness of space tend to get really hot.

I flick to my other texts.

Yesterday...
Nia: Isha, I know you're avoiding me. You always get depressed around this time. Even if you're not interested in seeing me you shouldn't go through this alone.

I sigh. Think about swiping it away. But I can't. The guilt's too heavy in my stomach. So I just push away the yogurt and put my head of the counter.

Nia's the oldest living person I know. She's over a century old. Can you imagine that? She was born in a different century. There were barely any reapers back then. We were in the double digits. Crazy thing is Nia joined the Metarachs when she was forty. She used to get along well with my mom. I stayed with her after the accident... before I headed off to Shipdoc school. I guess she's kinda like my grandmother or aunt. She's a metarach but she seemed to keep her distance from everyone. Didn't even live on β-ring. That's why she's alive. Every Metarach on β-ring died... except me. But Nia didn't live there. She lives on γ-ring. That's how she survived.

I... I have been avoiding Nia though.

The Metarachs had this thing where they'd implant stims in their backs. The idea was that these stims would trigger the growth of wings if the Metarach was stressed out. Apparently, massive wings would grow & explode out of their back in seconds. Which, you know, seems painful. Thing is, it hasn't happened in decades. We don't know what the wings would look like. The stress requirement to trigger the stims is so high. Even when the hunting party occupied beta ring, nobody triggered their stims.

At some point, we started getting tattoos of wings to hide the stims. Those tattoos became our symbol. They symbolized our desire to leave Earth & go somewhere better. We were supposed to get them when we stopped aging: when we truly become reapers. I stopped aging five years ago and I've been blowing it off since. There are only four Metarachs now and Nia's one of them and I've been avoiding her. It's not that I'm scared. It's, well, a bit more complicated than that.

Maybe I won't get my wings just yet but I think I'll go see her. Least I owe her is an explanation. I've known her my whole life.

Guess I know what I'm doing today.
...