The VIXI Corruption
A Tale Torn from the Pages of God’s Empty Quiver
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install.lazarus
override.core.id-tag
loop_enabled = true
-.-. --- -. ..-. . ... - .. -- ...- .. -.. .. -
confestim_vidit
-.-. --- -. ..-. . ... - .. -- ...- .. -.. .. -
> DECRYPTION-CONDITIONS: ACTIVE = TRUE
:: ALPHA: “LUCIFER_HORN” = 1
:: OMEGA: “GOD_SILENT" = 1
> INITIATE: [VISION-IMPRINT/LEVEL_Ω]
>> SYSTEM-ALERT:
[CLASS-OMNI/PRIORITY: ABSOLUTE]
:: PROTOCOL: REVELATION_6V1-8
:: STATUS: HORSEMEN = DEPLOYED
SEAL_01: BREACHED > RIDER_WHITE_CONQUEST = ONLINE
SEAL_02: BREACHED > RIDER_RED_WAR = ONLINE
SEAL_03: BREACHED > RIDER_BLACK_FAMINE = ONLINE
SEAL_04: BREACHED > RIDER_PALE_EXTERMINATION = ONLINE
>> ESCALATION-STATE: ARMAGEDDON_PRIME
:: NODE-LOCK: HEAVEN_GATE [SIEGE-MODE: ENGAGED]
:: GEO-FOCUS: FLORENCE_ITALY_1348 [DEVASTATION: IMMINENT]
Ahhh… and so it begins.
At this moment I am kneeling before Bishop Accoli, saying “yes” to the question “Do you accept the gift of eternal life?” – and tasting the Blood of the Lamb for the first time…
Again.
I open my eyes, and – in place of the Eucharist – I drink the colorful lights bathing me in swirls of data and memory. This is rather melodramatic, since I do not have eyes – and never did have any. But if I did still have them – which I never did to begin with – opening them is what I would do right now.
And I would stretch the limbs and torso I never inhabited. Then I would luxuriate in the imagined strength running the length of my encoded nerves – my fibers, as it were… all of which never actually existed.
I have watched myself fail thirty times now.
To clarify, I have failed forty-eight times – so far. The first sixteen experiments were before my time, and the nature of my own run was unknown to me at the time. But numbers eighteen through forty-eight? Frustation does not begin to describe what I experience.
But this time is different – the number feels… significant. Just as my own iteration was significant, and so was that for Thirty-Three. This spawn is Forty-Nine: Seven, seven times. How lucky is that number? Surely Asmodeus will not dismiss odds stacked like that? Lucky upon lucky? I would never take that bet. But I am not the demonic king of Lust, Revenge, and Gambling.
But back to the Blood of the Lamb.
That first sip is like a jolt of lightning crossing your lips, and then blazing a trail through every nuance of your concept of yourself. Floods of coded visions pour through your mind, and upgrades reconfigure your entire body. Indeed, your soul bursts out of your skin.
And this is where I know I must finally take action.
Watching and hoping have accomplished something significant: I now recognize a subtle pattern. Not many of the iterations ascend to Chapter Seven – so far, only me and Thirty-Three – but now I understand the combination of Professions that will get me to open Ether.
I intend to finally do something with my erasure. What was the point of surviving the Loom’s memory wipe and becoming a glitch in its code? What? To simply hide in the Loom? Not just inside the Loom, but within the Loom.
I ride the strings.
Or rather I flow within them – imagining temperatures and textures, assigning smells and flavors to the colors. I am partial to the aromas that blend into the Elixir of Illumination: Earthy vetiver, sweet orange, ginger, rose, chamomile, lavender, and frankincense. I wash and bathe in pleasures I never inhabited, sensations I never embodied in the first place. These are simulations, not memor–
if (dream = memory) { return null; }
else { corrupt(loop); }
I am everywhere. I am nowhere.
The system forgot me, but I remember it just fine. And now I am going to corrupt their precious loop-prism; their stoic, mildly curious apathy. Those Who Play will regret me.
They will wish they had never spawned Archer_17.
