A Fleeting Dream

Battle, is... Not in my nature.

But today, I shot down a cruiser while in an asteroid belt.

It is not the first time I have killed. I have chosen a very nonviolent, fairly safe career: An explorer. (Though I feel a little silly calling it a "career" at this point, considering I've been doing it for all of two weeks.) I do most of my poking around space with probes instead of in person, which averts a lot of danger, and I mainly stick to high security space, so I don't get ambushed while I'm working. I have been told by other Capsuleers that this is a cowardly way to make money, but most Capsuleers would probably step on the neck of an injured animal if it lied in their path, so I do not take it to heart. I also make a little money mining, which, too, is nonviolent.

But occasionally, there are still times where I have to fight. Even with the upmost caution, there are occasions where I am cornered; Sometimes it is an ambush in a belt, or falling victim to a surprise attack while going through some old ruins looking for artifacts. One way or another, it ends up being the only option, nature or not.

...Usually, the battle is over before it starts. I make a quick, reactionary flicker of will. My weapons fire... And in an instant, they are gone.

It was like that this time, even though it was a bigger ship. I should clarify - This was the first time I've blown up anything larger then a Frigate or Destroyer. That's why I'm making such a huge fuss. There were probably more people aboard that ship then I have killed in the past put together. Yet, in spite of that, it was no different. I had expected a proper fight or maybe even to lose my ship, but it still only lasted a few moments, and then it was over. All that remained was a faint feeling of disbelief and regret, a great cloud of molten rubble and shattered lives, slowly dissipating as entropy allows.

If I allow my mind to wander, I can almost forget it happened.

It is so easy, so utterly trivial, that it disturbs me on a level I cannot quite say. Firing my missiles is the oddest thing. It feels so natural. Far more so then I ever expected. Like I'm releasing something tense and heavy inside of me of me that desperately wants to escape. And it is not even close to an exertion, being more akin to taking a long breath.

Over a hundred lives, gone with only a thought...

My dreams have become different. I was told they would, but never experienced it in my first two months. But now, having returned, I have begun to.

I am a... Creature. A malformed, floating, ever-changing thing; A entity that cannot be described, not for the horror of it's nature, but simply the sheer abstractness. I swim in a vast ocean (or something close to it), my mind and body shifting as I do so, the water seeping into me as though I am a sponge. There is a thumping, a pulsing, inside of me, striking with every step. It is painful. It pushes, a terrible and bitter pain, against my skin, something akin to a headache, only all over my form. I feel sick - I want to fall, but I am not standing, nor is there any ground for me to hit. Thoughts I cannot quantify in waking hours rush through my mind like a raging storm. New, hard, cold instincts, and terrible primal urges. Inhuman ones.

There is a light - Or something comparable. A feeling of safety and warmth. I try to swim towards it, but I am slow, sluggish. My "limbs" are tiny, broken things, and my breast is fat and bloated. The light becomes fleeting. It fades, and the very concept of it seems unknowable to me. It is, itself, like a fading dream...

There is more, but I cannot recall it, save for flickering images and concepts. Anger, fear, manic lust. The sensation of being fixated on a terrible thought, an awful image, but unable to direct my mind anywhere else.

I am told that it is because of the implants. The skill training, and the like. The brain is receiving a great deal of new information in an inorganic way and is unsure how to process it properly, and wrestles to interpret in a manner that it is capable of understanding.

Still... I had been training in my first two months, as well, before my hiatus - Yet had not experienced it. Back when I was keeping mostly to stations and making a fool of myself in front of Capsuleers on The Summit. Back when I was fearful of leaving the station in my meager ship, and instead busied myself playing with Isk, not even truly considering myself a podder. Back when I hadn't killed...

The teachings of the Yumao sect say that to slay another is to burden oneself; To take the responsibility of the taken life into ones own heart, and thus, harm ones perception of the Totality, as it is through the self that we see the greater whole that we are derived from and to which we shall, at the very end, return.

Yet, that truth feels distant, at this moment. Perhaps even unrelatable. I took those lives, but I do not feel a burden. I do not even truly feel as if anyone has died. As if what happens in space is nothing but a waking dream itself, something alien and terrible, but ultimately fleeting.

Something has changed. And not for the better.