Longplayer

Longplayer is a piece of music that is designed to last for one thousand years. It started to play on January 1, 2000, and if all goes planned, it will continue without repetition until December 31, 2999. It will restart on that date

A certain recollection of tales many used to believe to be history once stated that man was derived from the dust and earth. Woman was then brought into existence by man’s rib, so the story goes. Little do some know, a different version of the same story exists, not devoid of divine flaw as the first one was. Out of the same dust that birthed Adam emerged Lilith. Lilith, being a very strong-willed woman, believed herself to be equal to man. After being refused equality with her male counterpart, Lilith fled from their garden home known as Eden. That’s where things go downhill for Lilith. The once proud Lilith fell into a disastrous state of arrogance and gratification. She began to accommodate herself with demons, growing ever more demonic herself. Despite God’s proposals for her to return to Adam, there she stayed, receiving diabolical names over the years. In God’s frustration, He eventually gave up on Lilith and presented Adam with Eve, a second woman produced from one of Adam’s ribs. She was everything Lilith was not, a loving and nurturing wife, a good-natured conformist and a girl who had no objection to bowing down to someone who was obviously of equal status in life. I suppose, however, she could be considered equal in life in blood, but not birth. Eve was created out of Adam, to ensure that she would forever be subjected to him and never wander astray from God’s intent as our poor Lilith did.

I’m not sure if I necessarily like the story, but I must admit I admire Lilith. She had the strength to fight against forceful powers- human and superhuman. The part I turn my back to is where she encounters demons, becoming a succubus in the process. Maybe I just can’t understand her thinking, simply because things and ideals have changed so much since when humans first walked the Earth. Maybe she had to make sacrifices along the way to prove her point. Maybe she simply became swallowed in what was the absence of a hand to follow.

Through the mixed feelings, I share a few things with Lilith, as our name is mutual. The fact that I was created with the intent to be not equal is another good example. My Maker could have named me Eve without much thought, but Lilith was picked with great precision, so I was told. I do not meet status quo, since I am only a prototype. A body on which could be used to work out flaws. A test. The first living humanoid to ever be artificially created using printing technology, or by any man-made technology.

Derived straight from Ragnarok Author, I sit upon an exam table placed in the center of a barren, white room. I reach my hand out on the pastel blue padding laid out to cushion the stainless steel of the table underneath. It feels soft. I see a small, dark speck on my hand, so I drive my hand closer to my face to observe it. Funny, I haven’t noticed how grimy my skin looked in the light yet. Minuscule grains of sand and soil are ingrained into what appears to be flesh. In all actuality, my “flesh” is layers upon layers of organic matter, nanocells and other earthly materials acting as cells. If I be very quiet, I can hear the nanocells operate to keep the dead cells functioning properly. The billions of nanocells clicked every so often, as if commanding and reminding each other of their operations. The sounds eventually warped with the hum of a few machines in a corner. I suppose it’s only noisy if you listen.
“Sleep well?” I hear a honeyed voice coming from the corner of the brightly lit room. I turned my head to see a dark-haired man dressed in a white lab coat standing by the suddenly agape door.

I nod as my response. I quickly move my hand out of the air and onto my ill-fitting hospital gown as reflex.

Dr. Mason, the man in the lab coat, strolls into the room to pull a small, red lever on one of his mysterious machines, turning off the humming noise. His personal secretary wanders in after him, shooting a pleasant smile at me before darting off in his direction as if she were to loose him in the small room.

I’m not sure why I dislike Dr. Mason, I mean he hasn’t done anything particularly wrong in my perspective yet, but it’s his body movements. His lank bodily structure tends to sway slyly, like a cat’s. The edges of his thin lips curve up to form a smirk instead of a smile. Even his almond hair waves with a certain eccentric vibe that just seems off. On top of that, I don’t ever know what he’s thinking. He’s a closed book, letting little faucets of him shine through, but just enough to make me wonder. However, he’s one of my Makers, so I have to respect him. If he weren’t around, who would have made me?

I furrow my eyebrows in my concentration. I suppose you have to be a bit bizarre to create a humanoid such as myself.

My train of thought was put to a halt. “So your hair still hasn’t changed?” Dr. Mason questioned, picking up a lock of my pearl-white hair. Apparently, they had tried to revive the pigment in my dead cells, but to no avail. It wasn’t a job nanocells could complete, either. So pale skin, thin, white hair and pink eyes were the only option for me.

I was originally planned to have dark brown hair, darker than Mason’s, to cover up any loose debris that might have gotten loose from my artificial body. I was supposed to have eyes brown as a chestnut and skin a lovely, shining shade of olive. The perfect image of what I imagine Eve to have been. However, try as they might, my Makers just couldn’t get the pigment intact.

I shake my head in response, causing some strands of hair to shed and float down onto the exam table. It tends to do that.

His secretary simply stood in the far corner of the room, taking notes on our conversation. Everything that happens here will be documented by her, unless it’s against Mason’s will. The story usually is, on his behalf. No one sane would ever want to read a documentary on how Dr. Mason rips apart my ‘flesh’ to perform experiments in order to enhance it. How he tears back artificial skin to check up on failing organs, then sewing me back up leaving an obvious scar and searing pain. None of it would want to be read by even a teenager with an all too usual taste for horror and the grotesque like.

Dr. Mason dropped my lock of hair when yet another person strides in. Complete with a clipboard and ballpoint pen lodged into a crisp, stern-looking bun, Dr. Oddette turns to face us.
“Well…?” she regards Dr. Mason in a professional, expectant tone.

“Everything’s working in order,” Mason sighs, as though my excellent health were a burden on him. Knowing him, it probably is.

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So I was looking through some old, unfinished stories on my laptop and found this! Sorry for the choppy chapter ending ^^' I want to keep updating this, but I'm not really sure what'll happen, since I already have Karma. Hopefully you liked what I already have of it, though!

 

Bump~