[There's a long silence - long enough that one would be easily forgiven for thinking that this post was a mistake. Finally, though, a quiet voice speaks up.]
My... home, my world... Cloudbank, that is... was a place of... unimaginable beauty. Or rather, if you could imagine it, it could be made. This place... it's not the same, not the same at all. There's... well, it's big, but it doesn't have the same streets or people or... ease of change.
I don't mind it not changing, not really... but it's different.
The past is... a strange thing, strange indeed. You can't quantify it, you can't... break it down into variables that make any sort of sense. It just... goes. It's there and then it's not, like a leaf carried by the wind, or a cloud.
[There's another silence, but it's shorter. A breath, followed by an inhale and a pause, before he speaks again.]
... Cloudbank's like that, too. Gone, I mean. The physical structure is... still there, probably. You could walk around it... for a while. Until you were wiped out, I mean. Like everyone else... gone to the Country. The 'afterlife', some people might call it, though it's another life. Quiet, from what I hear. Though the Country inside... well. No one's ever been really sure if you get to the Country everyone else is in from that one. Not even me, and I made it.
[A quiet chuckle, before a sigh.]
This post has no point, I suppose. People found others from their worlds here... no one showed up from Cloudbank. Not that I saw, at least. But I did have a... a question. A poll, I guess, though the results don't really mean much. I was wondering how many people have... no home? Not anymore, I mean. Not one they can go back to because of... death, or the imminent threat thereof when they get back.
... And for those of you wondering... dying's not so bad.
[There's a pause, like he's going to say something else, but then the audio just clicks off.]
My... home, my world... Cloudbank, that is... was a place of... unimaginable beauty. Or rather, if you could imagine it, it could be made. This place... it's not the same, not the same at all. There's... well, it's big, but it doesn't have the same streets or people or... ease of change.
I don't mind it not changing, not really... but it's different.
The past is... a strange thing, strange indeed. You can't quantify it, you can't... break it down into variables that make any sort of sense. It just... goes. It's there and then it's not, like a leaf carried by the wind, or a cloud.
[There's another silence, but it's shorter. A breath, followed by an inhale and a pause, before he speaks again.]
... Cloudbank's like that, too. Gone, I mean. The physical structure is... still there, probably. You could walk around it... for a while. Until you were wiped out, I mean. Like everyone else... gone to the Country. The 'afterlife', some people might call it, though it's another life. Quiet, from what I hear. Though the Country inside... well. No one's ever been really sure if you get to the Country everyone else is in from that one. Not even me, and I made it.
[A quiet chuckle, before a sigh.]
This post has no point, I suppose. People found others from their worlds here... no one showed up from Cloudbank. Not that I saw, at least. But I did have a... a question. A poll, I guess, though the results don't really mean much. I was wondering how many people have... no home? Not anymore, I mean. Not one they can go back to because of... death, or the imminent threat thereof when they get back.
... And for those of you wondering... dying's not so bad.
[There's a pause, like he's going to say something else, but then the audio just clicks off.]
[voice]
How "not so bad" it all is depends on how you go out in the first place. In my circumstance the leadup was exactly that bad. Though the actual process wasn't, I'll grant that.
[...for fuck's sake. Hi, Royce, clearly it's a great time for a first impression.]
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[Oh, clearly. Hello there.]
[voice]
[...okay, you're practically begging the question here.]
So were you "wiped out" as well?
[voice]
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It likely goes without saying that I don't. I was shot.
[...That's the extremely abridged version.]
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[Compassion, she's slowly getting the hang of it!]
I can't return to mine, either, but I don't consider that any great loss.
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... I see. You weren't... fond of it?
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...I wasn't ready for this place.
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[Stupid people that haven't died yet. Come back when you have and join the club.]
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[He fiddles with his cigarette a little.]
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[The stitches on her face made a bit more sense now, didn't they.]
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Did you send this out hoping to hear about how other people have died or what they've gone through in order to compare it to your own experiences?
[Despite the wording, the question isn't stated in an accusatory tone. Archer sounds distracted if anything, but otherwise completely neutral on the subject, like he's asking about the weather.]
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[He kind of forgot he was broadcasting halfway through. Oops.]
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[Don't worry, Archer would be doing the same thing if he was from an era that wasn't technologically backwards 1915.]
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[He's not really the touchy feely type.]
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[...Sorry he's so socially awkward.]
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To some people I probably seemed like... a villain. I don't really care how other people see me, not at all. Really... my only regret was that the idea we had didn't work.
[Thanks for that, Sybil.]
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