2019-09-28 00:26:39 -05:00
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<title>The Homestuck Epilogues: Meat - Chapter 17</title>
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<h1>Chapter 17</h1>
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2020-03-29 12:23:21 -05:00
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<div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm line-caption line-copy pad-x-0 pad-x-lg pad-b-lg">
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<p class="no-indent dirk"><span class="opener type-hs-opener-rg type-hs-opener-sm">N</span>one of my
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2019-09-28 00:26:39 -05:00
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friends have noticed it yet, but you have. You have the ability to
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read between the lines, to understand that our lives are blighted
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by this undercurrent of subtext, of <em>narrative
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significance</em>. Anyone paying attention could have guessed by
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now who’s really telling this story.</p>
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<p class="dirk">You’re not so innocent either. I’ve caught you
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leering at some pretty personal moments. Are you having fun being a
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voyeur? Just violating the shit out of everyone’s privacy? Are
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these teenage romantic entanglements panning out the way you
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wanted? They never do. Maybe it helps, being able to see everyone’s
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thoughts described in plain sight. Broadcasting the internal
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conflicts, the compromises, the doubts... Does it make it easier
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for you to accept the emotional faltering, the missteps, the basic
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inability to reach out and seize the opportunity for happiness
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repeatedly dangled in their faces? Knowing their thoughts are
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transcribed by a third party, does it fill you with a sense of
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unease, of sickness, sensing that the observations made of their
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mental interiors may be tainted?</p>
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<p class="dirk">Who the hell do I think I am, I can hear you
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wondering. You know who I am, of course. The better question is,
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who do you think <em>you</em> are? What exactly is so special about
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<em>you</em>? Nothing, of course. I am specific. I have a name, an
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agenda, a <em>vision</em>. I am a monolith of concentrated
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narrative authority, relaying events to you, and swaying them as I
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see fit. Whereas you are pointedly nonspecific. You are the
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generalized, impotent witness to all this. You are essentially as
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beholden to me as those whose lives I describe. I even have the
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ability to decide what “you” actually means. I can take the
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“you-ness” away from you, and put it inside another passive mark,
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such as John Egbert. You didn’t even notice when I did it, and you
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had no objections then. Why would you object now?</p>
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<p class="dirk">So what makes John so special? The answer is
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something I’m sure you’ve suspected all along but would rather not
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face, which is: probably nothing. He isn’t special. He’s quite
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ordinary, I assure you. Boring, even, and getting less interesting
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by the minute as he’s forced to confront his absolute lack of
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heroic purpose except as a pawn to be manipulated by a fatalistic
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reality.</p>
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<p class="dirk">But I’d also like to make it clear, he’s not even
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that remarkable in his unremarkableness. He’s simply convenient for
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it. Anyone can be endowed with this you-ness, if I think it
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achieves a certain goal. Even if the objective is merely to
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demonstrate the gambit’s potential, to reveal the effortlessness
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behind it. To make a show of who matters and who doesn’t, and even
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if they do matter, for how long and for what purpose, as dictated
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solely by the allocation of this faculty. You-ness can be stripped
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from the lowly Egbert just as easily as it was given, and then
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bestowed upon the mighty Serket, but even then only long enough to
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dismiss the vainglorious spotlight hog from the narrative forever.
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Good riddance.</p>
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<p class="dirk">But I haven’t revealed myself to you just to boast
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about the abilities arising from the gradual obliteration of the
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constraints on my consciousness. I’ve only taken a moment to answer
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a few questions. Not ones I heard you ask—because again, you are
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nonspecific and therefore do not matter—but ones I
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<em>imagined</em> you asking. And by imagining these questions,
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they became less fake, and as such, demanded similarly non-fake
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answers. No, in truth, the time has come to make my presence known
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in order to start bringing my plans to fruition. It’s time to get
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down to fucking <em>business</em>.</p>
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<p class="dirk">John needs to wake up.</p>
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