video | un: Priorly (old man yells at clouds)

[priorly]

[After a cluster of days spent surfing park benches, with sleep only a brief and unwelcome interruption, Prior has finally made it to the space station. He comes onto the screen, a black shadow in a gleaming hallway: if he looks like death on a mission to avenge itself, that is the intended effect. It may be more Norma Desmond descending a staircase, but that's not far off, either. He's still clutching a cane just to hold himself upright. His voice is raspy but loud, and just a few notes higher pitched than it should be.]

Is everyone back from the dead now? Good. Wouldn't want our new arrivals seeing the aftereffects of that little mess, would we. How good that our merciful overseers can let us go through days of torture, days of agony, let our skin slough off and our eyes burn out, let us choke on gas until we suffocate from it, then kindly bring us back so we can all do it again next time someone in this sadistic little shithole gets a fresh bee in their bonnet.

You know - on earth - I always had trouble with the idea of a non-interventionist God. But non-interventionist omnipotent aliens? Well goddamn. Fuck that. Fuck them.

Oh, they can play with the native's minds so a talking racoon looks like business as usual, but they can't stop them wanting to kidnap us?

They can see everything we do and they can't tell our fucking friends where we are?

What is the point of them, then? What's the point of any of this? They haven't rescued us from any storm, they've just left us stranded on a tiny, hostile island, wondering whether our little bit of sand is going to wash away before or after the natives get around to eating us.

Well I am tired and I am sick and I am through with this bullshit. Was anyone else told they'd look after our loved ones for us? Because I have loved ones down there now, and they were not looked after well. Maybe I should let a few of the next-to-wake know exactly how reassuring all those promises look now.

I don't know what to do, but it seems to me that we're being hung out to dry down there, and someone needs to do something. So I'm going to start by finding one of these assholes and seeing what happens.

Comments

[wallofbriggs]

There's a difference between a rescue by friends and companions and the sudden arrival of "god" to save a chosen few.

[priorly]

I know. I'm not asking for a god to flap down onto the scene, heralded by trumpets and bathed in glory. Trust me, I'm over that kind of thing. I want to know why, if they're watching us all the time, they couldn't spare a word to let our friends know where we were.

It would've been the same people coming to the rescue, just before they'd had days to tear us apart.

[wallofbriggs]

It still sounds like you expect them to actually care about us. We're here because they want us to save their asses, not the other way around.

[Although she'd agree about them needing to step in, especially the next time someone picks the wrong damn location to look for people.]

[priorly]

If we don't have asses, how are we supposed to save theirs?

[Look he knows how ridiculous that sounds.]

Do you think we were picked to wake first for a reason?

[wallofbriggs]

[That gets her to stop for a moment. She wasn't the type to believe in coincidence.]

Would you prefer dumb luck?

Was there a reason? Maybe, maybe not, it doesn't really matter since we're here. We either figure out how to keep living or curl up and go back to sleep. With or without the Natha's help.

Hell, maybe even in spite of it.

[priorly]

If there was a some specific purpose for choosing us, it stands to reason there should be cause to want to keep us alive.

[He doesn't believe it was coincidence either, even if he's never seen where he fits in.]

This is how I'm figuring it out. [Keeping living without at least asking for better doesn't work for him. Saying it's not even worth trying glances right off.]

[wallofbriggs]

Unless the reason is we're nothing but fodder thrown out to clear the way for those to come.

[priorly]

[Well, there's that.]

Forgive me, are you always this incessantly cheerful, or is it just a good day?

[wallofbriggs]

[That actually gets a laugh from her.]

I was a soldier, I'm used to the idea that typically those in charge only value my life as far as it will serve their purpose.

[priorly]

Then why fight for them?

[wallofbriggs]

I didn't. I fought for the men I commanded, for my country, and to change all of that.

Wanting answers and change are all good and well, but it's a long game, not something you can just demand and expect to get an immediate resolution.

[priorly]

[People will keep talking to him about patience. And he understands that, even if he doesn't have any.]

The thing is, I don't have time for any long games, really.

[wallofbriggs]

Are you dead?

[priorly]

Terminal. The dead aren't in any rush.

[wallofbriggs]

Then you still have time.

[Hope he wasn't expecting sympathy or anything.]

[priorly]

Time, yes. It's the not knowing how much that's the problem. Like I said, no long games. Even Bridge could be risky.

[wallofbriggs]

None of us know how much time we have. We're not promised today let alone any other.

I'm just saying, don't expect anything to change because you go and yell at someone.

[priorly]

Thus spake the optimist, thank you for your words of uplift to my morale. I know. I do know it's probably futile, and reckless and they could slam the door in my face.

But trying's the only way to know if it would change something.