Censa a52-9b.


The Consensus was never meant to be, an experiment, a thought, an act of greed run amok until it began to consume itself and the rest of the world with it.  The mindchild of a physicist, not a conquerer, what would come to threaten the very existence of life itself was not an expression of cruelty, but befitting of mankind- an act of singular curiosity.  When the first Notrin Bridge was opened it was meant to be the doorway onto a fantastic and expansive new horizon, a future proofed by technology against the merciless realities of scarcity and fate.  Yet opening the door, humanity stepped through the wrong way- arriving inevitably face to face with itself, and its own greatest flaws.  For Aletta Censa Apotilia, Technician Grade 3, the experience was more personal, and literal, than for the species she would stand in for, and eventually seek to replace.

Shoved backward a half-second after she'd looked up in surprise, she only had the most glancing memory of her labsuited superior barreling towards her with uncharacteristic speed.  She had just been about to call for him, to report the connection she'd been sent to repair hadn't been faulty afterall-  and then she'd gone tumbling backward, heel catching on the edge of the window as she hurtled over the edge of the bridge's platform.  Sent sprawling across the floor of the lab, it was a lucky thing she'd not been hurt-- and luckier still, she realized as she looked up to the titanium and electromagnet-framed ring of technology perched above her, that the device was off when she'd been sent unceremoniously through.  It wasn't even plugged in.  Collecting herself off the floor, she was about to give a firm piece of her mind to her aggressively clumsy colleague when she realized he wasn't there either.

He was on the other side of the room, mouth agape, expression pale.  Yet no more surprised than Aletta's own expression, standing beside him, silently aghast as she stared at the duplicate who had come tumbling into the midst of their lab's busy preparation.  Astonishment quickly ceded to science as the radical implications became clear.  She still couldn't remember which of them had arrived at the inevitable answer first, the obvious conclusion to their problems- to everyone's problems.  She still couldn't remember many unimportant facts about that day, and those that came before.  It was all so irrelevant.

The experiment's repetition soon meant there were three, and after that four.  Four became five, and as each looped journey through time added an additional member to their team, it was not long before the burgeoning company of technicians (Grade 3) had sufficient numbers to begin dictating a new shape to the future.  Somewhere along the line the cruel-minded professor who had volunteered them for this path was dealt with, and forgotten.  Their coworkers were next, then the lab's suppliers- once they could build a second bridge matters began to accelerate exponentially, as ever more Alettas found in each-other an efficiency that felt like progress, an achievement built on consensus.

What came next was an ode to creative destruction, a proof writ across the heavens in blood- that what must the many to create, but one can set to ruin.  Somewhere amidst the carnage and fire, as chaos spread and the Consensus grew, as she reached ever further back into herself for ever more impressionable, perfectable soldiers for a conflict that would not end... she had lost something in the fog of war; something of herself, someone she had used to be, gone in the mist.  She couldn't remember much of that by now either, forgotten behind the veil of whatever moment Aletta had died, unearthing Censa in her stead.

All the important moments gone away, sealed and stamped in the dim concrete of her memory's prison- only one of import left remaining, vibrant, burning as an ember in her chronoreconstituted brain.  She remembered the moment she knew she was wrong, she remembered the moment consensus, for her, had died forever.  She remembered the day, the minute- the first moment after- she'd said for the first time- No.

It had been an intolerable heresy.  An imperfection.  A blight that must be extinguished else its wrongthought spread.

She had been running ever since.


"My name is Censa a52-9b, and I do not agree."






* - * - *

Wow!  You either made it this far (thank you for reading!) or you scrolled down to find the goodies (that's fine too!).  Here they are:

THE GOOD:
Non-sexual roleplay.

THE MEH:
Sexual roleplay.

THE UGLY:
Anything against the rules.  Anything scatological.  Anything gory.

THE TL;DR:
Censa a52-9b. is a contrarian clone on the run from an evil empire of dire duplicates.