Season 4 Tomorrow

Kink isn’t shameful because of the weird sex stuff. That part’s rad. It’s shameful because it is technically improv. 

Theseus Syndrome

100% synchronicity is, as far as science is concerned, impossible. A human mind cannot fully interface with an exosuit, at least not in the way that autonomous drones or combat dolls can. Even combat dolls take mental strain due to their semi-organic nature, hovering at a synchronicity of around 97-98%. But a human mind already has the tax of inhabiting their own body at all times, as well as the extra mental strain of piloting an entire exosuit on top of that, augmented by the billions of microscopic nanofilaments that bind the pilot’s jack socket to the suit.

But there are stories. Whispers on the wind that haunt the fronts of those who have gone full-sync. It’s become a term for insane or reckless, “full-sync”. That kind of intense information overload can short circuit machines designed for war, what in the hell could it do to a human being?

If the stories are to believed, it starts in the connection. A human exosuit pilot’s jack socket is designed with two primary goals in mind: to facilitate the link between the mind and the machine, and to automatically inject necessary medications to keep the body – and specifically the brain – going for as long as possible for the exosuit to do its job. This is a very efficient means of keeping the soldier going; as long as you’re in your suit, protected by fourteen inches of solid steel, you’ll be protected and healed, over and over.

But the kind of strain a link can put on a brain is not strictly internal. It isn’t a simple overload of the synapses, like some sort of barbaric AR virus designed to incapacitate. The jack socket connects your mind literally to the exosuit. Physically. The link is direct, and the electronic impulses from one to the other are a physical relay between the two. And when those impulses push back, damage can be sustained. Physical, tangible damage to the human brain.

Historically, the first exosuit pilot was a man named Charles Phillip Desere. Pictures of the aftermath are often passed around anti-Imperium circles as propaganda, and amongst those seeking to become exosuit pilots so that they understand what kind of life they’re choosing to lead. It’s too gruesome to describe in detail.

 Modern links prevent that level of carnage, but the damage can still be critical to a human body. Limiters are in place to keep that damage from becoming lethal, but what if it isn’t sustained? What if you only peak out at 100% synchronicity sometimes, teasing that level of connection and pulling back in an attempt to undo the damage? Edging your mind to the point of complete collapse before breaching the surface for air?

As far as science is concerned, the practice is, in fact, lethal. You do die during the process. The thing that comes out the other side, however, has been described in pilot ghost stories as “Theseus Syndrome”. The thing on the other side looks like you. It acts like you, sometimes, too. Occasionally over comms, pilots have reported hearing the voices of long deceased pilots, calling their lovers names in anguish or singing their favorite songs.

The jack socket, you see, repairs the damage. No matter the depth. So long as the brain is intact – even some of it – it will repair. A busy little computer, with no real discretion of where you end and where the repairs begin, a process of chemicals and drugs… and nanobots. Nanobots within the filament are occasionally required for the extensive damage, and once more than 50% of your body is made up that synthetic, nanobot flesh… well, that’s You now, isn’t it? The jack socket sees the organic parts of you and sees only a pulsing wound made of aberrant flesh. A tumor to be removed, replaced with perfect machines.

Cell by cell, it breaks you down, rebuilding you in the shape of a perfect pilot. The same as you were, rebuilt. Some say you wouldn’t even notice until your brain begins to go, and your thoughts are strange and different, escaping you like sand between your fingers, the only things remaining being orders from command. To fight. To kill. You watch your own brain being rebuilt and can’t do anything about it. Your last thoughts are of how your thoughts will soon be gone.

And then, the thing on the other side takes over.

Only one person has ever allegedly been recovered after undergoing Theseus Syndrome, and even then documents are classified, redacted to hell, and repeated by the same people who have incredibly unbelievable conspiracy theories, the “Puppet Empress” crowd. She was barely recovered at all, the nanobots within the filament having long since run out, the self-proliferating machines having lost the ability to create more. When her exosuit was taken down, and the cockpit pried open, she was more machine than woman. A smoking carcass with an exposed skull, oil dripping from open wounds and organs made from half-ossified parts salvaged from others.

And she was still fighting. Lashing out with teeth and claws and screaming and snarling and gnashing. Some say she begged them to kill her, others say that she spoke of the incredible pain she was under, some that she whispered that she was afraid.

 Some, however, go a step further. Her body was recovered but she wasn’t burned. A single nanobot from an Imperial recovery agent managed to reach her body, restarting the process and rebuilding her body. They say that she reconstituted before their eyes, killing them all in a bloody haze, and got back into her exosuit to stalk back out onto the battlefield.

They say she’s still down there, on Vespera-4. The ghost in the machine. They say that on quiet nights, if a pilot tunes into the right comm channel and points it in the right direction, they can hear her humming softly to herself, whispering about how beautiful she is and how wonderful it was to be reborn.

They also say if you stay tuned in for long enough, she can hear you too.

I think a lot of people, especially liberals and the professional activist types, don't realize that the point of a protest isn't analogous to voting - you're shouldn't just be signaling that you disagree with something. A protest should create tension - either around an issue, thus raising awareness of it, or create tension to allow for negotation or demands, or, by virtue of numbers, be an implicit threat. It's really just a waste of time and resources if we show up, throw up a banner, walk around a bit, spout some slogans, and go home.

I just think that angels and robots are inherently linked and therefore should kiss. or fuck nasty idk. something something biologically compatible something something

And on this day I decided my contribution will be a shitpost