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“Do not be led astray, my Comfydants. And I will catch you… one day.”
And with one push of a button, Fulgur Ovid ends his last stream ever with a heavy heart, or so he thinks. He isn’t too sure how he is feeling exactly. The concoction of emotions circulating throughout his brain and heart renders it impossible to tell anything apart at all. It is possible that everything will strike him down into a sobbing mess later, or he might just become numb due to his hard drive being overridden with the volume and intensity of emotions. How would he know? Similarly, how would the Fulgur Ovid from a few months ago know about the impending end of his streaming career? Or about his short time in this world even?
The cyborg has always been aware that he is a ticking time bomb, one to never be defused, destined to come to the inevitable termination. So like a bomb itself, he has to throw one explosive farewell party. His final stream was packed with activities that he and his friends enjoy the most, the ones Fulgur is certain his Comfydants are happy to see him host and participate. The stream was nothing short of memorable nor emotional. Everyone in chat was crying and laughing along with all the streamers who showed up to bid their goodbyes. This entire experience is one he will never forget for the rest of his life, albeit there is only very little left.
Of all things, Fulgur does not anticipate his fate ending so early. His cybernetic parts started to give up on him way before his fleshy ones even started to deteriorate. When they first showed signs of malfunction a few months ago, he had foolishly brushed it off as fatigue. Soon afterwards, the cyborg found himself falling asleep earlier and for longer than his insomniac mind would have normally allowed. Originally, he had welcomed the unexpected goodnight slumbers. However, suspicions quickly replaced his delight of getting enough sleep when he found out he had essentially passed out for two days before regaining his consciousness.
Fulgur’s heart dropped.
No longer did he think it was a blessing to have the nightmares of his past stop haunting him. Because at least the terror of those daunting memories told him that he was alive and would still be for the days to come. Nowadays, the void within his dreamless sleeps is just a looming reminder that the cyborg’s time has finally come to an end.
Fulgur has a look into his system and calculates the time he has. Unfortunately, but expectedly, there is so little left he is better off not counting at all. The final stream has really taken a toll on him. He had to use all his will power to fight against his own failing body, which was too eager to shut down.
As he sits in his chair with Sheero and Bleep Bleep plushies in his lap, Fulgur recounts the endless memories he has had the opportunity to create with the loving friends he is too lucky to have. And of course his Sheep Pile, the community that has come together to shower him with unconditional support. He is glad he did one grand final stream with them, a stream where everyone was free to express themselves either in words or rows of emotes, a stream full of well-wishes for the journey they believe he is to set sail on right afterwards. The thought puts a smile on Fulgur’s gentle face. He doesn’t look sad or tired, for he is content with what he has done to the best that this frail body of his can allow.
The cyborg slowly moves his hand in a motion that might slightly resemble a pet onto the softness of Sheero and Bleep Bleep’s contrasting wools. The hinges inside his wrists and knuckles groan, no longer bending their ways to his wills. Now his limbs are nothing more than a pile of metals that just happened to be joined together.
Fulgur heaves a sigh upon realising it is futile to stroke the sheep’s wool. He leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and listens closely to the silent humming of his mechanical core. He hears it whisper at him: “It’s time.”
“Fulgur Ovid” he replies in a volume that is no louder than a hushed murmur “signing off.”
With the final command, the red EKG mark on the cyborg’s left eye dims out and the humming, too, fades away. Silence envelopes everything, once and for all.