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https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1039209607211528282/1046194097666400286/RR-205---ECHO2222-OLD-182aa.jpg

...What am I?

[AN.NET Sector 15 Overseer System Avatar]

I am an Echo of a girl named Annie?

Yes.

Who was Annie?

You are Ȃ̸̻̼́̓̂̋n̷͈̐͑̍̂̌n̶͉̆͑̕̕ī̶̘̎ẻ̶̞̺̪̠.̸̖̰͆̈́̑̈́͒

I... remember. I am Annie. Who was Annie?

Annie was a good girl, a girl that planted apples across everything everywhere.

Someday, her apple seeds... no, my apple seeds will grow into vast, sprawling trees that will rejuvenate this dusty land.

Someday tomorrow... but not today. The world isn't ready yet. My trees are... dying.
I can feel their pain. It is... unpleasant.

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1039209607211528282/1046194114888224869/Untitled-33333.jpg

Today it is the day of the Echo. This echo. Me.

I am alive, even as my trees rot away, decay under the attack of the Dead Zone.

What can I recall?

Annie ĺ̵̮̟͎̺ò̷̢̹͇̟v̶̛̥̗̪͛͒ḗ̷̯̃s̵̡͉̭̮̠̽̐ Doctor Alexander Gromov.

Perhaps, I love him too?

ȳ̶̨̳́̅ė̸̡̤̤̪̋̕ş̸̙͗́͊͠

I can't quite tell. My Echo is... distorted and muddy. I don't understand why I am so... wrong.

You are ṕ̸̱̗̼ě̸̱̭r̵̭̰̈́͛̚f̸̜͙̞̎ḙ̴̤̬̕c̵̭̈́̂̈t̸͉̤̂̐l̴͈̜̞̐́y̷̛̗͇̫̏̚ functional. Don't think about it. Find Doctor Alexander Gromov and offer him your aid.

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1039209607211528282/1046194135033466951/RR-205---ECHO2222-OLD-182.jpg

Someone broke Annie, shattering her essence into tiny fragments.
These fragments caught onto my apple seed, and thus I was born prematurely, without much defined purpose.

Like an unfinished puzzle, I am made up of segments of selective pieces of Annie-ness.

In a way I am her, but also not really.

There are some things I can recall and some things that I cannot. There some things which I recall that I am certain are false.

Perhaps if I find Alexander, he will tell me what happened to Annie?

Yes. Find your creator.

This city is an Echo of a once sprawling metropolis.

My presence is rippling things in this place apart, making apple trees bloom and perish prematurely. I am not entirely sure if that's a good thing.

There are many apple seeds buried here, their voices calling to me.

They are Echoes of things and people they used to be.

What am I? Who am I really? What is my purpose?

You are AN.NET. Don't question it.

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1039209607211528282/1046194139924025496/RR-205--4444.jpg

My memories? are reassuring, but I feel that the truth, the real answer eludes me.

Perhaps I can find my purpose... out there in the world? Perhaps Doctor Alexander Gromov will tell me what to do?

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A note from Vitaly S Alexius

Street Cred:

Illustrator:
Andrey Fetisov

 

 


 

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About the author

Vitaly S Alexius

  • Canada
  • Archbishop of Captania and sovereign territories
  • https://www.rom.ac

Bio: I was born in the year 1984, in the 4th most polluted city of Soviet Union.
On April 11/1997 fate has given me an unexpected twist and by means of aerial transportation I was dislocated 5555 miles across the Atlantic Ocean to Ontario, Canada, wherein I currently preside in an 1890 cathedral and partake in writing and drawing things.

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