Outworld/Self Portrait

Self-Analysis in Self-Portrait

Author: Dynamics

Living inside a giant version of your own head, it transpired, is great for introspection.

Dynamics sat in the marble room. A lot more spacious on the inside than it would have appeared from the outside, there were a million and one jokes to be made about the Facilitator’s empty headedness, but to add more to the room would have meant obscuring the walls. And, quite frankly, the essentials were present, and if he needed anything else he knew how to get hold of it, and the important thing was present: a really big chair.

It wasn’t, of course, a throne, nor was it a chair that bestowed any sort of position, it was just necessarily big to fit one whole Dynamics. It also span, because of course it did.

Spinning was helpful, of course, as it allowed Dynamics to flick his attention between the two enormous windows that made up the eyes of the statue: the only parts of the walls that weren’t covered in carvings, and they allowed the shaper to look out across his territory, to the people milling around below, to the whalebone palace and the moths in the distance, and of course to the other statues.

And of course the other statues were a source of much of the introspection. The Liberator-now-Facilitator was sure of a lot of things: usually of the self, how long his sword was (no, not like that), and how hard he’d have to crash the ship into a castle to cause maximum damage. He’d never had to think about things like this before: never really had to think about much at all really, if he thought about it (which, of course, he hadn’t).

Running his hands through his hair, he span around on the chair. Several spins later, he came to a stop, looking out the window at one of the statues. The statue rose impressively out of the ground, and the shadow cast by it fell well along the contours of the hills. It was certainly a well-shaped statue.

“Yes, but stop thinking about the architecture and think about the person the statue represents,” came a voice from the back of his head.

“What? You want me to say whether she’s well sh-”

“You know what I mean.”

“Fine, sure, I’ll think about her,” Dynamics huffed, “Whatever that’s supposed to mean. I’ve thought about her a lot. She’s… she’s a good person to think about. Friendly, intriguing, exciting, I suppose, what was there else to think about?”

“You KNOW what I mean.”

“She gives the Combine an incredible tactical adv-”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.”

“Okay, fine, yes, she’s one of the most terrifying people I’ve encountered since going through the Breach, but she’s beautiful, attractive, and I don’t understand why I’m caring about that.”

“There we go.”

“Of course we go,” Dynamics snarled at the voice, “We’ve gotten there countless times. It’s all very well and good, but what about her?!”

He span round on the chair again, coming to a stop looking out at the other statue, his hands gesturing wildly.

“What about her?” the voice asked, jeerily.

“That was uncalled for! And you know why I’m asking.”

“I do, but the point of this whole introspection exercise is for you to know.”

“What?”

“Why do you want to care?”

Dynamics opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it, lost for words for once. A few quiet moments passed, the sounds of wind whispering through the whalebone in the far distance as the sun began to set echoing through the statue’s ears, before the sound of the Ziggy Love show coming on in the distance broke the silence.

Eventually the Facilitator spoke, “There’s of course the other problem though.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Dynamics span round on the chair and looked up at the wall at the back of his head with the carving on it, and waved his hands even more wildly.

“She makes everything even more complicated.”

The voice was silent for a moment, looking the carving up and down (metaphorically) “Yeah, have fun with that.”