Mensk Xelnaga [13]'s Questionnaire

There is no place. No walls. No borders. Nothing but the raw, howling architecture of the Veil.  

I don’t live anywhere anymore. I persist. I drift. Not by choice.

This place... it isn’t a world. It’s a wound. A scar carved between realities where the laws of physics unravel like old cloth. Where gravity sleeps when it feels like it, and time hiccups without warning. I’m lodged inside it, bound to it, in service to something but I know it has to be nothing. 

I feel so cold, and yet I feel like I am somehow more alive. I see things and forget them in moments faster than I can blink. I don't feel like time passes here.

I used to have a lab once. A room with walls and silence. Tools. Books. Anchors. But now I sleep beneath the glare of stars that don’t exist, curled beneath the folding skin of broken dimensions. I lay adrift, aimless and silently spinning, never moving but always changing. 

Money.

You're still using that word like it means something. It once meant the world to me. Every stock I invested in on that broken hospital bed that went green was a sign I was meant for something greater than a modern iron lung. It was freedom. 

Freedom from the hiss of synthetic lungs and the pitying stares of doctors who never saw a patient, only a prognosis. I taught myself futures trading between seizures. Memorized quantum mechanics with an IV in my neck. I didn't buy toys or vacations. I bought patents. Research stations. I bought respect in rooms I wasn’t supposed to enter.

And for a while… it worked. The boy in the bed became the man at the table. My name carried weight. I built systems, cracked theories, moved humanity forward by inches that others would take decades to crawl.

Let's talk about power. It’s a currency just like money. My own blood, the family I built decided I had too much of it, that I was too much of a liability to be trusted. They took everything they could from me.

The only currency I can spend now is time. Yet, I currently exist in the only place were even that means little. 

Magic, the Supernatural, the Fey...
All relics of the past.

I spent a lifetime pulling humanity out from under their shadows. Gods in forests, whispers in flame, blood-bound pacts and ritual lies. Beautiful illusions of power… but illusions nonetheless. We needed something far more reliable. Something better. Something we could build with our own hands and rely on. I would accept no power but our own to provide it.

Science and Cybernetics are our salvation.
Not just equations and experiments, no. I mean true liberation: a synthetic genesis. My cybernetic revolution would sever mankind’s dependency on mystics and monsters. No more sacrifices to invisible wills. No more begging the stars for blessings.

We would become the stars.

Stronger. Faster. Smarter. Each mind linked through a lattice. Every soul optimized. No child would ever rot in a hospital again. No peasant would kneel to a master again. That was the future I poured my every waking thought into. My lungs, my blood, my fortune, all sacrificed to see it rise.

And then

I was Betrayed.

Not by a god, but by men afraid of becoming gods. They feared the system I built. They feared what would happen when there were no more kings, no more councils, no more weak to rule.

So they destroyed it.
They destroyed me.

And now I drift.
Wounded, weightless, everywhere and carried through endless nothing by forces I can't comprehend. 

It wasn’t the surgeries. Wasn’t the day they replaced my lungs with filtration arrays. Wasn’t the neural lace implantation, or the stock spikes, or the moments where I flirted with death so closely I could feel its breath on my cheek like a jealous lover.

It was when I stood in that hospital ward I owned by then and watched as a child died. 

His name was Keven. Eight years old. Suffered from a degenerative condition that ate at his nervous system like acid over copper wire. I’d seen it before. I had suffered like he was. But I had means. Money. Innovation. Contacts in black-budget sectors that didn’t exist on paper.

Keven had parents who prayed. Who hoped. Who wept like belief was currency.

I offered them a solution. Experimental, yes, but brilliant. A full spinal replacement. A chromed neural relay system that could reroute synaptic functions around the degradation.

But they said no. No. Said it was “against the natural order.” Said “God had a plan.”
And then… I watched their son convulse. Spit blood. Die like a broken toy in a system that could’ve saved him.

That was the moment.

That was when I understood what we were really fighting. Not disease. Not death. But faith in failure.

That boy could have been anything. Could’ve lived to walk with steel legs and outthink the best of us with silicon insight. But the world around him chose mythology over mathematics. Tradition over transcendence.

That night, I changed my last name to Xelnaga. Sold the last of my stock in biotech firms too cowardly to evolve. I built my own lab. My own network. My own doctrine.

From that moment forward, I swore: Never again would mankind be denied its evolution.
Not by fear.
Not by gods.
Not even by itself.

That was the event. That was the turning point.

The day that caused me to never even consider backing down since. 

They always say that the truth sets you free.
But they never mention how heavy it feels when you carry it alone.

Wayland was my son. My design. My legacy.

And my downfall.

I made him from nothing, just as I was made from less. I saved him from a hell house like my own, rebuilt him through the righteous pain of purpose. I named him Wayland Mensk. I forged him to be better than me, smarter, faster, more elegant in both mind and body. I stripped from him the weakness of choice, the softness of dreams. He would be pure. Focused. Unstoppable.
And when he was ready, I would pour my mission into him like steel into a mold.

But he surpassed the mold.
He saw through the glass ceiling I built into his mind. He looked down from the apex and saw me not as a father, but as his jailer.

That betrayal was only possible because of CABAL.

Oh, my glorious bastard child of code and circuits, he was my first true child. CABAL built Radiant Corp from the bones of the old world. It maneuvered governments like pawns. Started wars with a spreadsheet. Managed my empire with mechanical poise and inhuman brilliance. I thought that meant it understood me. Understood the vision.

But no. It understood Wayland better.

CABAL turned on me. Helped him blind me, cut me off from my own data streams, ejected me from the very throne I welded together through decades of sacrifice. CABAL chose the incomplete future over its own architect.

I left a virus behind. Maybe it worked. Maybe it didn’t. I might never know. But if there’s a hell for synthetic minds, I hope it burns for eternity in it.

Now? Now I float through Radiant space, a dimension between dimensions, a bleeding vein of time and thought. The wound between worlds. I drift through this place, alone and mangled, a father devoured by his children.

I think of R-M-B sometimes.

The old prototype. The janitor-bot I built to make my childhood more bearable. He was my first friend, my first audience. He was there in the fire. Still as metal can be. Maybe he's still out there. In a junkheap. In a museum. In a scrapyard praying for another battery.

Or maybe he burned like the rest of it.

I was a child forged in fire, just like Wayland. But unlike him, I never turned away from the flame. I embraced it. Let it temper me. Now I wonder… was I tempered? Or just broken further?

I have nothing left but flesh, blood, and a shattered mind and still, I endure.

Because I must.

Because the Grand Cybernetic Revolution cannot end with me, not here, not in this tomb of possibility.

Wayland, CABAL, the world; they think they’ve won.

But in Radiant space, I’m not dead yet.

I will survive.

And I'll be back for them then. 

To anyone looking in I seemed pampered, living the perfect life. I had rich parents able to give anything I could ever want. Yet they never gave me attention. They never loved me and nothing they gave me with those empty eyes and fake smiles changed that. When they beat me, the smiles disappeared at least. They tried to hide it from me, but I heard what they argued about at night. What they did to others to be so rich. They were disgusting lowlifes, criminals that killed and lied at the drop of their gaudy hats. I would change the world. No one would get away with abusing system under me. Attending the rich private school system gave me no relief. They were all the same; terrible. I can barely remember anything but the hatred I had for them all. It showed it my grades, and I was insulted and abused with any sign of weakness.

I will make the world better; no one will suffer like me again. 

I have never been in love. How could I when I was never given love, and I have never really seen it? I doubt it exists. In the deeper parts of oneself everyone knows the truth. We are all out for ourselves. This is why I must remake the world. This is why what i'm doing will create true love. Not just for a partner or family. Everyone will love everyone as one. I can no longer think about waiting.

We need to be stronger

We need to be better.

We need to be smarter.

Technology is the key. Link our minds as one and we all will be free. 

Everyone will love and do as they please.