It first happened when you were in bed. Lying there, in that twilight state between daytime and sleep, light grew in the corner of your eye. You tried to turn your head but it was too difficult, so you turned your eyes, but you wanted to turn them back because the light was so bright but you couldn't and you watched and watched for what could have been hours.
You're still not sure exactly what you saw, but you know what you felt.
[[Terror.]]
[[Joy.]]
[[Something unnameable, but distinct.]](set: $terror to it + 1)
What was it? Why was it so bright, direct, powerful? You don't know, just that it was and is a thing to be feared. And more than feared, not just kept at arm's length, but something to run from, screaming and vomiting.
[[The feeling stayed with you for weeks.->March 3rd, 1949]](set: $joy to it + 1)
You couldn't take your eyes off it, yes, but you didn't want to either. Its strangeness filled you with hope and calmed your mind. You felt connected to something bigger, something beyond that night. You laughed and laughed and laughed.
[[You couldn't keep the smile off your face.->March 3rd, 1949]](set: $unnameable to it + 1)
You still don't know how to describe the feeling it gave you. Something new, something strange. You think back to your earliest memories and that feeling of newness, both exciting and fearful, but beyond that comes close to approaching how you feel but falls short. Rather, it seems like that old feeling is really a smudged reflection of what you are seeing now.
[[The feeling subsided quickly, but the next time you feel it, you'll know.->March 3rd, 1949]]March 3rd, 1949. Twelve years to the day since your first experience, the one that changed you. It's been several years since the war ended, and the world has moved on. The nation's experience of the war was much the same as yours.
[[We felt the pride of victory.]]
[[We became bitter after defeat.]]
[[We remained indifferent, a pawn moved from one player to another.]]You think back to your personal experience of the war. (if: $war is "victory")[You served the nation with pride, and think back fondly on your service. Yes, it was hard and many of your friends died, but it was worth it to bring justice to the world.] (if: $war is "defeat")[It was hard, being slowly worn down day after day, ground into dirt beneath the victor's boots. But you did serve the nation, and it has stayed with you til today.] (if: $war is "neutral")[Shifting circumstances may be a part of the nation's heritage, but it does learn from the past, as do you. Your service during the war was hard work, and hard work will continue to shape you.]
[[You served as a frontline soldier.->Soldier]]
[[You were an intelligence officer.->Intelligence]]
[[You were an engineer.->Engineer]](set: $war to "victory")
You remember V-Day with great joy. War was over! The streets filled with people, rivers of shouting pouring through the cities, spilling into bars and dancehalls, churches and hospitals. The celebrations seemed like they'd go on forever. The frenzy calmed down, filtered to a warm tone that hummed inside everyone for years. After long years of struggle, the nation had come out on top.
[[All was right in the world.->Your experience of the war]](set: $war to "defeat")
The end of the war was the end of the nation. Reduced to a smouldering wreck, the years of trading bullets and smoke, tearing holes oozing grease and blood, and crushing concrete into rubble, were for nothing. More than nothing, worse than nothing. War isn't a zero-sum game: someone wins, and it wasn't you. The nation, once proud and determined, sinks into depression and slowly channels its anger into bitterness against the victor.
[[We will not forget.->Your experience of the war]](set: $service to "soldier")
(if: $war is "defeat")[You remember shivering in a bunker, crouched against a wall, rifle clasped in your hands. You heard shouting, the sloshing of mud. Grinding your teeth, you swivelled into position and aimed through the slot in the concrete. A man in blue runs towards you, you track him and fire. Instead of a sharp noise and sharper kickback, your gun clicks into a void. You swear but your voice catches in your throat and everything subtly changes. The man seems to be running away, not towards you, and his shouting is not to bolster himself but to express his fear. The night is far too bright for the moon.
Slowly, it drifts into view. It is so dazzling, so piercing. Just like the first time you can't move, your mouth frozen open, your legs stuck in the mud, all while dozens of people pound past you, comrade and enemy alike. (if: $terror is 0)[It feels different to last time. This time it horrifies you.(set: $terror to it + 1)](else:)[It feels like last time, but worse. Unfiltered horror and pain.(set: $terror to it + 2)]
[[You woke up in the mud, surrounded by dead bodies.|March 3rd 2]]]
(if: $war is "neutral")[Another covert operation, a raid on a munitions cache by night. Slowly slipping through the trees, automatic rifle in your hands and a satchel charge on your back. Suddenly, a light, a noise, and you and your comrades dash behind treetrunks, backs straight and alert. Slow, controlled breathing. You peer round a branch and see a forest clearing and into it trots the largest stag you've ever seen. Tall, grey, and powerful, with a magnificent set of horns. Despite the moonless night, you can see him. The horns pull your eyes up and suddenly you see it.
Glowing, pulsing, floating above the stag. Graceful, beautiful in a very strange way. (if: $joy is 0)[It feels different to last time. This time you smile and break out into laughter.](else:)[It feels like the last time. You feel so full and you can't stop yourself laughing.](set: $joy to it + 1) Your NCO motions at you to stop, but you can't.
[[When you look back, the clearing is empty.|March 3rd 2]]]
(if: $war is "victory")[12th Battalion were legends, and this was your best story yet. The fortress was conquered, its courtyard littered with masonry, enemy officers lined up on one wall. The lieutenant is singing your unit's praises, congratulating you on a hard-won victory.
Mid-sentence, there is a crack and his head explodes. You turn to the noise and see a man, sprinting through a doorway. You run after him, screaming and firing, deep into the fortress. The corridors twist and turn and you can't get a shot on him. He turns into a dark room and you run in after, only to be struck in the head with the butt of his revolver. You are completely disoriented, shielding your head from blows, rolling around in the dark.
The room lights up with a pale brilliance, and you look up. Your attacker is frozen still, gun cocked and ready to fire. He is expressionless.(if: $unnameable is 0)[It feels different to last time. This time you don't know what you are feeling. The feeling is like being a child again, meeting something much bigger than you for the first, only so much stronger than that. You will recognise the feeling next time you meet it.](else:)[You knew you'd know it when you felt it next, and you do. That unnameable, strange, new-yet-familiar feeling.](set: $unnameable to it + 1) Slowly, the light fades and with it the feeling and the enemy soldier. You lie in the dark until someones find you.
[[Your medal for bravery is one of your most prized possessions, but it still holds a sliver of that strange feeling.|March 3rd 2]]]]](set: $service to "engineer")
[[You served as an engineer back home, building war machines.|March 3rd 2]](set: $terror to 0)
(set: $joy to 0)
(set: $unnameable to 0)(set: $service to "intelligence")
[[You served in military intelligence.|March 3rd 2]](set: $war to "neutral")
The nation has always played counterpoint to the others. Standing in the background in so many paintings, behind those shaking hands or drawing swords, carefully observing. The nation began to recoup its losses, its people mostly not noticing that its allegiance had shifted. Another year, another language, another friend, another name, another enemy. Silently, the nation works and waits, ready to bite the hand that feeds it.
[[Patience is the supreme virtue.->Your experience of the war]] March 3rd, 1949. Twelve years to the day since your first experience, the one that changed you. Five years, three months, and twelve days since your second experience, the one that changed you again. It's been several years since the war ended, and the world may have moved on, but you haven't.
[[You lose sleep every night thinking about your experiences]]Double-click this passage to edit it.