Curse's Backstory

From the very beginning, Curse grew up with the prospect of never seeing the outside world. He was born with a purpose and that purpose was staying inside the pure white, sterile facility his egg was incubated in to serve the scientists as nothing more than a tool. Of course they didn’t know what his word focus would be and thus could only guess his future use. That he would be useful, though, was never questioned. Curse however doubted it even before he truly knew who he was.

It took roughly two weeks from the first step he made to the day he found his word focus. Under normal conditions it might take a Paralogos months - years maybe - to arrive at this significant stage in their life. But considering how the humans around him did all in their power to provide him and his fellow blank slates with the biggest variety of knowledge, one could say that his conditions were anything but normal.

He and roughly two dozen other blank slates were staying in a large library-esque room until they managed to find their true identity. It was clean and orderly, rows upon rows of bookshelves, stacked ontop of eachother and easily reachable with several maneuverable ladders. They had an open area full of seatings of various shapes and sizes - whatever the individual may prefer. One part of the eastern wall was partially indented to leave room for Paralogos-sized capsules meant for sleep and contemplation. Almost every Paralogos would agree that this sounds like a perfect place to be at. What else would a curious blank slate want if not access to as many words and concepts as possible?

It would be preposterous to claim that Curse had an answer to that. He didn’t know. And yet, he wasn’t happy. And he didn’t know why he wasn’t happy, either. In fact, he was well aware that he was supposed to be overjoyed. Everything in his small, off-white body was telling him this. But when he was looking at the other small, off-white bodies scurrying around in the book-scattered aisles, excitedly pulling out books here and there or sitting down on a soft cushion, completely immersed into whatever scientific paper or story they were reading - he hated it. Seeing them accept their crafted fate so willingly slowly turned him bitter, resentful. He was never asked whether he wanted to grow up in this artificial utopia. He wasn’t given the option to see what else was out there. He was just expected to figure himself out based on some human’s selection of “useful” concepts.

Of course he wanted to find the meaning of his existence. It was his highest priority at all times, don’t get him wrong. But he was also sure that this wasn’t his way to be. He wasn’t clean, he wasn’t orderly, he wasn’t useful. He felt so very displaced in this bright, enthusiastic environment. His skin started turning into a dark, sickly green shade roughly a day after he was released into the room. Curse didn’t pick up a single book in this time and he wouldn’t for another eleven days.

However on the thirteenth day of his stay the sense of starving from lack of knowledge had overwhelmed him. He had spent at least the last week just laying in his sleeping pod, motion- and thoughtless. He faintly recalls hearing a human call him “another failure”, but that might’ve just been the planet scolding him for going against the nature of his species. Consciously choosing not to seek knowledge meant choosing to slowly fade out of existence. And at this point, he felt like there was only a thin thread connecting him to this plane. Normally it takes longer for a Paralogos to feel any sort of repercussion from not seeking knowledge, but since blank slates aren’t connected to anything yet, they aren’t connected to their existence either. They’re frail and Curse felt so very frail on that thirteenth day. And it made him even more bitter.

He didn’t want to fade out of existence. Hell, there was nothing he wanted less. He wanted to find himself so bad. But he knew from the depth of his metaphorical heart that he couldn’t find even a trace of himself in any of the hundreds of books he was sharing a room with. And it made him angry. Finally, finally it made him angry. It wasn’t fair to him. They trapped him in a space full of otherness only to claim it’s his own fault if he can’t find himself in it. Not everyone is pure and bright and utterly good. Was he a failure just for focusing on the other side of the coin? Was he not worthy of being alive if it wasn’t in line with cleanliness and order?

“No.” It was the first word he ever said aloud. “No.” He slowly lifted his fragile body off the soft pod floor and proceeded to leave through the glass hatch. “This isn’t fair to me.” He climbed down the ladder, anger growing and boiling inside him step by step. “I deserve a chance at life.” A few meters away from the end of the ladder stood one of the scientists on watching duty. Curse walked in front of them, looking directly into their eyes. They seemed surprised to see him. “It’s still alive?” they muttered to themself and Curse immediately recognized the voice. They’re who called him a failure. They’re who thinks he’s not worth being alive. At that very moment, his anger overwhelmed him. He pointed at their face and let out the most raw scream anyone in the facility ever experienced: “FUCK YOU!”

The whole room went silent out of sheer shock, until Curse caught himself again and continued exclaiming loudly: “I deserve to live as much as everyone else here and you and your people are what’s stopping me from it! I’m fading out of existence this very instant because YOU HUMANS decided that only positive, ‘good’ words deserve to become a word focus.” He emphasized the “good” with angry air quotes. “Fuck you! I deserve better than this! Who knows how many of my kind died here just because we didn’t fit your goal, whatever the fuck that even is! I hope you choke!” He held his head for a second before taking a step forward: “No, you know what, I wish you live forever! But your life will be terrible and painful. I wish everything you attempt fails and all your hopes and dreams get crushed. I wish you never get what you want and have to watch your loved ones die. I wish you truly get to learn what it means to not be given a choice and then continue to suffer from it for eternity. That’s what I wish for.”

He stood there, shaking and wheezing from anger and exhaustion alike. The scientist didn’t, as he expected for some reasons, cower in fear and beg him to stop, but instead softly smiled and proceeded to grab a small device from a pocket on their belt. They moved it to their mouth and spoke: “Blank #13 is ready to be moved. They just cursed at me.”