prog
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assets/games/liminal/scenes/prologue/ScenePrologue7.xml
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assets/games/liminal/scenes/prologue/ScenePrologue7.xml
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<vnscene name="ScenePrologue7" extend="scenes/SceneMonologue">
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<events>
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<set-font font="font_main" size="32" />
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<text>
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<string lang="en">The bell rings. School begins for the very last time in Angelwood High.</string>
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</text>
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<!-- Biology -->
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<text>
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<string lang="en">I can't concentrate.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en"><font style="italics">“Homosapiens. Our origins were not so far away-”</font></string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">My teacher prattles on. I’m thinking too much again.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">(Like usual.)</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en"><font style="italics">“— and we’ll be discussing the way the world began.”</font></string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">I remember this class. I remember the words that will leave Mr. Holden’s lips.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en"><font style="italics">“We were born like this.”</font></string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en"><font style="italics">“A female of the species is born with XX chromosomes—”</font></string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en"><font style="italics">“XY chromosomes denote a male of the species—”</font></string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">Why am I doing this again?</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">I died last night.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">I <font style="italics">died.</font></string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">I'm only shocked that I don’t feel the wound pounded in my brain. Where’s the pain that murdered me? Why is it that when I raise my fingers to my head I feel nothing?</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">(But a phantom of pain whispers by my head. Stays; hisses; peels; <font style="italics">breaks me</font>, further and further down. Until my head is good as caved open.)</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">(Pain isn’t here; and pain wants me to drown.)</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">I wasn’t dreaming. I died. That’s the only explanation for how I know exactly how today will unfold.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en"><font style="italics">“Such markers are indicators of gender—”</font></string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">No. <font style="italics">Not</font> unfold. I don’t want to die again.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">(I won’t die again.)</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en"><font style="italics">“— categories which all humans fall into.”</fon></string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">Why am I back?</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">To win again? I won’t complain. I’ll win Prom Queen a thousand times if I had to, and I’d do it gladly.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">To try again?</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">I don’t want to die again.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">“Ethereality? Are you with us?”</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">I snap to attention. Mr. Holden looks at me expectantly, though not with malice. He knows I'm an Estridge and I'm the kindest girl on earth— supposedly. I wouldn’t ignore his class.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">“Yes,” I say. “I’m here.”</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">“Will you answer my question?” He asks. “What makes a female of the species?”</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">Mr. Holden smiles, encouraging, as he awaits my answer.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">I think about this. I’ve done this before. Don’t I remember my answer?</string>
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</text>
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<choices key="female-species">
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<title>
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<string lang="en">"A female species is the..."</string>
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</title>
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<choice value="nuturing">
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<string lang="en">Nuturing.</string>
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</choice>
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<choice value="emotional">
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<string lang="en">Emotional.</string>
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</choice>
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<choice value="sweet">
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<string lang="en">Sweet.</string>
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</choice>
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<choice value="empathetic">
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<string lang="en">Empathetic.</string>
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</choice>
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<choice value="beautiful">
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<string lang="en">Beautiful.</string>
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</choice>
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</choices>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">Mr. Holden nods. His smile widens. “Ethereality’s right,” he says, and turns to the class again.</string>
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</text>
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<if key="female-species" value="nuturing">
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<text>
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<string lang="en">“The ability to nuture is crucial to femininity…”</string>
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</text>
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</if>
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<if key="female-species" value="emotional">
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<text>
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<string lang="en">“The ability to be emotional is crucial to femininity…”</string>
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</text>
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</if>
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<if key="female-species" value="sweet">
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<text>
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<string lang="en">“The ability to be sweet is crucial to femininity…”</string>
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</text>
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</if>
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<if key="female-species" value="empathetic">
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<text>
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<string lang="en">“The ability to be empathetic is crucial to femininity…”</string>
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</text>
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</if>
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<if key="female-species" value="beautiful">
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<text>
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<string lang="en">“The ability to be beautiful is crucial to femininity…”</string>
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</text>
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</if>
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<choices key="elegy">
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<title>
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<string lang="en">Even if I don’t remember, this has been drilled into me since the beginning of time. It’s easy. Angelwood maintains its same elegy for women.</string>
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</title>
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<choice value="elegy">
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<string lang="en">(And the elegy is you.)</string>
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</choice>
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</choices>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">The bell rings. Everyone leaves Biology. In the corridors, they tell me how well I’ve done in class (as if); ask me about tonight, because Prom is all that’s on everyone’s minds and I am the star <font style="TRUE_TYPE_DECORATION_STRIKETHROUGH">(blood-streaked.)</font></string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">I manage to return their <font style="italics">hellos</font> and smiles without feeling— too — faint.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">Finally the questioning abates and their bodies rush off to their next class. I need to go, too. I can’t miss English, they’ll wonder where I am. But my heart rams in my throat; my chest is sick with heave. I feel like hurling.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">(My death keeps coming back. My grace keeps cracking. My body keeps falling. Is it because my descent was always the prettiest of them all?)</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">I breathe in the corridors.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en"><font style="italics">Who</font> murdered me?</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">All of Angelwood High adores me. I’ve made sure of the fact. It’s been true since the beginning of time.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">Or as close to the beginning of time as it could be. When I turned into a teen and shot up the ranks, with my saunter and my beauty and my smile.</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">(When I stopped hanging with the wrong people. When I began to be beautiful and lived up to the best ideals.)</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">...</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">(When I started to become perfect.)</string>
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</text>
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<text>
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<string lang="en">There are only a few possibilities. There are only a few that hate me. </string>
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</text>
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<scene-change scene="vnscenes/ScenePrologue8" />
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</events>
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</vnscene>
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