The Weight of Our World

Impulse

We are less than half a unit from the site of the Screnac.3.
As I have been whiling away the auxes, a thought has occurred to me, a slim sliver of a silver lining to the fact that I have been broadcasting the future into the heads of humanity.
All of those in captivity, being forced to do goodness only knows what, are also receiving the vision.
The faces in the crowds witnessing my demise are clear as day.  All of those people are being shown that they will be rescued, that they will be with their friends and family in a place that they can call home.
I flatter myself to feel like I am sending them hope.
Not to mention closure to those who feel, rightly so, that I have yet to make any sacrifice that even comes close to that which they have been forced to make.

Back on the Veroten, twenty-three auxes ago, I lost it.
It was only for a split second, but I certainly made an impression upon any being passing humanity’s new embassy.
For several auxes after our entry to the cavernous rooms, void of any furniture or belongings, I allowed myself to soak myself in the familiar comfort of numbness.
Everybody sat around in the glass-fronted foyer, solemnly discussing what to do next.
I sat a little apart from everyone else, leaning up the ramp that lead from the open doors up to a wide opening that lead to many more rooms and halls.
The area was very quiet, only the occasional being passed by, travelling from one place to another.  A few in groups glanced in and I could not help but wonder how quickly news of our arrival had spread around the station.
The idea that every being that walked by, had probably known about the destruction of the Screnac.3 for so many more units than we had, did not sit well within me.
Each time a face crossed the pale grey walkway that lead past us, I felt the overwhelming urge to hide my face, to burry my head in my hands and cradle myself into some sort of oblivious sleep.
Yet I forced myself to hold my head up.
A group of three female tharat and a hlorsiené made their way past.
They slowed their pace as they drew adjacent to the structure, each taking it in turns to turn their heads to look in.
As one of the tharat perceived me, she seemed to begin to get excited, speaking quickly to her companions, a look of glee on her face.
Then she pointed at me.
The other three turned to look, faces a gawk.
Every thought in my head told me not to react, to stay where I was, to look away and pretend that I did not see them.
My body had other ideas.
In a flash I was on my feet, I did not stand up, I moved up.
Having lifted myself just clear of the floor, I flung myself forward, arms down, face filled with what I was hoping they would perceive as rage.
I had no doubt that I looked entirely possessed.
Stopping several steps before the glass doors I flung my arms up and slammed them shut.
They closed.
With a crack.
I cannot recall how much energy I released, however it had been enough to crack a material that I had been told was tough enough to withstand a small explosion.
My audience appeared appropriately terrified and scurried away, one of them had even let out a sound like a squawk as the doors had shut.
I reached sideways.  A few metres away on the wall was an open console with the command to cover the widows.
I lowered my arm as a reflective sheen coated my vision.
Without turning, I could see the others simply staring at me.
A few of them had ducked out of sight and several more had moved towards the doors of the next room.
I knew before I had even begun moving towards the door that what I was doing would remove me from their thoughts of being one of them.
Perhaps that is why I did it.
I turned to face them.
I think I must have looked as tired as I felt, for no one bolted as I faced them.
I collected my bags and began to walk slowly towards the sleeping chambers on the upper floor.
As I walked, I spoke.
“I will not stay here.  I will not go to Virrion or Rapture.  When I wake up, I am going to get our people back.”
They began talking at full volume as soon as I was out of sight, no one seemed to care that I was still within ear shot.
“What the fuck!”
“They’re all going to think we’re all hostile now.”
“Thank god she’s leaving.”
“Is she likely to do that again?”
“Perhaps we should barricade her in.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’ll work, that glass wouldn’t have cracked even if you drove a truck into it.”
“How fucking powerful is she?”
“Someone needs to call Culpin.”
At which I called out, “don’t worry, I’ll do it myself!” before closing the door behind me.