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Description

content warning is for: a bloodstained dead body (no visible wounds)
censored version: sta.sh/01m1sugnov0n

Part 1: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…
Part 2: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…
Part 3: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…
Part 4: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…
Part 5: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…
Part 6: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…
Part 7: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…

Part 8: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…

Part 9: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…

[Part 10]

knowing yourself is not the same as knowing your potential

(the volcano house is made out of science fiction materials; don't worry about it)

Image description:

____________________________________
A 7 panel comic featuring characters from Dune. Earlier comics provide context.
Panel 1:
Piter is frantically grabbing for, and accidentally juggling, the small radio from an earlier comic that's supposed to give a signal if one of the clones dies. The radio is beeping, and Piter is thinking 'no, no, no, no.' A nearby table has a beaker and a pair of goggles on it, showing that he's in one of his lab spaces.
Panel 2:
Piter is very worried, and clutching the (now silent) radio to himself. He's thinking to himself: What...how... it is almost certainly Yellow or Green who has died at the hands of Red... I hope it was Green, Yellow is my favorite... I set everything up for him to be the leader... Which of the outcomes I simulated could this correspond to? There were close to 200 with only one death this early on. Or could it be an entirely new scenario? But this isn't right. I predicted a low probability of deaths at this stage. How can I be so bad at anticipating myself? I have practically no way to influence this project beyond the work I have already done to set it up. Just how much of the outcome has unraveled and slipped beyond my control? What if...
Panel 3:
Piter has sunk to his knees. His thoughts continue: But of course. That *has* to be it. I've internalized that my safety comes from maintaining my current situation. I have internalized this so profoundly that I have forgotten how to be anyone other than... this. Even when I am treated horribly. By treating the three clones as expendable, I have doomed them, yes... but I have also made it impossible for them to huddle near some concept of safety. I have freed them. I constructed plans around myself as I know myself to be, not as I have the potential to be. When did I forget that potential was a thing that I could have? What do those three know that I repeatedly destroy my own capacity to see?
Panel 4:
The two surviving clones, Red and Green, have reached their destination: a house that wraps around an active volcano. Green is behind Red, holding a knife to his back.
Panel 5:
Red is looking at the volcano confidently, with his face lit up by its glow. He's thinking to himself: Piter is and has been, without exaggeration, the backbone of the Harkonnen operation. He holds a lot more power than he knows. Once I kill him and take his place, I will not need to maintain his mindset of servitude. If I can get control of one of the Baron's fief worlds, that will give me a foundation for my developing plan to overthrow the Harkonnens and establish House de Vries as a Great House.
Panel 6:
Green is hanging back looking troubled, with his face in shadow. He's thinking to himself: Somehow, choosing a different path is as easy as changing behavior, and isn't as easy as that at all. The Harkonnens are evil in many clear, well-defined ways. And yet the Empire at large easily tolerated... all of *that* happening to the person whose memories I have. If I truly wanted to honor my conscience, I do not know that there would be any Great House left to support. I fear that there is no safe harbor for the best of me, and never has been. The thought makes me feel more hollow than words can express.
Panel 7:
Yellow is lying dead in the dark. There's blood on his clothes and a thin line of blood running out of his mouth. His eyes are wide open and sunken. Above him is the thought, in a box rather than a speech balloon: Everything I ever thought was important to me turned out to be a variation, nearly an arbitrary variation, of wanting to be alive and comfortable and safe.

Description

content warning is for: a bloodstained dead body (no visible wounds)
censored version: sta.sh/01m1sugnov0n

Part 1: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…
Part 2: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…
Part 3: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…
Part 4: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…
Part 5: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…
Part 6: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…
Part 7: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…

Part 8: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…

Part 9: www.deviantart.com/cactuschowd…

[Part 10]

knowing yourself is not the same as knowing your potential

(the volcano house is made out of science fiction materials; don't worry about it)

Image description:

____________________________________
A 7 panel comic featuring characters from Dune. Earlier comics provide context.
Panel 1:
Piter is frantically grabbing for, and accidentally juggling, the small radio from an earlier comic that's supposed to give a signal if one of the clones dies. The radio is beeping, and Piter is thinking 'no, no, no, no.' A nearby table has a beaker and a pair of goggles on it, showing that he's in one of his lab spaces.
Panel 2:
Piter is very worried, and clutching the (now silent) radio to himself. He's thinking to himself: What...how... it is almost certainly Yellow or Green who has died at the hands of Red... I hope it was Green, Yellow is my favorite... I set everything up for him to be the leader... Which of the outcomes I simulated could this correspond to? There were close to 200 with only one death this early on. Or could it be an entirely new scenario? But this isn't right. I predicted a low probability of deaths at this stage. How can I be so bad at anticipating myself? I have practically no way to influence this project beyond the work I have already done to set it up. Just how much of the outcome has unraveled and slipped beyond my control? What if...
Panel 3:
Piter has sunk to his knees. His thoughts continue: But of course. That *has* to be it. I've internalized that my safety comes from maintaining my current situation. I have internalized this so profoundly that I have forgotten how to be anyone other than... this. Even when I am treated horribly. By treating the three clones as expendable, I have doomed them, yes... but I have also made it impossible for them to huddle near some concept of safety. I have freed them. I constructed plans around myself as I know myself to be, not as I have the potential to be. When did I forget that potential was a thing that I could have? What do those three know that I repeatedly destroy my own capacity to see?
Panel 4:
The two surviving clones, Red and Green, have reached their destination: a house that wraps around an active volcano. Green is behind Red, holding a knife to his back.
Panel 5:
Red is looking at the volcano confidently, with his face lit up by its glow. He's thinking to himself: Piter is and has been, without exaggeration, the backbone of the Harkonnen operation. He holds a lot more power than he knows. Once I kill him and take his place, I will not need to maintain his mindset of servitude. If I can get control of one of the Baron's fief worlds, that will give me a foundation for my developing plan to overthrow the Harkonnens and establish House de Vries as a Great House.
Panel 6:
Green is hanging back looking troubled, with his face in shadow. He's thinking to himself: Somehow, choosing a different path is as easy as changing behavior, and isn't as easy as that at all. The Harkonnens are evil in many clear, well-defined ways. And yet the Empire at large easily tolerated... all of *that* happening to the person whose memories I have. If I truly wanted to honor my conscience, I do not know that there would be any Great House left to support. I fear that there is no safe harbor for the best of me, and never has been. The thought makes me feel more hollow than words can express.
Panel 7:
Yellow is lying dead in the dark. There's blood on his clothes and a thin line of blood running out of his mouth. His eyes are wide open and sunken. Above him is the thought, in a box rather than a speech balloon: Everything I ever thought was important to me turned out to be a variation, nearly an arbitrary variation, of wanting to be alive and comfortable and safe.