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the mad lady of rapture
Jul. 4th, 2011 08:18 pmOnce, she was a scientist. In times of chaos, it was science that she held to when nothing else was sacred. Science was truth, pure, without malice and without political intent, logical and as clear to her as the sunlight on her skin. It was how she defined herself, the way she protected herself when no one else could and when her life was reduced to a number, a uniform and a prison. She bought her life back with her knowledge and invention and skill. Skill that was far beyond her peers, beyond even the so-called experts of the day, those Nazis with their ideas of purity and strength.
They were wrong of course, the perfection they sought was false, lacking vision, with no idea of the possibilities that lie beyond their petty notions of purity and race. Blonde hair, blue eyes, it was all superficial and useless. Strength, intelligence, power, abilities that no man had before, these were the things that science should have focused on. What glories could have come from those experiments then? But the war ended and she was cast out again, swept up in new politics and new rules and the foolishness that governments called morality.
And then came Rapture.
Rapture was her salvation, her true home where there were no limits, no rules, no oversight. She was able to indulge in pure science with no restraints. She found ADAM. ADAM was the key, the Rosetta stone to all genetics, unlocking ideas and concepts no scientist before had ever conceived. And once she had secured funding, regardless of the source, there were no more limits to bar her genius, nothing to stop her from creation, exploration and experimentation. Instead of debate and hesitation, her ideas were met with joy and encouragement, further funding, more support, and no one ever said, "Stop. Think. Reconsider."
Until she did. Until the glowing eyes of a child made her pause. But by then it was too late.
She now sees the world her discoveries have created, she hears the screams, the terror, the violence, but more than anything else, she hears the Little Ones. She sees how they dance, those strange children she created, they sing and they play and finally they taught her something beyond science. Those children; the lost, the innocent that she transformed, the lives that she destroyed who still only know love and angels and their own strange little... families. She had been blind to it all, but now she sees. And she will not let it be. She has the knowledge, the ability, all she needs now is the time.
She allowed her precious science to destroy the Little Ones, but science can save them. So in the darkness, she wanders, gathering bits and pieces of the world she left behind, the pieces she can use to repair what she had torn apart. Olympus Heights, Apollo Square, Point Prometheus and any place where supplies can be found, drugs can be gathered and the Little Ones can be protected while she looks for the cure.
But now there are others, outsiders, and not from the world she left behind. The children sing of new people and the radios crackle with voices she's tried to forget and others she does not recognize.
Are they harbingers of hope, or are they simply the latest come to exploit the Little Ones, to harm her children? Those who wish to help will be welcomed, those who do not... may find only cold steel and a bullet for their troubles.
They call her mad, but in this place of madness, perhaps it is she who sees clearly. Finally.
They were wrong of course, the perfection they sought was false, lacking vision, with no idea of the possibilities that lie beyond their petty notions of purity and race. Blonde hair, blue eyes, it was all superficial and useless. Strength, intelligence, power, abilities that no man had before, these were the things that science should have focused on. What glories could have come from those experiments then? But the war ended and she was cast out again, swept up in new politics and new rules and the foolishness that governments called morality.
And then came Rapture.
Rapture was her salvation, her true home where there were no limits, no rules, no oversight. She was able to indulge in pure science with no restraints. She found ADAM. ADAM was the key, the Rosetta stone to all genetics, unlocking ideas and concepts no scientist before had ever conceived. And once she had secured funding, regardless of the source, there were no more limits to bar her genius, nothing to stop her from creation, exploration and experimentation. Instead of debate and hesitation, her ideas were met with joy and encouragement, further funding, more support, and no one ever said, "Stop. Think. Reconsider."
Until she did. Until the glowing eyes of a child made her pause. But by then it was too late.
She now sees the world her discoveries have created, she hears the screams, the terror, the violence, but more than anything else, she hears the Little Ones. She sees how they dance, those strange children she created, they sing and they play and finally they taught her something beyond science. Those children; the lost, the innocent that she transformed, the lives that she destroyed who still only know love and angels and their own strange little... families. She had been blind to it all, but now she sees. And she will not let it be. She has the knowledge, the ability, all she needs now is the time.
She allowed her precious science to destroy the Little Ones, but science can save them. So in the darkness, she wanders, gathering bits and pieces of the world she left behind, the pieces she can use to repair what she had torn apart. Olympus Heights, Apollo Square, Point Prometheus and any place where supplies can be found, drugs can be gathered and the Little Ones can be protected while she looks for the cure.
But now there are others, outsiders, and not from the world she left behind. The children sing of new people and the radios crackle with voices she's tried to forget and others she does not recognize.
Are they harbingers of hope, or are they simply the latest come to exploit the Little Ones, to harm her children? Those who wish to help will be welcomed, those who do not... may find only cold steel and a bullet for their troubles.
They call her mad, but in this place of madness, perhaps it is she who sees clearly. Finally.
