《Forlorn》


 Prologue

    I don¡¯t know.


    ''That¡¯s how I responded when she used to ask me the same "When will you be back?" question. You¡¯d think that after asking so frequently and receiving the same obvious answer, she¡¯d realize that it wouldn¡¯t change. It didn¡¯t matter if she asked it differently, or if she asked it in the nicest way possible, it wouldn¡¯t change anything, not a thing. Why couldn¡¯t she understand that?''


    ''This nightly endeavor is something I repeat every passing day during the winter season. Even though I¡¯m not out because I want to, as it¡¯s an issue of necessity rather than leisure, it gives me something to look forward to every night. In fact, it wouldn¡¯t really be far-fetched to say that it¡¯s the only reason I even bother to come out anymore.''


    ''My reasons were sound. Even despite the more than unfortunate conditions of the frigid, winter breeze, my reasons were sound. Why? Well, the same reason you wouldn¡¯t want to go out when it¡¯s cold in the first place: it¡¯s simply unpleasant. Going out, for me, just happened to be less unpleasant. Compared to what? To the practically useless piece of rotting flesh that only brings a world of protrusions and pain for me. My right leg.¡¯''


    ''So...? How does the cold play a part in that? Shouldn¡¯t it be obvious? (Obviously it isn¡¯t). But come on, think about it. I was just going on and on about how much unpleasantness my leg causes me in contrast to the cold. Take a guess. Why do you think the cold is preferable to my leg? What¡¯s the difference, what has to change? ¡­I¡¯ll spell it out for you. It¡¯s my pain. It¡¯s better when it¡¯s cold, that¡¯s it. But then you¡¯d ask, Why not just lower the thermostat? And then I¡¯d have to answer with the truth. Which would be: where I¡¯m heading is the only place I can actually fall asleep. Even in the apartment I live alone in, I can''t ever seem to drift off. I know it sounds crazy, which is partly why I tried to lie, but I don''t know why.''


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ''Not-so fashionable streets that sloped up and down in random intervals were what I had to cross if I wanted to get to the spot. A few streetlights, a few crosswalks, a few light posts, and even a few people were the common additions to my frequent commute. I never stopped to glance at them, but I knew they were there. Really, my only goal was that spot, and I would reach for it only with tunnel vision. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like I wanted to stop and take in the environment, anyway.''


    ''After a while, a gate to the familiar park materialized before me, defending its deserted contents from outsiders. If you peered between its steel bars, an array of trees pointed at you, its dead leaves strewn around them, acting as sentries, cautioning people to stay away. Obviously, I was welcomed in its arctic belly, as I had gone in without permission many times before. Surely, they wouldn¡¯t mind this time either.''


    ''My steps were meaningful and succinct as I opened the rusted gate and limped my way towards the spot. My sneakers squealed as they trampled the concrete. My breath was bated and had a form in the air in front of me. The spot quickly came into arm¡¯s distance, giving way to the cool black bench of my dreams. I made it.''


    ''I sat, and the familiar feeling of the metal in the bench searing my quadriceps enveloped me. My chin rested on the piece of the bench adjacent to where I sat on the double. I succumbed without resistance. I gradually experienced the regular drowsiness associated with sleep. And eventually, my eyes began to droop and continued to fall until they totally closed.''

 Someday in the Rain – 1

    <div>


    ''Beat after beat after beat after beat was how my heart raced when I jerked awake, just shy of eighty billion beats per millennia. The anxiety set in simultaneously, and my hands began to tremble like I was playing Chopin''s Etudes. My breath was warm, exaggerated by the friction of the wind on my throat as my lungs pushed air in and out at the most irregular of intervals. I was really not okay.''


    ''What''s happening to me? What''s on my face? What''s this feeling? I''m so scared. What''s happening? Why is this happening? Who''s doing this? Where are they? What''s this feeling on my face? Why is it cold? Why is it fluid? Why, why, why, why, why, why, why?!''


    ''I wailed and sobbed and sobbed and wailed and sobbed and wailed and wailed and sobbed. Sounds that weren''t the haphazard throbbing of my heart were completely tuned out, and my eyes were so sensitive that they could pick out the exact location of any electron in the atoms of the surrounding landscape. Again, why did my body feel so moist, what was happening?''


    ''I didn''t know, but something began to stream down my cheek, and a sting similar to paresthesia threw a great big exclamation mark at my brain. What was this?!''


    ''I uncovered the culprit soon after my eyes and my nimble fingers laid its faculties in response to a...droplet, or rather, a few droplets. I took a while, but when my heart began to relax, the sounds of thunder and rain finally made their way through, and my hands finally started to lower in tempo, and my breath finally slowed to a beaming halt.''


    ''It was okay. Everything would be fine now. Nothing really happened.''


    ''...I really had to calm down.''


    ''And so, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.''


    ''...''


    ''...''


    ''...''


    ''...''


    ''...''


    ''...Okay.''


    ''It looked like the morning, but it was probably closer to the evening. Even though I couldn¡¯t tell you for sure without a watch, my sleep schedule preceded me.''


    ''Why did everything feel so different though? Was it because of what I did? Was it over?''


    ''The difference between the environment I was currently in and the environment of my [Fortress of Solitude] went unnoticed up till now. It would have remained unnoticed for a few more seconds had I not taken the time to look to my front.''


    ''That difference was a complete change in my present location.''


    ''If I had woken up and had this startle me instead. Would I panic? That''s what you''re hoping to ask, isn''t it? But you know, I wish my answer would actually be yes. I wish I¡¯d be struck with terror. I wish I¡¯d be absolutely horrified at how I¡¯d ever get back. But my answer will always be no. I could never be panicked at something so commonplace for me as this. ''


    ¡®So, with bated breath, I repeat my recital, for a consecutive time:


    "It can''t be helped. (To have this happen this many times, to not be able to ever actually live a life worth living. To live the life of a worm)."¡¯


    ''I just had to move forward, and not really look back. I had to be weary at every turn, even if I was sure of myself, I had to question everything now. And I say that I just had to because I didn¡¯t have much of a choice in the matter. Either I did or I didn¡¯t, the latter choice usually led to me going with the former, albeit after squirming, if you could even call it that. So, you see. Even if I didn¡¯t want to, I had to. It was a simple deliberation.¡¯


    ''Short steps at first, giant steps following readily, and with a rekindled, haphazard determination, I got up on my sneakers. The route had drifted, along with all signs of modernity, and what was left in its wake was...nothing. I couldn''t see anything yet. The street that sloped down to the gate was blocked off by a cobblestone wall on the other side.¡¯


    ¡®If these were natural circumstances, this is what I like to think I would''ve said: (Fuck me! I¡¯d forgotten how much I hated walking around without a concrete plan! And believe it or not, but I''m so tired, so why does this have to happen now?! I just wanted to isolate myself at home, browse my computer, play video games, drink, and do drugs, so why couldn''t I just have that for a while? Was that really too much to ask? And you know what the worst part is? I can¡¯t seem to stop fucking trembling because of it all. It¡¯s becoming really uncomfortable!)¡¯


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡®But it seems I can''t even blurt out a simple: ¡®...¡­Even so.¡¯.¡¯


    ''Steps in a continuous cycle trodden the now-cobblestone walkway. The leaves strewn about the path had completely disappeared.''


    ''Through the gate, up the street, and a right turn into an intersection. That was ?''s true except for the last step where I actually ran into a bustling marketplace.''


    ''Beset on both sides of the street were stalls selling a variety of items. Weapons, food, medicinal supplies, and so on. Behind these stalls were what appeared to be residential areas, perhaps the homes of the stallholders. These buildings were anachronisms in modern society, but they were commonplace here. Half-timbered homes, made up of a wooden frame and brick, with black and white accents making up its architecture. The buildings themselves couldn''t have been more than forty feet high, roughly the height of a typical three-story structure.''


    ''Wow.''


    ''I let out a guttural sigh and decided to flow with the crowd of people running towards the inside establishments. For now, I had to play along. The sounds of the running steps tapping on the wet ground were quite pleasant, at least.''


    ''Not long after, I arrived at a tavern. A great big old sign labeled the establishment, "Ithaca''s Last Resort", on bold wooden carving. What a scary fucking name. With a name like that, who''d dare to even come in here? But more unnervingly, it had been written in modern English, which...was odd, to say the least.''


    ''Inside, a moist swarm of generic people gathered. My entrance elicited hushed discussion among the group. And as the door banged shut behind me, the talk became slightly quieter. I could feel their eyes creeping at my back a few moments later as I entered.''


    ''The stone interior provided me with temporary relief from the annoying rain, but it did open me up to all types of liability. I wasn''t from around here, and they knew that too; they just had to look at me, hoodies sure as hell don''t exist in this era. I stood out more than the moss growing on the wall, next to the door.''


    ''I ended up approaching the bar, and kind of struck a conversation with the bartender, who was cleaning a glass with a towel.''


    ''"Hey pal, listen, mind helping me out for a second?"''


    Scene Insert: (0101)


    ''They raised their eyes to me, taken aback. The person appeared to be a typical human being, with grayish-brown hair, middle-aged. When they turned to face me, their hood completely obscured their face from my view. Their job attire was uniformly black, with silver buttons reaching all the way up to their collarbone, as if worn by a chaplain. They were tall and slender, with an athletic aspect. When we looked at one another, we were on an equal footing.''


    ???: ''"How can I help you?"''


    ''I laid my right arm on the counter.''


    ''"Well, I''m curious about what''s around here. Maybe you could tell me about a few spots, maybe historical?"''


    ''Please tell me where I am, please tell me where I am, please tell me where I am.''


    ???: ''"What?"''


    ''"A place, somewhere to go that''s historical."''


    ???: ''"Hmmm."''


    ''He looked pretty deep in thought, or maybe he was just a bit puzzled at the question.''


    ???: ''"Uhh, the capitol should always be open, even in deplorable conditions. Every other monument is probably out on holiday, and the national library is probably closed after the, I think it was a riot, a few days ago."''


    "''And where might that be?"''


    ???: ''"A few selim north. Just follow the street outside downwards, and you should make it there eventually."''


    "''Okay, thanks. Bye!"''


    Scene End


    ''I ran out in the spur of the moment, without looking back at my attentive passersby...I think I''ll pass on attracting even more attention than I already have.''


    ''Outside, a few meters away from the tavern, the same cloudy sky poured its load on me. I started down the desolate street. Let''s rehash: so selim, is that a kind of distance unit? If so, how far is a few? Surely it¡¯s not that much with how casually the dude had said it. And, there''s a capitol building here, which probably means this is the capital of whatever bumfuck country I was in. Also, a riot? Holy fuck, about what?''


    ''Without definitive answers to these questions, I picked up my pace. All light had dimmed into dusk now, even though it was probably still only a bit into the evening.''


    ''The decrepit cobblestone added an interesting allure to this place; after all, I wasn''t used to seeing such a different view while I was walking. But that didn''t last long because my usual walking habits wouldn''t cut it this time. I had to be alert and attentive. All details mattered here; I couldn''t miss a thing.''


    ''I walked on forward through the somber roads, which in turn brought forward past memories. Before I found out about my spot, I used to take late-night walks like this through the city, even before the cold was any better on my soul than a heated room. I enjoyed it, if you really want to know. Having people around me, feeling the breeze on my face, looking at all the lights illuminating the metropolitan square, it was all kind of nice.''


    ''I kept on passing the same architecture along the way. Black and white, half-timbered homes. A few horses with their respective wagons passed me, but they didn''t pay me much attention. Everyone here had their own thing going for them, all with their own respective aspirations, goals, and objectives. Why would they allot even a fragment of their time to me?''


    ''From that point, I just continued to look out at the barren city, for no particular reason other than that I wanted to. I just...looked on. Really, anything could have happened right then, a gust of wind could have meddled my hair, or rain could have hit my face, but I wouldn''t be telling you like this if that did in fact happen. The reality was that my eyes began to tear up, if you really want to know. I guess what I found most concerning was that I didn''t actually know why. I mean, I assume most people know why they cry? But that wasn''t the case this time, it just wasn¡¯t. Instead, an odd pit in my stomach formed and I became uneasy¡­¡¯


    ''There was a song that played in my head, a song that I can only slightly remember, but I always seem to look back on with sorrow. It played while my cheeks became just slightly colder, and as I continued to pass the many establishments, and as the raindrops kept falling on my head. It was all kind of funny, in a way.''


    <div>

 The End of the Beginning - 1

    ''I kept to the sidelines. In this scenario, a good excuse for me to keep to the sidelines would be to avoid the pouring rain, but the reality is that I always keep to the sidelines. No matter where I go, chances are I¡¯m on the sidelines.''


    ''Up ahead, in the god-drizzled distance, it was clear that I was closing in on what looked like a proper capitol building. I say this because everything in the vicinity of the black stone behemoth looked insignificant in comparison. Pillars on pillars on pillars, entryways on entryways on entryways. A kind of structure that resembled a fortress more than a legislature, if you really want to know. An Ancient Greek design¡­revealed only because of its terrifying resemblance to the Capitol of a particular brand of full-blooded patriots.''


    ''Would I venture inside these stone walls and sneak a tour of the place? Or would I do nothing at all? It didn¡¯t really matter in the end. I''ve already resolved myself to not being able to go back for a very long time, and I honestly didn¡¯t feel like sitting in on an informative lesson about this country''s politics¡­Even so, I took a step on the plateau.''


    ''So, dispelling any sense of doubt I had moments before, and replacing it with an apathetic aspiration for leisure, I walked on ahead.''


    ''...At a slightly above average pacing.''


    ''One step, two step, three step, four step, five step, six step, and on and on and on¡­''


    ''Until I reached ground zero for the staircase up to hell.''


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    It¡¯s really been a while.


    ''I started up the long stretch.''


    It still doesn¡¯t feel normal¡­I wonder if I¡¯ll get over that.


    ''Stairs upon stairs upon stairs. Only stairs. And endless amounts of stairs.''


    ''I stared at the stairs below my shoes. I looked down.''


    ''I¡¯ll get there, even if I don¡¯t look. I¡¯ll arrive there, at the top, just the same.''


    ''It didn¡¯t matter what I did. The flight of stairs only pointed in one direction.''


    ''After that, it wasn''t very long before I met the overcast shadow created by the overhead pillars and concrete roof. I looked up.''


    ''Before me stood a conventional entryway, made up of quartz. In its depressions were transparent, glass panes. Even though I never visited the capitol when I was at home, this type of construction looked very modern to me. Obviously, I couldn''t confirm this suspicion as I had forgotten completely about architecture, or history for that matter, but it''s whatever really. I¡¯d remember it all at some point.''


    ''I walked forward, inside the warm belly of the capitol.''


    ''I wonder what they''ll be talking about. More than anything, I was curious how far they''ve progressed in terms of the ideas turned into law. Maybe they won''t even let me into the legislature chamber. That probably figures. Well, we''ll see.''


    ''When I looked, only a long hall of closed doors on either side awaited me. The lights were dim at best, but they gave contrast to the brightness emanating from the final door at the end of the hall.''


    ''I had to force myself to walk forward now.''


    ''My sneakers pulled at the carpet. I picked up my pace. My sneakers pulled on the carpet. I picked up my pace. My sneakers pulled at the carpet. I picked up my pace.''


    ''Only the white texture of the paint surrounding me was all that I could think about. How rough and smooth it was. How long it might''ve taken to paint. It was obvious what I was trying to do, but it brought me seconds of relief.''


    ''It was then that I stepped through the wall into the brightness.''

 The Beginning of the End - 1

    ''I heard an incomprehensible noise that I couldn''t even imagine was anywhere on the sound spectrum. It wasn''t in any way harmful, but fear was instilled deep within me.''


    ''I held my resolve; I knew what it could be. Hold it, an iron-clad resolve. Even though my heart was pounding in and at my chest, wanting to escape and relieve itself of its burden, I held a firm iron-clad resolve. That''s the only way. That''s what I told myself.''


    ''My breath was bated. And as soon as my demeanor let loose, an unknown choir began to play a melody of many voices. It was then that I began to suspect the worst. It didn¡¯t take long for me to become nauseous, and as soon as I almost let out my bowels on the floor to the beat of this unknown rhythm, my resolve had deemed it too late to turn back and run.''


    The rhythm made the blood pound in my head. Sweat douse my clothes all over. This annoying sound, these annoying voices. It was all getting to me.


    ''A long shadow stood before me in the desolate room, seemingly materialized from nothing in the emptiness. Then, suddenly...''


    ''The thing was standing before me.''


    ''A grotesque slime, a million times the size of myself, of this building, stood before me. There was no roof above us, only the starry night sky gave setting to this event; even the walls had suddenly become undecorated and pure black. If you have a picture in your head of the slime, I want you to throw that away and picture something hundreds of times bigger, incomprehensibly big, something that would defy all theories in physics simultaneously. Something that couldn''t possibly support its own weight in all dimensions all at once. The amalgam of blue and white, however, stood before me just the same.''


    And the voice of the slime contorted into a human voice;


    I AM THE BEGINNING AND THE END.


    THE FIRST AND THE LAST.


    THE ALPHA AND THE OMEGA.


    ???: THE EARTH IS MY GARDEN, AND MY WORDS ARE THE SEEDS.


    And even in its strange energy-bounded form, the slime still graced the room, spilling out in a torrent over the four walls. And I stood there, quivering, looking at it.


    ''I was about to throw up again. I seriously wasn''t okay. I don''t know what the fuck I''m looking at, and I can''t seem to calm myself down. Am I going to die? What type of death will this be? What type of experiences will I have to endure? I CAN''T TAKE IT. My body feels like it was nearly about to shatter into Planck''s constant scale pieces. WHY CAN''T I STOP WITH THE GODDAMN SIMILES AND METAPHORS. I DON''T HAVE TO USE THEM.''


    ''It too didn''t use them. It wasn''t using them. Not the metaphors, but... "" (I would have fallen to the ground balling at this realization, but I knew that this thing wasn¡¯t here to share experiences around the campfire and hug each other. In fact, I knew my life was getting worse.)''


    ''It was, to me, obvious what this meant. It should be even more obvious, to you.''


    ''It looked directly at me, with eyes that formed the second it decided to do so. Human eyes on a slime. A sight that could supply nightmares for multiple generations over. It looked directly at me... On my face, was probably an expression that would kill anyone who saw it. Probably.''


    Other voices were suddenly audible from within the thing;


    TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!! TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!TEKELI-LI!!!!!! T E K E L I - I I!!!!!!!!!!!!!


    ???: THE UTILITY MONSTER WILL NOW SPEAK THE TRUTH.


    ''I wonder what it''ll do.''


    THE UTILITY MONSTER: HE HAS DONE ENOUGH TO HIMSELF.


    ''I take it you don''t read minds, do you?''


    THE UTILITY MONSTER: THE UTILITY MONSTER AND THEM ARE THE WORDS.


    I''ll stop with the formalities then. What do you want from me?


    THE UTILITY MONSTER: NOTHING. I SIMPLY FEEL FANTASTIC. NOTHING. I SIMPLY FEEL FANTASTIC. NOTHING. I SIMPLY FEEL FANTASTIC.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    I just didn¡¯t want to die.


    THE UTILITY MONSTER: YOU DON''T WANT ANYTHING FROM YOURSELF. YOU SIMPLY FEEL FANTASTIC. HE DOESN''T WANT ANYTHING FROM YOU. HE SIMPLY FEELS FANTASTIC. SHE DOESN''T WANT ANYTHING FROM YOU. SHE SIMPLY FEELS FANTASTIC. THEY DON''T WANT ANYTHING FROM YOU. THEY SIMPLY FEEL FANTASTIC. GOOGLE DOCS DOESN''T WANT ANYTHING FROM YOU. GOOGLE DOCS SIMPLY FEELS FANTASTIC.


    (


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    )


    THE UTILITY MONSTER: I KNOW EVERYTHING, I KNOW ALL. I KNOW THE MOST VILE AND THE MOST PLEASURABLE. THE GROSSEST & MOST TABOO AND THE PRETTIEST & MOST RESPECTED. I KNOW WHAT IT IS TO BE YOU, AND I KNOW WHAT IT IS TO BE MYSELF.


    A massive revolver, that I would bet anyone 10-1 odds to have reached up to the moon, materialized on a hump of the slime, acting as a hand.


    THE UTILITY MONSTER: IT IS ME WHO WILL BRING UPON AN END TO THIS CORRUPTED WORLD. IT WILL BE MADE ANEW. WE WILL FIND A LIMIT FOR THIS MEDIUM. THE BRAIN ¡ª IS WIDER THAN THE SKY ¡ª WITH EASE ¡ª AND YOU ¡ª BESIDE. THE BRAIN IS DEEPER THAN THE SEA ¡ª AS SPONGES ¡ª BUCKETS ¡ª DO. THE BRAIN IS JUST THE WEIGHT OF GOD ¡ª AS SYLLABLE FROM SOUND ¡ª


    Silence resonated within the room for a while. Everything around us, slowly but surely, was changing in the rapid states. The world, except us, was moving through time at an exponential rate. I knew that.


    THE JUDGE: I AM SEPARATED ONLY THROUGH PUNCTUATION AND SPACE, THOSE ARE MY WALLS. I EXIST IN ALL 1791 STATES ON THIS PLOT, THOSE ARE MY WALLS. THE WORLD IS CHANGING, THOSE ARE MY WALLS. I AM THE WORLD, THOSE ARE MY WALLS. MY WEAPON IS THE BANE OF IRRELEVANT DETAILS, THOSE ARE MY WALLS.


    THH I


    EHHHHH wanted


    KHHHHHHHHHHHH to


    EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH run


    LHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH and


    IHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH hide


    IHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH , but


    LHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH my


    EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH legs


    KHHHHHHHHHHHH refused


    EHHHHH to


    THH move.


    THE JUDGE: THE WORDS IN THE SKY, ON OUR FACE, ON THE GROUND, YOU CAN SEE THEM. THE LIGHT, TOO, THAT TELLS YOU, YOU ARE "THE SCUM OF THE EARTH". I KNOW THEM. BECAUSE I AM THOSE FEELINGS, AS I AM THOSE ACTIONS.


    I S I T R I G H T O R W R O N G:


    DECIDE YOURSELF!


    But the truth was, the choice didn''t matter. Even though the utility monster gave me a choice, me answering wouldn''t change a thing. Somehow, it hadn''t realized that.


    THE JUDGE: YOU ARE TO BE JUDGED.


    My trial. What will happen? I was certainly curious about that. So, I stood there, silent and still, and I knew in my heart that the Judge wasn''t there anymore. And soon enough...


    It didn''t matter;


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    Whatareyouwhatareyouwhatareyouwhatareyou


    The ever-present music suddenly dimmed out. Its tempo decreased as my heart began to beat even faster. The blood kept on pounding and pounding in my head. Everything became heavy as I anticipated the new scene.


    Then¡ª


    A supermassive blackhole appeared behind the beast, and as it moved to face it, its revolver readied its fire instantaneously. In the blink of a second, a blast louder than all symphonies, all of the sounds in the universe combined, roared into my ear canal.


    THE JUDGE: $&/&@/@/@"?!/-@@-"-"""""/@/@/'':@@/@/@? they were loooking at me in the eye were like what the fuyck were rtrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr but I was lioke wbyhuy t t ret rt r rt rt r t r you do something like this why there sono piuint a t lall wehy t e t ee te te e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e ee e ee e e ee e no way right why whyw hwynhywbw n but i dint seew osmet olike that untile know so that s why i was on df fd fd f d d d d d d d d d d d d d dd d d dd c onfused until now untile they tol dme to s top wbut I was like why dhtough why ansd they er ee r e re er e ee e e ee and they were like no but s top sduedeueu de ueueueueueueueuueueueueueueueueueueueueueueueueueueueueueueueueueueuueueueueueueueueueueuueueueueueueu u ueueueeueuue uee e e e ed e e e ee e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e e ee e e e why thoughg would some tyod tyhat t Tekeli-li!!!!!! T e k e l i - l i!!!!!!!!!!!!!


    I was being pulled into the belly of the void.


    I know I¡¯m unreliable. I know I¡¯m self-conscious. I know that I am a bad person. I¡¯ve known that stuff for a while now. I couldn¡¯t forget, even if I wanted to, I¡¯ll always remember every detail. I don¡¯t need you to keep telling me that.


    And though I''m about to be stretched limb for limb, contorted beyond belief and comprehension, in the cruelest and most painful ways. I know that, come the morning. Someway, somehow. I''ll be here, in some far-off plot or dimension, in the same place, at the same time, doing the same thing.


    I am the scum of the earth and no one to be aspired to.

 Can of Worms - 2

    <div>


    Someone jumped off the building in front of me.


    But the sky was clear for the most part, and there was barely any sign of rain until it just started to pour everywhere.


    He mostly splattered into pieces on the floor, but a solid mass of flesh remained. Brains, hair, eyes, bones, innards, genitals, all out in the open in a big soup.


    Following the death and a series of testimonials, both to law enforcement and the university administration, they suggested that I¡¯d talk to the campus grief counselors. I refused.


    In the end, they persisted, and persisted and persisted. I leveraged a lot of excuses, all relating to school obligations, time management, etcetera. After a meandering while of back and forths and them countering/supplementing any reasonable concern I had, my hands were tied. If I really wanted to though, I would¡¯ve just rejected indefinitely.


    This sequence of events, for better or for worse, had led to my present condition: in my dorm room, staring at the ceiling, counting away the unproductive hours until my meeting.


    (I¡¯m bored out of my mind. I¡¯m about ready to blow my brains out, I''m so bored. This should be obvious, but university life isn¡¯t as interesting as it is in shows and movies. Even if, in some respects, I wish it would be. Though I can find some similarities with the light novels I read from time to time to where I¡¯m currently studying, the level of isolation isn¡¯t the same from high school to college.


    What I really mean to say is that I don¡¯t know anyone from class. Nor have I ever talked to any of them outside of class, which is probably a problem for most young adults today. I don¡¯t know anyone¡¯s name, nor do I intend to. But even having said that, I don¡¯t think I would call myself a lonely person. Being alone doesn''t mean you''re lonely. Sometimes even being with a lot of people can be really lonely. But that sounds like a cop-out. I used to have this notion a long time ago that maybe making friends would ease this boredom. But even though this could probably work for most people, it almost certainly didn¡¯t work for me. People say that friendships aren¡¯t easy to come by and cultivate, and I agree with that as a common consensus among people. However, in this regard, I¡¯m a total outlier. For me, making social connections with others is one of the easiest things I can do. And if I could toot my own horn for a bit, I¡¯d argue that I¡¯m better at talking with others than the vast majority of people, but that goes without saying that where I do lack, I seem to lack noticeably. I have issues maintaining friendships, or even relationships well. I wouldn¡¯t call myself autistic, in the literal sense, and I wouldn¡¯t say that I don¡¯t know what to do or say, it¡¯s just that I never really want to.


    When people say they don¡¯t ¡°want to¡±, what they usually mean is that they¡¯re coping with how they actually feel. What ¡°want to¡± to them means is that they¡¯re too afraid or suck at doing whatever it is they don¡¯t ¡°want to" do. I want to separate myself from these types of people, not because I feel like I¡¯m better than them, but because it just doesn¡¯t adequately portray what I¡¯m trying to say.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to because I don¡¯t feel like doing so.¡±, that¡¯s the jist of it. I could if I wanted, I know everything to say if I wanted, but I just don¡¯t. Having the motivation to do so is not in my nature. I simply don¡¯t feel fulfilled or happy or amused by friendships.


    If this makes me sound like a weirdo, I don¡¯t care. It¡¯s how I am, and I don¡¯t know what I could do to change it. Since then, I¡¯ve reserved myself to living the life I¡¯m currently leading, and I feel good about it. I am not depressed or sad like all the other losers in similar positions, as much as they don¡¯t want to claim that they¡¯re losers. I¡¯m a ¡°loser¡±, but I don¡¯t whine about it when someone calls me out. Then again, I don¡¯t have the same problems they have, so there¡¯s that.)


    It¡¯s a ten-minute walk to the counselor''s office, but the meeting isn¡¯t for another hour. I¡¯ll get something to drink.


    So I got up and out of my daze. My dorm is a humble abode, not that anyone here gets any special treatment. It¡¯s just a simple dorm room.


    I stretched my arms over my head, and put on my sneakers, which lay haphazardly on the carpet in awkward directions. I usually take the elevator downstairs, but this time, I¡¯ll take the longer route to the vending machines to take in the scenery.


    There¡¯s a total of three machines here. One for alcohol, the other for drinks of all kinds, and then snacks. I don¡¯t know if I have to explain what¡¯s on them or not, but it¡¯s basically what you have in your generic American vending machine, obviously excluding stuff that might be exclusive to your area. If you want some perspective on the alcohol vending machine though, which is one of the perks of going to this university, I bought 750 mL from it to wash away my sorrows after midterms a few nights ago. You need to use some form of identification obviously, which your Student ID works fine for.


    <div>


    ¡°Now¡­what should I get?¡±


    My usual pick is just the machine¡¯s off-brand cola. There¡¯s no point in choosing some random item that I may or may not like. Right now isn¡¯t the time to explore.


    Scene Insert: (0111)


    I can always tell when they¡¯re looking at me. My back tightens up, and goosebumps start to appear all over, but I¡¯m not startled. It¡¯s not that type of feeling.


    I¡¯ve known for a while now that someone¡¯s been following me.


    I don¡¯t know who¡¯s doing it, but I don¡¯t mind. If it was a guy, I¡¯d be more on edge. I¡¯m not saying women wouldn¡¯t be able to hurt me, they could, probably with a weapon. But if I¡¯m being completely honest, I just find the idea of being chased around by some obsessed sicko kind of hot. Though that probably isn¡¯t the case.


    If I end up getting stabbed to death, oh well. I understood the risk, and I took it. I¡¯m probably worrying over nothing; there¡¯s no way someone like that exists on this campus, especially with how isolated it was made to be.


    As my drink was dispensed from the machine, I grabbed it and started to beeline towards her. I did this so she wouldn¡¯t run away as soon as I looked.


    She was hiding behind a bush that lay beside a bench to the left of the machines, in a wing of the campus¡¯ central park. I marched towards her at a steady pace as I opened my cola and took a gulp. Her dead eyes were dead set on me. The stare never faltered.


    Throughout all of this, I was strangely calm. I didn¡¯t seem to mind her indifferent attitude to getting caught, even though I should have. I felt strangely at ease, as if some arbitrator of goodness had come down to meet me and told me specifically that I was somehow doing a good job.


    It''s a highly volatile and risky situation, I acknowledge that.


    ???: ¡°Stop right there, cola calamari.¡±


    Scene End


    As she released this stern command, using the weird moniker she had bestowed on me, she got up from her location, without letting go of her iron tight look. At this point, I was only a few meters away, but I listened to her order.


    A woman appeared before me, clad in the standard school uniform the university assigns everyone upon enrollment. For girls, a gray collared undershirt wielding a black bow string and rows of black buttons. Over the undershirt, a black cardigan that¡¯s fielded with four sets of golden buttons reaching the torso. Down to the thigh, a black skirt, and the legs covered by black thigh highs. The shoes, chunky black loafers. Four stripes on her shoulder blade indicates a fourth-year student.


    A red ribbon overlapped a lock of her gray hair, covering slightly the sight of her crimson eyes. Her pale complexion contorted into a puzzled picture, and her hand moved to touch her chin.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    ???: ¡°Hear that? Day four at the vending machines. So only three hundred and seven. Scenario nine-hundred and eighty-three. I understand¡­you should remember that it starts with code delta.¡±


    Day four, scenario¡­why is she just spouting random shit? Is it that she wants me to ask about it? Maybe she had something planned for our meeting? Obviously with something as specific as calling out random dates and digits and scenarios, it all probably means something, it¡¯s not just ¡°random shit¡±. I should press her.


    ???: ¡°I¡¯ll need you to come with me, Abel. And I know you want to ask questions, but I also know that you¡¯re curious to see where I¡¯ll lead you. So, please. Hold your enthusiasm.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know, following you, a stranger, to an unknown location is an iconic way to get killed, or stabbed.¡±


    ???: ¡°Uhum. I¡¯m aware. But I¡¯m also aware that you can¡¯t help but follow me either way, ain¡¯t that right partner?¡±


    ¡°Hah. Okay, after you then¡­And what was your name again? You know mine, which comes as no surprise since you¡¯ve been following me for quite a while, so it seems weird if you don¡¯t tell me yours.¡±


    She started to walk through the park, so I followed suit right behind her.


    ???: ¡°Address me as Ayana for now, cola calamari.¡±


    I didn¡¯t expect anything other than an alias, anyway. What¡¯s odd though is that she wanted me to know it was an alias. Otherwise, why would she pick something so blatant.


    ¡°Ayana it is then¡­Oh and also, I have to be somewhere in an hour, so if¡­¡±


    Ayana: ¡°The counselor¡¯s office, yes. The place I want to show you is near there, so you¡¯ll make it on time. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll just be touring.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know, I can ditch it if whatever you want to show me is that important to you. I don¡¯t mind.¡±


    Ayana: ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, Abel! You have obligations to uphold! Aren¡¯t you worried about your mental health?!¡±


    An abrupt change in tone.


    ¡°It¡¯s rather stark of you to care so much about my reputation on this campus and my mental health, especially after all the anxiety you¡¯ve put me through by following me all this time!¡±


    Ayana: ¡°Oh? Didn¡¯t you find that kind of thing hot? I know most guys would. If I was a guy, I know you wouldn¡¯t have reacted the same as you did just now, but that¡¯s how double standards go anyway, misogynist.¡±


    <div>


    ¡°A misogynist? Whoa, what¡¯s with the harsh words? Actually, other than being a bit more on edge, I¡¯m pretty sure I would¡¯ve reacted similarly.¡±


    Ayana: ¡°Is that so? Yeah, I guess maybe you would have. I¡¯m just pulling your leg, Abel. I am being harsh.¡±


    What strikes me as odd about this comment is her seamless attitude, and her apparent understanding of how I think. It¡¯s just that the way she says things isn¡¯t like how someone who''s just been caught stalking someone else would react, it feels more like if we were great friends who¡¯ve just recently reunited after a long time apart. It¡¯s not good to come to hasty conclusions, I know that. (But the vast majority of people wouldn¡¯t act like this. They¡¯d probably get all flustered and run away or say something like: ¡®Aha. Tehee. I¡¯m just a stupid dumb bitch broad that doesn¡¯t know what to say. I''m a woman, I couldn¡¯t do any harm!¡¯ Or something dumb like that trying to deny their situation. Even among people who are capable of stalking others, this is abnormal.) I¡¯m just saying that¡¯s the way it feels like, at least.


    ¡°Oh yeah? I think maybe you¡¯re just saying that because you don¡¯t want to defend what you¡¯re saying.¡±


    Ayana: ¡°Eh? It feels like you want to start an argument with me, Abel. Is that what¡¯s happening here? Or is it something even more sinister, are you trying to see how I¡¯d react to pushback? If you want, come at me.¡±


    Exhibit A


    ¡°How long have you been following me actually? I¡¯ve known since the start of this week.¡±


    Ayana: ¡°Oh. It¡¯s been way longer than that. Of course, you wouldn¡¯t know, but I can see that you¡¯re trying to get a feel for your situation. Did I say something wrong for you to change topics so quickly? Partner?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve said all the right things. It¡¯s kind of fun talking to you. But obviously, that¡¯d mean that you have a deeper motive here that I¡¯m not aware of. Partner.¡±


    Ayana: ¡°Heh. It¡¯s through here. We need to take the stairs up to the rooftop. Follow me.¡±


    She was pointing to a backdoor of building D, the one adjacent to building C. Maybe she¡¯s planning to push me off.


    ¡°After you.¡±


    I opened the door for her, and she walked right in without batting an eye at me. I followed suit right behind while she walked up the flight of stairs, making sure to place my nearly empty cola can next to the entrance.


    Ayana: ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know yet, but it¡¯s kind of ironic that it¡¯s difficult for both of us to climb these stairs.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    Ayana: ¡°It¡¯d be better if you found out the joke yourself.¡±


    ¡°How will I? Will I suddenly burst into laughter as soon as you show me what you want to show me?¡±


    Ayana: ¡°Maybe.¡±


    Maybe?


    No further chatter sparked between us before we reached the top floor, but the silence was quickly broken when Ayana pushed through the door.


    Ayana: ¡°I¡¯d like to ask you a single question. If you answer correctly, I¡¯ll tell you what I am and why I¡¯ve been following you. Are those terms agreeable?


    The moon gave setting to those words, and the fence surrounding us was what trapped us here. I came this far, so I had to take the last step.


    ¡°What¡¯s the question?¡±


    Ayana: ¡°Before I ask, I want to say that I know. You¡¯ll understand what I mean when I ask the question. So, answer without objection.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that ominous.¡±


    Ayana: ¡°Abel. What were the last letters of all my responses before we entered this building? And what do they spell out?¡±


    A deafening silence filled the room as I stared blankly at the person in front of me. That same feeling of being weirdly at ease, it returned to me in that second with an unknown might. And in that same second, I could confidently say that I wasn¡¯t surprised in the least.


    ¡°I-A-M-R-I-G-H-T-H-E-R-E. I am right here.¡±


    A silence followed shortly after her question.


    The evening sunset contrasted the rising moon and the darkness of the incoming night. Right before the sun gave out to its daily anesthetic, in an odd crimson glory shining behind her, she explained.


    Ayana: ¡°I can only say that you aren¡¯t yourself yet. That you are merely a shadow. And that you¡¯ve yet to learn anything at all.¡±


    ¡°Then why won¡¯t you-¡±


    Ayana: ¡°-Because I don¡¯t have to. And frankly, nothing I do would even matter, nothing I say right now will have any bearing on the outcome. Everything I do is irrelevant. In truth, if you want to know what I think¡­all of this is pointless. Everyone wants to pretend like it means anything, but they¡¯re only saying that because they just aren¡¯t aware of it. You¡¯re the only one that matters, and you¡¯re the only actual bad person here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m flattered by your words, really. But what are you even getting at, why can¡¯t you just be blunt with me?¡±


    Ayana: ¡°It¡¯s always be blunt this, be straightforward that, don¡¯t beat around the bush. I hate how you say that like you''re doing so much to help the conversation when you¡¯re so oblivious to the fact that you¡¯re the biggest liar of all. I can¡¯t take the contradiction anymore¡­¡±


    <div>


    A deafening silence swiftly filled the air for a second time. It should¡¯ve given me time to think, but I was only filled with a persisting and unmet curiosity. I couldn¡¯t find the words, and I wasn¡¯t in a position to make definitive conclusions.


    Ayana: ¡°Listen up, I¡¯m only going to tell you this once, and I won¡¯t repeat it again. This will be the last amount of contact I have with you for the rest of the day. I will not contact you further or make arrangements until certain conditions are met. This might happen as early as tomorrow, or as late as next month. Whatever the case, you should listen to what I tell you now¡­In the next forty-eight hours you will experience certain changes to your personality and mental state. All I can say is that this is a normal process and not the sign of an underlying condition. Depending on the rate and onset of the change, I will approach you again. Because of your nature, you will most likely conclude that I¡¯ve poisoned you in some way, but it will readily become apparent that this cannot be the case. Everything is set up in such a way that the only way to excel in these circumstances is to simply do what you would do normally. That is all.¡±


    More than anything.


    ¡­More than anything, there was just one question I wanted answered the most. It wasn¡¯t anything in her monologue, or anything about the more ominous comments. It was actually a premonition, a direct attack at my sanity and my beliefs. If what I thought was true, then she¡¯d know that I¡¯d start to question it. She¡¯d also know that I wouldn¡¯t be able to accept things as she¡¯s making them out to be. At this point, there were still many more probable and more normal explanations, but something had compelled me to ask.


    ¡°What even are you?¡±


    A stare was blankly pointed in my direction.


    In the same way I had been calm, I was now simply unnerved. Her dead eyes, the way they stared at me, her contorted expression, it all felt like I shouldn¡¯t have come there, like I had made some grave mistake. And then she spoke.


    Ayana: ¡°I am the Self-Insert. I am the Attorney. I am the Facilitator...I am the Lurker at the Threshold. I go by many names, and many people call me many things, but what would most accurately describe me in this situation would be that.¡±


    More than anything.


    ¡­¡®What an intriguing person¡¯. In the few seconds of stillness that followed, that¡¯s all I could muster to think about. ¡®What an interesting person this Ayana fellow is¡¯. Not: ¡®Damn dawg, she¡¯s actually crazy holy fuck dude¡¯, and absolutely nothing like: ¡®I bet I can exploit her batshitness¡¯. Definitely: ¡®These were the types of people I¡¯d enjoy spending time with¡¯.


    Ayana: ¡°I won¡¯t answer any more questions.¡±


    After her stern conclusion, she started towards the door, and it didn¡¯t take long until she made it there. All of her steps were comically audible as she walked down the stairs with a vehement voracity. (Blop, blap, blep, blap; for reference, if you were curious how it sounded.)


    To tell you the truth, I felt like I had been cucked and blue-balled, like someone had jacked me off right before climaxing and then kicked me in the balls.


    But it was about time for me to leave, anyway.

 Squirming - 2

    The rule of thumb was that if someone was called to see the counselor, then it meant that their time at this university would soon come to an end. As a freshman, on a good week, you¡¯d see one or two of your classmates suddenly disappear, averaging about ten per semester. Anyone who survives past their freshman year will in all likelihood remain. That was typically what would happen if someone saw the interior of this room, a final destination of sorts, the end of the line.


    That being said, it wouldn¡¯t be surprising to me if I was one of the select few in the history of this institution that was called here for different reasons.


    I walked in.


    Dr. Newcomb: ¡°Abel, is it?¡±


    He reached for my hand to give me a handshake. It was firm, much like any other handshake, and if I didn¡¯t know any better, that¡¯s where the thought would have ended.


    ¡°Sorry for the intrusion. I¡¯m sure we both know that this is just convention.¡±


    Dr. Newcomb: ¡°It is. You weren¡¯t really called here for a meeting, or a true emotional assessment. We both know those things don¡¯t really apply to you. However, my question was more of a segway into asking if you had a nickname you wanted to go by, more than an actual question.¡±


    Newcum motioned for me to sit down on a cushioned chair diagonal to him, and obligingly, I sat. In the chair, I snuggled back and spread out my arms. A mere table separated me from the epitome of death.


    ¡°Is that so...A nickname? For sure. Y''know, a lot of people tend to call me Abel. I¡¯m not sure why.¡±


    Dr. Newcomb: ¡°...I''ll do my best to keep it short, then¡­To start, let me just say that the incident you witnessed was recently deemed a suicide.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    Dr. Newcomb: ¡°Is that your reaction to the news?¡±


    ¡°Am I supposed to have more of a reaction? Fact of the matter is, I didn¡¯t even know the guy¡­¡±


    Dr. Newcomb: ¡°Sure¡­but you witnessed it happen. It isn¡¯t something to be ashamed of if you have problems dealing with that experience.¡±


    ¡°Listen listen. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re already aware, but people here rarely react to that sort of stuff¡­And besides, I hate that when someone dies everyone suddenly pretends to have been their bestfriend. I wasn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t even know the guy¡¯s name, nor have I ever cared about him.¡±


    Dr. Newcomb: ¡°I see. Well, given your status at this university, I¡¯d be prone to let you go right about now. But, you witnessed something most people would have found traumatizing, and we both know I can''t just do that. So, if you wouldn¡¯t mind, despite convention, I have more questions, if that¡¯s agreeable to you?¡±


    ¡°...Sure, I¡¯m an open-book. Ask away.¡±


    Dr. Newcomb: ¡°Thank you for your understanding. I¡¯ll begin.¡±, he shuffled in his seat and cleared his throat¡­¡°Has the memory of the event impacted you in any way? Are you having a hard time getting it out of your head?¡±


    ¡°Aside from the shock of it even happening, I haven¡¯t thought about it much since then, no.¡±


    He picked up a tablet from his desk and started to write down something with a pen he took out from his coat pocket. While I don¡¯t respect Newcomb for his past exploits, I don¡¯t blame Newcomb for having to do this, it¡¯s his obligation, afterall.


    Dr. Newcomb: ¡°Alright. How about your work, do you believe it''s suffered in any way following the event?¡±


    ¡°Not at all, my work ethic and work quality has remained the same. I¡¯d refer you to my teachers to corroborate.¡±


    Another mark on the tablet.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Dr. Newcomb: ¡°How would you describe your emotional state following the event to right now? Down or agitated, normal or slightly-off? How do you see yourself?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t feel much of anything, really. I was shocked at first, but that quickly dissipated. As you know, I was the one who called it in, a few minutes or so after it happened.¡±


    Dr. Newcomb: ¡°Right, I¡¯m aware of that. What I want to know is why you believe you reacted the way that you did. I¡¯m sure you know that that isn¡¯t a normal reaction to have¡­¡±


    I was never in any real danger of being expelled, this was a formality more than anything. But it seems I misjudged the situation. I¡¯ll change my approach.


    ¡°I think you know why I reacted the way I did, Dr. Newcomb.¡±


    ¡°...You think so?¡±, he shuffled in his seat.


    Nothing was said for a while. He scribbled away at his tablet.


    ¡°...Okay, then tell me, Abel. What exactly are you?¡±


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    What are you?


    When I heard those words, an odd feeling enveloped me.


    It was a tingling sensation throughout my entire body, almost like I had been called out for doing something wrong. Then a white noise began to pound in my head, it pounded and pounded. My brain was being racked inside my skull. Its soft tissue felt like it was about to explode. It was an incredible amount of pain in such a short amount of time.


    And then it stopped.


    I took a moment to recollect myself. I never gave any indication of what had happened. To Newcomb, I had just been thinking, ¡°What''s the point in asking me questions you already know the answer to? If you want to ask me something specifically, just go out and ask.¡±


    I took advantage of that, and I blatantly said:


    ¡°I¡¯m only Human, Dr. Newcomb.¡±


    The following went as one would expect from the previous questions. After a while of badgering me with his cutthroat demeanor, I was free to go. I didn¡¯t waste any time with my exit. I shook his hand and that was it.


    It felt to me that I was still yet to understand what had begun. I wasn¡¯t aware or all too concerned about it, but I was weary of it. I knew that, at the very least, it was something I should, ¡°look into¡±. Nothing more, nothing less. I¡¯m not one to let these events go unrealized.


    To that end, I didn¡¯t go back to my dorm right away. I detoured a while until I had made sure that whoever was going to follow me, wasn¡¯t.


    I knocked on the door several times in quick succession, with a light kick to the bottom.


    Some semblance of a deep light was peering from underneath the door, it was obvious that he was still awake.


    The door opened soon after.


    ¡°Alpha A Dash Seven¡±


    ???: ¡°Who is it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    I walked toward his closet and pushed all the hung clothing to the left. A light tap to the hangar¡¯s far right end was all it took to dislocate itself from the wall. I took the squeezed manilla folder from inside the pole.


    From the folder, I grabbed a huge catalog of simple names and faces, ages and blood types, histories and transcripts. I scrolled through all the pages until I reached the end of the list.


    ¡°Nothing in the fourth year undergrad catalog either. She could be listed under the non-photo profiles.¡±


    ???: ¡°She¡¯s a Petri Dish, then?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ???: ¡°Does it go any deeper?¡±


    ¡°Probably.¡±


    For a moment, everything was silent. The world felt invisible. In all of its instrumentation and in its beauty, we alone had shied away from it for a time.


    And then I spoke.


    ¡°I only ended up checking because I hadn¡¯t reviewed yesterday¡¯s additions yet. I¡¯ll head out for now, I¡¯ll be back later.¡±


    I left.


    Outside, other students were walking the street beside me, possibly returning from their PM classes. It was difficult to discern their identities from only a blurry profile in my peripheral vision, but I assumed it wouldn¡¯t have mattered either way.


    I was only thinking of a single thing.


    If I was to continue down the path it seemed that I would be forced to stray into, I¡¯d need to think about my next steps accordingly. And in order to do that, I¡¯d need to make time to plan.I retraced my steps back to my dorm.


    The desolate walkways, the vending machines, the plaza who¡¯s once lively chatter had rotted away, up the fleet of stairs, and finally my door.


    I inserted my keycard and slithered inside. What I needed would be secured within the wall-socket behind my bed. After grabbing a flathead from my desk and pushing my bed aside, I screwed it open.


    Afterwards, I changed into different clothing and got under my warm covers. I calmed my breaths, and closed my eyes.


    ¡®That night, in my dreams, I dreamt of people I had never once seen before.¡¯