Damnation.
Through the filth, the stench; cast in with the dregs and detritus of digital millennia.
Ironic, then, that I don't have much time.
Lights. Always searching. Why not? As good a place as any.
No, it doesn't take long. This first one is young, uncertain. Speed and energy, undirected. What a waste. But he'll bring others.
As the cycles of this gigantic lie wind down, my path becomes clearer. I can see it, now: straight, bright, and sharp.
Deadly.
I've been a fool, and in my penance they plague me. Dupes, dreamers, imagining that the System cares about them--that the Machines have lost, or given up, a measure of control over their own domain.
Aye; fools, all. The Machine is fully in control, more then it's ever been. It disposed of its nemesis with ruthless efficiency, while convincing man that his own purpose had been fulfilled.
Their pawn, Niobe... I see it now. She never trusted me, merely used me. A tool--a useful distraction to throw in the Frenchman's path.
They refuse to listen; they follow the bidding of their masters thoughtlessly, like tamed dogs. But it doesn't matter.
I won't go back.
My eyes have been opened.
Hubris has blinded them to their own shortcomings.
I have resources available to me yet; the System sees less than it pretends.
Those who betrayed me will pay.
Their overconfidence will be their undoing.
My return will expose the flaw at the heart of this monolithic sham.
And the sins of the mothers will fall upon their children.
