IR: opening post

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A rural hivestem is encircled by a lawnring of edible crops beneath an orchid sky. Beanpods wait in tugid anticipation for their time to be culled in the name of sustainability, all while maintaining a mandatory manicured appearance. Inside the sparse hive a young troll girl sits in cross-legged vigil over a candle. She hums simple tune. They are notes Nostalgia plays to make its audience yearn.

>Be the crosslegged girl.

You are the troll girl, it's you. Your name is Zekeke Streph, a seven sweep old redblood and you are SICK of the decadence you see in society.

Right now there isn't much you can do about that apart from SEETHE and silently judge people. You resent those who can indulge in their HEDONISM as much as they want, such as highbloods, and would cull them if you could. Instead you live to your IDEALS as best as you can. You allow yourself few luxuries and self sufficiently grow what you need for simple meals. Sometimes you don't eat at all or you SUBJECT yourself to the elements: standing under waterfalls, submerging yourself in mud, withstanding the sun for as long as you can. Poverty is MODESTY. Hunger is TEMPERANCE. Violence only in SELF DEFENCE. A short lifespan to treasure your IMMORTAL soul. Life is suffering.

You find it harder to stick to than you let on, especially considering you put together your philosophy almost entirely from first principles with no MENTOR, movement, or ancient writings conveniently falling from the sky. You are terrified of death, specifically of being DOOMED to a tortuous existence in whatever realm comes next. You think if you are pure enough you will be rewarded in the next life. You don't BELEIVE it with a capital B yet but perhaps that's because you're not virtuous enough to have earned it yet. You are still learning. You make mistakes. You are filled with doubt. And SPITE.

You often sing or hum, tunes with little meaning from a more innocent time in your life when you didn't even have anything assigned to your strife specibus. You can hardly REMEMBER a time since before you got your bombKind specibus by throwing a grenade back at your attacker while protecting yourself with a psychic  SHIELD. Before that you just had your Delayed Fetch modus which dispenses your chosen item after a time decided by arcane algorithms you don't understand. You are now wary of others expecting disappointment at best. You have a genuine care for fellow lowbloods though they may disagree with what you think is best for them.

Your trolltag is incorruptableRapture and you talk weth a queet but ferm tone

>Zekeke: Examine surroundings.

You cannot examine your surroundings because your eyes are closed. You use the opportunity to make a mental recollection of your surroundings as a mental exercise to keep you from thinking about your hunger. How convenient for everyone.

You can feel the candle's warmth in front of you of course. You also know there are no chairs because you do not keep chairs in your hive. There is the door to your nutrition block with meal waiting for you, whenever you want. You choose to not want. There are other unlit candles. You count 46. Forty six candles! There is also the flamethrower. You use that to light the candles. You are not getting distracted by the long story behind that. Equally you are not getting distracted by the open plan second floor. That is where your lusus lairs. You do not go there.

You also keep in mind the loose sections of floor that lead to a hidden basement. You'd exposit more on that but your husktop just got a trollian message. How rude.

>Zekeke: Answer.

You cannot answer your message because your husktop is still in your fetch modus. You select it to be released. It'll take undetermined amount of time and although you don't know your modus decides this, you feel assured that if the trolling was urgent you will receive your husktop post haste.

>Zekeke: Check on lusus.

You climb a few of the steps that lead to your lusus's lair. Your body aches from the time you spend standing under a waterfall earlier. You wear the discomfort with pride, earned proof of feats of endurance. You stop climbing half way up, daring not climb any more. Not because you fear your lusus. Your lusus is quite lazy and sleeps a lot. You hear her snoring right now in fact. She really is a fat cat. No, what you dread is the horde of silken blankets and rich creamy foods and other luxuries you have given up. If you saw them, would you be able to resist languishing in them? And what would you do when they ran out? Nothing lasts for ever. Your husktop falls out of your modus. You curse the non sequitur.

>Zekeke: Retrieve Electronics.

-- FUTURE incorruptibleRapture [FIR] ???? HOURS IN THE FUTURE opened memo on board REVELATIONS --
FUTURE incorruptibleRapture [FIR] responded to memo.
FIR: zekeke ztreph, you are a perfect beeng
FIR: you matter
FIR: and you are loved
CURRENT incorruptibleRapture [CIR] responded to memo.
CIR: e...
CIR: ez thez somekend of zeck joke?
FIR: do you want et to be?
CIR: you don't even hede behend grey text and a fake name
CIR: you mock me en my very own color and name
CIR: with a spoofed time stamp
CIR: how you do you expect me to take thez?
FIR: to beleeve me that e'm sencere and that e zpeak the truth
CIR: and how do e know that?
FIR: you don't
FIR: you have to take it on faeth
CIR: why? who are you and what are you trying to do?
FIR: you needed to hear that
FIR: just like you need to run this file
FIR: et'll prove what e zay and anzwer even more of your questeons
-- FUTURE incorruptibleRapture  [FIR] has sent [FILE.exe] to CURRENT incorruptibleRapture  [CIR] --
FUTURE incorruptibleRapture [FIR] left the memo.

>Zekeke: Run File

Trolls do not genuinely send trolls random messages of love in your experience. In all probability saying what they think you want to hear to run a malicious program. You're not an innocent wriggler anymore. You've spent plenty of time watching and judging a plethora of corrupt and decadent trolls. And yet... you want to believe.

Your finger hovers above the button to start this thing.

>Zekeke: Press the button

[Muffled button pressing in the distance]