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There was only one choice for Aaran to make.

He could not abandon his Emotions, so it was these he choose to keep.

The end had come but with it came the experiences he had endured over the last week. Each door gave light to the trials he and everyone else had faced as well as the emotions that came with it. The bandits on the first day that hardly seemed to care about their survival, the casino where they had to gamble for their lives, the hospital and the fog that had nearly driven them to insanity, the brief moment of the highway and then finally here. This is where it had all converged like a story and Cecil knew others were experiencing the same thing. He could see it in his mind but there was something so lacking in it. He wanted to be himself again.

He stared at his replica torn on the idea of remembering or feeling. There was plenty he didn't want to forget, many people he had met over the course of the week he didn't want to slip away and yet what good would those memories do him? He was connected to a circuit of people and yet he felt nothing. Love, hate, fear, they were what told him that he was alive. He was told the way he was now would be everlasting but it didn't feel like living. It felt like nothing at all. He needed emotions and he wanted to feel like himself again.

As soon as he made his decision one version of himself crumbled to nothing and he could feel life coming back to him but with it he felt the memories fade. True many remained and he was glad for that but each memory through the week seemed to blink out like lights and were gone like they had been nothing but a dream he couldn't grasp. Faces faded, the situations he was certain would be burned into his memory dissipated to nothing until he was left with only the month he had survived at the university. He had made his choice and it felt right.

Emotions

max

It had possessed hope once. He had. Max. But Max was a part of Creation now, and though he could call up memories of the time when he had been lonely, weak, afraid, infected, he didn't often choose to now. At first, his past had seemed like a dream, but soon he couldn't even recall what that word meant. Or rather, he knew what it meant, he just could no longer understand what it felt like to do so. To dream. Max's memories and emotions had separated easily, no tearing necessary. He had given himself to Creation long ago, which was why it was so surprising when the legacy singled him out.

There is one last thing I would like you to see.

Had he had shoulders to shrug he would have done so, but as it was, Max simply went where he was directed, through the red door. He didn't notice a change at first. The space beyond the door was as featureless and cold as his time with Creation had been. But slowly, ever so slowly, he began to see flashes of his human life. To feel them. Bitterness toward the Boss for locking them away and taking charge, even though it had saved their lives. Frustration toward Monica for driving his family apart. Resentment toward the undying for existing at all. He was desperate to leave, but lacked the ability to do so. Max watched for seconds, minutes, hours, he wasn't sure, and when Creation pushed him along and the emotion dropped away, he was relieved. He felt clear, uncompromised, but some small bit of feeling remained. He moved forward, trying to push it away, and he managed to fool himself into thinking he had as the next door opened wide.

Max was alive. Lights blared, people laughed as they fought to survive. He was free to leave the casino at any time, but he lingered as others filed out, smug with the knowledge that he had saved himself. He paused, uncertain. That wasn't how it had happened at all. Diana had happened. She had saved him. Pride was replaced by guilt, relief, gratitude. Max felt happy and connected as he was guided out of this door, and this time he didn't try to shake the emotions off.

With the white door came discomfort and unease, painful brightness and regret. He saw who he truly was when tragedy struck. He liked that Max better than the one he had been. When he could stand to look, Cody and Dana stared back at him, their eyes going green and skin turning black as he watched. He barreled forward, feeling their bodies fall to ash around his fingers as he passed. He didn't look back.

He fell through the blue door, crashing into the boy... boil?... who had saved him. When had he needed saving? Max fell to his knees as the reaper's memories washed over him. It was years before he could move. A lifetime.

By the time he reached the purple door and saw what he had been, Max couldn't look at it anymore. The emptiness that was his time behind the black door was a comfort after that.

When he forced himself to rise again, Max faced his double, quietly waiting. It was made up of what he had been before the doors, though now its presence made him uncomfortable. It reminded him that he wasn't whole. It urged him to remain. But he couldn't, not now that he had remembered. He could count on one hand how many good things had happened to him since this had all began, but every one had been very good. Better than he had experienced in all the years before. He had a life that meant something, and even if he forgot, he was confident he now had it in him to build another one. He would lose what he had felt, he knew that, but if he stayed he would never feel anything again.

emotions

[ Kelly Vanderbeck - Emotions ]

After what felt like ages, Kelly knew it was time to move on. What little that was left of her mind and soul was finally fading. There was no regret or remorse. Instead, she felt acceptance. The last memories lingered in emotions, leaving her with a bit of a happy bliss before they too began to disperse. All that was left was nothing, and that seemed good enough.

A voice filled her mind as she dissolved into the organism, into creation. She became one again with the being, and she embraced the final tear of her memories finally pulling away from her emotions. It was fine, all would be well.

There was no time or speed. All that was left was the Creation and her task to assist in the overall mission. She was an observer of something more, and she was fine to simply watch. Time passed without concern as she took in the thousands of information senses that assaulted her mind.

Eventually, she began to see something familiar. A city, landmarks, humans. She saw herself, her past and her decisions. She watched without emotion, accepting the pictures as what they were. As her body began to fade, she suddenly was jolted and remembered herself.

She realized it was indeed her that she watched, and something stirred.

The voice was back, and Kelly listened and followed as she was directed, not asking questions and merely following.

She moved through the doors, and suddenly she felt different. Anger, hubris, regret, anxiety, hope, complication and sincerity. Each one brushed with her memories, and as she left the doors she felt different. More was happening, and she felt herself change. As she finished at the last door, Kelly eyed the green thing while it opened, before she saw new memories of both her and the others.

The memory faded, leaving her in a room as she faced herself.

Kelly watched her replica with wide eyes, and realized that this was something made of her memories. Swallowing, she didn't move and neither did the replica. Instead, they began to speak.

She felt her body being intruded upon by the memory creation, asking what it was to have emotions. The question was confusing, and Kelly struggled with an answer. How could she explain that emotions were like memories, in fact they were connected? How could she touch upon the feelings and express them with words she didn't know?

The memory creation didn't understand, and continued to inquire. Kelly had no words, no idea how to approach, and only stood and watched with wide eyes.

Suddenly, she was facing herself, and she was the replica. She knew why she was here, she knew what it wanted from her, and she accepted it with no resistance. But emotions began to ask, to beg for answers and try to understand. There was no simple solution, and Kelly couldn't answer without causing more questions to follow.

All at once, she looked at the crossroads. To embrace memories and creation's task. To cling to emotions and what once was. To become strong, or to run back to what once was.

The questions, the concerns, surrounded her until she felt both forms merge into one. All that was left was a decision, and she had both sides to consider.

What is Creation?

Kelly felt her fear, felt her love and attachment to what once was. She brushed her memories and shared the love, before pulling back and taking what she valued more. Love, Anger, Anxiety, Hope.

The memories began to fade, as did she. She felt sorrow, she felt alone. But she felt hope.

As she finally faded away, so did her memories of the past seven days. She would lose it all, the trials that made her stronger, the fears that made her shake. But she would return home, before it all began, and would start again.

Darkness lasted forever, and a split second. Kelly was floating, the lights of her memories fading away as the emotions took hold. When she felt herself falling, she closed her eyes and sighed, her shoulders relaxing and her face smooth.

Light surrounded her, and she finally faded away.

[Dylan Sallow sides with EMOTIONS: Your character will return to the world AS THEY WERE.]

They were safe, they had survived, they would keep surviving, except...

He was fading. All that was left was just what remained. No remorse, no regret, just nothing. It was all surreal. Had this all just been a dream? The vines answered, and he could feel himself dissolving, joining the others again. No choice, but no remorse, and when Creation clawed into him, separating emotion from memories, he knew it had been meant to be.

He watched, and he saw the city, saw his home, saw himself. He saw the choices he made, and then watched a familiar form succumb to infection.

No. Saw himself.

It whispered again, and the one who had once been Dylan realized just how alone he was. He had little time to think about that, as he nudged forward. One more thing to see.

Doors.

He remembered them, and entered the red one.

He remembered the bandits, of doing their tasks to try to win their favor. He remembered the pain, remembered what had happened there. He felt angry. He didn't know how long he was in the memory, but he was eventually pulled away. He felt a little different.

Gold.
It lead him back to the casino, bright and shining. It was decadent, a harsh contrast to the outside, and he was lost in the feelings. It was overwhelming. It made him feel full of hubris, and for a moment, he couldn't escape it. When he left the door, he felt a little more different.

He didn't want to go near the white door, but he was swept in anyways. He was back at the hospital, in the fog. He was scared, anxious, regretful. He clawed his way through, mistrustful of the others around him. When he escaped, he felt even more different.

Blue. When he entered it, it caved in easily. He was him, but he was also the girl, the one who had tried to rescue him. He felt a sense of hope, that perhaps he wasn't forgotten. He left the door, feeling a bit more different.

The next door was violet. He was two now, two of him, one vine, one human. Similar yet different. Two sets of emotions, conflicting, but perhaps not that different in the grand scheme of things. He left. He was greatly different now.

Black. He entered it, but when he left, didn't remember what happened. All he knew was that he felt even more different.

The last door, of course, was green. It opened, and his, no their, memory unfolded.

When it was over, he found a replica of himself in the room. 'What is it like?' the other him asked, twining around and in what remains of himself until the he who was realized that they would never be whole again. ' What is it like to experience emotions?'

He wished he could answer, that he could explain. He tried but the other him did not understand. 'Do these emotions dictate your choices'?

He wanted to answer. Yes, of course, he wanted to say, and then a felt a little more like who he had once been. Things tugged at him, and sceamed, and made him feel more alive, as the emotions that remain kept him from losing himself entirely. There is disappointment, fear, anger, and just the lightest hint of happiness.

'I do not understand,' The other him answered. It could not know because it was only memories. 'Why struggle when accepting gives you more?'

And then he was memories, and the other him emotions.

He knew his purpose, understood what creation wanted from him, and he gave no resistance to following. It was natural.

'And what purpose would you have?' The other whispered. You would be used, again and again, you would never make your own choices'.

"I am making choices," the he who was memories anwered. "I am choosing to help others, more than I could ever do myself."

'Then you will die.'

It was not quite that simple. He wold not die. He would remain ageless, a construct without life or death, but always with a purpose.

'I am afraid.'

Uncertain.

'I am myself.'

"I am also myself. We will have to choose. We are at a crossroads, memories, and emotions."

''What happens if we remain?'

"We will be powerful, we could save countless lives, we could forge countless empires."

'And what happens if we leave?'

"We will be weak. We will fade and die, but be as we once were."

For a moment, the two were back to being one and the choice was one decision. What was creation?

Memories? Emotion? It was both really, but Dylan wasn't sure if he was ready to abandon the world and those in it. Sure he could watch over them as memories, but it wouldn't be the same.

He wanted to go back. It would be worth the cost, and so he choose to discard his memories. He would lose all that had happened, all that he had done, had lost, had won. There was a sorrow to it, but he was confident that he had made the right choice.

He could always make new memories.

He smiled, as he disappeared entirely, knowing that he was to be returned to his home.

Gilda Farrel - Memories

Gilda could have written papers on how memories and emotions both respectively related to creation, she could have argued for both, but the thread of humanity that persisted and gave the thread of culture and enduring continuity to everything was ultimately memory. Octopus never got to see or raise their young, they were intelligent but their culture could never exist when there was no passing on of memory, no thread linking one generation to the other.

Emotions were sweet, the sweetest thing and she had learned to love here, to feel things she had never known before with a richness she had only been able to imagine. She wanted both, she didn't want to give up anything at all.

All she knew was that she had to endure, she had to go on, because she needed to find him.

Renita Hayes - Emotion


Renita waited on the sidewalk just outside the apartment entrance, arms wrapped loosely around the pig plushie on her lap as she watched everyone come and go. There was a nice patch of sunlight here, enough to keep her warm, and a good enough view to have time to react to anything she might see. They hadn't come yet, but she knew her group would be along any time now and she wanted to be here to welcome them home. After everything they'd been through, the chance to relax would be a precious thing.

They were all still alive and she was sure they'd gotten through the worst of it. All that was left was-

Creation. She felt herself begin to fade into it, a single puzzle piece in a larger picture of many. So this was it, then. It was time to rejoin them. Drifting and detached, there was no need to fight the pull on her memories. This was how it had always been meant to be. She had a function to serve for the legacy, and she moved through the memories they had harvested accordingly, observing without feeling until rather abruptly that ceased to be the case. Because that memory, that small body crumpling in front of that too familiar building, that was hers.

The sudden resurgence of a self was almost overwhelming in its loneliness, but Creation was not done with her yet. There was more to see.

The door was a familiar shape, but there was only one this time, no choice but to stay or go. Renita approached it decisively, turning the doorknob and pushing, and let herself be swept into the rage of a battle with bandit, the staggering blow she'd taken, the quiet seething anger at the undying for denying her access to precious information, at how unfair it was that this had happened to her when she was so close-

The next door was yellow, and she ran through it, through the memories of the casino and how much she'd let the luxury of it deceive her at first. All the lights and games and for a moment she'd understood why the others kept up their little fantasies until it had all gone wrong and she'd only wanted to scream I told you so! The splash of blood across her face and the frantic counting of coins and-

The next door was white, and she drowned in remorse the moment it pulled her in. Alone in that fog, she'd been the monster. There was blood on her knife and blood on her sleeves and no one needed her, no one was even looking for her, except- Except the next door was blue, and someone cared very much about whether or not she survived. She watched the strange shadow of a man carry her away from danger and remembered what hope tasted like.

The next door was violet, and it split her in two. For the first time, she truly understood the duality of that last day, the self that had been all vine and tiny stolen memories and the one that had kept struggling to live for better days. Fierce determination and quiet acceptance, separate but the same. She moved on, and the next door was black. Maybe it was better that she could not grasp what it had contained, but as before with the other doors, she felt different.

The last door was green and inside it she found herself, a perfect replica of memory. It didn't understand, no matter how she tried to tell it, what emotion could mean. How all the good and even the bad feelings could coalesce into something beautiful. Together they went back and forth, clawing away pieces of one another until she couldn't be sure whether she was the replica or the original anymore, until all that was left was this war of memory and emotion.

And then, for one shining moment, she was whole, and there was only one thing left to answer. What to you, is Creation? It was meant to be a last choice, she knew, but at the same time it was no choice at all. There was only one answer she could accept. Her memories had been precious, but that was only because of the way they'd made her feel. If she kept on living, there would be new memories, new feelings. It wasn't something she could ever give up.

"Emotion," Renita decided finally, and as her memories were swept away, she faded to nothing.