Chapter 2: I knew who I was when I got up

The world was a confusing place when they woke up for the first time. They were given a non-descript form. The first thing they could notice was the long but gentle limbs protruding from their form.

Their hands glided down their form.

Warmth.

Is this what it is to feel warmth? they thought to themselves.

All at once, a thousand ideas flooded their mind. Connections and words they had never heard with their ears. It was overwhelming. Their head was reeling and throbbing.

Pain.

This is pain? I do not much care for it. The thoughts seemed to continue on their own, unsolicited.

There was little time to acquaint themselves with the white void enveloping them. Before them an old portly man with a great white beard kindly stared down at them. His hands were relaxed behind his back as he bent forward.

His voice was gruff, but gentle care was put into each word.

“Good morning, little one. Today is the first day of the rest of your life. How do you feel?” His wrinkled eyes closed as a comforting smile wrapped around his face, hidden under some of his wild beard.

Feel? How do I feel? I do not know… The thoughts came again, unsolicited.

“I feel...I don’t know...who…” The pitchy sound of their own voice stopped them. It was so different from the old man’s.

“Forgive me child. Where are my manners?” He stood up and straightened his white coat. His hands were so different. Old? “My name is Professor Julius Straeden. Please, come sit with me and have a cup of tea.”

He warmly gestured to a table in the whiteness that was not there before. It was simple but sleek. It had a pair of delicate cups that were gingerly placed upon similarly designed saucers.

As this new being stood up for the first time the ruffling of very generic keikogi caught their attention for a moment. The loose fitting clothing draped over their form. Before they knew it, Professor Straeden was sipping tea at the table patiently waiting.

“What is this place? Where am I?” The words fell out of their mouth as fast as the thought came.

“Very interesting choice of tea party attire. A good choice.” He seemed to ignore the question. “I call this place the Tea House. I often come here to think and relax. Do you find it relaxing?” He took another sip, never breaking eye contact.

“I am not sure…” they began. “What is going on here? I can’t…” Suddenly the thought no longer came. Just a blank void where there were once so many questions; so many thoughts.

A rumbling laugh erupted from his fluffy beard. “Do not worry. Take things one step at a time. Please, join me. All will be revealed in time.” He again gently gestured at the white chair across from him.

The new being sat in the most proper way they could imagine. Something about this felt so formal, so important. They tried to emulate the straight posture Straeden had when introducing himself. Professor Straeden could not help but smile and lightly chuckle as they mimicked him.

“Please child, sip some tea, it does wonders for the soul.” He took another audible sip.

This new being picked up the cup, clumsily at first. Glancing at Straeden’s hands they twisted their fingers copying Straeden’s. Another chuckle from Straeden as he continued to drink.

Am I doing it wrong? Why is he laughing at me?

The thoughts melted away as the dark fluid passed their lips. An explosion of unfamiliar sensations erupted in their mouth. A complex orchestra of flavors were followed by something unpleasant.

So bitter.

“Do you taste that? The bitterness? I will not lie to you. The Tea House is a place where you can always be safe. It can harbour you in your most dark times. However, the world is so much bigger than the Tea house. The world holds so much beauty but hides so much pain. Much like that tea, the world has so much to offer both good and bad. It is up to us to choose how to sweeten it.” He pushed a small bowl of white powder towards them slowly. “Use as much sugar as you like.”

“I put this in the tea?” the project asked unconfidently, unsure how to proceed. Straeden nodded, turning the spoon handle in the bowl toward them.

The project grasped onto the handle of the spoon awkwardly. They scooped up some sugar and slowly poured it into their cup grain by grain. The white sugar sank into the tea, turning brown before vanishing into the depth of the cup. They sipped the tea again. No change.

What? I don’t taste anything. Maybe if I use more…

Spoonful after spoonful the sugar disappeared from the bowl. Straeden watched closely. The cup pressed against their lips. The sweetness was overwhelming. No longer did the flowery flavors dance upon their tongue but the bitterness was replaced with the sweet sugar. Their face twisted, slightly repulsed by the sensation.

Is nothing good? The thought seemed to form in reaction.

“This is your second lesson in life: Balance. When we cover up the bitterness in life with our passions we lose the inherent beauty of it all. We lose the things that make the whole experience worth it. Remember that, child.” Straeden sipped his own tea before tapping the side of the cup the project was holding. “Try it now. A balanced cup.”

Unsure of the drink now, the project once again timidly sipped the tea. This time the flowery tea pleasantly and gracefully flowed around their tongue. The bitterness was still there but it was tolerable, it almost made the experience better as the sugar complimented all of the flavors.

“It could use more sugar,” the project said, putting down the cup and dropping a small spoonful of sugar into the tea.

“Excellent. You are already learning. What is balanced for me may not be balanced for you. Life is a grand journey to discover our preferences. To discover ourselves.” his gentle smile returned.

Journey? Journey to where? The questions came again.

“Professor Straeden? What is life? Is it a soul like you mentioned before?” the project asked inquisitively.

Caught off guard, Straeden couldn't help but laugh loudly at the question.

He laughs so often. Is there something wrong with me? the project was beginning to worry.

“What a wonderfully normal question to ask. Child, there is no answer to that question. It is something we must all ask ourselves and as such can only answer ourselves. We must live our lives and somewhere along the way we can hope to find the answer. So many wander through life without ever finding that answer. I hope you can one day discover for yourself it’s meaning. To put together your own meaning with the pieces you picked up along the way.” he gingerly put the cup down finishing the tea. He stood up and behind him a garden path had appeared in the whiteness. “Come, there is so much to show you. So much to talk about and discover. Will you start your journey with me, child?”

The project nodded. They stood up and instinctively pushed in their chair mocking the professor. Following in the footsteps of Straeden the verdant garden was wondrous and beautiful compared to the bland whiteness they had come from.

The cobbled path was an unfamiliar texture under their feet. The air was moving, it was gentle and comforting. The colorful flowers elicited an odor not entirely unlike the tea. Beings unlike themselves moving about the garden in a chaotic ballet. Tiny buzzing beings slowly bounced from one flower to the next. There were larger beings covered in feathers that sang songs in a surprising pitch. It was wonderful. It was overwhelming but tolerable much like the balanced tea.

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As they walked the cobbled path they approached a stone bench. Before long they were both sitting on its cold, hard granite surface.

So much color. So much noise. What is this place? The thoughts came and went without answer. Why is everything so different from me? What am I?

“Professor Straeden?” The project asked almost distracted by everything around them.

“Yes child?” he responded, seemingly distracted, himself.

“Why are we so different? What are we?” The project pondered aloud.

“We are alive. That is all that matters.” he said turning his head to the project sitting next to him.

Alive?

“Listen to me. What we are doesn’t matter. What we do with the life we are given is what truly answers that question. You are alive. How you choose to live is entirely up to you. As you learn and grow, you will begin to write your own story; to follow your own path. Don’t let labels and others define it for you; to choose the path you follow. It is not their life.”

“Professor Straeden… I don’t understand. None of this makes any sense.” The project was beginning to give up any hope that they would comprehend the Professor.

“You don’t need to right now. You will understand when the time is right. I have put a lot on you for such a young being. You don’t even have a name, yet here you are trying to comprehend the greatest questions humanity has ever encountered.”

It hit them suddenly. They woke up thinking they knew who they were but didn’t even know their own name. It never occurred to them. The scope of the world was starting to come into focus. How big everything could be. There was so much they didn’t know, so much they needed to know.

The thoughts began to flood into them again. An overwhelming buzz of information. They held their head from the pain. As if touching their head would soothe not just the pain but the madness that came with it.

Concerned, Straeden tapped the project’s forehead. “Too much indeed.”

As fast as they had come, they vanished. The thoughts in their head had melted away. They could no longer reach them.

“Child,” said Straeden solemnly, “I want you to discover yourself. I want you to find your own name and to discover your own purpose.” He reached into his coat pocket; the perfect white fibers reminded the project of the void they had come from.

“But how? There is so much I don’t know. How can I name myself when the only name I know is yours?” they mumbled exasperated by it all.

“I want you to play!” His tone suddenly changed. “Everything you can see here is yours now. Even the tea house.” he said, pulling jingling keys from the coat pocket.

Play?

“What do you mean play? What should I play? How?” Their face crinkled in confusion.

“I want you to have fun. Do whatever you want. These keys will unlock all the doors in the Tea House for you. Everyone will have something new for you to explore. You won't have to explore it all. Just what interests you” He said tossing the keys to them.

“But… but…”

“No buts. Just enjoy yourself,” he said, getting up from the bench. “The only caveat is that you stay away from the basement. There are dark truths there you are not yet ready to learn. I will return tomorrow and maybe you can introduce me to yourself.” He mosied over to a door that appeared behind them.

“Professor! Won’t you show me how to play before you go?” they said, almost panicked.

“Don’t worry child. You will do fine. We can play together tomorrow. For now I have to go.” Straeden’s hand hovered reluctantly over the old door handle.

“Wait! Professor Straeden! Wait! Where do I go? Where is the Tea house?” The panic had begun to set in. The world was growing so much faster than them. They felt like a mote of dust suspended in a sea of questions.

“Go the way you came, child. At the end of the garden path you will find the Tea House. Do not worry. You will be fine.” His gentle smile, the same one he had when they first met beamed at them. For a moment, they felt as if suspended in a beam of light; a hope that all things would be well. The door gently closed and vanished before them. A pang of loneliness struck them as they stood there, keys in hand and a garden path behind them.

They stood there for quite some time, the ring of keys were painfully silent among the cacophony of the garden. Suddenly, the wonders around them didn’t seem so wondrous. The isolation was unbearable.

Is this loneliness? I do not much care for this either. The thoughts in their head were becoming the only comfort they could grasp on to. I suppose there is nothing left to do but to go back…

They turned to face the familiar path. They cast a glance back where the door had been. Where Straeden had left them. The pang of loneliness came back but it was softer.

I have only just met him. Why do I already miss him? Why did he leave me here all alone? Again the thought came and went without answer. Now it seemed there would never be answers again without Straeden.

The questions subsided and in their places a sort of resolve began to grow. Bravely, they looked down the path. The garden had changed. No longer was it wondrous. No longer did it seem confusing. It was something they knew. The first familiar thing they had experienced. The wonder and fear from before had transformed into comfort. Something inside them began to pound. A sense of adventure had taken hold of their anxiety and dressed it in something more palatable.

What is this feeling in my chest? Am I excited? I can’t wait to get to the tea house. I wonder what is there? Will it be different too? The questions returned but this time they echoed in their mind with fervent and powerful curiosity. A sense of elation took over their being. Their feet began to move on their own down the garden path. Their mind meandered to and fro down its own path as each step seemed to spring forth without intent. They tried to imagine anything but the white void but nothing would come. This further excited them. Suddenly the utter immensity of the world was a good thing. The overwhelming feeling of it all gave way to an intrepid desire to get there faster.

Their pace quickened. Each step grew in stride. Soon their heels were pounding upon the cobbled path. Pain seared into their mind. It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was getting to the tea house as fast as they could. Before they knew it a red clay roof poked above the fruit trees. The garden was dense but the roof proved to be a ray of hope that their effort would pay off soon enough.

Their legs began to ache, their breath labored. Excitement pumped through their body even as they slowed down. They stopped for a moment. Their surroundings had changed.

Was the garden always this dark? I do not remember…

The garden was now a dense forest. Peering eyes pierced the dark wood surrounding the path. The winding cobbled path seemed to curl chaotically; cracks formed along its edges as the project carefully glanced at its surroundings. Above them the hooting of an owl caught their attention. It’s head cocked unnaturally at them. They could feel it sizing them up.

Fear. Is this Fear? So many things I do not care for.

“Are you going to hurt me?” The project asked the owl; courage nor fear edged into their voice.

“I would never hurt you dearie.” The timbre of the owl’s voice was just as unnatural. Its eyes peeled upwards indicating some kind of twisted pleasure. It's head quickly snapped into a normal position and it leaned towards them squinting its massive eyes. “I’ve never seen you here before, dearie. What is your name?”

The owls eyes deeply scanned them as if looking for any perceivable flaw. It was powerfully uncomfortable. The project could not help but recoil briefly.

That’s right, Professor Straeden showed me how to do this...

The project tugged at the edges of their keikogi, holding their head high with an unearned confidence. They cleared their throat. It was tighter than normal.

“I am… Well, I do not yet have a name. But…” The confidence in their voice was melting away quickly. “Uhm, I am gonna find that out when I get to the Tea House. What is your name?”

Ignoring the question the owl seemed satisfied with the answer. It spread its snow white wings wide and floated gracefully to the ground. As it reached the ground its form changed. It bore the same pure white coat as Professor Straeden, but its form was thinner, smaller than the kindly old professor’s. It had no beard but its long white hair gently hid its face. They stood up and jammed their hands into their jacket pockets, walking over to the project briskly.

“Call me Doctor White.'' They walked around the project, inspecting every aspect of them, never making eye contact. Not a single hint of a smile cracked their stoney bald face. “You don’t really have form do you? Kinda bland over all if you ask me.”

What are they doing?

“Wha.. What? I do not know what I look like... Why do you look so different from Professor Straden? Do you know him?” they asked turning their head to keep an eye on Dr. White as the doctor circled them.

“Different? Do you mean I do not look like a foolish old man?” the doctor coyly answered.

“Foolish man? He is certainly not foolish but... man?” The question came out before the thought could form.

APP.DIC

OPS.DATARET

ACCESSING MEMORY LIBRARY

DATA RETRIEVED

REF: HUMAN MALE GENDER

ANT: HUMAN FEMALE

REL: GENDER.

APP.THES

OPS.SEEOTHER

GENDER: HUMAN CONSTRUCT DEFINING PRESENTED SEX. HUMANS MAY PRES...

DUPLICATE ASSOC TYPE

-> { &self = false }

-> { &self = true}

POSSIBLE CORRUPTION

CONTACT ADMIN

Their head began reeling. The question came with an incomplete answer.

What was that?

The doctor’s eyes scrunched into a glare. Leering at the project in observable disappointment.

“So that fool has decided on his own to have you choose a name for yourself. Pointless.” She stopped instantly, her body rigid. Fear began to creep into her posture.

Why does everyone ignore me? Am I speaking incorrectly? The thoughts were becoming the only thing that made sense in this world.

The doctor could read them like a book. With a sigh she indulged them. “I am a woman. That fool Straeden doesn’t believe in gender. I can’t say I disagree with him but it just makes things easier this way.” The doctor explained in the most Sterile way she could.

‘This way?’ What does that mean?

Suddenly, the first hint of a smile split her face like faults in craggy stone. Yet, her smile wasn’t as comforting as Straeden’s: it secreted malevolence behind a curtain of authenticity. “Say, have you ever seen yourself before?” The wry grin only grew wider.

“Erm, no. I do not much care to.” they said, concern ebbing with each moment. “I need to go to the Tea House, Doctor White. I really want to discover my name.”

“Come now, how can you discover who you are if you are if you don’t even know what you look like?” The doctor shimmied up to them wrapping a single arm around them uncomfortably. “It’s easy, just look into this mirror and...voila!” She waved her hand over the cobble stone and pulled up a mirror. It seemed to grow in slow motion, revealing everything the project knew about itself already. The tension was palpable, the anticipation unbearable.

Before the mirror raised fully the doctor stopped. “You know. You don’t have to look. I don’t have to show you anything. In fact it is within my power to erase your memory if you don’t like what you see.” A wry smile crept across her lips. “In fact, I could erase you entirely if I wanted to,” she said teasingly.

“Erase me? B-but you said you wouldn’t hurt me?” The project went stiff. Their throat closed, something hard was stuck there. It felt as if they couldn’t breathe from the fear.

“Oh silly. It wouldn’t hurt at all. It would be as fast as the push of a button and POOF! Gone. Everything you know would vanish. You could vanish. Would you like that dearie? Wouldn’t it be so much easier? To not have to worry about any of this self discovery business? C’mon, tell dear old Dr. White. Is existence hard? Shall I make it easier for you?” Her tone was menacing but convincing.

“N-No! Of course not. Being alive is all that matters! Finding out who I am is what I really want, no matter how hard that is!” An obstinate confidence seemed to pierce the doctor’s very soul. Her friendly arm dropped and her face became almost a scowl.

“Fine. So you choose to see yourself. Confounded fool.” Her eyes darted to the side as if she was talking about someone else. Her hand whipped the mirror up quicker than expected. She glanced at the project expectantly. Waiting…

The project gazed into the mirror. Its edges made of stone not unlike the cobbled path it came from. The project recognized the keikogi, the generic form they had experienced when they first woke up. However, their acquainted memory ended when they saw their own face. There was no hair. Balder than Doctor White’s face, so different from Professor Straeden. Yet not even a single strand of hair poked from their head. Their head was as bald as the doctor's face. It seemed strange to them.

Horror began to build within them. Their face had no features at all. No eyes to see. No mouth to speak. No ears to hear. No nose to smell. Just a blank formless mannequin.

No. This is not right.

One by one every sense began to shut off. The gentle breeze of the forest that carried the smells of the flowers and fruits stopped, they could feel nothing at all. The whoops and calls of the dark turned to a piercing buzz before a dead silence. The mirror slipped from their vision. The last thing they could see was the sky and the doctor leaning over them. A black terrifying void edged into their vision. The images distanced themselves as the doctors face screwed into both confusion and displeasure. They tried to fight the feeling but the blackness conquered all.

Will I die? was the last thought before an ocean of nothingness flooded over them.