Senescence | Chapter 1: A Seed is Sown

An awkward chuckle. A sidewards glance. A mouth open with not words nor strength mustered. A shift back, a look around, a brief pause, a quick shout, a hand raised, a lustful stare, a heart pounding, a mind racing, a neck pinned, a shirt lifted, a voice hushed, a leg spread, a muscle tensed, an arm lifted, a knee pressed---

"Hey. Maybe you two... shouldn't be doing this here."

Help me. "Sorry." Don't just sit there, fucking help me.

I sensed the arm around my neck and waist slacken and seized the opportunity to contort my body out of their grasp. I moved myself back against the opposite wall and averted my gaze. Uncomfortably quick. Unsociably firm. I could feel every pair of eyes in the room on me as I clasped the carpet on the floor.

"Awwww. I wanted to do stuff with Shiki."

"Just don't do it here."

Words slipped past and sloshed around my mind in a haze, some from my lips and some not, though I was in no state to know from who. A pang of guilt washed over my heart; I hurt someone, somehow, again.

"Sorry." Say something else, dammit. "Sorry." Fuck, worth a shot.

We'd broken up months ago, them and I. I had let all my pent up emotions and struggles spill out over a wall of text; yet at the same time, I had said nothing to them at all. The wall of anxiety and panic I had worked myself through a few months prior was done in vain, only serving to make the next one thicker and stronger.

I looked up. Oh god, why did I look up? I could feel their purulent petulant pouting pierce my chest. A deluge of emotions effused into my pleural cavity, stifling my breath as though their hand was still around my neck.

"Sorry."

I stood up and burst out the hab, head pounding much too hard to care for all the awkward stares coming my way. A gush of tears hit me as I ran down the street. Then a wall as I awkwardly stumbled around a corner to catch my breath. The floor beneath me lurched sideways as my periphery became a blur. The nodes in my heart twitched, making my myocardium tear my heart from my chest. The all-too-familiar ichor of death perfused my lungs. Darkness mottled my vision with bruises and splotches of blue.

The next time my eyes opened, I found myself back on my bed. Nothing but the soft, matutinal glow throughout my room heralded the new day. I glanced at myself through my bathroom mirror before an ache in my chest wrested my gaze away. Stars. The path my tears had carved out running down my face showed me all I wanted to see. Guess it wasn't a dream, then. Shame.

A heavy breath escaped my lips in a huff as I let my chair catch my fall. I sipped fresh water I didn't pour from a cup on my desk I hadn't taken out without thinking too much of it. Another sigh came out my chest, this time of my own volition. Checking my tablet for any new messages, I was greeted by my own empty stare, prompting me to put my tablet away.

Fuckers. I hated going there. I hated seeing their stupid, repulsive face. None of them really wanted anything to do with me; something about my "vibe", apparently. We shared few things in common, which was apparently enough to let me sit at their dinner table. With them I shared even fewer still.

I hated how every moment I had with them was for the sole purpose of serving as a glorified auto-fellation device. I hated how every conversation we had was plastered with pornography I didn't want to see and erotic roleplay I didn't want to have. I just wanted a normal fucking conversation. Yet a block of "aww"s and "uuuueeeeee"s shoved me back towards their dick every time I steered the conversation away from sex.

Though I suppose it's my fault, really. It always is. I had been ravaged by my needs and desires for years, isolated from any semblance of a community. Throughout my childhood, I was raised by a society of puritans. Pampered with showers of strict rules and stern warnings that left me no room to explore. Everything outside was wrong; being anything but the model child I was meant to be was wrong. I was wrong.

Everything was controlled; by my parents, by those in power, and by the state. Peace between all was brokered by an iron fist of solemn silence. A voice of dissent or a differing opinion could shatter such a thin veil of factitious harmony. Thus, an oppressive culture of conformity promulgated across my home planet.

I used to believe in it all, as naive as that was. I truly believed that every rule and every custom was put in place for the sole purpose of benefitting society. I believed every state-sanctioned video about how "harmonious living" was important. I deluded myself that I was content in the sameness of it all. I never questioned anything. Not beyond the state-approved "critical discussions" we used to have about the most anodyne of topics. But I was never content.

Deep down, I had always felt that there was more to me than society had prescribed. I had managed to find a handful of others who were different like me, hiding from public view. As we exchanged stories and experiences, I realised just how much more there was to life than the one I knew, just how many others there were that shared my experiences.

When the Affini came and dismantled our "democratic" state, I was finally able to see the full breadth of the beautiful communities and accepting societies beyond the exosphere of my home planet. Every inhibition drilled into me gave way, like a wayward gush of water careening from a broken dam. I began to yearn for such a community, for a chance to indulge in every forbidden desire I once buried under years of pain.

Yet, old habits die hard, and it seemed as though the culture the state had instilled in everyone had dug its roots deep. Though a degree of tolerance was enforced, truly expressing myself still seemed like a distant dream. I tried. My parents effectively disowned me the moment they found out about my refusal to accept the identity they had birthed for me. It was almost just as hard to find friends as before, if not harder, having barely any excuse to go out and meet anyone anymore.

My only solace was the overnet, which the Affini had graciously bestowed upon us during their takeover. It fostered many fruitful friendships and many stories. I could see every salacious exchange between partners and friends of all configurations that would have had my tongue torn from my mouth. Every titillating squeeze of a breast, every tantalising kiss, every crack of a whip.

It made me hungry. It drove me insane, knowing I could never do such things with anyone around me. It drove me to them. Hypocrite. I enjoyed my first moments with them, seemingly able to chat about almost anything while also being able to know them carnally. I wanted this. They seemed to listen when I poured my heart out about something I was interested in, and seemed to love doing everything that made me sexually content.

Slowly, they changed. They waved every concern I had away with a facetious pout. They stopped listening to my discussions. They stopped caring about how I felt. But they were all I had. Because of my desirous reputation amongst our friend group, nobody thought twice about how they forced themselves onto me. They grew bolder every day, and I grew powerless to stop them. Weak. I tried to break things off, but it soon became clear that they never cared about our relationship status in the first place.

For one reason or another, I found myself coming back. Where else was I supposed to go? I couldn't leave. There was no-one else around me that truly accepted me like they did. Even though I had been living in my own hab since my parents kicked me out, I still felt some obligation to stay in case anything happened to them. A remnant of the cultural tendrils still coiled around my heart.

Enough sulking. I booted up my computer, hovering my fingers over the keys as my unfinished draft came to life on the screen. "A Non-Classical Modal Account of Theistic Knowability". Now reduced to a hobby, Terran research and academia in a post-scarcity world was far different from how it used to be. My life-long aspirations of working in philosophical academia quickly changed after the Affini takeover turned the idea of a professorial "job" into a thing of the past. Though, it's nice to finally be able to read all the articles I want without paying for them.

Suddenly, a message from the overnet came through.

<Aphrodeeziac> heyyy. i was thinking. why dont you move in with me ?