Ainsi je frappe - the pasts and presents of Isabelle Montlaville de Chanteloup

[Lanakov]

An uncertain amount of time following the New London rout.
For reference, the last words of Chanteloup :
The Chanteloup tapes #1
The Chanteloup tapes #2
The Chanteloup tapes #3

Darkness. Pure, complete, comforting darkness, and silence. At last. No thoughts, either. No pressure, no time ticking down, no stress. Isn't it nice when your limbic system gives you a break ?
It's not the limbic system, you dumb fool, it's the prefrontal cortex. Have you forgotten everything already ? Well, wasn't that the entire bloody point ? Don't ask me. Fine, then peace it is.

Well, not anymore ; seems there's no possible way to be at peace in this putain d'univers.. Movement, light. Faint voices. Then, more silence, more darkness. Pure, delicious nothingness, not even the shadow of a thought. You have no shape : you are nothing. This is nice, non ? Very nice. You like it. Quiet. Of course you would.

More movement, you feel. Indeed. This is not acceptable. All you wanted was peace, and there you are, disturbed so soon after... Well, you-know-what happened. Soon ? How can you tell ? You have lost your means of measuring time, madam. Time itself is a bit of an obscure concept at the moment, as gender should be, by the way. Nice plot hole. Couldn't get things right even in... This. But then you never could get things right, whatever your state of consciousness, bit late to start. Ah, see ; it's over. Static darkness again. Not even darkness, for that is something already. This is nothing.

What is this now ? A flicker of thought ? And what thought is that, hmm ? Regrets ?! Oh, lovely. Is your brain not supposed to be dead ? What business do you have thinking ? What good did that do you before ? Yes, that's what I thought. Return to the void, it's the only place you ever belonged to, anyway.

Ah, more movement. Fantastic. If you had known the end would be so lively, perhaps you'd have come here sooner, by yourself. It's not like you've never thought of it, either, you were just too much of a coward to ever try. Hmmm ? What are you doing now ? Feeling ? Oh, that's novel. Well, why not, since you were already thinking... And what is this feeling of yours ? Remorse ? Sadness ? Well, there's a bold departure from your usual self, the one from before. Clearly it was worth going through all that trouble to be at peace, only to have the same old flaws and fears flood your conscience again.

By the way, I forgot to mention : you now have a conscience again. Congratulations. I figured, with all the regretting, and the remorsing and the what have you, you were doing such a terrible job of being dead that I decided to do something about it. Hi ! You're now not-quite-dead, though hardly in a getting-better state, either. To be honest, this development is entirely due to parameters beyond my control ; I just wanted to stay with you a little longer while you made up your mind, but you simply couldn't just go, it would seem. How characteristically undecisive of you. Ah well, here we are.
Your hearing is getting a little better, though. Yes ! You have physical senses too, do you know. Don't ask much, though. You're closer to staying in comfortable nothingness than returning to whatever else exists out there. Don't ask me, ask yourself. Oh wait, you just did ! Well this is going in circles. Go back to sleep. Ignore the omnipresent, regularly-paced electronic beeping in your left ear, I'm sure that's nothing.

There you are. While you were away facing your many shortcomings, I heard concern. Not yours, but clearly directed at you, by several sources. People ! No, I don't know who they are. Do they love you ? Why do you ask ? Is there anyone you think would love you ? Oh, there's your mother and father, obviously, though in the case of your mother it was always a bit of an unclear concept, love. Imagine how devastated she must have been at your funeral, though. You, her precious, and only child, carrying so much of her being and her hopes by yourself, lost to her ! Though not before you realised part of her ambition and became such an important person in that organisation she holds so dear. No, I don't remember either, can't be have been that important. Well, to her, it was, and so were you. You never liked the idea but you always hoped, against better sense, you clung to the hope of seeing, one day, affection, tenderness for you in her eyes, didn't you ? Well, you never told her that, and now you can't. Great job. Perhaps grief and sorrow have already done to her what you've done to yourself, but that won't make the two of you any closer, I'm afraid. Your father ? Oh, same as always : emotions all over the place. I'm sure he tried hard to compose himself when he said his goodbyes to your empty coffin, and I'm sure he failed miserably. Though, for once, his wife didn't blame him for it ; I don't imagine she was all too composed herself, this one time. Were your colleagues there ? Some, yes, I'm sure. Not all of them loved you, to say the least, but you can't blame them. At least not all of them despised you, either. There's that ! You wonder if they said anything during the ceremony ? Me too. You left at an... inconvenient time, you see. There was plenty of terrible things happening at that point, many of them your fault. There was much in everyone's mind, and nothing good, I'm afraid. Ah yes ! Here we are again : regrets. Hmm ? No, I don't mind. We have all the time in the universe. Take it easy, you've earned it.

The beeping is continuing, steadily. Don't you mind ? It'd drive me crazy. But what do I know.

People again. One time they're here, another time, they're gone. No, I still don't know who they are. They're not always the same. They don't speak the same language, for one thing, but you would understand if you could hear. Yes ! That's how smart you are, a woman of the world, truly. Look where that got you. Magnificent. So, people, then. Of all things, that's where your thoughts keep coming back. Can't think why. Ah ? Well, your hippocampus is doing at least slightly better, so yes, you can know a little more. Are you sure, though ? You know these regrets, this remorse you've been experiencing ? Yeah, they come from that bit, in a large part. No, I just want to make sure. You've always hated, with a burning passion, wallowing in self-pity. And you've never done it yourself, for all your faults. Are you sure you want to start ? Well, yes, I suppose now is as good a time as any. So, bear with me a moment, we'll do this step by step.

What do you remember ?
OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPTION 4 OPT... Hey there, easy now. Your synaptic connections are NEVER going to cope if you go about it like this. It's been... I don't know, a very long time, since you've done this. So, deep breath (hurray, respiratory system !), and start over. Make a list. You always loved lists.

Leeds. Yes, that didn't look good when you left. Yes, option 4 was the most humane, yes, you didn't think it would be carried out like this, yes, you feel like it was the only choice, and that you had no control. No control ! You were the ****ing boss of these people, and you tried to convince yourself you weren't responsible ? Yeah, you failed.

New London. War is horrible, as was what happened in the skies of the planet on that fateful day. You've long (how long is that ? Touché) thought it was the turning point, the moment you lost it all. But you're not kidding yourself any longer ; it was all lost long before. Perhaps before you signed the contract that made you what your mother forced you to become. So yes, people died, many of them innocents. And you know what London changed ? That's right, nothing. Circle back to item one on this list. But wait ! Before you list every planet, every station that you had bombed, shot, or otherwise depressurised, let me remind you that we were talking about people. Okay ? Okay. So who comes in mind ? Go on, think, remember all those people who've been so enriched to cross paths with you. Start with the "friends" list. Better start with the easy bit.

De Justéton. Yes, that tall, quiet statue of a man. Always at odds with Thouars. He saw through you when you attempted that powergrab from Macron, and acted when no other dared to. Nice shot, but to the hip. He missed your heart. It caused you to limp, and it would have for a while if you hadn't left in such an untimely manner. You don't blame him. You wonder what he has become, though part of you suspects he's joined your world now.

Macron. Your last boss, really. You were probably in love with him and perhaps he knew. But unlike you, he knew enough about his job that he never displayed anything. Not that it matters, you did steal his job and consigned him to some prestigious political office where people are sent to die when their time under the spotlight is at an end. A nice thing to do to one of the only people you ever admired. You can still try to convince yourself that it was the right thing to do, that it was the wish of the Kingdom, and that you managed to fill his shoes and be your own boss.

Thouars. A repugnant man, if you're honest, in a surprisingly jolly, educated sort of way. Of all the people you've gotten killed, he was probably among those who deserved it the most. What a thing to say of one of the truest patriots you've ever met.

Clément. Driven, competent, but what a mood. You ruined his career by not letting him exploit his full potential. What were you afraid of ? He respected you, perhaps looked up to you, at least for a time. And thanks to you, he was a shadow of his former self by the end of the war, clearly wavering in his faith. How grateful of you, it must be nice to be your friend. You wonder what happened to him. Hopefully, he's at peace too. What other choice did you leave him ?

Vaillant. You remember how shy he was ? You had marked him for potential and had hope for him. But you gave him too much and the shyness transformed into overconfidence and sheer ambition, which you had to forcibly muzzle. And what could possibly have happened next ? You ruined him. Like Clément, he looked up to you, but you gave Clément too little, and Vaillant too much. They both despise you now, and you're certain both have actively conspired against you. You wonder to what extent they went. Well, they succeeded, non ? You reap what you sow : it was, after all, one of your fondest sayings.

Fontaine. Your own personal beacon of pure light. One you always relied upon in dark times. One that had your trust, and yet you barely ever talked to him besides barking orders he already figured out. Oh, you ensured he had plenty of radiant titles, even lands ; what good is that going to be now that Gallia is lost to the Council ? You put him to the forefront, gave him toys and never once treated him like your equal. You may as well have painted a target on his back and given him a water gun. Splendid.

Guillory. Another one you relied upon. A technical minded sort, who saw the world in two categories : stuff that is fixed, stuff that he's fixing. You always liked that. He followed you, blindly, trustingly, until the end. He's the only one who called you out on your bull**** when the hammer fell on Leeds. His dishonour is on your hands. You've ruined his life because he trusted you.

What ? Are you tired of remembering already ? But we're still at the "friends" list, don't you want to know what a superb job you've done with all of your entourage ?
Right. No, I understand. Does it make a difference ? I don't know, this is you, after all. All of this is on you. It's fine, we'll get back to your memories another time. For now, there is always nothing.

---

Feedback, insults, marriage proposals and declarations of fealty

If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.