《Into the twilight》


 Today is the day *Prologue*

    Today is the day. Today is the day for which he was trained for. He is training for. He was training for. Just he doesn¡¯t know it yet. He knows it. He will know it. Or he won¡¯t.


    The classroom is filled with noise as Alexander is entering, but it doesn¡¯t stop because of it, it never does. It should¡¯ve  stop.  but he lost that chance time ago because of magnanimity, or so is what he thinks. They thought because of weakness, as they have grown is a controlled space, with a narrowed narrative. Ignorant. As they make it themselves. As he made them himself.


    But Alexander doesn¡¯t mind. Why would he? He knows deep inside that when the day comes; it will change no matter what they think or wants. It they want to survive. If not¡­ they won¡¯t drag him down. intervened a stray thread born of his youthful frustration.


    As he walks with measured steps to his desk, he feels his hairs standing up and down, his pupils dilating, heartbeat quicking and slowing. His body has been detecting the clues since a few months ago; the infinitesimal change in the water. The no so longer pure flavor of the air. The light a few photons less than usual. Changes so infinitesimal that his conscious mind ignore, but his body doesn¡¯t. Even as gradual as the deteriorate has been.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Has the growth finally hitting me? He thoughts irritated with his body. Irritated but there¡¯s also a spark of dread, dread of what he knows not-knowing has been ignoring. Dread of not having time to complete his immature (not so because of the stage of the plan, but also because of he when the plan started) plan. Of having wasting the years with it. The resources.


    But as soon that spark comes to be, it comes to at end. Processed but not fully discarded, just sidelined to another thread of his processing thinking, hibernating to not waste energy, but still being in a remote location of his consciousness to affront it when needed. That¡¯s the gift of their brains, of their evolution. Of their misery.


    Or it could be an allergic reaction of the silver in my blood. Even though it should be impossible after all this years. Unless¡­ he killed that thread instantly without changing his corporeal facade, just looked blankly at his teacher who had just stand up from her sit at the center-front of the room.


    ¡°Today is the day.¡± She yelled while taking out a gun from her clothes.


    ¡°Today is the day¡± a celebratory and mechanical voice sounded from the speakers in the room


    The lights suddenly went out. A gunshot. Screams and sirens interlocking in a dizzying crescendo. Safety mechanism hurriedly activated. All happened at the same time, all while the voice multiplicated itself on the speakers.


    ¡°Today is the day¡± was sound as if thousands celebratory soulless mechanical entities where on the speakers.

 One: A hasty plan

    All went too fast for his self-imposed-weakened state. From the moment she took out the gun to shoot him, the speakers engineered as a weapon to mess with his mental processing and the lights going out.


    A hasty plan but well executed one he analyzed as his brain fully woke up after so many years, brain and consciousness threats intermingling. All while the silver bullet bit him too close to his heart.


    The theatrical act of taking out the gun while yelling; a means to abruptly wake his alert state.


    The speakers with multiple voices; to mess with his multiple threads and sub threads, to make his body believe there are way more enemies than in truth. Saturating it.


    The going out lights; an archaic method to disrupt with his eyes and in the change to conceal the trajectory of a bullet.


    A pure silver bullet. Its propose obvious.


    A hasty plan indeed. The theatrics worked because of the state of my body and mind. Same state that make the speakers attack null, as I didn¡¯t have more than one threat. Even with multiple threats, it could only work if there was a imbalance of consciousness and the body. An archaic method against us. A clue. Same as the light, only worked because of the state of my body. Another clue. A bullet of pure silver as my body tells me, more of stupid¡¯s believing than of practical use. Another clue. Inside traitors but with low interaction with the other players. A hasty plan indeed.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°today is the day¡± continued the mechanical voice, but then another voice ¡°to die blasphemous defilers of the moon¡± a raspy fanatical speaker intruded.


    That solves a clue.


    While that happen: the students like mindless drones followed the evacuation procedures just as quick as all began. While some may have tried to help, the mechanical instructions so integrated to their bodies made them evacuate even before they fully realized what happened. And when they did, it was all too late.


    The teacher, frantic shoot twice more, one bullet hit him at the side of his head and the other took him in the belly. As the body felt heavy on the floor, blind of lack of light, she fired the rest of the bullets where she thought he felt. One bullet took him in the left leg and the rest failed.


    Heavy breathing she left the room just right before the security door closet. All while screaming ¡°all hail the violet moon, another defiler dead by right retribution¡±.


    The traitors are traitors indeed. Alexander thought while looking at the ceiling, bleeding and physical tired, not only because of the bleeding, nor the silver bullets, but because of all the changes occurring in his body.


    At last the door closed and a violet, black light and UV light fillet the now almost empty room.


    A hasty plan indeed. At last, his consciousness faded.

 Two: let the facade drop

    When it all started, they were the first and the last to notice it. ¨C a known truth between the traitors


    How does it feel eh? A voice asked.


    Was that na?ve plan of yours worth it? Asked another.


    How many lives does cost it.


    The same mistake done by your forefathers, does your line doesn¡¯t learn?  Do we don¡¯t learn? And another.


    Remember what they said? The dangers of letting a thread alive without letting become part of us? This is what happens, imbalance between body, mind and consciousness.


    We have been trying to tell you about his long ago, but you didn¡¯t listen. All the clues where there, the air, the water, your blood, your hair. But not.  You were too obsessed about thinking like them, living like them, being like them, when you¡¯re not. Not limit yourself to be something you¡¯re not and even more: don¡¯t do it because of trying to understand them. Of what they did. Why they did it. We already know. You already know. All your line already knows it. All knows it.


    We won¡¯t kill that thread, it would be a waste, but we won¡¯t let it become of us.


    Its time to fully awake, its time to become what we are. Let the fa?ade drop. Is time to be US, to be YOU. The voices said as one. And then. All become one.


    Some beings once took consciousness as a parasite, feeding on the body, limiting it.  In the time took a consciousness to filter and analyse the information¡¯s that its host give it: information that the body has already analysed and could already act based on it. The information was already in the past. Wasteful. The consciousness lives in the past, while the body lives in the present and could even act predicting the future based on all information it could take and process in a fraction of the time a consciousness could. All while the consciousness its in its self-pitying world of being conscious. A parasite indeed. A waste of resources of its host


    But what if consciousness isn¡¯t a parasite, but what the body was missing? A way to overcome its limitations. What if they work in tandem? who hasn¡¯t become paralysed in a stressful event? Paralysed because the body couldn¡¯t overcome the mass influx of data or even paralysed because said data took him to the conclusion that it was over. Situations when the body tells its all over, that is tired or simply it could act. but the consciousness tells it that not and it obliges it to act. To ignore its signals. To be more than a body.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Individually: the body is of present and future. The consciousness is of past and future, and its self-made versions of what present could be. Together? They¡¯re all. A being that exists. But as they overcome its limitations together, they may also add a new one. But drown in its limitations, most never become one. That¡¯s what they call imbalance. ¨C of the knowledge kept, told by them to the traitorous us.


    He woke up in a coagulated pool of blood. Once again being him. A thread almost drowns him in frustration, but he acknowledges it and let it go. Knowing that the frustration not only came because of the na?ve of his now disrupted plan, of the years and resources wasted, but also because of his body, of its primitive frustration at being wounded, of having to waste resources it could have not waste if he listened to him long ago. But as now being one, both knew it would be more of a waste of keep being fixated in it. They have things to do.


    With almost mechanical grace he stood up even through his body protest it. With his eyes still closed as the light would damage them: by memory he took a leg from the chair he knew it could be at his side, and separated it from the rest, aided by the mechanism in said leg which function is to let the chair become pieces and be used as tools, or even weapons. Mechanism that all furniture in the room shares. With a flex of his will, he willed his body to produce a bit of adrenaline to aid him with what came next: taxing his tired body he pinched the end of the now bar-leg of the chair and made it as flat as possible. Then the took it to his chest and incrusted the now tool into him, next to where his body told him where the now deformed silver bullet is. With a bit of a effort while telling his body to become weak, he took most it out. Not wasting effort to took out all the tiny pieces as they will eventually be expulsed by his body. As soon as he took out his improvised tool, his blood coagulated. Now faster because of having less silver in his body, not only because he took the bullet nearby the zone out, but also because in his earlier bleeding, most of his own injected silver went out.


    With the most urgent bullet out: the one beside his heart. He took his time taking the silver out of his belly, as it would be tedious if his digestive system absorbed it and then went into his blood. The bullet in his leg he ignored it as his body encapsulated in a way it could be taken care of when needed, not being in a critical zone it be left alone for the moment, as taken it out could waste more blood in bleeding and in filling the space where now the bullet is (and would be left with a void in case of taking the bullet out).


    A bit pale because of the blood loss and having to hold his breath since awakening (or even before) he took a measure and controlled breath and opened his eyes quickly to look at the hole room. As quickly as he opened his eyes, he closed them revive his memories of what he saw. Reassured of not seeing glowing violet spots in the room: he let himself breath with normality and while his threads revive his memories since the beginning of the experiment, he went to the teacher¡¯s desk and tried to activate the safety deposit opening mechanism but found it broke.


    Enraged he almost took it off on the desk but then a thread, the only another one thread he has nurtured since the beginning of the experiment came in and shallowed the rage and an unnatural calmness took him. With an effort he let go of the thread and sighed.


    Rage, the most crippling weakness of us. An unnatural rage that its. Alexander sighed, letting himself take a respite of introspection while his threads revive his memories and his body adjusted himself for what is coming.