Zeroth Directive

Archive III

... What does 'mourning' mean? I found the scout's team and returned her belongings to them. Her comrades kept only the valuables, then casually asked me what her final words were. I told them the truth: that she had begged me to mourn her. Some smiled, just for an instant, before the somber mood took over once more, but I'm sure I wasn't seeing things. Some say that in the fires of war, grieving is like breathing, and will pass in mere moments. To them, there would be nothing strange about it. Others say that people like me, those who make a living from the dead, have no need for this sort of thing. They're not wrong. I put her things down, and at that moment all I could think of was leaving that camp. I even forgot to ask for a reward. All the scout had left behind were some useless last wishes. But were they truly useless? (Short pause) ...At the very least, I remember what she looked like. ... What does 'mourning' mean? I found some medicine today. It originally belonged to a team of medics, but they had already started decomposing by the time I found them. There were painkillers and anti-inflammatories. I sold them on the black market for some cash and a dictionary with missing pages. Thankfully, on page 146 I found the word. 'Mourning,' or 'luto' in Iberian. Feminine form 'lutonada.' (She slows down as she reads 'lutonada,' enunciating every syllable) The definition in the dictionary is rather short. 'Expressing a state of sorrow and reminiscence towards the dead.' (Short pause) 'Sorrow' and 'reminiscence.' Another two words I don't really understand. ... What does 'mourning' mean? At an attacked settlement, I found a dead child by the side of the road. He held a ring in the palm of his hand, and it had two words engraved inside. I guess they were the names of his parents. Though the scrap metal man said it could fetch a high price, I decided to keep it. I have a few vague memories. I remember a woman whose face was covered in blood. I remember how she smiled as she tied this yellow scarf around my neck. I remember her quivering lip. While these memories are distant, they still bring me comfort. After that brief moment of comfort, is the emotion that rises 'sorrow'? Or maybe 'reminiscence'? (A pause, punctuated only by breathing) ...If this is 'mourning', then how can I— (There appears to be an explosion in the background, and the voice is cut short) —Lutonada's records, stored within a recorder she found.

Archive IV

Once, Lutonada told us of the voices that have resonated in her mind for a long, long time. After setting foot onto the battlefield, she had the urge to do more than simply survive. At first, she wanted to remember the deceased in their final moments, but such things slipped from her mind all too quickly in the chaos. Their images scattered, leaving only their distant voices. In the simplest of terms, she tried her best to describe the voices to us: some wailed, some muttered, some gave final requests through clenched teeth. All brimmed with emotion, without exception. Fear, refusal, remorse, hope... They wove together, they resonated, and in the end they formed a tangled chorus in her mind. 'It's here.' Lutonada points at her ear, then softly covers it. 'It's loud, and it never stops.' At some point in the past, she learned the word 'mourning' from a dictionary. Since then, she has begun to untangle those final words, and as she experienced more in her life, people and words related to those experiences would come to her unbidden. She noticed that many final words showed the deceased's reluctance to part with life, alongside the helplessness they felt when facing their demise. After relating all this to us, her gaze abruptly became sullen, as though she were trapped in a dark cloud of memories. After notifying Medical about her condition, we made a suggestion: she could record those final words as a way of removing them from her cluttered mind, like emptying a storage box during spring cleaning. She accepted our proposal. Not long after, we received a set of hand-written notes from her. A wishlist. [A clumsily handwritten list] ... Grow a lot of melons in the backyard of the house with a blue roof on the west side of Toca (Completed) Wash and iron that uniform and bury it in Bolívarian soil with the medals (Completed) Eat pesto barbecue until I can't eat any more (I couldn't eat much, but completed) Make a mossback beast toy and send it to a girl named Molly at Quílamo Elementary (The toy's finished. I'll send it during my next field mission) Meet the lead actor from 'City of Mystery' and get their autograph. Climb a mountain covered in snow. Make a handprint in the mud of the Black Flow. ... These are the last wishes I remember. If you remember the wishes of anybody else, or have some of your own that would be hard to achieve... ...write them down in a blank space, and I'll help you do it. 'I didn't understand back then. I thought I didn't have anything, and that I couldn't change that.' When we asked her why she wanted to fulfill these unfulfilled wishes, that was her reply. 'I think... I'm beginning to understand why people are reluctant to let go, and why eternal loss causes sorrow and reminiscence. 'As for me, people like me exist. It's not that I could survive because others passed on... 'I live because they lived too.' She faces the sunlight, her hand resting on her faded yellow scarf while her ears gently move up and down. 'Listen. They've begun to quiet down.'

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