Neo Chronicles: Black Void
Episode 15: Too Much to Deal With
Table of Contents
Man, I'm tired. Ain't that some mess when you wake up from a nap an' you still outta it? How's that work, anyway? I'm sure there's some weird science behind it.
Where am I? What the world the time it is?
Oh yeah. Space. Space ship. Ri'lar's probably—oh, I remember—Ri'lar's dead. Dang.
The room I'm in is campy, yet spacious. Yeah, it's an actual room, not like the trunk of the ship I was on before. It's well lit in some white, fluorescent like light. It's got an actual bed. The visor/window/panel that shows outside is clean and clear.
I step out into the hall an' see my sword lying against the door. When I pick it up, the first thing that comes to mind is me not using it to stop Ran for doin' what she did. Ain't no tellin' how long she's been plannin' that whole thing. An' I jus' so happened to get caught up in the middle.
Played me for a fool.
Dang.
I follow the hall down to what looks like the cockpit of the ship. See the stars passin' us by as we travel at God-only-knows what typa speed. Don't see anyone up here, though, which is weird. I see the lights on the control panel up front on an' bleepin'. No idea what it means, but whatever it's doin', it's doin' it, so I leave it be.
The thought of explorin' the rest of the ship crosses my mind. It's the usual thing I do whenever I find myself in a new place, an' I probably should go about it here, but like I said before—Negro, I'm tired. Usually I say that with a—what they call—metaphorical connotative meaning behind it, but this time, I'm fo' real.
Hate Psy's. This always happens when they mess with my head. It's why I don't like 'em. No tellin' what they do when they break in. I don't like when people know anything about me, an' here they are just mind jumpin' like a hobby, an' the fact that it was a Visigen that did it—those guys think they all big an' bad cuz they got power an' junk. Hate 'em. That's only the second time I ran into one, an' I hate 'em.
So I think I missed my turn, cuz I'm in a different part of the ship. Me goin' off on a tangent—guess this is where it leads me. This area has a bunch of tables laid out. I guess it's like a business room? Maybe even a cafeteria? I dunno. Still no people here save for the one girl moping with her head in her arms all in the dark. I feel up along the side of the wall until I find what I hope is a light switch.
Of course the lights show that the girl is Ran, but deep down, I kinda already knew.
Now, I'm in a weird kinda place right here. See, I hate her. No doubt about it. After what went down, I absolutely hate her. I know the Lord says I shouldn't do that, but I really can't help it this time. You understand, right? She lied to me, played me, betrayed me, then killed the only dude out here who was lookin' out for me. I have every reason to hate her.
But.
This is the part that makes it weird. With everything that happened, I'm tryna turn it around an' make it about me. I should know better. If there's anything me bein' out here with the stars has taught me, there's hardly anything out there that revolves around just me. This ain't about me. It's never been about me. This is her story. I'm just watchin'. I know this. I absolutely know this.
But.
That still don't change how I feel about it. What do you do when this kinda junk goes down? Forget the fantastical spacey element of it. What do you do when someone you thought was cool—someone you thought you could trust, maybe not even go that far, jus' someone you thought was jus' okay to be around—what do you do when they straight up turn on you? I really feel like the victim here. Do you go about your own pity party? Do you lash out at 'em? Do you keep it bottled up to try an' keep the peace? God, I'm asking.
Well, I guess there's one other thing you could try. That whole forgiveness thing. I suppose it's healthy, but what if I don't want to? What if I wanna keep on hatin'? Sure, it may not be good in the long run, an' it might not be the most civilized thing to do, but hey—I'm only 15—can't I be an immature lil' Negro for a while?
I slowly walk to her with that very thing in mind. I wanna tell her off. I wanna let her know that we're not cool, never will be cool, an' at the first stop at the first moon or asteroid or planet we make, we both go our separate ways an' never see each other again.
I'm rehearsing the conversation in my head. It's pretty one sided, but it's gotta be that way, cuz I'mma be the only one talkin'. I don't even wanna hear her side of the story. I don't care about it. I don't care about the history she had with Ri'lar, I don't care about what he did to her or what she did to him. I jus' wanna say my piece an' go back to sleep.
But.
When I get over to her, all that goes out the escape hatch. I just see her there, head held down. She's still in her human form. Didn't even bother turning back. She's just—she looks—God, I can't go through with—She hasn't even registered me bein' here. She's just out of it.
I can't kick her while she's down like this. That ain't Christian. That ain't Godly. That ain't human. So I jus' take a seat next to her an' wait. I wait my turn. When she's ready to get better, then I'll tell her how I feel. Give her an actual reason to feel bad.
And that's how the next ten, twenty-sum'n minutes go. Just me an' her sittin' in a room. Not a word spoken.
Of course, after the twenty-some minutes, she finally speaks up. Don't entirely catch what she says startin' out, but it eventually turns into somethin' like,
“He was my friend, too.”
Here we go.
“I know it didn't look like it to you, but he was my friend, too. What happened? I want to say it was his fault. If you looked at it from the beginning, you'd definitely see it that way, too. My shoes, his shoes, someone else's—he was the one in the wrong. He chose to go extreme. But it'd be a lie to say he didn't have enough reason to.
“Ri'lar had a rough life. From the beginning, he was always the one getting the short end of the stick. When we met up, I could tell just by looking at him how wrong things were with him. And I guess he could tell things were wrong with me. I think we clicked together because of that.
“Together, we figured out what was wrong with the 'verse. The whole galaxy—as much as they'd like you to think otherwise—isn't entirely fair, and it isn't entirely just. There's corruption everywhere. Government funded slave labor, wars being waged with military funded weapons, using Visigens like the judgment of God on planets they deem unfit. Some planets have black markets where all the illegal things happen, but if you dig hard enough, and look in the right places, you can see that at the root of it all, it's the government that's really pulling the strings.
“Ri'lar and I both knew this, and we both knew that there had to be something done to stop it. Damn it, Ri'lar, why'd you think you could change it over night? You should have known what would have happened! Violence begets more violence. Bombing court offices, attacking planets with government figures, that's terrorism! You were a terrorist. That's no way to bring about change. If you want change to happen, you do it through the people. Bring awareness to it. We're not barbarians.
“I can't blame you for what you did, but I damn sure couldn't let it go on like that. Rest in peace, you b*****d.”
Well dang.
I was—I was not ready for that. Like, I don't—I don't—I don't even have a response to that. Why can't things be simple? This overly dramatized sci-fi space opera's gotta have all kindsa craziness goin' on in it.
Lemme try an' get it straight. Ri'lar wasn't some dude who got caught up in the drug biz. Gangstas weren't on his tail about owin' money. Apparently that was just a lie to—I dunno—get me to sympathize with him? Maybe that was the way he saw things in his eyes?
Hold up, wait a minute. How the world am I supposed to take Ran at her word now? Political activist turned terrorist killed by his best friend sounds just as crazy, if not even more crazy, than bein' on the run from gangbangas. I'm supposed ta trust her jus' because she's soppin' out this soap opera nonsense? Her whole identity is about makin' people think she's somethin' she's not.
So here's the situation I'm in as of right now. I don't know her. I didn't really know Ri'lar, but he was still my dawg. On the real, I don't know nothin', so I ain't e'en gon' front. If what she's sayin' is true. If what she's feelin' is real, God bless her, my heart goes out to her. Matta fact, God bless her anyway because she certainly needs Jesus.
She sits there all quiet like she's expectin' me to say somethin'. Doesn't even look me in the eye. Her head's still held down. What am I supposed t'do now, hug her? Comfort her? Act like I care? I don't know her from nowhere. I sat here an' listened to her spit. She needed a wall to talk to, that's what I was.
So from there, I stand up, sword still in hand. Forgot I could put it on my back. I'm still wearin' that magnetized sheath thing for it. Ran doesn't move an inch.
She looks like she got destroyed. It's worse because she still looks like a person person—like a human. Feels like my heart just sunk a little. What is this pity? Empathy? Can't help but feel sorry for her. What makes it worse is that I came in here lookin' to make her feel worse. Dang, that's messed up.
Whatever, yo. She can sit there all she wants. I don't mind leaving her there.
I'm done.
Episode 15: Too Much to Deal With
Table of Contents
Man, I'm tired. Ain't that some mess when you wake up from a nap an' you still outta it? How's that work, anyway? I'm sure there's some weird science behind it.
Where am I? What the world the time it is?
Oh yeah. Space. Space ship. Ri'lar's probably—oh, I remember—Ri'lar's dead. Dang.
The room I'm in is campy, yet spacious. Yeah, it's an actual room, not like the trunk of the ship I was on before. It's well lit in some white, fluorescent like light. It's got an actual bed. The visor/window/panel that shows outside is clean and clear.
I step out into the hall an' see my sword lying against the door. When I pick it up, the first thing that comes to mind is me not using it to stop Ran for doin' what she did. Ain't no tellin' how long she's been plannin' that whole thing. An' I jus' so happened to get caught up in the middle.
Played me for a fool.
Dang.
I follow the hall down to what looks like the cockpit of the ship. See the stars passin' us by as we travel at God-only-knows what typa speed. Don't see anyone up here, though, which is weird. I see the lights on the control panel up front on an' bleepin'. No idea what it means, but whatever it's doin', it's doin' it, so I leave it be.
The thought of explorin' the rest of the ship crosses my mind. It's the usual thing I do whenever I find myself in a new place, an' I probably should go about it here, but like I said before—Negro, I'm tired. Usually I say that with a—what they call—metaphorical connotative meaning behind it, but this time, I'm fo' real.
Hate Psy's. This always happens when they mess with my head. It's why I don't like 'em. No tellin' what they do when they break in. I don't like when people know anything about me, an' here they are just mind jumpin' like a hobby, an' the fact that it was a Visigen that did it—those guys think they all big an' bad cuz they got power an' junk. Hate 'em. That's only the second time I ran into one, an' I hate 'em.
So I think I missed my turn, cuz I'm in a different part of the ship. Me goin' off on a tangent—guess this is where it leads me. This area has a bunch of tables laid out. I guess it's like a business room? Maybe even a cafeteria? I dunno. Still no people here save for the one girl moping with her head in her arms all in the dark. I feel up along the side of the wall until I find what I hope is a light switch.
Of course the lights show that the girl is Ran, but deep down, I kinda already knew.
Now, I'm in a weird kinda place right here. See, I hate her. No doubt about it. After what went down, I absolutely hate her. I know the Lord says I shouldn't do that, but I really can't help it this time. You understand, right? She lied to me, played me, betrayed me, then killed the only dude out here who was lookin' out for me. I have every reason to hate her.
But.
This is the part that makes it weird. With everything that happened, I'm tryna turn it around an' make it about me. I should know better. If there's anything me bein' out here with the stars has taught me, there's hardly anything out there that revolves around just me. This ain't about me. It's never been about me. This is her story. I'm just watchin'. I know this. I absolutely know this.
But.
That still don't change how I feel about it. What do you do when this kinda junk goes down? Forget the fantastical spacey element of it. What do you do when someone you thought was cool—someone you thought you could trust, maybe not even go that far, jus' someone you thought was jus' okay to be around—what do you do when they straight up turn on you? I really feel like the victim here. Do you go about your own pity party? Do you lash out at 'em? Do you keep it bottled up to try an' keep the peace? God, I'm asking.
Well, I guess there's one other thing you could try. That whole forgiveness thing. I suppose it's healthy, but what if I don't want to? What if I wanna keep on hatin'? Sure, it may not be good in the long run, an' it might not be the most civilized thing to do, but hey—I'm only 15—can't I be an immature lil' Negro for a while?
I slowly walk to her with that very thing in mind. I wanna tell her off. I wanna let her know that we're not cool, never will be cool, an' at the first stop at the first moon or asteroid or planet we make, we both go our separate ways an' never see each other again.
I'm rehearsing the conversation in my head. It's pretty one sided, but it's gotta be that way, cuz I'mma be the only one talkin'. I don't even wanna hear her side of the story. I don't care about it. I don't care about the history she had with Ri'lar, I don't care about what he did to her or what she did to him. I jus' wanna say my piece an' go back to sleep.
But.
When I get over to her, all that goes out the escape hatch. I just see her there, head held down. She's still in her human form. Didn't even bother turning back. She's just—she looks—God, I can't go through with—She hasn't even registered me bein' here. She's just out of it.
I can't kick her while she's down like this. That ain't Christian. That ain't Godly. That ain't human. So I jus' take a seat next to her an' wait. I wait my turn. When she's ready to get better, then I'll tell her how I feel. Give her an actual reason to feel bad.
And that's how the next ten, twenty-sum'n minutes go. Just me an' her sittin' in a room. Not a word spoken.
Of course, after the twenty-some minutes, she finally speaks up. Don't entirely catch what she says startin' out, but it eventually turns into somethin' like,
“He was my friend, too.”
Here we go.
“I know it didn't look like it to you, but he was my friend, too. What happened? I want to say it was his fault. If you looked at it from the beginning, you'd definitely see it that way, too. My shoes, his shoes, someone else's—he was the one in the wrong. He chose to go extreme. But it'd be a lie to say he didn't have enough reason to.
“Ri'lar had a rough life. From the beginning, he was always the one getting the short end of the stick. When we met up, I could tell just by looking at him how wrong things were with him. And I guess he could tell things were wrong with me. I think we clicked together because of that.
“Together, we figured out what was wrong with the 'verse. The whole galaxy—as much as they'd like you to think otherwise—isn't entirely fair, and it isn't entirely just. There's corruption everywhere. Government funded slave labor, wars being waged with military funded weapons, using Visigens like the judgment of God on planets they deem unfit. Some planets have black markets where all the illegal things happen, but if you dig hard enough, and look in the right places, you can see that at the root of it all, it's the government that's really pulling the strings.
“Ri'lar and I both knew this, and we both knew that there had to be something done to stop it. Damn it, Ri'lar, why'd you think you could change it over night? You should have known what would have happened! Violence begets more violence. Bombing court offices, attacking planets with government figures, that's terrorism! You were a terrorist. That's no way to bring about change. If you want change to happen, you do it through the people. Bring awareness to it. We're not barbarians.
“I can't blame you for what you did, but I damn sure couldn't let it go on like that. Rest in peace, you b*****d.”
Well dang.
I was—I was not ready for that. Like, I don't—I don't—I don't even have a response to that. Why can't things be simple? This overly dramatized sci-fi space opera's gotta have all kindsa craziness goin' on in it.
Lemme try an' get it straight. Ri'lar wasn't some dude who got caught up in the drug biz. Gangstas weren't on his tail about owin' money. Apparently that was just a lie to—I dunno—get me to sympathize with him? Maybe that was the way he saw things in his eyes?
Hold up, wait a minute. How the world am I supposed to take Ran at her word now? Political activist turned terrorist killed by his best friend sounds just as crazy, if not even more crazy, than bein' on the run from gangbangas. I'm supposed ta trust her jus' because she's soppin' out this soap opera nonsense? Her whole identity is about makin' people think she's somethin' she's not.
So here's the situation I'm in as of right now. I don't know her. I didn't really know Ri'lar, but he was still my dawg. On the real, I don't know nothin', so I ain't e'en gon' front. If what she's sayin' is true. If what she's feelin' is real, God bless her, my heart goes out to her. Matta fact, God bless her anyway because she certainly needs Jesus.
She sits there all quiet like she's expectin' me to say somethin'. Doesn't even look me in the eye. Her head's still held down. What am I supposed t'do now, hug her? Comfort her? Act like I care? I don't know her from nowhere. I sat here an' listened to her spit. She needed a wall to talk to, that's what I was.
So from there, I stand up, sword still in hand. Forgot I could put it on my back. I'm still wearin' that magnetized sheath thing for it. Ran doesn't move an inch.
She looks like she got destroyed. It's worse because she still looks like a person person—like a human. Feels like my heart just sunk a little. What is this pity? Empathy? Can't help but feel sorry for her. What makes it worse is that I came in here lookin' to make her feel worse. Dang, that's messed up.
Whatever, yo. She can sit there all she wants. I don't mind leaving her there.
I'm done.
