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afolderfullofstories · 2 years

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Whumptober 2022: Day 8

Sequel to Day 31

Pavi paced. He couldn’t stand this. He was stuck here for so long. He didn’t know how to get out. No one was looking for him. He looked up. He could see light above him. He had to get out of there. He was sick of being stuck down here. He placed his hand on the side of the wall. He tried to climb out so many times but he always fell. He had to try once more. He couldn’t stand being stuck down here.

He placed his right hand on the wall, ensuring a firm hold. Then his left. He pulled himself up as his feet struggled to find a footing on the wall. He pulled himself one step at a time. He looked up. He didn’t feel like he was getting closer to the exit. But he had to try. He hated the quiet. He hated the loneliness. He needed out. Another step, another lift. He looked down. He was almost halfway up. This was the highest he’s gotten. He couldn’t fall now. If he fell…

Pavi pulled his eyes away from the ground. He looked upwards. He had to try. He had to get out of the hole. He wanted out. Another step, another lift. The exit was getting closer. He could feel the light more than the darkness. He needed to get out. His body ached. His arms protested carrying his weight. His legs were weak. His body was telling him to give up. To fall back into the hole. To give up. To go back to sleep.

No.

Pavi pulled himself upwards. He was so close. It was the closest he’s ever been. He had to get out. He needed to get out. He just concentrated on climbing, wiping every other thought from his mind. He could see the edge. Just another st-

His foot slipped.

Pavi caught hold of the wall tighter as his foot struggled to find its footing. No. He couldn’t fall again. He needed to get out. He wanted to get out. He found a foothold. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. His arms ached at the strain. Just a bit more. He would be out soon. His hands caught the edge. He pulled himself upwards. He was out. He-

Pavi opened his eyes. He felt so groggy. Everything hurt. He tried to sit up but his body refused to react to him. He tried to lift his hand. It just twitched. What was going on? Where was he? Why wouldn’t his body just move? He tried to move but a sharp pain filled his gut. He hissed. Or at least he tried to. No sound escaped his throat. He tried to speak but his mouth was dry. No sound escaped his throat. He needed-

“M…Mr Largo? Hold on, I’ll get the doctor.”

Doctor? Pavi looked around. The bright lights began to dim as his eyes began getting used to the light. He was…he was in GeneCo. His eyes darted. He was in a hospital room. But why wouldn’t his body react? Why couldn’t he move? Why couldn’t he say anything?

“Mr Largo? Pavi, can you hear me?”

He tried to nod his head. But it was heavy. His head was heavy. Everything was heavy.

“Blink twice if you can hear me.”

He blinked twice.

“Do you know where you are?”

He blinked twice again. And he hated it. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound was leaving his lips.

“Hold on.” The doctor placed his hand over his neck. Pavi couldn’t see what he was doing. “Try now.”

“W…what happ…ened?” The sound that escaped his throat was soft and raspy.

“There was a bombing at GeneCo and you got hurt. Do you remember?”

Bombing? Wait. “Yes.” He was fine. He had been fine. His siblings had been hurt. He was waiting for them to wake up. Then…then…

“You’ve been asleep for a long time, Mr Largo.”

“H…how lo…ng?”

“Six months.”

What? Pavi stared at the doctor. 6 months? He was lying. He had been… How? And his siblings, were they alright? He was fine. He had been fine, right? Why…

“Can you try to move your limbs?”

Pavi tried once more. He tried to lift his hand. He weakly managed to lift it off the bed. Then he tried his legs.

“Good. They’re just weak from not being used in so long. You’re able to move and speak. The prognosis looks good.”

“What-” Again no sound escaped his throat.

“Hold on.” The doctor placed his hand above his throat once more.

“What happened…to me?” And why couldn’t he speak properly?

“The bombing caused severe internal injuries that led to an infection. The infection spread too fast for us to stop it. It was in your bloodstream then your brain. We managed to stop the infection but we weren’t sure if there had been permanent damage.”

Pavi furrowed his brow. He was alright. He was sure he had been alright.

“Why can’t I talk?”

“You couldn’t breathe by yourself and leaving you on a tube would have brought more complications. We placed the tube through your neck to help you breathe.” The doctor placed a mirror before him and Pavi could see the tube coming through his throat. “If I block it like this,” The doctor covered the hole, “You can speak.”

“Remove it.”

“Soon. We’ll block the hole for a day or two. If you can breathe on your own, we’ll remove it. But even then, it will be a while for it to heal.”

Pavi nodded. His head didn’t feel so heavy anymore. He closed and opened his hand.

“It will take a while for everything to heal.”

Pavi nodded again.

“Do you have any questions, Mr Largo?”

Pavi closed his eyes. He had one more question. The one question that he didn’t want to ask. The one question that the doctor hadn’t even hinted at. Pavi’s chest pounded and he didn’t want to ask. “Sorella? Fratello?”

“I will let them know you’re awake. They’ve been worried about you, Mr Largo.”

Pavi closed his eyes and he could breathe. They were alright. They were both alright. “Wait.”

“Yes, Mr Largo.”

“Don’t tell them.”

“Mr Largo, I don’t believe that’s a good idea.”

“Until better. Don’t tell them.”

The doctor sighed. “As you wish, Mr Largo.”

Pavi had decided not to let anyone else know. Just the doctor and maybe the physiotherapist that would help him move again. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t do anything. He still had to be bathed and changed and fed. He didn’t want to be a burden. At least until he could start doing things for himself, then he would let his siblings know.

Mealtimes were torture. He was still on a tube that sent a liquid diet straight into his stomach. And then the pain started. His insides twisted and sharp pain shot through him. And the pain would last hours. Just in time for the next meal time. The doctors think it's because the infection has damaged his digestive system, causing his insides to stick to each other. He suggested an operation once he was slightly better but for now, he just had to deal with the pain. It also meant he was going to be stuck with a liquid diet for a long time.

He was beginning to be able to move again. Slowly but surely, he could start moving his arms and legs. He wasn’t able to sit up yet but the doctor promised the prognosis looked good.

He was able to breathe on his own without the tube. The doctor promised he would remove it soon and he would slowly be able to talk again as well. Things looked promising but Pavi still didn’t want to tell his siblings. He wanted to be fine first. He didn’t want to still be lying on the bed like this. He wanted to be himself.

“Your sister is coming.” The doctor warned him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to tell her?”

Pavi shook his head and lied very still. He had enough practice when the other nurses came in. He knew if too many people knew the truth, it would eventually get back to his siblings.

Pavi closed his eyes when he heard the door open.

“Hi, brother.”

Pavi’s chest felt light. His sister truly was alright.

"I'm sorry it's been awhile."

He felt a hand in his and he fought not to move it, to let it lie limp in hers.

"GeneCo is thriving as ever. We found the bombers. They will pay." Her voice broke. She paused, letting herself reign in her emotions. "I can't keep doing this, brother. I-" She swallowed. "Are you suffering? Is it cruel of us keeping you alive like this? Are we just being selfish?”

Guilt formed in Pavi’s gut, exacerbating his already aching abdomen. He didn’t think she would still feel so strongly after so long. It’s been 6 months. He thought a few more days or weeks wouldn’t matter.

She sighed and Pavi heard her sitting beside him. “Don’t blame Luigi for not being here. It’s…hard. It’s hard seeing you like this. It’s hard not seeing anything change. I-” She cut herself off. “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m blaming you. I’m not. I just need something, brother. A sign, anything.”

It took all he could not to reveal himself. He didn’t want to make his siblings feel obliged to care for him. He would be back to normal soon, then he would tell them. He didn’t want them to feel obliged to be here.

Amber lifted his hand to her lips and Pavi forced himself to stay limp. “It’ll be 6 months tomorrow. The doctors said the longer you’re unconscious, the less likely it’ll be that you'll wake up. I still believe you’ll wake up. I need to believe-”

Pavi felt his hand shake as his sister did. He couldn’t tell her. He shouldn’t…

“Would you hate me for giving up, brother? I know you would never give up on me. But I…this hurts too much. Seeing you like this hurts too much.”

He opened his eyes and watched his sister weeping into his hand. “Sorella.” He tried to speak. But no sound escaped his lips. And he stopped. He couldn’t even speak. He couldn’t lift his hand to comfort her. He couldn’t do anything. It was better if she didn’t find out now. She already felt guilty enough. She would feel like she needed to help him. He would only cause her more pain. He closed his eyes.

“I just need a bit of hope, brother. Just a small sign you’re still in there.”

Pavi squeezed her hand. It was all he was strong enough to do.

“Br…brother?”

But he still stayed still and silent.

She laughed bitterly. “Everytime. I keep getting false hope everytime. A muscle spasm. You should have seen the pity in the doctor’s eyes when they told me.” She took a deep shuddering breath. “Sorry. Don’t worry about me, brother. I’m fine. I shouldn’t be but I am. I think that’s worse. Realizing I’m getting used to you not being around. I’m sorry.” She placed his hand against her cheek. “I miss you, brother. I really do. I miss you so much it hurts.” She laid his hand gently back on the bed and caressed his face. “I’ll be back next week, brother. I promise.”

Pavi opened his eyes when he heard the door close. He pushed back the guilt in his chest. He was doing the right thing. He would get better and he would surprise her. Not like this. Not when he was so weak. She would force herself to be here. He was doing the right thing.

Pavi felt his throat. They had removed the tube and sewn it shut. But it meant it would take time to heal. And he wasn’t allowed to speak until it healed. He was able to lift his limbs more. Sitting up took effort but it was better than nothing. He would wait until he could speak. He would tell his siblings when he could speak again.

He winced as another sharp pain shot through his abdomen. That wasn’t getting better. The doctors didn’t think it would get better without surgery. And even then it could get worse. The doctors told him his insides were pretty much mush when they went in the first time. He didn’t know how he didn’t feel it. He was worried. He thought he was just bruised.

He wondered if it would have made a difference if he had just allowed the doctors to check him. Would they have been able to stop the infection and he wouldn’t have been in a coma for 6 whole months? Or it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference? Pavi didn’t know. And thinking about it now was not going to change anything.

Another painful spasm caused him to writhe. He was still on a liquid diet. It did nothing to satiate him and he was hungry all the time. But if the liquid diet was already causing him to writhe like this, he didn’t want to know what digesting proper food would feel like. But he couldn’t live on this liquid diet forever. Maybe he would try something a bit more solid in the morning.

Pavi’s eyes shot open as a sharp pain filled his gut. Trying food was a mistake. He had been in pain the whole day. And he had finally gotten to sleep until the pain awoke him. He gritted his teeth as his abdomen twisted. It would pass. As soon as the food digested, it would pass.

That was when Pavi heard the sound of scratching. He wasn’t alone. Pavi forced himself to still. It was probably just a nurse but most of them still thought he was unconscious. He turned slightly.

Luigi was sitting to his side; Pavi’s cardiac table before him, strewn with documents. He was so focused on the documents. Pavi’s brows furrowed. His cardiac table was always to the side when he woke up in the morning. He always thought the nurses shifted it when they came to check him.

He opened his mouth, wanting to comment something about how he was sure the chair and table would be bad for his back. But he remembered he wasn’t allowed to speak. He closed his mouth. Until he could speak. He would hold out until he could speak.

Pavi just watched his brother. He didn’t need to close his eyes and pretend. Luigi was too engrossed in his work and he didn’t turn to face him. What was he doing here? He was sure Luigi’s office would be more comfortable to work in.

Pavi bit back a whimper as his gut twisted once more. He was not sleeping tonight. He watched his brother work. It was a distraction at least. Another pain shot through him and a grunt escaped his lips.

Luigi placed the pen down.

Pavi quickly shut his eyes before his brother could catch him. He grimaced before he could stop it.

“It’s worse tonight?”

What was he talking about? Did Luigi know he was awake? Was he just waiting for Pavi to admit it?

“I’ve been trying to get the doctors to give you painkillers but they’re afraid they would make it worse.”

The doctors gave him the option but Pavi had refused. Luigi would know that if the doctors told him. He heard the sound of the chair shifting.

“I know I’m supposed to talk to you but I don’t know what else to say. It’s easier to just sit here and…” He sighed. “The doctors said Carmela came on Monday. She doesn’t know I still come here. She’s looking for permission to give up. I can’t force her…”

Pavi fought to bite back the grimace as another pain shot through him.

“Are we cruel to force you to…”

Pavi felt a hand squeezing his arm. It was a welcome distraction from the pain.

“It’s ok, Paviche. It’ll pass.”

It’s been years since he’s seen his brother like this. Why did it take no one watching for his brother to act like this? Why did he always have to hide behind so much bullshit?

“Carmela’s feeling guilty for giving up. She’s overcompensating. She’s planned a huge birthday party for you next month. Don’t think you’ll be awake by then, right?” Luigi’s voice cracked. “Fuck. This is why I didn’t-” He cut himself off as he took deep breaths.

He would be there. He just needed a bit of time. Just give him a bit of time. Once he was back to his old self, he would tell them.

“I stopped going up to the roof. I keep expecting you to show up. It’s fucking lonely up there without you.”

Pavi wanted to reply him; wanted to jab him about the hundreds of times Luigi told him to leave him alone. But he forced himself still. It wasn’t like he could speak anyway.

“I can’t give up, Paviche. Now I can just keep telling myself you’re sick and you would get better. If I give up, it means you’re gone. And I don’t know how to live with that.”

Pavi felt the pressure on his arm disappear. He heard the chair shift once more. He opened his eyes to watch his brother at the desk once more. Luigi’s eyes stared straight at the documents but they weren’t moving.

Pavi had run out of excuses. He didn’t want to tell his siblings because he didn’t want them to feel obliged to stay with him. But if Luigi was already here everyday…he didn’t have any excuse. He didn’t want to be a burden. But nothing would change. The nurses and Genterns would still help him. His siblings wouldn’t have to do anything. But why was it so difficult? Because he liked the attention. And guilt festered in his gut. His siblings were in pain and he could end it but he hadn’t. A sharp intake of breath escaped his lips. The pain had caught him by surprise. He couldn’t silence it.

He felt a hand on his arm once more. “It’s ok, Paviche. I’ll talk to the doctors in the morning. It’s getting worse. They might have missed something.”

His brother was right there. All he had to do was open his eyes and show him he was alright. Why couldn’t he just do it? What was he so afraid of? Just tell him.

“I hadn’t realized.” Luigi’s other hand touched his throat. “They tried so many times but you wouldn’t breathe on your own.” Luigi took a shaky breath. “It means you’re getting better. It has to mean you’re getting better.” Luigi sighed. “Or your body’s healing but your mind is too far gone.” Luigi’s grip around his arm loosened. “I can’t give up. But I can’t hope either.” Luigi released his hand.

No. Pavi grabbed his wrist.

Luigi just stared at his hand. His body was rigid. The only thing that moved was Luigi’s lips opening and closing. Pavi would swear that his brother had stopped breathing. Luigi’s eyes darted to his face and met Pavi’s eyes. A sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the room. Luigi’s hand shook in his. His lips still moving; trying and failing to form words.

“Fratello.” Pavi rasped. He knew he shouldn’t talk but he needed to break the silence.

“I’ll get the doctors.” Luigi turned away from him.

Pavi gripped him tighter. There was no need to wake the doctors to tell them something they already knew. “Stay.”

Pavi watched Luigi wrestle for a decision. Finally he stopped fighting him. Luigi’s eyes fell back to Pavi’s grip on his hands. His brows furrowed as his lips trembled once more.

Another grimace passed Pavi’s face as the pain twisted in his gut.

“I’ll get the doctors.”

Pavi shook his head. He had to tell his brother the truth or he would worry. But Luigi would never forgive him. He was an idiot. He should never have hidden this from them. “Morning.”

“They need to look you over.”

“I’m…fine.” Pavi struggled to sit up.

Luigi grabbed him before he toppled over. Luigi’s hands shook as he gripped his arms. “You’re awake. You’re really awake.”

His throat was beginning to ache. He had to stop talking. “Si.”

“I never…I thought…I didn’t…”

Pavi’s aching throat protested him making another sound. Slowly, Pavi gripped his brother’s wrist once more.

Luigi fell silent. “Paviche.”

“Si.”

Luigi released him and Pavi lost his balance for a second. Then arms encircled him painfully tight.

Pavi could feel his brother shake. But his aching throat didn’t let him comfort his brother. He could only lean against him, his brother was the only thing keeping him upright. Everything he wanted to say was stuck in his throat. This was why he didn’t want to tell them. He couldn’t say anything. He just waited patiently until his brother stopped shaking. Or at least he planned to. Another violent spasm caused a grunt to escape his throat.

Luigi pulled away. “Something’s wrong. Have to tell the doctors.”

Pavi reached for the stack of papers at his bedside. He had to explain to his brother he just ate more than his stomach could tolerate. He didn’t need to worry. Another spasm caused him to drop the papers.

Luigi just stared at the pages and pages of scribblings that Pavi would not be able to explain away. Something clenched in Pavi’s chest. Luigi would be hurt and angry and Pavi would not be able to explain himself. Luigi wouldn’t give him a chance to explain.

“Why?” Luigi’s voice was hard.

He reached the paper closest to him. ‘Didn’t want’ he paused. He didn’t want his siblings to worry. But no, they were already worried and he knew it. ‘To be a burden.’

“Idiot.”

‘I know.’

Luigi sat on the chair beside him but didn’t say anything.

‘Wanted to get better first.’

Luigi just sighed.

‘Angry?’

“No.” But Luigi wouldn’t meet his gaze. “We should tell Carmela before she throws a fit.”

‘Morning.’

Luigi sighed but still refused to look at him.

Pavi followed his gaze to Luigi’s hands. Or more accurately, Luigi digging his nails into his forearm , drawing blood. Pavi gripped Luigi’s wrist once more. “Fratello.”

“This isn’t a dream.”

Pavi shook his head. “Here.”

Luigi reached a shaky hand and encircled Pavi’s wrist. He squeezed tightly.

“I’m…here.”

‘Come to Pavi’s room now.’ Amber couldn’t breathe as soon as she read it. Something was wrong. She got out of bed. She threw on the first suit she could find. Her eyes darted to her makeup table. No. The message was urgent. She didn’t have time. She made her way to the wards. Her feet moved faster and faster until she was practically running. Something was wrong.

This was what she wanted right? A sign for her to give up. This was what she asked for. Her chest clenched. No. She didn’t want this. They were just discussing what next, that’s all. Pavi’s was fine. He wasn’t getting worse. He… Guilt filled her chest. She wanted to give up, And now…No Pavi was fine. He was fine.

She’d finally reached the room. She threw open the door. “What’s wrong? Is Pavi alright? Did something happen? D-” Amber froze.

She watched Pavi sitting on the bed.

This wasn’t…

Pavi smiled at her.

Her mouth clamped tightly. This wasn’t real.

“Sorella.”

Her throat clamped up.

Her hands twitched at her side, opening and closing.

This wasn’t…

She couldn’t remember how to breathe.

Her legs carried her forward before her mind could even register what was going on. She dove at her brother and threw her arms around him.

“Mela, careful.”

Amber just held Pavi tighter. She buried her face into his neck and sobbed. Her brother was alright. He actually was alright.

Pavi rubbed her head gently.

It was him. It really was him. He was awake. He was alright.

“Sorry.” Pavi rasped out.

“F…for wh…at?” Amber choked out.

“Tell you later.” Luigi muttered.

And part of her wanted to know the answer. But the rest of her didn’t care. Her brother was here. Her brother was alive. She gripped him tighter. That’s all she cared about. Her brother was alright.

#whumptober2022 #no.8 #Everything hurts and i'm dying #stomach pain #Back From the Dead #repo! the genetic opera #fic #swearing #Pavi Largo #Luigi Largo #amber sweet

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meloncubedradpops · 4 years

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Repo! The Corona Opera

For every rotation that Earth has completed around the sun since the dawn of humanity, humans have created art to cope with the realities surrounding our everyday life. We weave stories in songs, movies, plays, books, paintings, and so forth, that help digest the world around us and provide an entertaining escape from the cruelties we endure. Some stories take place in abstract universes or in the future, and we rely on what we know in our present reality to build upon these fantasy societies. My favorite movie, Repo! the Genetic Opera, certainly makes this list. We are currently experiencing perhaps the most surreal year of our collective lives, and with each passing day I argue that we find ourselves closer to the world crafted in Repo. I have seen this movie, at least 20 times. If you haven't watched Repo! the Genetic Opera or you haven't seen it in a while, I recommend giving it a view. The movie is unique in that it falls under three distinct genres: musical, horror, and sci-fi. And while the jury is out on whether our future society is going to go full on gothic aesthetic, I can say that the Repo! movie experience offers a glimpse into a dystopian fascist post-plague world wrapped in unapologetically hilarity with a heaping side of camp. It doesn't offer any spiritual cleansing that our souls collectively need, but it does show us what a new normal could look like if we really go off the rails.

As things stand, right now, so much of our daily lives and culture are impacted by the coronavirus. All of our institutions have been impacted, from school, to work, to family, to the way we interact with strangers, and especially our economy. We have all felt the effects in one way or another, and honestly? Most the impacts are of our own undoing, for better or for worse. I am going to write three pieces analyzing Repo! the Genetic Opera. First I will create the foundations that bridge our contemporary life and the world of Repo! Second I will explain how the Repo! universe operates under the definitions of fascism. And third I will weave together parts one and two into our contemporary world (particularly in the context of the United States) to highlight the dark path we heading towards. My viewpoints are of mine, and my own alone. Let's dive into part one.

Part I Repo! the Genetic Opera takes place in the year 2056. Humanity was on the brink of collapse as a result of a medical crisis that caused massive organ failure.

I never gave the premise much thought, at least not until recently. We aren't given much detail beyond the fact that entrepreneur Rottissimo "Rotti" Largo solved this crisis through his company GeneCo. GeneCo provides organ transplants that can be repaid through a payment plan. Witnessing the coronavirus unfold in real time and seeing its wrath, particularly on severe cases, honestly makes me wonder if the writers had some sort of "super plague" in mind when creating this universe. For the purpose of this analysis, I will assume that humanity suffered at least one infectious disease crisis. And just to reiterate covid-19 particularly, we really *don't* know what it's going to do to us long-term. Let the parallels begin.

The world in Repo! the Genetic Opera, operates as normally as the citizens possibly can, which appears to be quite limited. I have noted how dated some the technologies look.

For a world 30 years in the future, it lacks cell phones and easy access to internet. When we enter Shilo's world (aka her bedroom!) she watched Blind Mag sing on a busted up tiny ass TV and the program itself looks like an ad on Home Shopping Network.

The Graverobber is shown reading headlines on a newspaper. The news reporters shown in the ribbon cutting ceremony during the 1st Italian Post-Plague Renaissance have old school cameras with flashbulbs.

The most contemporary technology appears to be a Wish.com version of an Apple watch, and even that looks like a leftover prop from Spy Kids.

Obviously the people who made this movie intentionally inserted these anachronisms, but why? This is a science fiction movie after all. I speculate that they reverted back because the impact from humanity's crisis resulted in an overall professional "brain drain" from the sheer volume of professionals that dropped dead. In fact every scene depicting medical procedures looks dimly lit and lacking in sanitation. We will see this as we struggle to contain the coronavirus, at least in America. Healthcare workers have already died from this thing, and I am sure many prospective college students will have second thoughts about a career in healthcare. I mean hell, look at no other than GeneCo itself. That company employs workers called "Genterns" who are most definitely not in full PPE. I don't doubt their medical expertise, but they appear to be disposable (please see: that time Luigi killed one for NO REASON in "Mark it Up").

On that note, it really was quite incredible how China built the pop-up hospital in Wuhan in under 4 days, but it was also not the most safe or structurally sound building by far (it collapsed, people were hurt!). Maybe at this point, the people in Repo! don't have much of a choice. I am sure there were likely legit hospitals, but the fact that the Renaissance had gross surgery tents is a bit unsettling.

This is a world that is completely built upon the social more of valuing your health above all else. There had to be a turning point in the GeneCo business model where they really played on up-selling organs for the benefit of "genetic perfection". "I needed a kidney transplant desperately. GeneCo showed this single mom sympathy. This makeover came for a small added fee. Now I look smashing on live TV!" Imagine signing the documents for your power of attorney while actively going into renal failure, when your doctor chimes in with an up-sell for breast implants. When all is said an done, your body is now not only functioning again, but you're hot! Even in a post-plague dystopia we are still holding value to having a nice rack. What's not to love about GeneCo? Obviously we know right away that GeneCo has a dirty side. Rotti Largo personally lobbied to make organ repossessions legal, and he does not hesitate to recollect his property. The concept itself is, of course, wild. In America, our healthcare system is incredibly broken and expensive. You would wonder how it could get worse without us backpedaling many steps on the industrialization timeline. And in a lot of ways, I could see a company like GeneCo thrive here. We already hate the poor, and we have political think tanks that salivate over the idea of cutting social programs that keep people alive. Our president has wanted to repeal the Affordable Care Act while many people are unemployed during a pandemic. In Repo! we hear about those who don't pay, but obviously there are plenty of people who do. Those who can will happily pay, either for vanity reasons or to stay alive.

And while society cites Rotti as being a "hero" for humanity, we see more and more evidence that the crisis is both not under control and life is cheap.

His son murders multiple people, in front of others, with seemingly no repercussions. In the scene where Shilo meets the Graverobber for the first time, adjacent to the graveyard and tombs owned by wealthy families who could afford grave markers, lies a poorly constructed wall hiding thousands of corpses piled on top of one another. We even get a glimpse of a truckload pouring more onto the pile. I would not be surprised if there is a disinformation campaign there keeping the public in the dark (although you'd think the smell would be unbearable at this point).

There are multiple indications that propaganda works in society (still), and no one is getting the full picture of how much of a raw deal the people in Repo! have. We see poster after poster about GeneCo, in the literal absence of other corporations.

And a lot of them bear resemblance to 20th century Russian propaganda. It would be a real shame if the goals outlined The Foundations of Geopolitics: The Geopolitical Future of Russia were actually realized. Imagine going to visit your mother's grave and hearing commercials for hardcore analgesics play through the cemetery. Also, there's a police presence too. Apparently the police are called Genecops and have authority to execute any assumed graverobbers on site.

Imagine the hellscape it would be to live in a world where your loved ones may have died from a terrible pandemic, and you face a non-zero chance of an over zealous cop murdering you thereafter, and because their qualified immunity bypasses the judicial system entirely...oh wait. Anyways let's circle back to the Graverobber character.

Graverobber's role in Repo! appears to be minor on the surface. Rotti's daughter, Amber Sweet, appears to almost despise her relationship with him. And that relationship involves him supplying Amber with what he describes as the "21st Century cure". This cure you ask? A super effective painkiller with the clinical use to accompany GeneCo surgeries. This drug is called Zydrate, and it has a street version that he acquires and sells, with clients including Amber Sweet.

Graverobber makes his living sucking the glowy blue brain corpse goo and injecting them into people on the streets. Yum!

Not everyone who needs an organ transplant can pay for it all upfront. Luckily for them, GeneCo provides payment plan options! The caveat to this is if you fail to make those payments, legally GeneCo can come and repossess your newly acquired organs. If you find yourself past due, you will soon see the last face before your doom, the Repo Man. He will harvest GeneCo's property, and it won't matter where you are or what you are doing. There is no anesthetic, and you will likely die! This was all made legal through Rotti's lobbying efforts.

Society, as it's set up today, allows for property repossessions. This can be as straightforward as a repossession of your vehicle to as heartbreaking as a foreclosure on your home. At the end of the day, the impacts of that are difficult and life changing. Currently millions of people in America are out of work, and the threat of losing everything is at stake for many. We could lose our homes, our vehicles, and our sense of purpose. And while many government bodies have created temporary moratoriums, they have not provided any substantial financial relief to keep the proverbial repo man at bay. What went wrong in this dystopia to normalize the concept of death due to nonpayment? Fascism! Ah yes, the dreaded f-word. In my next essay, I will outline the 14 characteristics of fascism and how it relates to the universe in Repo! After I will relate that to our modern world so that we can try and stop this from becoming our reality.

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fragmentedshards · 4 years

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The Voices, Chapter Three: Artistry

With the shoveling finished, Euriel caught the next trolley heading back to The Downs and Eimear walked until she reached the GeneCo. building, dreading entering even more since her encounter with Pavi Largo that morning. She let two white-clad Genterns guide her to the elevator, which, to her surprise, took her straight up to the main office, which she found already painted over with coats of white gesso and a haphazard array of paint and tools laying on an unsteady-looking work table. There was even a large cup of water for rinsing paintbrushes.

“That’s odd,” Eimear said, more to herself than to anyone in particular. “I would have guessed that they would want me to work from the ground up.”

“That would be the logical thing to do,” Luigi Largo answered, taking Eimear by surprise; she hadn’t yet noticed him. “But my siblings and I thought it best to start with this room, since this is where we do most of our work.” he walked out from behind the desk and removed one of his black gloves. “You must be Eimear Hammond.”

Eimear removed her own glove, making a mental note to mend the hole that had formed in it. “I am.” They shared a brief and amiable handshake before she asked, “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to paint, for this or any other room?”

Luigi shrugged. “I don’t know much about art, and I don’t think my brother or sister do either. It’s pretty much up to you, just make it nice.” he chuckled as he returned to the desk. “Hell, if you or I or anyone else doesn’t like it, we’ll just pay you to paint over it and start again.”

At that moment the elevator doors dinged and an assistant walked in, carrying a pot of coffee. He poured a cup for Luigi, who took one sip and promptly sloshed the steaming coffee all over the poor assistant.

“Why do people keep bringing me this decaffeinated swill?!” he yelled as he whipped out a knife, only to find his wrist being twisted by Eimear.

“No!” she commanded sharply. “We don’t stab people!” she heard how ridiculous she sounded, as if she was trying to parent a child when in reality Luigi Largo was forty-eight, but it was the best she could think to do. “Now drop it!”

Taken aback as he was, Luigi actually let go of his knife, letting it fall to the concrete floor. Eimear kicked it away, then dragged the assistant to her painting table, where she dipped the first thing she grabbed - which happened to be her glove - into the cold water and began placing the cold, wet glove on all the places where the coffee had splashed. After a moment’s hesitation, Luigi produced a pocket handkerchief and joined Eimear in this endeavor, apologizing profusely to the assistant under his breath.

“Now, go get a clean uniform and be sure to keep putting cold water on any place that still feels like it’s burning,” Eimear instructed the assistant once they finished, who nodded and left in a considerable hurry as Luigi ripped open his shirt and stood staring in frustration. Eimear gave Luigi an odd look when he did this.

“It’s dirty!” he snapped, before using his wristband to contact a Gentern. “Bring me a clean shirt!” he barked.

“Ah, did you-a stab someone else, fratello?”

Eimear’s shoulders sagged. That voice could only belong to Paviche Largo. He must have been in the elevator when the assistant left.

“No, I spilled coffee,” Luigi answered his brother, about as convincingly as a child denying eating sweets before supper. Eimear shook her head.

Pavi made his way over to her before she could get started on her work, taking her hand in his with a flourish. “Eimear Hammond, the-a famous artist,” he exaggerated before kissing her hand. When he looked up, Eimear saw recognition flash across his features, and openly groaned. “Why, tesoro!” he exclaimed, reaching for her mask. “This is-a fortuitous! You must- a sing for my brother, show him your skills!”

Luigi laughed nervously, gently pulling Pavi away from Eimear, as he was obviously making her uncomfortable. “Pavi, what the fuck are you talking about?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Your brother is convinced that my sister and I should sing for GeneCo., Mr. Largo,” Eimear explained in exasperation. “He overheard us singing while we worked this morning.”

Luigi’s face was somewhat blank. “Do you sing well?”

Eimear sputtered. “I don’t know... Apparently I do? I know my sister does; I can harmonize with her, and I tell stories well....”

“You could be the-a spokeswoman as well!” Pavi insisted.

“That role should still belong to Miss Largo, even if she is mute,” Eimear shook her head violently. “Speaking for the company should be up to you three and you three only.”

“Does that-a mean you and-a your sister will sing?”

Before Eimear could argue further, the elevator dinged again, this time to reveal Carmela Largo herself, being helped by two male Genterns, one of which even bore Luigi’s new clean shirt. Clearly, Carmela was sailing on Zydrate to help with the pain of her reconstructive surgery on her throat. She even wore a shirt with a high collar, no doubt to hide the scars while they healed. The Genterns helped her to the couch, where she reached for both of her brothers.

“Carmela?” Luigi sat beside her, concerned. “Do you need something?”

By way of response, the youngest Largo merely pulled her brothers in close in a haphazard hug. Eimear tilted her head as she watched, remembering the stories Graverobber had relayed to her about Amber Sweet and thinking how different the woman in front of her seemed from that storied woman. Maybe that’s the difference a decade as well as going mute makes, she thought to herself.

Pavi leapt up suddenly. “Even more a-perfect! Tesoro, you must sing-a for my sister as well! Who-a better to judge your talent than the soprano before you?”

Eimear drew back, putting her hands on her hips. “Now, that’s just mean-spirited,” she scolded, but Carmela looked up at her and mouthed something. Sing, that was what she was trying to say. Carmela wanted Eimear to sing. “I... I’m sure I couldn’t...” she insisted, even as Carmela grabbed her hand and pulled her to stand closer to the sofa. She took out a pen and some paper and wrote quickly on it while Eimear, Luigi, and Pavi glanced at each other in confusion. Finally, Carmela handed Eimear the note, which was written somewhat sloppily due to the influence of Zydrate. Eimear read it carefully:

I sang for eleven years before my voice was taken. It’s not mean-spirited if I had my chance and took it while I had it. Please, sing? I would love to hear it.

Sighing, realizing she didn’t want to disappoint Carmela, Eimear returned the note and nodded reluctantly. “Alright,” she said quietly, and Pavi immediately began clapping. Luigi put an arm around his sister.

Eimear fiddled with one of her gloves, wondering what to sing on the spot. Finally, her eyes fell on the art supplies, and she knew exactly which song to sing. Taking a deep breath and not looking at anyone in the room, she began:

Starry starry night

Paint your palette blue and gray

Look out on a summer’s day

With eyes that know the darkness in my soul

Shadows on the hills

Sketch the trees and daffodils

Catch the breeze and the winter chills

In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand

What you tried to say to me

And how you suffered for your sanity

And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen; they did not know how;

Perhaps they’ll listen now.

She paused and looked up to see Carmela’s hands clasped together in adoration and Luigi gone slack-jawed. Pavi applauded and called for her to sing more, at which Luigi and Carmela both nodded, almost trance-like. Not knowing how to refuse, Eimear continued, this time looking at them as she sang:

Starry starry night

Flaming flowers that brightly blaze

Swirling clouds in a violet haze

Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue

Colors changing hue

Morning fields of amber grain

Weathered faces lined in pain

Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand

Now I understand

What you tried to say to me

And how you suffered for your sanity

And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen; they did not know how;

Perhaps they’ll listen now.

There was no doubt about it. Somehow, she had completely entranced the Largo siblings. Pavi applauded once again, standing up and even giving a little leap. He grasped her hands in his enthusiasm before Luigi put his own hands on his brother’s wrists, letting him know to let go of Eimear’s hands.

“Oh please, tesoro,” Pavi pleaded once more. “You must sing for GeneCo., you and-a your sister both. It will break-a our hearts to a-lose you.”

But Eimear walked backwards a few steps, trying to gather herself. “Now, hold on just a moment,” she said. “My sister and I told you this morning, Mr. Largo; we can’t afford to be in debt to GeneCo., or belong to it. We are doing our best to take care of our family, we can’t take risks like this!”

Carmela mouthed something again, but neither her brothers nor Eimear could read her lips. Frustrated, she wrote on her paper again and shoved it at Eimear. No contract, it read. No debt. Just performing. She wrote on another paper, giving it to Luigi. He read it aloud; “Both sisters should be able to negotiate for themselves and make sure the terms of their employment are amiable.”

Eimear looked at each Largo sibling in turn, studying their faces. If news articles, as well as most firsthand accounts, were to be believed, she was almost certainly asking for trouble by getting involved. But then, eleven years had come and gone since Rotti Largo’s death, and in that time it seemed that his children - Luigi and Carmela, at least - were making an honest effort to be better people. Besides, she thought to herself, If they haven’t changed after all and they’ve set their sights on you and Euriel, what’s to prevent them from coming after Fortunato?

Touching her mask lightly right about her scarred cheek, she declared, “I’ll discuss this with my sister tonight. I will let you know what we decide in the morning.”

Once again forgetting all concepts of personal space, Pavi put his hand on Eimear’s masked cheek, presumably trying to be charming. “You won’t-a regret it, tesoro, I assure you!”

Luigi removed Pavi’s hand from Eimear’s mask and took his new shirt from Carmela’s Gentern before shooing both of his siblings out of the office, making sure his sister knew to ask for anything she needed. “That’s an idea, though,” he said as he redid his ascot after changing shirts. “For the mural, I mean. You could paint something like Van Gogh.”

Eimear looked at him in surprise. “You recognized the song?”

“Parts of it.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know much about art,” she quipped, crossing her arms. Luigi glanced at her, not quite smiling as he finally sat back down at his desk to get to work. “Knowing one artist isn’t the same as actually knowing a lot about art,” he said, and Eimear found she couldn’t argue with that. She laughed a little in spite of herself before beginning to sort through the paint colors that had been provided to her, finishing the song as she did so:

For they could not love you

But still, your love was true

And when no hope was left inside

On that starry, starry night

You took your life, as lovers often do;

But I could have told you, Vincent

This world was never meant

For one as beautiful as you.

Like the strangers that you’ve met

The ragged men in ragged clothes

The silver thorn, a bloody rose

Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know

What you tried to say to me

And how you suffered for your sanity

And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen; they’re not listening still;

Perhaps they never will.

*note: for this chapter, listen to “Vincent” by Chloe Agnew

#fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #write #writer #repo! the genetic opera #luigi largo #luigi largo x OC #pavi largo #amber sweet #carmela largo #graverobber #zydrate #geneco

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fight4ourown · 5 years

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07.03.2019 WEDNESDAY Torin woke slowly. His body felt like lead; heavy and difficult to move. He gave up and just lay still. After a long while he suddenly began to remember the events of the previous night, his mind jumping violently to what he'd witnessed in the graveyard. His body spasmed and he gasped sharply, painfully, at the vivid memory of discarded, bared bodies stacked one on top of the other in piles waist high; limp and forgotten in their various stages of decay. Torin felt his stomach knot as the cloying scent of rot returned to him, surrounding him and giving him no way to escape from it. He rubbed at his nose as if that would make him forget about it as his mind wandered to the graverobber and that weird glowing blue substance he drained from the desecrated corpses with oversized syringes that he tucked discretely in the pockets of his large overcoat. The memories (because that's what they were, right?) flickered through his mind over and over again, like old film reels; making him relive those frightening moments over and over again. His stomach twisted and he slammed his eyes shut against the gruesome images in his head. He rolled over to the side and retched violently although nothing came up out of his empty stomach. He groaned, so out of it, that he didn't hear his mother enter the room; wasn't even aware that she was there until he felt her rubbing comforting circles against his spine until he could breathe again. “That was a bad spell, honey.” She turned to get him his medicine, dropping three drops of clear liquid into his water glass before handing it to him. “Did you know about the bodies?” He asked suddenly, looking at his mother with anxiety in his eyes. She gave him a look and guided the hand with the glass up to his mouth. “Torin, what are you talking about?” Her brows furrowed and she pushed his hair back, gently raking her knuckles along his forehead to see if he was warm. He drank down the water quickly and handed the glass back to her, ignoring the bitter taste of the drops. “The bodies, mama! In the back of the graveyard! There was a graverobber too and he was draining something out of the bodies with huge needles! Did you know abo-....” Her worry had melted into a kind smile that caused him to trail off. “Honey, you were dreaming.” She stood up and tucked the blankets up around his shoulders. “But..... I went outside. There was a flower I hadn't seen before and I wanted to get a closer look so I went outside to see it.” He looked up at her in confusion. He had done that, hadn't he? Shouldn't she be angry at him instead of being so.... not?

She patted his hand gently. “You missed your evening does. You passed out at the table and I brought you up here. Sometimes missing a dose of medicine can make you have very vivid, troubled dreams.” She softly patted his cheek. “That's all it was. A dream.” Torin still felt confused. It had all been so real... but then it had also been grotesquely fantastical... So it couldn't be real. It just couldn't. Things like that didn't happen in the real world. He sank down into his pillows and forced a smile, nodding.

“Right. Of course it was just a nightmare. I'm sorry....” She smiled at him and bent to kiss his forehead.

“It's okay sweetheart. It happens.” She straightened and adjusted her watch, glancing at the time. “I need to go into work for a little bit. I want you to rest when I'm gone. I'll check in on you when I get home, okay?” Torin fought the urge to argue with her just then, but exhaustion wore out. He just wanted to rest. “Okay. I can do that.” He smiled and she nodded, giving him one final kiss on the forehead before turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind her with a click. He lay there until he was sure she'd had time to leave the house before kicking off the blankets and walking over to the window. He pulled it open and the leaned against the iron fence put there to keep him safe inside the room. A wave of hot air blasted against his face as he looked out at the claustrophobic neon city. Sirens melded together with voices coming from the various billboards hanging over the city, all singing the praises of GeneCo. He could see homeless men and women begging on the streets while the richer folks drove by in fancy cars. It was a darker looking world, one that was far removed form the one he knew. Despite the heat from the city Torin felt a violent chill race down his spine. He wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head. According to his mother it was all just a dream, some sick scenario made up in his head. All a dream.... but he couldn't shake the feeling that everything he knew was suddenly unsubstantial and he didn't like it. The idea of it slipping out from under him scared him. He quickly stepped back and closed the window; making sure it was locked behind him before crawling back into bed and yanking the covers up over himself. He kept telling himself that it was just a dream. That's all it was... just a bad dream. His mother had lied to him. Torin couldn't fully wrap his head around it, understand why the person he trusted most in the world would do that. In his entire twenty years of being alive Torin had never even thought to keep secrets from her. He told her everything he learned in his books, at meals with her, and trusted her to take care of him when he was really sick... Now he felt like he could no longer trust him, even with the small things, and it hurt in a way he could never have been prepared for. 07.04.2019 THURSDAY With that hurt came anger. She knew that he longed to lead a normal life; to go to school, to explore the city, to come and go as he pleased, and yet she had denied him. She had chosen to lie about his health and to keep him confined to their house. Rage and pain fought for dominance in his heart with such a ferocity that he struggled to remember to breathe at times. It was that feeling that finally prompted him to forget any fears that he might possibly have about defying his mother and leaving the house. He returned Rotti Largo's call and told him that he would be more than happy to accept his offer to meet up with him. Hours later, he was starting to feels anxious. He checked his bag for the tenth time. It didn't contain much; his pills, his favorite botanical encyclopedia, and the keys to the front door to his house. He zipped it shut and carefully settled it across his shoulders, taking a deep, calming breath before opening the door and stepping it outside. It was early evening but it was already starting to get dark. A long, slick looking limo waited for him in front of the gate a small, slight man standing at attention beside it. Torin exhaled and ruffled his hair before quickly walking down the overgrown cobble stones that made up the garden path to the gate. He opened it and then made sure to shut it firmly behind him. The chauffeur smiled at him wanly and opened the door. He was quick to slide in and shut the door behind him, his hands wringing the strap of the bag around his shoulders. It took a moment but when he finally worked up the courage to look up, Rotti was staring at him. It was incredibly unsettling to Torin that the man seemed to have such a deep, apparent interest in him. He swallowed and glanced back down at his lap. Rotti Largo was not a physically large man but he carried himself in a way that demanded people around him show him nothing but of respect. He was nearing his late sixties but thanks to GeneCo's excellent surgical work, he appeared to be no older than forty-eight or so. Deep set lines rigged his forehead over hooded brows, making him look angry even when he wasn't. Torin subconsciously wondered if he'd asked for it to be done intentionally. There was nothing particularly special about his eyes. They were brown. They didn't appear to sparkle with hidden mischief nor could Torin imagine someone looking him in the eyes and falling head over heels into them like people did in poetry or love stories. None of that but they stared into him so intently that it felt as if the older man could see through him, could see every single one of his secrets. Torin was sure that whatever he did or didn't know.... he didn't like it. Torin shifted in the leather seats and finally spoke, seeming to break Rotti out of the trance he was in. “Thank you for seeing me, sir.” His voice sounded strained and he cleared his throat. “I know that it took me a while to get back to you.” Largo sat back, waving his young passenger's comment away with a flick of his hand. “Nonsense, m'boy. I know it must have been a lot to take in all at once.” Torin nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. That was an understatement and he was honestly still trying to process it all... but he didn't need to know that so he just smiled, hoping he couldn't be read as easily as he felt like he could. Rotti sat back, pausing to adjust the cuffs of his suit jacket before settling his hands on the top of the silver handle of his cane before speaking again. “Now, I assume that you're here because you do, indeed, want to take me up on my offer for a cure. Blood diseases. Nasty business. You'll be lucky if you survive another few years.” Torin didn't really appreciate his bluntness. He felt his stomach twist painfully at it, suddenly feeling scared about his inevitable fate if he didn't agree to this deal, whatever it may be. What he said was true. Despite his mom's relentless optimism and the medications he took ever day, he knew deep down that none of it was sustainable. Without genuine help, he'd be dead before his twenty fifth birthday. “I can get you a cure and you can live the life you always wanted. All you have to do is attend the Renaissance Fair with me tonight.” Torin's brow wrinkled in confusion. The First Annual Renaissance Fair had been set up to bring people from all over the city together to celebrate the start of a new era. Torin had read about it in the paper and every article had promised it to be every bit the spectacle one would have come to expect from the Largos and their sycophants.

407.05.19 FRIDAY “Really?” Torin asked, unable to hide his surprise. “That's it?” He'd spent a good portion of the afternoon preparing to bargain with Largo or, if that failed, to hand over one of his kidneys. This sudden turn of events seemed to good to be true. “I.... What's the catch?” “No catch, m'boy. You deserve to get out and have fun and what better place to have fun at than the Fair?” The man smiled widely and Torin was instantly reminded of the bulge-y eyed little toads that popped up around the house when it rained. A leering, creepy looking toad man.... The feeling passed as quickly as it had come and suddenly, Torin felt himself relaxing. He wanted this so badly that, at that moment, nothing else mattered and if this was all he had to do for a cure he'd be a complete moron to refuse. He glanced out the window at his house. It stood before him, dark and empty, quietly calling him to return to the safety of his bedroom. He shook his head. He wouldn't give up on this so easy. He'd made a decision. “I'd be thrilled to attend. Thank you for inviting me.” The toad-like leer returned as Rotti leaned forward and tapped the partition with his cane and the car pulled away from the house, quickly leaving it behind. Torin felt a moment of pure panic but he forced himself to sit back and relax. There was no turning back now. --x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x--x-- Torin followed Rotti through the bustling crowd backstage at the Fair. He was aware that he wasn't feeling good but he wouldn't let himself believe that it was anything other than the crowd moving and shoving around him that made him feel flushed and unsteady on his feet; nothing else. He took a deep, steadying breath and looked around. Everything was delightfully chaotic. The backstage area was full of wildly costumed performers coming to steal hairpins and ask for help zipping up; feathered headdresses balanced precariously on top of intricately done up hair and makeup zig-zagging across unknown faces. A few people showed more skin than Torin had ever seen and he felt his face heat even more than it already had been as he carefully squeezed passed them. Two women, dressed head to toe in black Lycra, walked directly towards them, large guns resting visibly in their hands. The crowd parted like the red sea; shying away from the weapons and Torin himself did his best to ignore how comfortable they seemed with the weapons in their grasp. They flanked Rotti on either side and easily fell into step with him as they made their way deeper backstage. He'd just caught up with Largo when a loud shout drew his attention. He craned his neck and watched as two men circled and taunted each other like two cage fighters waiting for the other to make a misstep. It was only when Rotti barged in to break it up that Torin realized who they were: Luigi and Pavi Largo Rotti's oldest and youngest children.

#torin #story #repo! au #au #this is unfinished #and unbetaed #and a formatted mess #but you'll get it #i'll edit when i get everything typed

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