First ||| https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1331674161/ Prev ||| https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/xxxxxxxxxx/ Next ||| https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1332074444/ Jessi tightened the last of the mechanism’s bolts in the already messy, new apartment. Unfortunately, the woman decided they would clean up, however, that was two months ago. Fresh out of college with a bachelor’s in engineering, one would think they tidied up better. No, unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. The room was littered, filled to the brim with unused and used tools alike, a cluttered bed that didn’t have room for an actual body, and the floor had panels scattered about from Home Depot. Of course, their place was littered with all sorts of books, one being mythology. It wasn’t a popular practice, not this religion, but the polytheistic idealism still had the main components. They especially liked Orchid’s stories, which were calming and easy to sleep to. A half a dozen of nonworking prototypes had blueprints collecting dust in the corner of her desk, however, one was given creation. It didn’t work. But it was worth the small shot it had. It was a mechanical set of wings, the metal frame connecting the pieces of fabric in hopes that it would parachute with the engine’s help. It did not work. Jessi fell off their parent’s roof with the test drive. Wait. There was a hiss somewhere in the room. So, the wings’ fabric could have possibly caught in the engine which could have been causing that— The walls started crumbling as the explosion blasted right next to them. It felt like their ribs were closing in already. They tried to open the window, but seemingly their arm couldn’t move. Not one bit. What. One could. One could not. Panic settled before reasonable thought. Jessi scrambled for their phone, fumbling for the numbers 911. They couldn’t see a thing; all they could see was the hollow blue glow of their lockscreen. Vision started to fade. Was this how they would go out? Covered in the ashes of the death of her own work? Well, now that they think about it, they wouldn’t have gone out any other way. No alarms, and no surprises. Well, yes alarms, it was blaring in their ears, and yes surprises, it literally blew up in their face. But maybe it wasn’t that bad. They dropped to their knees, leg weak, stomach churning and finally rested on the floor. Their head lulled to the side, cold against the warm floor from under them, and right now, it didn’t seem so bad. It seemed like everything slowed down for these final moments of reflection, and Jessi wouldn’t have done anything different. Quite gallant dying to something of your own creation, the Romans took that into high honor, so did the Greeks. Being able to die on one’s own terms was a blessing in disguise. They died how they wanted to, and many people believe the stories usually end like this. It would be classified as a tragedy. That is not the case here. Jessi lifted her head from the couch inside the office looking room. It was much tidier than their own. They glanced to the man sitting right in front, behind the desk. His fingers tapped nervously against the wood, and the lights were turned low. The only light source was a warm lamp near the door, which looked locked. This desaturated man was adorned with a gentle smile and feathers, the feathers fell in the spot around him. Lucky for him, he had a broom. “Come here, take a seat, Jessica.” The man said, the fangs peaked out from the smile, the teeth didn’t look like they ate too much meat, though. The man fidgeted with his pen, twirling it in his hands. He avoided eye contact with Jessi, instead, he looked between their eyebrows. “Good morning, Jessica!”
Jessi could hear the excitement under the professional tone. It was palpable. They felt like they could grab it and put it in a bear hug with how sweet it sounded. “Good morning, Mr…” “Johnson. Pennsylven Johnson. Friends like you call me Penn.” He held out a hand and Jessi shook it. Regret flickered in his expression before returning to the usual. His eyebrows knitted in quiet concern when he glanced Jessi over. “Did you heal okay?” “What do you mean?” Jessi feigned innocence. They hadn’t fully remembered what happened, just a smidge. That was until it rushed back to her, the monoxide from the explosion, the fire, the burns, the inability to use their arm, is it still there?! They lifted their right arm in front of them. It was replaced with mechanical functions, just like the artificial wings causing their death. It was weird. They felt the gears twisting inside them, their heart pounded with a mixture of nature and nurture. It felt like they grew from a STEM rather than grew from a stem. Their entire right side gone. It felt like it disintegrated into ashes. But that wasn’t the case. It was so charred they couldn’t use it, hence the mechanical replacements. Jessi took a deep breath, they at least tried to. One lung wasn’t there. It was replaced with a volume-oriented incentive spirometer. They felt it compress and expand as they breathed. Their stomach felt like it was gone as well. Thank gods they’re left-handed. “I understand what you’re talking about now.” Jessi whispered. “I need to ask you a few things, Jessica.” Penn changed the subject, it seemed. He still fiddled with the pen, spinning it like a bowstaff. “Do you think you were a good person?” “Woah. We’re really diving into this. Uhm…” Jessi thought about this. They tried to be a good person. It’s the thought that counts, right? How Jessi constantly tried to make meetups, even when they were close to a finished project, how they still made time for the world? “Yeah, I think I was a good person.” Penn gave a quiet sigh. His head dropped for a moment, likely tired, before looking back up at Jessi with a slightly softer look in his eye. “Do you think the way you died was fitting?” “So, I’m dead?—" “Answer the question.” Damn it. Penn cut them off. “Well, yeah. I think so.” Jessi laughed thinking about the event that seemed just like yesterday, apparently, for the changes to be made, it had to have been at least two weeks. Two weeks of not knowing if they were going to heaven or hell, and by the looks of Penn’s reactions, it was likely the later. “Did you like your life?” “Yeah, I did.” Jessi thought about the moments where they were repressed, shunned. They shook those thoughts away, as they eventually became themself somewhere along the line. “It was fun, I made friends, fought with people, but does it really matter in the end?” Penn nodded. He seemed to like the way Jessi thought, and that meant everything. Maybe they weren’t going to the place of the damned. Maybe they were going to heaven. Penn handed Jessi a pen for no reason. “Take that.” “Why?” “Do you know about Pietalism?” Pietalism. That was the religion they read about, constantly. The one with the seraph and the… the grey skin and hair… the anxious habits… They connected the dots rather quickly. Jessi slammed their hands on the table. They were way too enthusiastic about meeting a fictional character in real life. “YOU’RE… HIM?! THE HIM?! HIM!? HIS SON?!” “Whose son am I?” Penn looked startled The eyes that were on his neck suddenly opened and started looking at Jessi, the man tensed under the sensation of his skin splitting for two new visual outlets. “What are you talking about?” “Him! You’re Him! You’re the man that brings the moon!” Jessi was practically beaming at the man who had never heard these stories in his life, let alone understood them. He pulled at his collar. “The god of wisdom!” “Ah, yes! Him, congratulations on figuring it out! Whose son am I?” Penn didn't have a father. Jessi almost had to hold in their laughter, not at Penn being a common internet insult, but at the mere concept of this almighty entity being a term they were commonly using online. “You’re...?” They were met with a nod. Oh, that didn’t run over well. They swallowed a lump in her throat. Time to change topics! “Okay. Why are you asking me if I know about Pietalism?” “Well, a certain Grim took the last one a few weeks back, and the world needs someone else to balance him. You’re just like him if he was a woman.” They rolled their eyes at Penn’s remark. ‘oh hey, you remind me of a dead friend but genderswapped’ boo, hoo, cry me a river. Jessi immediately cleaned up their act with Penn’s next words. “So, how do you feel becoming the god of innovation? The court had been keeping a very close eye on you, love.” “I’m going to what.”
