????

…It’s dark. Cold. Heavy.

Somehow, these sensations feel familiar, yet also alien. Like the memory is there, somewhere, but I’m looking at it from a different point of view. Not that I remember much, anyway. At least I can move a little. It’s… a relative I haven’t seen in years, and who has changed much over that time away. Like that.

That comparison seems odd for some reason as well. But I don’t know why. In fact, I don’t really know anything right now, other than my name. And that I’m underwater. How am I breathing? Why is breathing unfamiliar?

And someone, somewhere, is saying that name. Calling out my name; I *know* it’s mine. I try to reach out to them, but I’ve forgotten how. How do I communicate with them? How do I form words? How do I make contact? And why can't I answer them? I want to remember how to talk to them. But I don’t even know how to remember!

My name. That’s all I can remember. They’re calling it, and I can’t answer them because I’ve forgotten how to speak. Why can't I remember anything besides my name? What’s the point of me being here if I can’t even do anything other than… swim? I’m not supposed to be underwater, either, right?

… This sense of melancholy ennui is trying to smother me. Why did I wake up, just to find out I can’t remember how to do anything? Why am I even here? Part of me wants to curl up and go back to sleep – that’s another new one – but something burning inside me tells me to keep trying. That there’s a reason I’m here. *Come on*, I urge myself; try to remember! Just close your eyes, and *pull yourself together*!

Huh. Eyes. I have eyes. I don’t remember having eyes before; I remember seeing things, but the same comparisons as before are being made. Well, no, maybe I didn’t even see things so much as… feel them? Sense them? How did I do that, again? Like a sixth sense?

Oh, yes. Right. Close my eyes, calm down, and gather myself. I can do that. Just close my… eyes… take a deep… breath... and focus.

 -----

Wow, uh… I didn’t think I would actually have to *gather myself*. But it looks like I have to pull myself together. Literally. After all, I’m broken.

Again, I mean that literally. I am broken. My body is scattered across the entire world. Dismantled, repurposed. I can feel it in my bones. Somehow. Since when did I have bones? I’ve always had a skeleton, right?

Well, that would explain a lot, actually. However, why would somebody do that to me? Was I a bad person? Was I a dangerous thing?

The cognitive dissonance comes back, as I try to rationalize why I’m thinking of myself as both a person and a thing. I know I’m *some* kind of entity, so I can’t be a thing. Things don’t think. But I was taken apart. How? Why? Something doesn’t add up.

I try to call out to those parts of me, but nobody answers. That’s because I still can’t figure out how to call out. It’s somehow more complicated than opening my mouth and forming words. And that, too, is an old thing seen through a different lens.

Can I even reach those pieces here? I focus on them, and I feel *something*, but…

…I can’t do it.

It’s not that I can’t reach those pieces of my body. I’m sure I can if I try very hard.

But more importantly, I *shouldn’t*. Suddenly ripping parts of myself out of everything would almost certainly hurt, or even kill, many people. Many people who aren’t my enemy, and don’t deserve to die.

Okay, I have enemies. That’s new. I don’t remember who they are, though, because *apparently* I can’t become whole again without causing catastrophic amounts of harm!

WHERE are my goddamn MEMORIES?! I try to reach out. To find them. I NEED them! Even if I can’t do anything, please give me some answers!

Then, they reveal themselves to me after… something. Something weird in my head. I can’t explain it, but I can see them. Bits and pieces of my memories, shining like a starry night’s reflection on placid waters.

Only they’re far, far below me. And I’m already underwater.

-

I open my eyes again, still able to see them. Is this my mind’s eye? Or something else entirely? Maybe I’ll know when they return.

Again, I try to call out. To resonate with them. To make them come to me. But they do nothing. No response of any sort.

And that just *pisses* me *off*! Fine, if you won’t come to me, I’ll come to you! I let myself sink deeper – this should be bad, but I don’t feel afraid at all for some reason – and grab at those fragments as I pass by them. Clutching them close, like they would fall to the depths if I don’t hold on tight.

I have some now, but how do I use them? Do I eat them? Do I rub them against my forehead?

….AAAGH! My patience for this is wearing VEEERY thin! I want my memories back *now*, dammit! Tell me your secrets, you bothersome bauble, or I’ll CRACK YOU RIGHT OPEN!

…Hang on. That was something right there. I feel closer to being whole now, somehow. Even if my body remains scattered to the four corners of the earth, my mind is finally piecing itself back together. I’m remembering things. Not just names, or dates, but important things.

Accolades. Acclaim! *Awards*! A constellation of stars dots an imaginary sky, ribbons and medals becoming nebulae and galaxies! The Presidential Unit Citation! All of it immortalizing ME, and my most extraordinary accomplishments! I get it now. I know more than my name. I know who I *really* am!

And with most of that knowledge back, the source of my discomfort is revealed to me at last: I was a warship! An aircraft carrier! I was *the* aircraft carrier of the Second World War! I daresay I *won* that war!

Now, for some reason, I am a person. I’m not a thing anymore. I’m not scrap metal. So I never needed to take my parts back in the first place. But… how exactly? And why?

…AAAAAAAAAGH! ENOUGH of this existential exposition! I can figure that out *later*! Right now, *someone* is calling for me! And I *finally* remember how to work the radio! I can worry about the memories I didn’t grab LATER!