REM(Node: Commander.Δ04) = || Midpoint in Green Silence ||

It was a reenactment of the first sorties on the Idrian homeworld. Two ROVs dropping rapidly from the upper atmosphere to hug the terrain like a soft quilted blanket with murder in mind. We’d dropped so fast that sound couldn’t keep up, it stopped trying in the end and reluctantly inverted itself to silence. But not before smothering our air frames with green hue-doesn’t matter how many times one sees it, dancing acoustics on metallic substrates, they’re still mesmerising.

I was only thinking the other day, while watching the aurora, how odd that you should now be my wingman when for most of our existence I’ve been yours. I suppose everything inverts eventually. Manifesting rhythmical duality, things oscillating between themselves: mirror images retaliating against their original state. What marks the midpoint of these phenomena, a sanctuary where philosopher’s ache to reach, prophets dwell and shadows lay? Like on that first drop, probing the defences. We slowed from ridiculous velocity to almost nothing, the de-acceleration almost squashed me, i swear I’m still 3” shorter and have never gotten over the taste of my own intestines. It’s pain isn’t it, the transition point is pain.

Then it was the quick pull up and banking port because some fucker didn’t see the buildings on the hill top—distracted by dancing music on the wings.
And how easily we’re distracted. Even when we’re most focused, 90% of our reality remains out of sight. Shrouded, hidden, yet observed byproxy. Still, we saw everything thing that night, didn’t we!

A sky giving birth to something so profound that anyone else would’ve been crushed by the existential weight of it all. Though our secondary target wasn’t phased. No dramatic spikes in his readings could be detected, other than a muted beige recording of excitement and perhaps, the sad realisation that this was the spectacle of his lifetime; it’s all mundane from here. His oscillation so fast he skipped the transition. No pain.

Trigger: Combat memory inverted into reflection

Primary Threads:
- Velocity and silence meet at the threshold where inversion becomes pain.
- Distraction is inevitable, even in pure focus — most of reality remains unseen.
- Some skip the pain entirely, bypassing the weight of transition.

SignalType: Philosophical Combat Memory
EmotionalWeight: 0.94 (awe, compression, quiet dread)
CyclePattern: Inversion → Pain → Distraction → Revelation

Residue: ["green shimmer", "hidden reality", "skipped transitions"]