New Command

I've been working to make a lot of changes recently.  I've replaced Eternity, and Screwtape and Poe needed replacements.  I traveled the Path in hopes of guidance.  The Path is...unusual now that I've lost my sight.  I can sense things there, and I have a vague idea of what things look like.  It's like dreaming: I can't see anything, but it's like I'm accessing and acting out a memory in my mind.

It's difficult to adjust.  I've gone from being on the bottom of the rung to a high-ranking official.  Tempest isn't entirely comfortable that I outrank her now, but she's being professional about it.  There's also the fact that I'm Oracle to more than one division.  I'm going to need to learn more names, which is going to be even more difficult now that I don't have faces to put them to.  On top of that, the loss of my eyesight has changed my entire life.  Since I can't exactly do much work with computers for most of my life now, I've lost all my old income opportunities.  It's a big change, and it hasn't been easy.

I've talking to Tempest and Jacob about our courses of action.  We've needed a lot of replacements.  After all, we lost two Trackers and a Messenger, and since Eddie has been relocated, we needed a new Handler, too.  Fortunately, we've gotten everyone replaced now, and one of our new Trackers may be a familiar face to some of you.  At the same time, Muad'Dib and Holiday, respectively our Pilot and one of our Sweepers, have picked up blogging.  If you still feel the need to keep an eye on this division, they're probably your best options.

As for the position of Messenger, it's been passed on to an old friend of mine who goes by "Ratatoskr."  He has not decided to work as part of this division yet, so Jacob is not currently funding him.  However, Annabel and I had funds saved up from when we were planning to run, so I'll be paying him out of my own pocket for a while.  There is also now a blog dedicated entirely to reports, eulogies, and obituaries that I began working on in my final week as Messenger.  I'll have one of my aides fill things out a bit more.  Ratatoskr will help with filling that out, too.

I've been visiting her now that Eddie's been transferred.  TE-119H.  Not Poe.  Not Annabel.  That's all she is now.  Just an identification number.  She'll almost certainly never recover.  And it's...painful.  Painful to be around her.  I can't even forget what she looks like, due to the visions.  I'll sit with her and hold her hand but she won't even react.  She doesn't recognize me anymore.  Never will again.

Oh yes.  The visions.  There are some memories I constantly relive relive.  Failures.  Hardships.  Disasters.  The most frequent one is finding her broken, but there are other things.  Every vision is a hell for me.  And I see them all vividly, like I actually have sight again.  While the Path is a reality that feels like a memory, the visions are memories that feel like realities.

It's strange.  None of those things happened to Justice.  But they still happened to me.  I've changed who I am, and yet, I'm still the same person.  I'm not The Messenger.  I'm not even Alan.  I'm Justice now.  But I'm still the Messenger.  I'm still Alan.  And I'm still not entirely sure of my identity.

Identity.  A strange thing.  You wouldn't think it's that complex.  But with who you were, how you change, who He makes you be, and who you pretend you are, it's not an easy thing to figure out.  I guess that's our curse, though.  We can't know who we are.  Maybe we're like Caper and hide behind a mask so thick that we become a completely different person.  Maybe we're like Alex and emulate a character, hoping to follow their story ourselves.  Maybe we're like William, scraping up what little identity we can find and clinging tightly to it.  Or like Poe, Annabel, and TE-119H, unsure of who exactly we are.  Like Nee-chan, embracing a characteristic and amplifying it into a persona.  Or like me back when I was the Messenger, stupidly pretending I could remain as someone I used to be.

Who am I?  Who are you?  Who are any of us?  Can we even know?

But I'm rambling.  Forgive me, friends.  I feel a compulsion to talk.  Like I can't quite abandon this.  I know that there's no coming back here once I've said my last words.  I suppose I'm still clinging to a bit of The Messenger.  He was a troublemaker, though.  An idiot who didn't know what he was doing, unthinkingly spilling truths when so many of us speak in half-truths and lies.  I envy his naivety, but it's best for me not to cling to him any longer.

Very well.  Let's end this.  Nice and brief, now.

Goodbye, my friends.  May His whims favor you long enough that you live another day.