Mr. Pumpokokins, a rich man with a rich family. He lived happily with all the stuff he wanted and needs in the city of New Yorker.

But then in his house he heard glass breaking. His wife woke beside him in bed. He took out his AK47 to snipe the source but he couldn't find it. 

He heard noises but couldn't find a trace. He went to the closets, the bathrooms, kitchen, courtyard, everywhere but couldn't find the one who broke in.

He went to see his precious, most the most dear thing, the Zaza spice, his mystic drug. He cried out in tears.

***

In sweet city smell of new York there was one man, one who did not had a home but yet had job, one who didn't have love but yet a passion.

His name is Vigiroogono, a conspiracy theorist but also a detective. He did many things yet very little at the same time. It's almost a skill to him and others yet deep within it felt like something else. 

He entered the strange building, far away from the people, yet close to the heart of something else. The lights were bright but yet not enough to show his true colors.

The director, a stren man who would always looked at the photo of his own family. One that used to be whole and happy is now nothing but dust in the lost wind.

Back then, back in his younger days, back in his youth he had an garden full of roses and beauty, something that's rare for once was now a nothing more but sand and ash.

The garden was home to many flowers and life. Yet there was one he truly remembered. One that strikes at him without a thought or clue, one that would prioritize nothing else but that.

It was box, one box and bee hive. Those two things is what he remembered the most, one that haunted his world and reality as he knew it.

His father, a man who fought two wars on his back, told the soon to be director that he would have to become a man of himself.

What man he spoke of was one that many dream or fear, one that took it by surprise, it didn't fear what could be then but in instead something that could be seen and heard and felt. 

The man he talked about took steps towards the tip of a mountain in Japan. He had little food and water and little experience yet for some reason did led to his rise to what became something else from the desire outcome. One that enrich the brain with not knowledge but with subtance, subtance that could not be understood or taught, instead it was stolen, stolen from something that didn't exist yet it impacted the climber's fate.

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In an interview the man he spoke about talked about how he survived back in to the tip to down the the world of the living. what he said that shocked the foundation of society and how it function.

He explained on the method on how he survied which was to simply threw away all all he had for the tip. Everything he needed, everything he wanted, everything that was given, all that he loved, all that was precious for what was on the tip and something else.

The tip is what shown him how he didn't live, how he didn't made it on top, he realized that the achievement, the one that no other could do what meaningless becomes it becomes a paradox in what is to be top or low. It showed him that the top was something that hid itself from those that wanted wanted reach it not because of hate or fear but because it of itself was trying to hide it from what it couldn't be that it is.

Now the father told his sweet summer child that he must but bring the box near the hive and take the honey to the box and then bring it back inside the collector's archive for the honey.

The man promised him that if he succeeded he would be given all the candy and toys he wanted. His son felt a surge of confidence, determination that would suppress his fear for the reward, the prize.

The father watch as his son was attacked by the swarm. The son fall to the ground, cried out for help, cried out for his father to save him from the bees.

The father laughed and shakes his head and left him alone in the backyard to die and refused to help or do anything he said until the bees went to sleep. This experience made the boy became a man overnight.

He had evolved past what he been told and what he said and what happened before. He now saw what was the reality of this world, a one where beauty is nothing more than lies created by one false maker. One that created the flowers, the birds, the grass. It was all an lie to trick the boy into thinking he truly was in a world he didn't knew, a world that didn't existed.

The director now watching that man, enter his office with that face, with that that box, that held nothing.

He was screaming out in fear to take it away, to take what isn't there and to throw it somewhere far and distance.

That man, didn't run away, noir did rise above, instead he went lower, lower to his level and put box on the table.

The director was sweating. He knew that the box held nothing, and that whatever it isn't is something to be avoided. What it could understand was not to be truly be remembered.

That man, then told him that whatever is in this box is the thing he has been searching for. The thing that has been lost for decades, and what he needed to be discovered.

The director never believed him and ordered him to take it away. Fearing that what it couldn't be needed to be avoided.

That man merely push back and told him to open it. The director didn't want to move as his hands were a ticking bomb waiting to explode. His thoughts were lost yet there was a dark path, a path that he must not cross.

That man pushed the director and told him to open the box. Saying that if he did he would be rewarded.

The director refused and screamed out. The Dark path was coming closer and closer, each step made the director more and more afraided and so on but then something changed. He heard something he saw and what it could that it couldn't it be. All of it was the truth:

"Now, hypothetical speaking, you could either accept the box or you reject the box. If you accept the box then everything you just said would be the truth and that all I said was lies. If you don't accept the box then everything you told me would be a lie and I would be telling the truth. What you want to avoid is here, the words you just spoke didn't exist, and my words based entirely on what I didn't believe, therefore you will open the box, not because i said so but because you already made the option the box and know exactly what it is inside of it."

The director had open the box and saw the Zaza spice, the mythical drug that he and his peers has been hunting down for decades. He realized that he was a man.

He cried as that man left. He knew his name, he knew his face, the one that saw it all, the one that predicted his destruction, Vigiroogono.