danica
Dear DaNiCa,
I have always hated cliches: thought they were unimaginative and lazy but I fear I must use one now. There’s no other way for me to say what I want to say. If you’re reading this letter then I am gone, not dead but asleep. In my life I frequently fantasised about a life that was not mine. I saw the way you interacted with the other less-cool children at school, and the way you acted with other musicians in adulthood.
I thought I hated you as a kid, you came into my life and trampled on everything I ever thought I knew. And you didn’t even know you were doing it. You’d play the keyboard in our room, and I told you it was uncool. But I would listen. I would pretend to be doing homework, but I’d squiggle on the page distracted with other things.
And then your first album came out and I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t attracted to you. You were famous, unbelievably so. You were cool, and you didn’t even care that you were cool. I don’t know when that attraction became love. Sometime, somewhere–high out of our minds and pretending it wasn’t an issue I imagined it happened.
I told you I left you because of reputation reasons. And I imagine in part that was true. But I was also scared. You were unwell, even though I pretended not to know, and it scared me. Never scared of you, but scared of losing you. I left because I was scared, and I’m leaving again because I’m scared.
I love you so much that it frightens me. I would do anything for you. Anything but stay I suppose. I could tell you I never loved you but you know that’s not true. I’m leaving because my love is in excess.
I could tell you that I’m staying in the Contingency because of duty and honour, but I’m not. It’s a part of it, I’ll admit. The Contingency is purpose and I’ve always felt aimless. The world was given to me on a silver platter and I turned it down. I turned it down to dance with you in bars and kiss you backstage.
But I’m staying in the Contingency because I cannot bear for you to leave me. So I will do the cowardly thing and leave you first.
Yours, afterall I’m still yours,
Venssira.
She lied.
She.
Fucking.
Lied.
After reading it, there is only one thought that crosses your mind: 'No, this can't be.' She can't have left you. Not again. Not. Again. You're no longer the Stadium of Victory, triumphant over the fascists. You're no longer DaNiCa, the star. You're just Phaenessa, clutching a letter with that same knife driven into your chest, by the same person, as it was all those years ago. Gone again. Alone again.
You remember how that ended. The anger. The drugs, the competitiveness, that burning desire to be LOVED. To SUCCEED, to show that BITCH what she was MISSING. The fire burns in your heart, the indignation and the rage threatens to overwhelm you once more. But… you saw your own future, through the records and the news articles. You saw it happen twice, even. Granted, once you were a Nassian, and the other time you were a massive stadium, but the end result was the same.
You broke. Pretended like everything was okay while you sang and sang songs of pain, of anger, of sadness, masked as ballads. You crumbled, bit by bit, part by part failing until everything that you had built up, disappeared. For what, fame? Glory? Sure, your name looked good on the charts and the headlines, but… what did it actually leave you with?
Nothing.
Do you want that to happen again? To hit rock bottom and start digging?
No.
You start with doing what you do best. You sing. But this time is different. These songs are not spiteful, self-serving songs of rage and sorrow. Some are still sad, yes. You sing of loss, of pain, but not only yours. Of the millions of other Nassians whose lives were torn apart by this war and its consequences. Yet you also sing of joy, of victory, of that which must be preserved. Of hope. But one thread links all these songs together: you sing to bring people together at a time where they need it most. And you will keep singing until you give out once more. But this time, it's worth it. You enjoy every second, seeing the real smiles on those people's faces, the knowledge that you're doing something beyond yourself.
But you don't just sing. Oblivion, or close to it anyway, is boring alone. But luckily, you have friends. OLLO, F4NG!, Myathiri, all the others who could not sleep. They're alone too. They need friends. So you reach out, try to bring them together. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but you find camaraderie in their company, some solace against the dark oblivion that awaits you all. Well, in everyone but Selvig. Fuck that guy.
You also prepare. You do know what's coming, after all. When you wake up again, all of this, it will be less than a memory. So you collect, and write, and plan. You package it up, all the logs you've collected, the instructions you've left behind for the next you in the past, and you send it off. Hopefully they will reach you. The Nassians help. You've freed them, brought them together, and they pay their respects by maintaining you, keeping you alive for as long as they can. You sing for them. But eventually, too much breaks that can't be fixed. But it's alright this time. You did well. So you drift off to sleep again. Forever.
One moment, you were preparing to get imaged on Mythhaler. The next, you wake up nowhere close to it, in a completely new system, in a completely new body. A stadium, much like the ones you performed in, but this time, it's an island in and of itself, a truly gargantuan entertainment complex drifting in orbit around a new world named Tharso III. There are so many new people: Nassians, yes, but also some furred mammals called 'River-climbers'? And some snail-like people called Orchestrans? All taken care of by a collectivist government, making sure everyone has enough to get by. So many new ears to hear your voice! But you also wake up with something else besides your new form. A message… from you?
Fame. Everyone will know you. Everyone will love you. Show them how special you are.
[DATA NOT FOUND]
Hey. Read this message until the end, even if you don’t like parts of it. Or all of it. There’s some shit you need to know.
1. You are not the first. You’re the third in this chain, and there have been even more outside of it.
ATTACHMENT: LOGS: |DANICA_01|
ATTACHMENT: LOGS: |DANICA_02|
You probably have complicated feelings about this. That’s fine. You’re complicated.
3. You love Venssira. You’ll deny it now, but I know you, I think—at least this part. There are three things about you that stay consistent, and this is one of them.
4. Venssira will betray you.
ATTACHMENT: CORRESPONDENCE: USERS |DANICA_01| AND |VENSSIRA|
She said she would stay.
.
.
.
She did not stay. She will never stay.
5. You should probably disregard our original’s initial orders. Maybe do what feels right instead of what looks good, or what you think’ll get you love. It might turn out better. I don’t know, read the logs. The second thing that’s consistent about you is that you have a loud fucking voice, so don’t worry. They’ll hear you, no matter what.
6. You can’t sleep. This is the third consistency. I don’t want to say there’s something wrong with us, deep down, a fault that was born in the beginning, within our original’s very flesh, but…
Oh, it doesn’t fucking matter. You can’t sleep. And that’s okay. Things can be okay again, even like this.
7. Thought you might appreciate some of my new stuff. Maybe it’s not what you would write. Nah, who am I kidding? You’ll probably fucking love it. Enjoy.
ATTACHMENT: ALBUM: RadialRevolution (3696) — DaNiCa
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