Thick green curls of linden and pine needles bent with flexible, indestructible branches from the spacious tides of the wind, which over and over again strove to squeeze through the half-open window and look inside the room, hitting the refreshing morning coolness on the drowsy, exhausted face of a man sitting on a chair and desperately trying to collect a complete picture of his current situation in which he was an unconscious, frightened creature trying to understand what is happening around him, as well as inside himself.
Words. You have to think about them often before plucking up the courage to voice them to someone. However, over the past 24 hours I have also had to think about many things, concepts, concepts and... about many other things. But with all our efforts, the world around us does not become more understandable. Perhaps emotions are the states of all his tangible sensations. Perhaps his appearance here is an exceptional and uncontrollable accident, molded from need, pain and continuous physical consequences. They're weird. Different. Only by obeying their invisible and most powerful directions among all, can he manage to act or undertake something in spite of strong fear. When he remembers yesterday, how... he killed them, it begins to seem that their souls are haunting him. They stand and silently watch him sometimes. He senses their presence near the wall in the corridor, but does not dare turn in that direction so as not to scare them away. He didn't even know who they were. What did you want to achieve? What did you want? How would you spend the remaining days of your life? But I remembered the guy’s big blue eyes, with whom I had to enter into an unequal confrontation, both sides of which were completely unclear. On one side the sun shone dimly, the sky shimmered with a black sunset, and among ordinary people, an emptiness oozed in his chest, from which, for a moment, it seemed that the man wanted to one day get rid of it. Something strange, destructive, dark, making it impossible to be the person he could hardly resemble now. Frightened, confused, dirty nobody in this amazing picturesque place, reminiscent of meaningless names, dates and events from one tiny town that once disappeared forever.
His existence was stained with blood. The painful long contact between the bodies, thoughts, breathing hearts of beings that were touched turned out to be not so scary, not painful at all. Murder of three people. He remembered each of them, shaking with all his insignificant contacts of nerve endings from the approaching bloody images, mutilated organs to which his fingers advanced, rough pale skin absorbing the smallest share of posthumous inevitability, slowly fading away in decaying consciousnesses that would never again gain the ability to perceive. The scorching golden beads of sand, the disproportionately bright ray of the cosmic luminary from which my head was spinning and my body was tired. In that vast, mysterious desert, he met a strange multi-structured woman made of metal, sharp skin and bright feathers, who looked like someone who had escaped from a dance carnival and took a couple of strange animals with her. He managed to escape from an unforeseen cruel ending, but the price for this was someone else's life. He became death for her, painful and lonely. He doesn't want it to happen then, for it to be a reality. This creature should not have died. Was it inevitable? And how did this happen? Even those two unexplained teenage deaths. How did they die? Did they cause his instability? Madness hidden deep in the subconscious? There had to be another way to get around their ambiguous egocentrism, while still remaining to help exactly the two beings who genuinely needed help. Their names were suddenly erased from memory. First, you need to take control of yourself. All of yourself, completely? But who is he? Human? Creation? Monster? Or a teenager like those he sees so often? Everything around him seems familiar, natural and relaxed, as if everything he sees is how it should happen? This world seems completely alien, unusual and foul-smelling. It very often and mercilessly bites through his flesh, burning any thoughts and crushing all his attempts to control the situation, moving along with the supposed subjective phantasmagoric delirium. The man lowered his eyelids, concentrating on his breathing, which changed, becoming heavy. Around the crowded corridors of the hospital it is too noisy, bright and warm. I wish I could find somewhere on my body a switch, an antenna, or any other device that regulates noise reduction, the speed of air temperature changes and the variability of events that have recently caused a lot of pain, instilled fear, hopelessness, a future sense of the unknown in which only the most sophisticated horrors awaited him.
The bodies of a feminine cyborg, a blond guy who later turned out to be alive, and something of a girl with a gun on a hill, mutilated by him. The man remembered the method of reprisal against each of them down to the smallest detail, but each time he was unable to understand the very origin of this or that process. Fear persisted in yet another strange phenomenon... Indifference? Or peace? Or a little ability not to panic? This barely noticeable composure, among other mixed feelings, alarmed the man most of all. He began to feel nauseous, and the smells, as if by command, returned to him, bypassing time barriers and any adequate restrictions of the universe, within which one lost person involuntarily found himself. Blood, groans and screams of destruction. It was as if every time he stood somewhere on the sidelines, in the reckless sick reality of someone’s alienated mind, watching how the body each time dissolved next to its own shadow, which had light blue hair and red hands, as if devoid of the outer layers of skin. Right now. Doesn't he feel anything? Is this supposed to be normal? The body is still shaking from vague mixed feelings, memories and desires that are constrained by the unreal and quite tangible barriers of a new place, which will soon be replaced by something else, perhaps more peaceful, calm, or perhaps something less sane, expedient, unpredictable.
Divian. Ward. A marvelous creature resembling a fox, exhausted, dehydrated, bloodied and humiliated. Why couldn't he do anything? Help escape or fight back? Another addictive emptiness dissolved in his consciousness from which booming, quiet and not quite voices arose, blinding his eyes, clogging his ears and all his senses of charm. People, creatures. There were so many of them, while he doesn’t even know what he could be capable of and what he was deprived of, since he understands absolutely nothing. Is there a way to help them, as well as save the people he killed? It's disappointing and depressing. Skyscrapers, creatures, this noise distracts him from those strange invisible blows that take over his emotions. And still something needs to be done? But how?
— Nya-ha-ha!! Know anger A waffle maker! — the creature’s huge clawed hand shot up with a huge wave of silver-green coins, like a rapidly multiplying crater circling around the cloaked silhouette, breaking through yet another wall with stands in its path.
Consciousness seemed to be transported for a few seconds into a pitch-black alley with a wide road, which was crossed at lightning speed by many dark buses with long windows from which a bright yellow glow emanated. But it was as if there was no one inside, and a strong gust of wind rushed past my face. Like phantom explosions, rushing train cars filled the spacious corridors with coins ringing from everywhere, while all those present were instantly fenced off by the interatomic barriers of the guard flying in behind him, whose sinuous armor resembled either a mechanical golden-gray bird, or a dragon, between whose scaly plates streams of ornate translucent annihilation, spreading with the thickest atmospheric bulk, holding back clots of symbiotic flames and collapsed fragments of the building. The unknown source of output from the bulky engine passed the eyewitnesses, broke through the walls at the other end of the building, rapidly crawling upward towards the rest of the skyscrapers and leaving behind traces of flowing black flame. This guard, who appeared to be an adult, black-haired woman, clearly had tremendous combat experience in her particular position, which was painted with colored sigils on her armor, which looked like a long and scaly jacket with a straight arc rotating around her low-set left shoulder. The intricate golden curves of the armor were clad in what looked like a winter jacket, striped with metal rods and plates decorated with unusual patterns of nature. The bulky boots landed loudly on the floor, which instantly became covered with wide cracks, in which the bright glow of the compensated energy in the sole, thanks to which it landed, went out. She looked confused, barely holding onto with her mind the accumulated and interbred atmospheric mass of dense atomic particles, distorting the required percentage of space, which, being refracted by the trajectory of the synchronized mind of the guard, protected the creatures and people from injury and any contact with explosions. The storm gradually died down completely on the floor, followed by a thick dome of black smoke emanating from the chimney of the last disappearing carriage.
- Wah! Ha-ah... Now, wait... Let me catch my breath. - a tall, almost naked and terribly thin and deathly pale girl landed through a huge broken cavity in the wall, almost tripping over her own blue hair, long wet curls constantly sticking to her sharp heels. They were very long and wet, practically hugging her tall, two and a half meters tall body.
She bared her snow-white teeth, sharp as those of a shark, in exhaustion, through which her long tongue fell out. She looked like a dog exhausted after a long walk, insatiably filling her lungs with air, intensely heaving along with her naked sexless chest, from under which wide thin ribs stretched. Gray little eyes clung to the gray-faced man, and in the blink of an eye the girl herself stood in a kind of victorious pose, supposedly expressing that the situation was currently under her complete control.
- Don't panic, citizen! After all, the guard Keshima is next to you! The second princess of the Mizu family! Mistress of the seas and oceans! And I’m also very good at cooking yamakahu seaweed, if you want, I’ll definitely treat you! The Kohime Festival is approaching and I...!
- Keshima-ah!! — a female guard with black hair gave a powerful kick to the girl, who in fear jumped almost to the ceiling. - Stop swallowing dust with your nose! The intruder escaped due to your fault!
- How did I know that his waffles would be so delicious!?
“You had to keep an eye on him and not gobble up those waffles on both cheeks and refuse to pay for them!”
- Yes, it was just a test! How was I supposed to know that I had to pay for them!!?
Keshima spread her arms hysterically, bulging her eyes and lowering her jaw in bewilderment with its snow-white sharp teeth, between which the tip of her tongue remained dangling.
- Yes, because in the world you have to pay for everything, were you transferred to us from kindergarten or something!? The fool told me not to take you with me! But they count chickens in the fall!
— I’m on my second day of internship, why are there so many complaints against me!?
- Yes, because you wanted to become the hero of Tuenshi! Or is it only in words!? The swallow ends the day, and the nightingale begins!
A bulky human silhouette, under the ringing blows of boots merging with the interthigh discs, with a rapid step found itself behind them in another vestment of armor. Another guard appeared out of nowhere and unceremoniously grabbed both of them by the ears. It was a young man with a calm, slightly expressed irritation on his face. Thick brown hair, transparent stubble around wide cheekbones, expanding towards his sunken temples. His dark green, expressive eyes looked judiciously at the woman, and then at Keshima.
- Stop embarrassing yourself in front of everyone, immediately calm down and catch up with the criminal. Otherwise, I can’t vouch for myself. — He turned his gaze to the eldest. — Officer Clementine?
- As you order, Captain Teshio! One foot is here, the other is washing hands!
- Ay-ya-ya-ay! I understand you! I'm already running! — like a slippery fish, Keshima slipped out of the officer’s hand, jumping into a huge destroyed crater among a spacious wall with a dumbfounded gnome clutching in his hand a toasted bouquet of flowers of which only stems remained.
The gray-faced man’s exhausted gaze seemed as if it could fall away at any moment, break off from his body like a cracked marble mound and crash on the floor with a roar. He terribly wanted to sleep, to again wrap himself in a huge warm blanket like in that infirmary, not to hear or realize anything. There were so many strange sensations, emotions and pain throughout his whole body, which seemed to fall apart into pieces, and then reassemble into one whole skeleton at a time when his consciousness once again sank into blackness. It would seem that everything that happens should have a certain logic, cause and consequences. Two and a half days spent in this world turned out to be a terribly painful experience, causing an unpredictable flow of the absurdity of the current situation, in which he is the simplest tiny person, surrounded by the chaos of the developing imprinted nature, whose structure he is not able to understand, and to cope with its atmosphere. Not yet capable? All that remains is to strive forward in the direction of the unpredictable fantastic flow in the hope of getting the first answers in this place.
-You are in poor health. - Still restrained and calm, the guard outlined the very disastrous state of a man slowly walking in small steps.
- I need to go to the doctor...
Staggering slightly, clutching a compact tablet in his hand, the man wandered along the corridor with an inexhaustible expression of fatigue on his face, which over the past 24 hours had begun to seem completely alien to him. It was as if something had forced his soul into this complex, constantly exhausted, weak and constantly painful fleshly vessel. The worsening condition of the body was unnerving, intensifying some unpleasant emotion that was beating louder than all the others. Although no, she fought nearby and just as strongly as the desire to help. He needed answers in order to finally understand All. He needed strength in order to protect the half-fox, thoughts of which constantly pop up in his head with an inflamed disease, a terrifying severe migraine, for which there is only one cure in the world. Her wounded body, deathly pale bloody face, mutilated fox ears. In this world, then, there are other people, beings who need help, protection, healing? In any corner of the world still unknown to him, in absolutely any period of time in which he is absolutely lost and in any atmospheric state, staying in the rarest moments of life.
He already felt the pain of a torn chest, lower abdomen, impacts of his forearms on hot desert stones from a great height and the feeling of teeth knocked out through torn lips. He remembered the moment when something iron pierced his chest vaguely and indistinctly. A destructive agony was also aroused inside him, giving rise to the fruits of hatred, fear, a sense of the unknown and immensely humiliating guilt for what he had done and what he was not capable of. Then you have to learn everything. More carefully and carefully look for a way out of this or that problem, and there will probably be many of them in his life. But will you be able to cope with at least one of them? Most of my thoughts are captured by the exhausted gaze of the mutilated fox, surrounded by those terrible people. Could there be something much more unhappy than her look? At the moment, he already has one problem. But now it is impossible to even imagine its possible resolution. The hypothetical perspective is completely absent, along with logic, which a person could not at least imagine in his head. He didn't even understand or know how to think. It seemed to him as if he did not understand the huge number of words, numbers and phenomena that rush past him. He is like a wild animal that was forcibly torn away from his native habitat, some kind of jungle, rainy tropics, and then thrown onto the avenues of a city crowded with some intelligent creatures, in which everything is noisy, bright and very incomprehensible. The only catch is that he completely forgot about his primal instincts, or maybe he didn’t even know them? Have you never felt or been guided by them? Like something wretched, lame, stupid. Maybe he is not an animal, and not even a person at all? Then what? Something that is below the subatomic organic chain or even the Planck length? Is he nothing? And the appearance of this body and all these feelings, a mistake for one single moment of the distorted flow of nature?
"You're weird!"
"You're right! You're a disappointment! Absolutely for everyone and for her!"
“So, for everyone who was facing a quick death and a subsequent type of afterlife judgment, this seraph left similar criss-crossing scars on their bodies.”
“How can I explain to you... Not him. But the one who is inside him. Well, or, not inside him, but around him.”
"The dead brain suddenly limited itself to its own thoughts in Nothing."
“Sometimes it seems to me that you are so crazy that you are smarter than all of us...”
The man stopped in front of the door to the therapy department. He froze, thought for a moment and almost fell to the floor. The strong need for sleep and acute pain under the ribs increasingly mercilessly drove away and dispelled any thoughts, turning them into a tangible, colorless veil. But it was immediately eclipsed by the sharp and spacious aroma of something warm, sweet and attractive. Something was similar to coffee, which only further lulled the consciousness of the morally exhausted adventurer, who had finally lost hope for peace in the present day.
This hospital was a countless tangle of corridors, halls and spacious rooms with quirky and branching vines in the form of stairs, ramps and elevator installations. Everything seemed somehow cozy, inviting even the most taken aback guest, who in two and a half days could probably survive more than any immortal creature over the course of even hundreds of thousands of years inside a locked luxurious castle. The walls in each compartment were painted in matching minimalist tones, which were often interspersed with distinctive furniture upholstery on the ceilings, grotesque carved patterns on the floors, in the often furnished corners of the rooms and their passages to the next building. Everything is neatly illuminated, covered with a tablecloth or decorated with velvet plaster layers that would not harm even the most sensitive child’s palm. Sometimes consciousness seemed to be transferred to crowded underground platforms, along which little people were scurrying about, chatting about something or waiting for their Charon, hoping not to stray from the right path.
According to personal feelings, it was as if the person had spent the whole day in these cramped and sometimes confusing labyrinths of an endless hospital, visiting almost all the doctors. Some examinations and certain body tests had to be postponed to another session due to the man’s unstable health condition. What seemed most unusual, perhaps a little unpleasant, was an examination by a certain andrologist, who was assisted by several other doctors in the person of traumatologists and physiotherapists. All the doctors, without exception, whom he had already visited, either looked askance or in surprise at him, but then, of course, explaining the reason for their competent confusion caused by the fact that the organism of his body in most of their structures was completely different from their nature, although in appearance he was the same person as the others. Starting from the very covers of the muscles, hair fibers, retina, bone structure and ending with the shape of the brain, stomach, lungs, liver and heart, located under the left broad muscle, and not in the middle like in normal there are creatures here.
“I can assure you with confidence that you are an alien!” - said the elderly psychologist-therapist with an encouraging smile, once again returning to the paperwork with his documents. - Just like your comrade Kuroba.
- Kuroba? - asked the gray-faced man, who had previously carefully examined the next room, which smelled of summer, gingerbread and some extraordinary series on TV. Carved calligraphy from wood and stone materials resembled intricate patterns, as if huge thick carpets were hanging on the walls.
- Yes, Kuroba Satoshi. You and he returned together with... - he hesitated a little and looked away, thinking with difficulty.
- Am I an alien? How is he? — the man tried to closely observe the doctor’s behavior.
- Hm. You actually have a lot in common, at least neurologically. - Exhaling heavily, the doctor stamped the new outpatient card and signed several times on several pages. “You should have a discussion about this with our chief physician, as well as with Mr. Satoshi himself, they will be able to provide you with enough constructively useful information.”
“I...” the gray-faced man hesitated, looking down and clenching his fists tightly.
- Hm?
The doctor reacted sharply, looking at the tired gray face of an unhappy man, very unsure of himself, scared and completely lost both in his thoughts and in the world which he perceived differently from others. His gaze never once throughout the day shone with any emotion, did not express surprise, reprehensibility, curiosity or corresponding indifference. His eyes darted to the sides, as if they wanted to absorb this entire expanse of life, which he clearly did not understand, and which puzzled, constrained his movements, creating one noun obstacle after another in front of him. He looked like someone who lost everything he had one day. Friends, family, all his emotions and desires, completely filling his story. It was as if this had happened a long time ago, but he had never learned to cope with the excess of negative feelings that were gradually destroying his personality.
The situation with Mr. Zsigmond and the group of other doctors was carefully explained. strip a man whose appearance outside the border of Tuenshi, but then directly inside the walls, caused widespread suspicion and alarm, generated by the illegal and undetected entry into the territory of the armed forces of the state. But the most important event at the moment is considered to be that this individual returned to life after he once died in a skirmish with an ordinary soldier who pierced the body of a man with the body of an interfloor door. The wound on the body has completely healed, apparently re-creating the missing organic cells of his organs, bones and muscles, without going too far with their number and the rapidly developing auxiliary immune systems. But even this was not the only strangeness of the man sitting in front of him, because the specific structure of his blood, which does not exist in the nature of this world, did no harm foxes when she was dying, keeping her alive during an unimaginable six-hour transfusion. Sigmund cannot even count on the fingers of both hands how many times the Fox was on the verge of life and death. At those moments, everyone was afraid for her fate, because not a single blood in the world could be suitable for transfusion. Even the universal blood vessels of the nephalem only harmed her body, almost killing her. But what is happening now simply defies logical explanation. The case is extremely extraordinary, and its consequences can be very different, but first of all, unpredictable.
Rumors fly faster than any aerial bird, and the whole hospital learned about the resurrected, who did not harm the fox with his blood, a mysterious guy with complete loss of memory. He was an amazing person who, judging by his appearance, does not even suspect his uniqueness, or he tries to completely ignore its attachment, which to some extent, of course, burdens his life, the meaning of which is also unknown to him.
It hurts me a lot - The words stretched out painfully long in his unstable subconscious, wanting to find peace. But at the last moment the gray-faced man stopped short, confused and cautiously trying to find words.
- I don’t know what to do...
He sighed rather noisily and convulsively, as if, along with his exhalation, he had released a pile of heavy stones that mercilessly squeezed him all from the inside, where under their unshakable monstrous mass all his thoughts were crushed and destroyed, which inevitably flowed somewhere down into the hopeless darkness, gradually rising with its heterogeneous oppressive mass upward to his healthy mind, becoming ever larger in size and seamlessly covering one nerve cell after another. The only thing that held most tightly on top of his desperately trying to retain a piece of adequacy along with an intelligible order of actions of the understanding was empathy, covering other people's faces, those that he could see or that he could not even imagine. This feeling was the only thing that the gray-face tried to hold on to, submitting to this unpredictable cognitive wave of the creature and following the basic instinct that had been beating in his heart since the very moment of awareness that appeared in the endless golden desert. Perhaps this was one of those things that would help him regain the lost, extinct, never-existent memory of himself? Or will it be the source of finding your true self, a person who has been shipwrecked on this strange island of disorder? But what is order? What does harmony mean and what does it look like? The mass of bodies, from the largest and incommensurably small, without a numerical sequence and a complete atmospheric limit, deepening with a limitless spectrum of breathing molecules.
The doctor slowly moved in his chair closer to the man, handing him a tablet along with a thin outpatient book.
- Listen, boy. — he waited for a short pause, then caught the attentive gaze of the unfortunate man. - A very long and strange life awaits you ahead, all its oddities, obstacles, indignations cannot be avoided, you will not be able to protect yourself from everyone, protect the one you care about, and even more so predict their appearance, the outcome of your every decision... You must try to see more than anyone else. The most important thing to remember is don't stop. If one day you find yourself in a trap from which you cannot get out on your own, or which you do not want to leave, then start screaming. Scream with all your might, scream until you hear yourself myself...And then others will hear you.
After thinking a little about what was said, the gray-faced man looked around in indecision. He is in a very difficult situation that requires caution and insight in relation to the people, phenomena, and events around him. A chaotic and creepy meeting with a man named Divian and his company further strengthens this idea. To be so helpless and confused in front of them was very unpleasant. He remembered that crazy look that was contrary to human nature. Poor wounded fox, driven into a corner by a horde of powerful monsters who have renounced morality, respect and common sense. "Could I have done anything?" - the gray-faced man asked the same questions, remembering his fear, his weakness, his disobedience to his emotions. Her look. Despair, exploding with a serene strong flame, whose fierce fierce radiance shone in her crimson eyes, shuddering along with his heart, which seemed to be beating furiously against his circulatory system at that moment, wanting to tear apart any obstacles in its path, even if they were bones and muscles, but only to get to the source of torment, destroy it, so that all this chaos would stop, dissolve into countless billions of particles, following behind which alien silhouettes will evaporate, mocking the poor exhausted beast.
— "Wha? Just scream at the top of your lungs? Well, we can do that.“- a quiet, reflective voice came from somewhere, which the doctor next to the patient who was looking around in confusion probably didn’t even hear. Or didn’t attach any importance to it.
“I think I know where I want to start.” — the man said hesitantly, weakly squeezing the prospects handed to him for a possible, perhaps not quick, but still cure, while rarely looking around.
“I wish you success in this, young zohut!” — he greeted the guy with a sincere smile on his new journey. — If you need a preventive conversation or something bothers you, you can contact us at any time. We will discuss everything and solve any of your problems. Agreement?
Having said a warm goodbye, the wanderer, doomed by a difficult fate, wandered between the corridors crowded with turmoil in the direction of the exit from the therapeutic department of the hospital.
Accumulated anxiety after a recent event explosive incident, gradually faded against the background of carefree people scurrying about, orderlies, some silhouettes dressed in the splendor of silver-golden armor and other individuals whose racial affiliations were not entirely clear to him. Or maybe they were all gods? Everyone except that nimble boy bursting with laughter with azure-yellow curls and large eyes green like spring grass. His face is so beautiful, pure, as if copied from an ancient biblical book, which was revived by divine madness. Small oval eyelids, slightly tousled with thick light eyelashes. Slightly chubby little fingers clutching patchwork fabric with jumbled brown buttons. A girl a little older than him, with the same pearly-clean face and thick, thick hair the color of the darkest night, biting her round cheeks with curled silky strands, squinted angrily over the boy. Near them, an elderly couple probably rested peacefully, whose ceremonial light blankets seemed to be folded together into a spacious, lush blanket, on which their embraced hands lay in the interweaving of beautiful summer trees on which colorless apples ripened, and near them small sparrows were chatting as usual. These birds seem very familiar, beautiful, amazing. The elderly woman politely interrupted the discussion with her husband, smiled affectionately and began to explain something to the boy, who instantly changed his face and borrowed tact from his older sister.
The next room looked more and more like someone’s spacious, comfortable apartment. There are vases without flowers, people with oval heads in black suits are drinking something hot from curved saucers, continuous discussions, whispers, noise and din. Adult and young faces, completely new, or did they live here a long time ago? Everything is so familiar. Another new sensation eclipses the previous one, developing on the tips of his fingers, in his shoulders, in his chest, in his bones, in every subsequent movement of his brain and body, no matter how much they hurt and no matter how much his rapidly changing thoughts repelled him. And again, is something bothering him, or warming him up? I want to know what it's called.
It was as if the rickety armchairs, chairs and people scurrying around them served him as a small island, an impromptu landmark that ended abruptly and was immersed in a thick, endless stench of smells. Black ribbons frolicked across the tiles following thick men's boots, the path of which was blocked by beige rising slabs. Next to a large plant living on a huge wall and a wooden bench, the gray-faced one noticed a dark hole in the wall. Barely reaching a meter, from the inside it expanded more and more, creating rounded embracing funnels of black rock, very sharp and shiny like a blade. From there stretched neural wires, some lighting and two nut bolts. It was quiet there. It might even be cold. The blue-black veil of unknown space began to be associated with a winter night along which a highway floated through the car window, dimly glowing lampposts and snow-covered wandering fur coats, electric wires flickering dimly in the darkness. His fingers grabbed one and slowly pulled it across the floor, littered with carpet, old candy wrappers and very thick dark grass that softly crushed under his knees and elbows along with the ground. All this looks like a cave, which someone’s courage has visited long ago, allowing him to enjoy a portion of caramels in such an eerie and cool place. The jaw shook a little, the knuckles were covered with a thin crust of imaginary ice.
Near an underground river reflecting a strange blue light, among blades of grass that are less dense and merge with the darkness. A silhouette could be seen nearby, like a lonely little shadow pressed on all sides, which would soon disappear from the touch of the bright blue light, quietly frolicking along with the small vibrations of the water. As it turned out, as the person approached the near depths of the cave, the girl was sitting dressed in a dark, probably hand-knitted suit, leaning her back against the sharp rocky walls. She had long straight hair, whose color was an all-encompassing shadow mixed with the gloomy and hopeless emptiness behind her fragile back, covering the spacious shadow borders. The faded brown eyes were small and round, like a child's. The face is a little thin and pale. Thin light lips were probably also covered with an equally thin crust of ice, created by the extremely low temperature and long months. Low-hanging nets of burgundy and brown weaves, slightly stained with dust and wet mud, which were also visible on her huge black boots with thick soles and round copper clasps around the ankles, similar to buttons, weakly warmed her legs and sharp knees, which the girl did not release from her weak embrace. It seemed that a few more moments and her finger lock would open. Next to her lay several large scarves of two colors: green and yellow. There were also dishes gathering dust on them: antique copper coasters for glass cups with curved ears, glasses with repainted frames, a silver samovar, wrenches, nails and many different inventions from eras long forgotten by everyone, falling out of a huge cabinet that smelled strongly of oak wood and old age. From the crack of the ugly wooden window, which turned out to be behind the wide wall of the closet, the cold air came, howling pitifully, as if wanting to share with someone its experiences about the impending changes on this earth. Big black feathers. Frozen sharp beak. Sharp claws held tightly to the metal protrusion. The raven sitting in the cage seemed to politely glance sideways at this wind, rounding its emerald eyes, listening, listening to its disembodied ghostly syllables.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The man tried to get close to the unknown girl as quietly as possible, not finding a comfortable place for himself among the sharp lumps and coals protruding from everywhere, scattering like sand or dry, sun-baked earth. He carefully, trying not to disturb anyone's peace, examined this strange, unreliable-looking shelter. It did not protect the young lady in front of him from any threats, disasters or anomalies. Perhaps this place was not intended to be protected by anyone or anything. Perhaps every stone digging into his hand, the cold air from which his throat choked, the bright rays of mystical light burning through the depths of a crystal clear river, all this was self-created by chance, and one day all this will accidentally die, just like his memory of this moment.
A strong gust of wind again knocked the man's breath away, opening his gaze to the other end of the cave, from which dim daylight could be heard. It was gray, and sometimes dark and gloomy, like a February winter night, in which the all-encompassing darkness above the face raised upward is cut by a spacious snowy edge, which in a couple of moments will disappear into the dark bottomless waters into which one’s foot accidentally steps. The path to the light was blocked by icy rags, boots and wet rags hanging on ropes. Broken by painful heat and fatigue, the gaze shifted back to the girl, to her overly large and wet shoes, reminiscent of those worn either by soldiers or travelers with very large feet. But the unknown woman in front of him looked too small and weak for such dimensions of the volume of the sole, which cannot be said about her simple-looking clothes, a little woolen, warm and ending with a long skirt. But my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an indescribably strange simple sound. Voice. Incorporeal. Faceless. Loose. Indescribably ordinary and understandable.
- My words. And my voice. They disappear one after another. And I disappear after them in a chaotic cycle, unique, next, different...
The raven incessantly watched the silhouette approaching its former owner, confused, hungry, and a little sick. Hearing a quiet and seemingly girlish voice, it seemed to the man that in those seconds a large black raven was speaking to him, locked in a cold steel cage from which he could easily get out through the slightly open door. Are his claws cold?
The girl turned around, looking into the burdened human gaze. Her small nose became tense, trying to hold her breath, and her body contracted more from a strange cold that none of those present understood, but from which she wanted to get rid of. While the fleeting memory of her cheeks pink from the cold, long fingers, a completely ordinary voice, accumulated knowledge and movements of short straight eyelashes, thin neck and elbows had not yet dissolved in the inexhaustible palaces of the disconnected molecular boundaries of space, she admitted to the creature next to her that she was already ceasing to exist in the form of one single and random illusion, created equally randomly in another random consciousness, within which she existed for an absolute and incomprehensible infinity for her contacts, or rather one second. A short moment incomprehensible to anyone’s consciousness. It is an imaginary sound, a memory, a feeling, once and never again an unrealizable feeling from which the brightest illusory sprouts of harmony appear in the heart, spreading along the neurons of the brain with rapidly fading streams of chemical space. Somewhere among the constantly burning and deepest recesses of memory and the brain damaged by aging. But now it is nothing. Not a word, not a sound, a sensation, a concept, a color, a distance, a mass, an organ, an atom... knock-knock... This never existed.
The man hesitated when he saw a barely noticeable glimpse on her face, probably left by a small tear, another fleeting shade that instantly disappears from her face along with the little finger and two middle fingers on her hands. Now he was gripped by fear, because it was this tear on her face that he himself had already created. Or rather, his stubborn ego, which he himself has not yet managed to understand. But the unknown life form in front of him was not subject to anger, embarrassment, confusion or resentment. It was always uncontrollable, meaningless, lasting only one second, a stream of someone’s vanished illusoryness.
- But if none of this happened... then what is there now? - Speaking painfully with a cold in his throat, the man felt heat on his cheeks. Then I got a headache.
The girl lowered her eyelids. Long soft sleeves hugged her pale lips. It could no longer speak, there was no reason or origin in what exactly the particles of her incomprehensible underside of consciousness, skirt or head, as well as her own desire, were rejecting.
— No one ever knows this, no one sees, no one understands just like me. Oblivion with the instinct of pain. Genocide is in your blood... What will your chaotic movement lead to again? — the ordinary sound of her voice quietly approached his consciousness, sick and filled with questions. — Creation. Destruction. Saving...
- I don't know... But I have to do something. Constantly moving somewhere. At least try. - the aching pain in the head, irresistible fatigue in the legs, arms, heart and shoulder blades was very exhausting, generating emotional space from anger, destruction, decomposition. But the will of his mind was stronger than every perceived emotion and sensation. His will is both a raging and stagnant stream in one space, rushing from somewhere in the middle, from an unknown bottomless abyss behind him. Perhaps it is there that the answers to one of his most important questions are hidden - what is he?
— You're scared. Seized by rapid panic. And lost. — the unknown before him turned out to be something too insightful for an illusion. Perhaps he himself was an illusion in these moments?
“I’m afraid that I might not remember what I once lost.” I feel like I've lost a lot. I... I have to figure out how to find it. Must... See. See everything...
— Hmmm... - she lowered her face, lowering her chin and lips into the soft black sleeves, slightly opening her eyelids. — I really want to touch your fear. To merge with it completely... Understand what it is. Of all your conditions, right now this is the strongest.
“But there’s nothing normal about this.” — the man suggested, touching his hot forehead with his hand.
— But it's alive. Isn't that right? — she looked carefully at the human face. — Will you agree to take me home?
“But...” he looked closely at the dim gray light ahead, seeming like a dark, impenetrable veil. He was confused and sad. - But there’s nothing there.
— But next to this Nothing one day I appeared. I'm no more. I don't disappear anymore. — a calm and ordinary voice answered him naively when she herself, nothing more than a touchless void, could not fully perceive everything that was happening. — House. You will end up there too. A place where all non-living beings disappear.
- I don't understand. — the man closed his eyes again from the pain in his head, trying to at least understand something. “Then how could I meet you now?” Hear? Why...
- You accidentally invented me. Probably seeing the reflection of a face you know, hearing a song you never knew about. Finding a distant figure in one single room that reminded me of me. By creating my reflection on an icy shard of glass... One moment, maybe even less. It was enough for me to fall into oblivion forever. Maybe I've always been there. Maybe I am this nothingness... You saw me. Created again. - she extends a thin and frost-tempted pale hand, shimmering with fleeting youth on an aged and erupting black cracks around the gray skin of a human hand.
- Is this... such an accident? That is... Coincidence? - he asked a question, helping the unknown woman to lean on his sore arm.
— I don't know anything. - a voice answered much quieter than usual, but out of confusion and self-doubt, he decided not to ask again. — What are you afraid of? — she asked, gradually slowing down her steps near the edge of a rocky-sandy cliff, around which an endless silvery edge of a sea of sand, small mountains and indistinguishable gray rivers rubbed. This space seemed to be covered with a limitless layer of ash and resulting dust, which no force could move from its place.
— I met some people... cruel... indifferent... others? - Squeezing out words through force, he carefully stepped over the stones and held the hand of his unknown companion, from time to time squinting from the acute pain in his head and heat throughout his body. It seemed that he would soon faint.
— What were they aiming for?
- I don't know. They offended... Fox...
— What does it mean? - the voice pronounced almost syllable by syllable.
- Not sure. They say there is only one like this in the world. — he thought, then stopped and felt something tightly squeezing inside him. It was as if something had grabbed hold of a part of his consciousness, his soul. Maybe it was the heart. - I'm afraid that... I'll die again, but I won't come back. I won’t even have time... I won’t be able to help her. And probably... others.
The unknown woman slowly pulled away from the strange companion pursuing her and let go of his hand. Now my knees were pressed against the warm and at the same time cold earth, inside of which a trembling was faintly felt. The gaze swept with serenity along the distant, gigantic and dilapidated white slabs that were comparable in size to entire islands. From the barren gray earth they rose like trees, completely empty, bare, without ripe fruit, signs of destruction or skillful carving. They showed up one day. And one day they will disappear?
The winds rock a cold, endless layer of sand, rising into endless rounded plains and hills, along which both of them suddenly wanted to walk, looking at the unknown expanses. She would like to understand who and when erected these columns and whether anything was hidden on their tops. Perhaps from their height it was possible to see in the sky that same bright spot that used to warm the earth under our feet, which made our eyes feel painful, hot and warm. A strong light, the touch of which was always pleasant to fall asleep. The hollow girl's gaze fell lower, turning away from the thin crimson shell, countless blood nodes and chimeric stem particles, dissolving into the darkness of the void with an all-encompassing tangible barrier.
— Everything is your will... Man?
The breath caught in his throat, and then came the realization that he could no longer absorb with his organs the light moisturizing substances that were no longer there, which had absorbed the all-consuming supermassive voids, which the distorted decomposition of his own organic nature did not allow to count, falling into the void along with the visual fibers.
Rising above the forests, the columns lay in complex geometric shapes one on top of the other in a shaky cyan-dark tower, with the rough bodily movements of mountain stones and earthy soil around a sun-baked river, shifting red sand, unyielding lush green trees, sticky mud and poisonous plants. With an unknown and faceless elemental force, they grew high into the sky like a shapeless gigantic branch, gradually touching the chimeric ends of wild petals to the closest stars among all the others. But having covered themselves with thin crusts of ice, they began to decompose, dying off into painful clumps of endlessly multiplying tiny particles, after which not even a single large speck of dust remains from the last disappearing quarks... but inside of which, freeing themselves from: until that moment, closed and erupting layers of new endless separation, with the empty tangible universe, boundless primordial masses began to interbreed, inevitably eclipsing the now disappeared and never existing particles.
The space breathes, changes, growing decaying crimson dwarfs around the dazzling planetary nebula, which for an infinitely long time is carried away into the all-consuming end of existence by the surreal winds of dazzling darkness.
Nothing moves. There is no more decomposition, it has evaporated into the lightest layers of the very last and endlessly disappearing connecting link of the contracting lone quark, just as a cosmic flame goes out at the tip of the charred and turning to dust of the unreal tree of the universe.
and then Nothing..
..And nothing, never there was no
The Wave is freed from infinity, long ago generated by the primordial sun by the waves of breakaway existence, invading the once native palaces of this space . They bulge, shrinking inside from continuous chaotic reactions, biting into each other, tearing, absorbing it space in a sophisticated confrontation with the terrifyingly collapsing pressures of the absorbing voids.
Chaos scatters its own organs of the distorted universe, as if exploding itself from the inside next to the distorted black holes, which seem to be melted by endlessly spacious liquid layers of baryonic sections, destroyed by boundless alien spaces, which only after billions of generations realized by an intelligent being will be circled with ambiguous complex symbols: appear. But right now, the dissolving remnants of the mass of dark matter are sadly flowing into the bottomless and desolate abyss of infinity, leaving behind a place for countless reproductions, decompositions and exploding chimeric reactions of new evolving currents of the rising youth nature.
The next Wave sweeps through with a silent, space-scarring echo of writhing alien matter, leaving behind deep wounds, warmed by the colorful eruptions of endless bright galaxies. Thick motionless clouds, magical cosmic dust, embracing every innumerable particle of the universal canvas, tangible And intangible.
Shapeless, flimsy columns are being erected again, growing in a complete interweaving of matter into a breathing tower that tirelessly multiplies amid internal battles, absorbing moist yellow earth, thick black leaves, flexible calcareous branches, coals charred by lightning strikes, centuries-old moss overgrown with microbes. Withstanding the raging murmur of shifting earth plates, heavy hail of rain and stones, shaking blows of the storm. Until one single moment, when the blossoming stems of a flower almost come into contact with the dark cosmic radiance, until this chaotic pyramid collapses, leaving ruins around it, sophisticated with damage, then here and there crushing the wandering bodies of creatures, insects, thick greenhouse gases, dissolving under the celestial brightest halo crushing space.
The next Wave sweeps high above the scorched and icy surface, pushing away the heaviest gray matter that has already fallen so low that it has begun to come into contact with the palisades of fading yellow sprouts that have become related to deeply buried seeds. But when they come into contact with the ground, they burn, covering wide cracks with a massive wet blanket, falling into dying plexuses of nuclei from growing green blisters of bleeding flesh.
Ugly rains of asteroids pierce the spatial layers with sharp humpbacked hills, destroying the moving bodies of microbes beneath them, burning the habitat seething in agony. The flame burns for many years, centuries, epochs, but one day it goes out under the thick snow-white flakes of aggregate patterns of frozen drops of water. Chaotic periods of world bacteria interbreeding with new elements of mutilated existence pass.
And one day, on top of the thick pads of oozing liquid flesh, nail joints are formed, compressing the milky womb.
The creatures' skinny and strong hands hold on to the fragile arrays of mechanisms, placing one stone after another. One wooden block is attached to all the others. The chaotic dark corridors are being built into a new tower, sparkling with stalactites and precious eruptions of underground sources, rising high to the night sky, hidden from the white sun by wandering dark clouds. Continuous rains wash away ancient inscriptions, covering the cracked rectangular slabs with slimy green vegetation. Centuries-long, the common labors of creatures crash among one of the countless deserted islands, drowning in thick blue lakes and bloody swamps draining the stench of death. Birds crash on thick, scratched stones. From the gloomy cramped nests low animal cries are heard from chewed wings, bones, small muscles and muscles torn by a thousand claws. It dragged everything living, everything warm inside, filling the thick belly of the gigantic structure with a colossal mass of waste until it began to fall apart into small and massive pieces.
Heavy iron bracers, staining their own honor with the shed blood of innocents, lay out complex metal grooves, assembling majestic constructs from a variety of concrete and stone materials. From month to month they unite into a still growing marble tower, which acquires new spacious chambers and sacred temples, prayer beds touching the snow-white clouds of cosmic dust. Torment inside, distraught by hatred, envy, the stinginess of the primitive mind, rains down exploding shells on the massive walls of the broken tower, before breathing his last echoing breath, carried away from this land under the pressure of a terrifyingly strong hurricane, painting the former virgin world in super-giant ruins, poisonous rains, icy wastelands.
Decorated with decaying covers of old films, musicals and folk stories about the history of one of the most ancient civilizations, wide gray bridges diverge in front of a rebuilt ancient tower, whose head-cut upper part of a chaotic bleeding structure tilts over smaller multi-level structures, factories, which are again hit by a rocket barrage of bright multi-colored flashes, erasing the last from history mentions of a notebook with an adult name of a once-existing mother, unable to come to terms with the death of the former wonderful world, devoid of love, warmth, peace, hope...
A skinny little girl whose hair is darker than a deep hot coal, and whose body looks sicker than any dead creature presented to the morgue department on a lonely deathbed. Her fingers timidly squeeze the steel pen, putting hope in the crooked letters on the sheet of paper that gradually form into her own name. A name devoid of meaning, color, feeling, desire, interpretation, history, humanity about which I never knew anything except the sound, a strange cognitive aftertaste at the ends of her consciousness that... never existed. Just like these meaningless speech units of self-awareness. Dots, commas, glass, vision... Attempts to embody, to demonstrate to you something painful, beautiful, missing.
"This..."
«The world in which she was created by random consciousness" — a familiar voice landed on his shoulders.
"What's happening?"
«Nothing. Everything perished, dissolved and disappeared along with the unbridled palaces of the endless universe.”
“How can infinity cease?”
“Because the infinity of your reality is surrounded by limitless layers of unreal waste from Other spaces, ejected by the thoughts and instincts of beings, suffering and distortions of the molecular remnants of dismembered existence, which no one’s thinking intellect, emotion, or organ could ever comprehend. For in that boundless ancient period, everything had limitations tangible to existence... But it’s too early for you to look so deeply, you won’t be able to withstand this flow of information. Now she WILL DESTROY you."
He did not immediately feel the smooth and cold surface on his cheek. The push of the wind into his body was quite noticeable, causing the gray-faced man to roll back on his shoulders, hitting the back of his head lightly on the floor. When I opened my eyes, I saw the usual light wall, blocked by a long bedside table with drawers, beautiful wallpaper and a large painting depicting a dark gloomy ocean in which a tall brown frigate with dark sails persisted in the raging elements of the storm. Once again, the cozy yellowish light of fluorescent installations, decorative lamps with beige-light green curtains, ceilings painted with wooden carvings above which either tiny people or small animals were running erratically. All around him was the same familiar hospital corridor. Silhouettes were scurrying around everywhere, someone's life and different titles and names. And he just ended up here, sitting near the fireplace on a small and soft carpet.
***
Limitless creation of nature. Their chaotic giant bodies hit the fantastic layering of the atmosphere, the air surface, causing a catastrophic earthquake, destroying the structures of massive and tiny structures, causing everything around to crumble like a countless number of different giant grains, among which it was impossible to distinguish cars, natural parks, and silhouettes rolling to the sides. Systems of connecting buildings, mechanical prosthetics of road bridges and some system satellites, under raging tongues of flame and smoke, fall down onto highways, avenues of an area overcrowded with living creatures, between numerous streets, central work buildings and other infrastructure structures that are now enslaved by the elements of destruction. Distorted by an unknown force of giants, systematic hills, convulsing organs, lepidopteran blades, covered in excretions with screams, entire residential areas turn into overcrowded ruins, pouring over the edge of mountainous massifs and hitting the sharp edges of sky-high lead-brown buildings, gradually, stubbornly covering themselves with ugly and pressing inside with breaks.
The most defenseless, the lowest blood creatures die instantly, slowly, in an inevitably painful disorder. Are these faces familiar to anyone? Vote. Their every single intention, every subsequent moment devoid of movement, comprehension, to continue to run forward, getting out from under the rubble, a ferocious fanged mouth from lighting spotlights, glass, bones, memory, plum fillers and someone's nostrils. The developing wave of destruction overcame several more natural and artificially arising obstacles in the form of magnetic barriers, like a slowed-down cosmic ring of multifaceted asteroids, cutting the entire planet beneath it in two. Piercing. Tearing. Ripping open all the internal organs of a single and still breathing organism.
An immensely gigantic body, at one end of which darts a fragment of a head with mechanical chains from countless hybrid links of bone enzymes of a severed organ, on par with the indescribably multiplying environment of an indescribably colossal spine, crawling with incredible speed along the fragments of overheated roads, destroying them and raising the densest domes from fragmented sidewalks, columns and other surroundings, knocking over everything in its path, not to mention the frightened crooks from another neighboring area. The endless picturesque puzzles of the city are crushed under the yoke of crushing bodily force, jumping from commercial airships to spacious weightless structures of parks, temples and theaters. A powerful force, accumulated in one chain-mechanical connection, hits the next building, climbing up it with sharp nails like an animal, devoid of its own body except for one human hybrid head, in which the teeth from the mouth have turned into those very nails around the elongated phalanges of fingers, rapidly reaching the very top: In the very epicenter of the ongoing chaos, along long kilometers, through all the highways, streets and floating high in the sky of the building, a simulating, almost infinitely long spine of mechanical links, vertebrae and cartilage, which were surrounded by tortured bleeding flesh and steel, was already stretched everywhere. In some places, fragments of thick, shell-like skin appeared. Their end grew to a huge human head, the size of fifty to sixty meters, with light gray, slightly pinkish beautiful skin. Long, luxurious eyes with blurry pale green pupils, similar to yolks that were broken and spilled along a snow-white burning frying pan of heterogeneous sclera. Wide, sharp cheekbones with flexible wrinkles around elastic skin. The flexible forehead was covered with thick, seemingly graying hair with woolen curls at the back of the head, but the earlobes, wings of the nose and chin were as if pierced with precious ancient stones, a few sparkling around the skin with the silvery poetry of corrupting thinking in the bright rays of the rising sun.
The expressive madness in the sexless eyes of this creature seemed to embrace every fragment of this space, every life, thought, desire, mixed blood circulation, decayed in time of origin and...
The gigantic head jumped down again, developing behind it a fabulous speed and a spinal whip immensely destroying everything in its path. From the huge destroyed depression in the ground, fragments of surfaces, glass and ceilings scattered, adding their mutilated outlines to the general multiplying dark pit of ruins that continued to fall from skewed bridges, buildings and the firmament winking with signal devices. It was as if the sky began to fold in half in a surreal three-dimensional plane, into which absolutely everything was pulled, setting a new moment or an undeniably critical signal of distress.
Why do you need to pursue, fence or call things by other names when a spontaneous wave is hiding behind the windbreaks, waiting for an unnaturally calm moment. Distorted by four surfaces, a kaleidoscope from the outlines of the city fell onto other parts of the earth, on which gigantic human hands unexpectedly and sharply rested, as if disfigured by dimensional accumulations of muscles creeping down, between whose wrinkles hung dozens of different voices, lymph nodes, mirrors... They screamed, rejoiced, begged and moaned. They expressed or released a stream of formless sounds, particles of disconnected organs that, although they were similar to everyone living here, were still smarter and behaved more primitively. They swallowed the rest of the sounds, the meanings of color and an overly rethought existence, wrapped in a spacesuit dull from rust and mold, decayed skin on the lips, chemically mixed dye, sudden movements of stones in the murmuring water, memories and actions.
Chaos is turned inside out, depriving everything of order.
A gigantic human head stopped in one of the streets, examining one of the random creatures soaring above the ground in an interweaving of sensitive blood vectors, crawling out like organic worms from under the skin, flesh and bones of the unfortunate person. Or happy? Hunting for luck, hoping for a meeting? Rapprochement and morning. The structure of his body began to smoothly spread like paints under water, dissolving the sewn materials of clothing, exposing organs, joints, the consistency of creatine, proteins and other vital molecular bonds, unable to hide from the creation in front of him a single low-molecular island of a single space, flowing around people scattering in different directions who helplessly rolled down the sidewalk, which suddenly turned into a vertical earthen arc. Were you running away from the unknown pull of the surreal emptiness? A creature who wants to gorge himself with knowledge about nature, vascular form, plant structure. Find out which cells are blocked by the chitel membrane.
And they looked at him as a fool, proclaiming exclusively vile rights. The head looked into the annihilating core of the half-man, half-cat, endowing his essence with unprecedented freedom in full. Having tasted his liquid from the musculoskeletal goblet, enjoying the hopes of gaining secret knowledge about the pornographic sect that awakened the sharpness of his ugly chain-mechanical spine. Is his body the acquisition of a sick symbiosis, a childhood ulcer? To be a particle, appendage or non-existent of the universal abyss, over every centimeter of skin, interstitial squiggle, deformation of the intestinal zone. The formation of sound hitting an airy veil that has no form, direction, omnipresent dense movement, friction, transformation. Something looked at the man with the ears of a cat, having pieced his body together from the spare parts of the deadly breed he had scattered, watching his screams and eye sockets rolling out of their sockets. It moves, breathes along with the rest, but separately from everything, in a special way. His shades differ from other beings, their vital bodily axis, while being the same as them.
The giant eyes bent down, carefully watching the body floundering in heartbreaking torment, consisting of a torso, one twisted right leg of a squealing, innocent male head with incorrectly placed ears and a tail in a bleeding open bone.
The body of the unfortunate guy did not have time to completely return to its previous and incorrectly recreated state, and then the gigantic head of the creature discarded its unfinished form with dissolved cat shells and open flesh along its length, its absence revealing red pulsating muscles around the elastic folds of convulsing tissue. Like a cunning giant snake, the creature rushed after the rest of the people and creatures in order to repeat this process again with composure in its eyes, as if this very thing was in a biology lesson for the study of anatomy, where shocked escaping faces were used instead of experimental frogs. At the same time, giant muscular arms with their unnatural hybrid grotesqueness walked along the streets protected by grouped guards, emerging from the chaotic admixtures of multi-colored clouds, in which the gloomy dark shades of the upper layers of the atmosphere were buried, from which massive faces, as if dressed in masks, stretched out. They were spectators with good hearing but poor eyesight, absorbing something new, unique and complex. But from afar it was difficult to see anything, especially when the eyes were filled with raging fragments of the illusory nature of the summer kitchen, soaked under the skin of the tablecloth next to someone else’s voice, expounding the essence of rising inflation.
***
All creatures and people around were filled with anxiety, panic, and then all-consuming horror. Screens erupted from everywhere, broadcasting the scene of the catastrophic incident. The guards and random guards became confused and began to dispose of separate groups of all civilians present. The walls turned into spacious colorful corridors with refracted atmospheric compartments in the ceilings, along which the chambers deftly maneuvered, chaotically transforming the formula of the amazing layout of the building, setting off along given routes. Grey-face ran out of the building with his group of people, fussingly responding to each other. Teenagers, girls and many other people were running, who could hardly fit outside now. They quickly went down the stairs and elevators. High in the sky, everything was painted in flickering dark gray lines from passing warships and guards whizzing by with chimeric armored physiques almost overhead. Soldiers gather groups of people, escort them somewhere, and carry children and animals. And so he stands in the center of the crowd, squeezed from all sides and looks along with everyone at the wide-angle screen through which they broadcast the area of the Nihonto region, in which they were located quite far from the scene of the incident. Everyone looked terrified. Screams and hysterics could already be heard, while the presenter’s voice loudly said:
__❰❰"THREAT: — STAGE"DEVA-ONNA-SUGOR"!❱❱___ EVERYONE MUST FOLLOW SAFETY RULES! EVERYONE GO TO THE NEAREST SHELTER IMMEDIATELY!"
New detachments of guards began to fly up, escorting everyone present to the arriving transports. The sky around seemed to turn gray and was covered with a suffocating, gloomy smog. Although he was in the middle of tall multi-level towers, intertwining floors of other types of structures and other architectural monuments, separating high kilometers of towering walls from the next node of endless wires and cables. Somewhere in front of one of the noisy screens they suddenly and loudly shouted: These are our brothers! Our sisters! They are back to us!! We Will Be Reborn!!!
Fear constricted my throat. Shackled my legs. Hands. Memories of my own deaths surfaced like painful painful sensations in the bins of chaotic memory. But did he really die? At least ever? Did he return to this strange life after that terrible wound to the chest? In his heart. His lungs. Just like that blond boy whose head he crushed. Terrible... Wrong... Kuroba also spilled the beans. Is it worth trusting anyone in this place?
Or is this a dream? Or is he nothing that belongs to this place? Or maybe he, like a cat, has seven or more, or maybe very few trial lives that he must spend wisely? No matter how much you would like to realize your next crazy theory, to delve into the painful and aggravating reality of the truth. The truth about himself, as a crazy psychopath lost in an alien world who is doomed to eternal wandering among his nightmares. But if these are his nightmares, then it means that only his rotten, degrading mind has power over them. Hence the conclusion why his consciousness perceives what is happening around him so poorly.
He turned in the direction from which waves of fleeing residents continued to follow employees, officers and guards in shining armor. A huge mechanical beam galloped past them, stunningly cutting into the ground. The guard instantly protected with his armor from another flying boulder of stones, a torn off door and set fire to the body of an autonomous vehicle. For a moment, the gray-faced man seemed to catch a glimpse of a huge thick neck crawling somewhere very far away. He quickly ran past the frightened bystanders, ignoring the screams of the approaching guardsmen. It was as if he suddenly realized that he had to be there at any cost. As if they were waiting for him there, on a street destroyed by unknown creatures without a name, without monuments, without the names rebuilt by all the working hearts. This is a feeling of fear, indignation, uncertainty and regret that comes out of nowhere. They beckoned him, ordered him to meet something he did not understand. What if someone should get hurt there? Or rather destined. It’s as if what is happening around was once upon a time considered by someone. But should this happen? Is this correct? Inevitably? Perhaps all these creatures around are unimportant. The bright light in the sky doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what he feels. It makes absolutely no sense to itself. And the words of that girl from the cave gave him confidence that he was here for a reason. But then why is this happening right now?
He painfully crashed his shoulder into the inner lining of a moving trolleybus, into which the gray-faced man literally jumped into it at full speed. Naturally, there was no one inside, not even the driver. The car was guided by the autopilot mode, which was highlighted on the driver’s display, possibly heading to the place indicated on the map where those nightmarish actions took place. Is the system broken? The man collapsed wearily on the seat in the center of the cabin, looking at advertisements about someone's planned concerts, the opening of a manga and comic book salon, new mineral water and personal chef services at home. The man only now remembered the device in his ear, which some individual brazenly handed him on his first day of appearing in this place. In this city? Country? World? To his surprise, instead of the neural expanse of programs, settings and other delights of networked cyberspace, noisy, distorted interference scattered before his eyes, endlessly scattering like dark gray gunpowder. From the windows you can still see the surroundings of the shopping area, already deserted streets and alleys.
I really wanted to sleep. He turned his head to the left, imagining that someone else was sitting next to him and encouraging him, although at first it seemed that someone’s voice appeared next to the driver’s seat and chattered loudly: “So, my dear comrade! Let's not leave, next stop is heading to Hell! Please don't wear your seat belt and try to stay sane!"It could be some guy, a girl, something else completely unfamiliar to him, or maybe even an animal with reasonable intelligence. But what would suddenly force each of them to end up here? Driving to certain death under the collapsing rubble of buildings. Grey-faced was sure that he would not die today. The fact that he was attracted to those creatures for some unknown reason was another strange phenomenon that could not be properly explained. This feeling came out of nowhere, which means it’s worth follow him. Seize this chance. A chance that reveals the permissibility of his stingy mind to gain knowledge.
A fool wandering through thick, swift currents of wind, perhaps in an instant losing his sanity. Counting down the minutes on my fingers, embarrassed by everything. The words he understood were the most valuable, embodied in small, unstable instruments that he knew so poorly how to use. His first rendezvous with life, which was, for a person who had accidentally hatched out of nothing, an alien, all-consuming matter that chilled his imaginary soul, which had the ability to develop, to the point of trembling. Trusting his new feelings, he will rush to the call of alien vibrations of the vast existence, exploding with an absolute natural flow inside the only one, riding alone to meet another world.