fault
23 Jun 2016Howard, o Pato
Transmission Home
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4625 kHz...
"Melancholy permeates my thinking in morning lit by dawn absent, omnipresence of death and charm."
A beautiful sunrise seen from a moon through the tempestuous clouds of a Jovian planet, vanilla sky.
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Not even the most beautiful view that you can have can assuage the pain of guilt that consumes me.
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Tearing me anguish. Fear. Fault.
ZZZSSSKKKKRRRRRRRSSSSSZZZZIn every direction I tried to see the tide of events, nothing prevented the current from me wash a single and irrefutable conclusion.
I killed John.
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I was weak, I was slow and mostly I was arrogant.
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I ignored his warnings, did not believe him. Among all, he was the only one worthy of my trust and I did not listen to him. And now I know how much he was right and I was wrong, and my ignorance killed him.
ZZZSSSKKKKRRRRRRRSSSSSZZZZHe had done his work, he was a dedicated reporter, always knew what he was doing, never before had fantasized or lied in one of his reports. He had searched every corner, he gathered evidence that maybe I can never find, he was a man of the streets, had contacts, favors to be charged. And set up a complete dossier, all connections, loose ends, involved and how to reach them. And he was clean, he had hidden all traces, they would not arrive until John. It was not something done from night to day, and been involved in this for how long? Weeks? Maybe months.
ZZZSSSKKKKRRRRRRRSSSSSZZZZIs probably too much for me even now, there were too many things, too big fish. I could not believe it, it was like a virus infecting the whole system, it said that it was corrupt, people, shops, stations, companies, security, political. The Horizons program. The Engineers initiative. And to make matters worse was the story of "they." That was the last straw, people with power and superhuman abilities, evolved humans, infiltrated all corners control.
Oh really. I could not take it to the news, were massacring us, it was too unrealistic.
ZZZSSSKKKKRRRRRRRSSSSSZZZZWe ended up arguing, he tried to explain to me, spoke that his sources were reliable, invoked my journalistic spirit. I said that was impossible, said he did not like what he had written in that file to be happening right under the noses of everyone and no one had kicked the bucket yet. Even after all he still tried to warn me about "they."
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He was very insistent. And just the most unlikely story was the one that made her more fear.
The more I denied it, in the end, there really was a good material there.
I spent hours poring over those files, I was on vacation and wanted adventure.
I decided to check on their own.
I gave off to Nyx and decided to put into practice my investigative skills.
...And that was my biggest mistake.
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End of transmission