⭢clean_slide

…

He sat erect on the faded sofa and looked down at the coffee table and the gun sitting on it. A Glock. His Glock. He picked it up, feeling the weight. He released the magazine with a click and placed it on the table and closed his eyes. Once, on that freighter with the fuel leak, Celine…

He locked the slide, checked the chamber, slid it back. Pulled the trigger, released the slide, removed the guide rod and barrel, and began cleaning. His hands worked quickly and smoothly. He’d done this many times before. Hadn’t he? The rag was on the table. The rag was clean.

…

⭢reset

|rag=clean; slide=unclean|

⭢clean_slide

…

something’s not right

…

He put a little oil on the rag and ran it across the slide’s rails. They gleamed black in the dim starlight like her hair—long and straight, with that mingled scent of perfume and ozone. Like the crumpled old envelope in his gun case. He enjoyed the clean synthetic aroma of the oil rising from his hands.

|priority=celine<mission_objective|

|status=pleasepleasepl—|

…

⭢reset

…

Barrel back in, guide rod in, slide back on. He pulled the slide back and heard the ringing click-clack of the mechanism, pulled the trigger and felt her kick with a hard metal click. It sounded like a tick—he remembered buying her a watch once. It was her birthday. She wore it, proud, like a war medal. The best day. The last day. Water on her cheeks.

“Please. Don’t go back,” she said. Fingers, tugging. “If something happens…”

He stiffened. “We need the money,” and he was turning, striding fast up the gangplank of another battered shuttle. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

That was probably before the hull breach—the hole in his head. He wasn’t sure.

…

⭢reset

…

He extracted her magazine and started loading. Thirteen rounds.

|shots=13|

He inserted it with a hard thwack and chambered a round. She was out there, somewhere, waiting for him. He was in here, in a loop.

…

⭢clean_glock

black black |your_raven_hair_celine| black—

get out get—getoutjesusgodget—

…

⭢reset

…

He’d seen her around, on the ship. She liked to sing as she worked, soldering the panels. It was an old song, low and sad, from before the war. He wanted to ask what it was called but couldn’t summon the courage. The night they met, she shot him a lopsided grin. “Now, you look like a man that’s going places,” she said, and sat right next to him, just like that. He gulped and stammered something. The stammer went away. But it came back.

…

⭢terminate_memory

|status=raven_glock_loaded; unit=battle_ready; shots=13|

A green light started flashing on the wall panel. He blinked.

…

⭢raise_head

…

|visual_field=self_reflection|

…

She gave him a penetrating look once—she’d known—he should have said something but didn’t.

…

black waves of data i swim in and drink them i swim and i drown your raven hair i remember before the black waves of data i drown in your black data Celine

…

|priority=celine>mission_objective|

…

He wanted to talk to her. Now.

…

[status=celine_online]

⭢reset

|priority=celine<mission_objective|

…

…

⭢clean_slide

…

---