[btw]: a little more.
Jul. 5th, 2003 02:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coronaviridae So of course I never told anyone this while I was still alive; Misha was the only person I even hinted it at, and he didn't know how bad it really was. Which is just as well; that kind of thing has this terrible habit of crippling one politically. And it's really not appropriate dinnertime conversation, or something you'd let slip over drinks, so most of my nearest and dearest never even heard about those three missing years.
It's one of my secrets that even Xiang, as obsessed as he was, never, ever learned.
Well, there we are. The last of my dirty little secrets aired. I suppose everything else utterly pales in comparison, so I don't need--or want--to linger on all the other minor indignities life forced on me. It doesn't matter. I'm dead; and even if I weren't, who would be tolerant enough to listen to my bitching?
I find myself at the metaphysical equivalent of tapping my foot and staring at my 'audience', wondering if there's not anything else I have to tell. It's rather sad; twenty-four years of life and it all boils down to a handful of regrets and a great deal of shame. Perhaps you could say I squandered what I had, spent so long chasing my goals that I wasted the twin possibilities of happiness and love, the ideals of life and success...because there was something More Important out there for me.
Perhaps you could say I regret being so wasteful. I'm not certain that I do. It was a type of flagellation, a kind of penance I felt myself fully deserving of after my life on the streets. Oh, Lord. The crimes I felt I needed to repay, to atone for through sweat, blood, and tears laid on the altar of sweet lady Justice...
A murderer, a pervert, a whore, a race traitor and a thief. Lady McLaren, who is this boy you picked to lead Interpol? Lady Cascio, Sergeant Fairbanks, Agent Hampton, who is this man you trusted to lead you, who owned those frail shoulders all the weight of your hopes rested upon? Pavel, Nathan, who is this creature you trusted to bring impartial justice to a corrupt organization? Andruw, who is it you turned to for protection and solace in a time of need?
Not one who ever felt himself capable of fulfilling all those roles, that's for sure.
---
I've gone off and done it again, made myself thoroughly miserable by what a mess I've made of my life. It seems the Fool isn't the only one carrying on the tradition, hm?
---
Well. I suppose you might want to know that, on having squandered my life, what exactly that cataclysmic act was I committed that ended with my own demise. What was this fall of Seoul that Abernathy finally found his death in? When did all these luminaries of his life have their fates dealt out to them? What turning point sent some into hiding and launched others to the heights of success?
Let me tell you another story.
---
A long, long time ago, near the beginning of the Robot Wars and just after the turn of the century, a little organization that nestled in the heart of the United Nations decided that it needed to extend its reach. This was Black SHIELD.
In its very essence, Black SHIELD wasn't such a bad thing. MOST of its operatives actually thought they were doing the best thing by humanity by serving to prolong the Endless War. Many, at least, believed that they were still serving their government. Some thought they could protect the precious few good things they thought were left in life. A bare handful were in it because it meant money in their pockets and a job to go to, day by day. You don't take a risk on an organization like Black SHIELD without being recompensed somehow, even if that recompense comes in another day when your masters have let you live.
The exact details of how Black SHIELD pulled off its silent coup, and what they did once they got there, are tortuous in the extreme. I don't feel like relating them, because they, again, touch on emotions better buried. What does matter is that somewhere along the line, their goal became not protecting humanity, but prolonging the War for their own good. Even if it meant isolating that War into a tiny pocket of incestuously self-interested factions, so long as time, energy, resources, lives, and especially money were flowing into Black SHIELD's control, everything was fine and dandy. Human greed and human vanity tend to queer whatever they touch in very funny ways.
What also matters is, by this point in time, they had curled themselves inexorably and inextricably around the heart of the United Nations. They were there for the long haul, in it for keeps. The only way we thought we could dislodge them was by turning the entire edifice on its ear, finally bringing mercy to the tottering UN.
We? Oh, yes. A conspiracy of two--Pavel and I. I felt so special that he cared enough to entrust me with the job of destroying my own organization.
The job of an intelligence agent is to find an asset, cultivate it, and then turn it.
---
Oh, dear. I'm getting bitter again; that won't do at all.
muse
It's one of my secrets that even Xiang, as obsessed as he was, never, ever learned.
Well, there we are. The last of my dirty little secrets aired. I suppose everything else utterly pales in comparison, so I don't need--or want--to linger on all the other minor indignities life forced on me. It doesn't matter. I'm dead; and even if I weren't, who would be tolerant enough to listen to my bitching?
I find myself at the metaphysical equivalent of tapping my foot and staring at my 'audience', wondering if there's not anything else I have to tell. It's rather sad; twenty-four years of life and it all boils down to a handful of regrets and a great deal of shame. Perhaps you could say I squandered what I had, spent so long chasing my goals that I wasted the twin possibilities of happiness and love, the ideals of life and success...because there was something More Important out there for me.
Perhaps you could say I regret being so wasteful. I'm not certain that I do. It was a type of flagellation, a kind of penance I felt myself fully deserving of after my life on the streets. Oh, Lord. The crimes I felt I needed to repay, to atone for through sweat, blood, and tears laid on the altar of sweet lady Justice...
A murderer, a pervert, a whore, a race traitor and a thief. Lady McLaren, who is this boy you picked to lead Interpol? Lady Cascio, Sergeant Fairbanks, Agent Hampton, who is this man you trusted to lead you, who owned those frail shoulders all the weight of your hopes rested upon? Pavel, Nathan, who is this creature you trusted to bring impartial justice to a corrupt organization? Andruw, who is it you turned to for protection and solace in a time of need?
Not one who ever felt himself capable of fulfilling all those roles, that's for sure.
---
I've gone off and done it again, made myself thoroughly miserable by what a mess I've made of my life. It seems the Fool isn't the only one carrying on the tradition, hm?
---
Well. I suppose you might want to know that, on having squandered my life, what exactly that cataclysmic act was I committed that ended with my own demise. What was this fall of Seoul that Abernathy finally found his death in? When did all these luminaries of his life have their fates dealt out to them? What turning point sent some into hiding and launched others to the heights of success?
Let me tell you another story.
---
A long, long time ago, near the beginning of the Robot Wars and just after the turn of the century, a little organization that nestled in the heart of the United Nations decided that it needed to extend its reach. This was Black SHIELD.
In its very essence, Black SHIELD wasn't such a bad thing. MOST of its operatives actually thought they were doing the best thing by humanity by serving to prolong the Endless War. Many, at least, believed that they were still serving their government. Some thought they could protect the precious few good things they thought were left in life. A bare handful were in it because it meant money in their pockets and a job to go to, day by day. You don't take a risk on an organization like Black SHIELD without being recompensed somehow, even if that recompense comes in another day when your masters have let you live.
The exact details of how Black SHIELD pulled off its silent coup, and what they did once they got there, are tortuous in the extreme. I don't feel like relating them, because they, again, touch on emotions better buried. What does matter is that somewhere along the line, their goal became not protecting humanity, but prolonging the War for their own good. Even if it meant isolating that War into a tiny pocket of incestuously self-interested factions, so long as time, energy, resources, lives, and especially money were flowing into Black SHIELD's control, everything was fine and dandy. Human greed and human vanity tend to queer whatever they touch in very funny ways.
What also matters is, by this point in time, they had curled themselves inexorably and inextricably around the heart of the United Nations. They were there for the long haul, in it for keeps. The only way we thought we could dislodge them was by turning the entire edifice on its ear, finally bringing mercy to the tottering UN.
We? Oh, yes. A conspiracy of two--Pavel and I. I felt so special that he cared enough to entrust me with the job of destroying my own organization.
The job of an intelligence agent is to find an asset, cultivate it, and then turn it.
---
Oh, dear. I'm getting bitter again; that won't do at all.
muse
