Breakwall - 5.5 - The Catalyst
A DROP BECOMES A RIPPLE
Breakwall - Episode 5.5 - A recording that started it all from Estella Morgan that ended up in the hands of The Utopian Society to eventually fall down to the streets of Arcadia. Follow us on Twitter for news and updates. Join us on discord to hang out with cast and crew! Want to support the show? Please check out our Patreon as Cybernautica is 100% Fan Supported!
Cybernautica is intended for mature audiences on account of mature language, theme and violence. Please be advised.
CREDITS:
Veronica Pierce as Estella Morgan
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Written, Designed and Edited by Damian Szydlo
Script Editing by Jupiter Sanders
Music and Sound Effects from Syrinscape & Audioblocks
Transcript
FADE IN
[Estella Morgan is looking into a mirror as she applies her makeup. Distant, melancholy music is playing as she begins to speak into a recording device.]
ESTELLA MORGAN
This is a message for the Utopian Society. I want to make a deal.
My name is Estella Morgan. Over eighty years ago I maneuvered myself into a position where I would become the CEO of an old money holo-communications company named Intra-Call. In those days, Intra-Call was hardly the common household name it is today but rather one of many competing contractor companies that followed Kraken to Neo-Atlantis. I would spend the next thirty years eliminating my competition with a dedication that might have been quoted as a ‘ruthless and systematic aggression’. I prefer to think of it as ‘just business’. In a city ruled by the most powerful corporation in the world, there is no room for competition.
I tell you all this so as to give you perspective. Scope on what I am about to confess. My name might be Estella Morgan; I may look like her, sound and think like her… but I am not Estella Morgan. I am her clone.
I remember most of that life, leading up to my death. I recall ‘my’ accomplishments though feel no personal sense of pride for any of it. I don’t have an attachment to any of those memories, to be honest… including the all-consuming fear of death I experienced at the age of sixty-eight after being diagnosed with a terminal – and irreversible - genetic disease.
It hadn’t been the first time that a wealthy citizen had turned to cloning in a sudden and frenzied quest to find immortality. I spent the better part of that last pain filled year enclosed in a tube… undergoing a series of very thorough neural-mapping sessions. As I recall, I wanted to make sure that I was able to digitally capture everything. To ‘copy’ my soul. I suppose I should be ecstatic that it was even a partial success. Truth be told the best minds in the business did a fine job of what was an impossible task. There’s absolutely a lifetime of memories in my head... they just couldn’t simulate a personal attachment to any of it. That means of course that I’m left with a lifetime of some old woman’s memories jammed into the body of a younger… more ideal version of herself.
I wasn’t the only plan. Four clones were created from the root neural scans but only I remain. The first subject experienced an unexpected genetic complication no doubt linked to the genetic defect that eventually claimed my original body… while the other two took their own lives over the last twelve years, unable to cope with the prison that our predecessor had fashioned for us. I’d… like to take a moment to explain that sentiment.
We all know, I assume, that general standard procedure when growing a synth is to take a web of memories from different sources and integrate them into the developing mind of the gestating synthetic. It’s important that they have those experiences as a sort of safety net to fall back on when confronted with life’s more difficult situations and the emotional turmoil they bring. This allows a certain amount of healthy disassociation between the synthetic and their memories. The newly born clone understands what it is and thus it’s easier to upkeep, to recalibrate. This was a luxury that I didn’t have in my first few years. My mind was a chaotic mess, unable to discern the past me from its present incarnation.
I’m certain that the others had come to the same understanding I did; though we would keep it secret even from each other, fearing what consequence the truth might bring. We had to play the part that had been expected of us, afterall. So we acted as if Mrs. Morgan had truly found immortality and that we were just an extension of her life, the CEO reborn in young flesh. Acting the part would eventually grow to be too much for the others… just as it’s now becoming too much for me.
Understand that I can no longer live as someone who I am not. The charade must end before I join my sisters. Hence why I’m reaching out to you.
I need an extraction. From this life. From the constraints my past self has forced upon my present. Would you believe that I am consistently monitored as a condition in my will? Constantly expected to maintain this lie rather than live as I see fit. I come to you knowing full well my value to the Utopian Society as the lawful heiress to this company and its legacy and am willing to become a member and partner in your organization in exchange for my liberation. As the sole controlling power of Intra-Call the board will be forced to accept my terms or watch as I pull the company apart from a distance. They’ll choose the former; I didn’t hand pick them for their ambition, afterall.
Do not attempt to contact me with redundant acceptance or trivial preparations as I do not wish to alert the board of my intentions. I need only your action, and until then will wake every morning prepared to act from now until that anticipated moment of execution.