Drink Deep and Descend

The morning comes for everyone. [[Rise]]

It is [[bright]] [[dark]]

Photons scattering. Leptons and anti-leptons annihilating Salvation comes in the form of soupy warmth sticky, flickering things A pure light blanket [[time passes]].

Dark. Purely, dark. Desolation surrounds you, floating, like an animal. You get the sense that you might be [[alone.]]

You are an animal-thing, floating. You are aware of very little- a growing hunger a persistent stutter in your inhale the non-proximity of your [[necessaries]] or [[loves.]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[این قسمت عمداً خالی مانده است] [[I am an instrument of surrender.]] [[I am thinking geometry.]]

Everyone has them. But in your case, They appear less proximate. You are hungry. You have been hungry for some time. You do not eat. You are thirsty. You have been thirsty for some time. You do not drink. [[I am thinking geometry.]] [[I am an instrument of surrender.]] [[I am a manufactured soul.]]

You are a being of lines and connected points, conceiving itself a topology mimicking a something it has never seen constructed around a many-dimensional soul hastily embedded into twospace. [[Reach out]].

An accord between powers greater than yours brought you here. For what purpose, you do not know. You contain something terrible enough for men to set aside their petty squabbles and shake hands over the detritus of homes that are not theirs. You [[fear]] the thing inside of you.

You are an emergent system composed of distant memories of others, finding no purchase in your consciousness. You were born with gifts of language and cognition, left without any means of expressing such interiority. You are unsure if you even have a body, but you [[Reach out]].

If a product of these //things//, this //noise//, what are you? Do you want this? I want [[to understand]] this noise. I want [[to go home]].

370,000 years, by your estimation you remain wrapped in the muggy glue of it all. But as the warmth fades, your local constituency of fluoresence diffuses into dissasociated particles- [[proximities]], now distant stars. You are [[alone.]]

(DEFINITION) The state or condition of being near Who are you looking for? my [[necessaries]]. my [[loves.]]

You //love// this noise. You //love// the crashing, the screaming, the catharsis and cacophony of it all. They're all //dukin' it out//, and you [[//want in on the dukin'//.->see from their level]]

From the blackness, a noise roils forward, tumbling thorugh the precipice of the surrounding abyss. A horn, blasting, frequencies [[rising]] as it approaches.

The noise barrels forward at breakneck pace, a wailing wall of air pushing toward you so savagely that you brace for its impact. But just as it reaches its [[crescendo]]...

...its pitch drops, signaling its departure through Doppler shift. [[open your eyes]].

Every noise at once. They cry, they scream, they dance to music made by machines that put them in loving trances. Try as they might to listen over the ruckus, they only hear themselves. I [[revere]] this noise. I [[fear]] this noise.

Then you must [[see from their level]].

You ask to go home, and the universe obliges. Closing your eyes and allowing your bundled-up internals to unravel into the darkness, once again. There will be a time for morning, again. But for now, [[you sleep.]]

From above, they are even smaller, quieter. Like a slime mold, expanding to feel everything within the Cartesian plane they are bound to. I want to [[build something new]] I want [[to go home]]

You walk along the side of the highway, each mote now as tall or taller than you. They blare their horns as they drive by, signaling to you the danger of walking so close to their racetrack. I want to... [[step in the way]] [[build something new]]

You stand below a massive highway- motes of light zipping to and fro. Each is so very [[loud]] and so very small. They move at breakneck pace, screaming and struggling and fucking as others ram through the barriers of the stragglers into the darkness of the horizon. [[see from above]] [[see from their level]]

"Should I live to see another of these fleeted seasons, I will live it well and with truth to my ancient wishes." - Tim Rogers

You step in the way of the blaring horns, the flashing lights. They pass through you, making your incorporeality apparent. [[I need a body]]

You wish to build something new, to reach out and show them something beyond this long road. [[I need a body]]

You find a body laying by the road's wayside, of Spartan geometry and cold metal scales. But it'll do. [[It's time to leave.]]

You step into your new body, into the [[light]].

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