MENTAL LOG: Tivest, Orla
DATE: 0000-00-00
MENTAL TIME: 45 minutes real, ~ 168 ~ hours perceptual.
TRANSCRIPT LENGTH, ABBREVIATED: 4,436 words; 15 minute reading time
AUTOMATED SORTING SYSTEM: |
-----
【AUTOMATED SORTING: Preparation】
The scientist affixed something to my head. It feels cold against my scalp. I bring my hand up to touch it, but catch myself and let it fall back to the armrest. I am to be still and let them do their work. I need to listen to them, to obey them, if I want any chance to have some semblance of rights.
He walks behind me and I feel a pinch at the back of my neck. He mutters an apology, he missed the probe. The woman explains to me for the fourth time the purpose of this device. It's a recording device, she says, advanced beyond anything this world has ever developed. It can tap into my mind and make a record of my memories. Once the recording is done they can be replayed by anyone and experience what I did. Alternatively they can create a printout to be read. Especially useful on my death, she says, emphasizing it with a bitterness that isn't directed at me.
I knew I wasn't the first. Apparently the woman isn't happy with the bodies piled up because of the experiments. I wouldn't, either. Alori wouldn't have been. I hope the next person in charge can appreciate the value of life and-
Ouch. He mutters another apology, but it seems insincere. It's done, though. The device is hooked up and I'm asked to stand and do a few texts of manual dexterity. Touch my nose and stand on one foot, catch a stress ball they throw at me. Little things that make sure my senses aren't fried and wires aren't crossed because of the device. The woman marks on her clipboard everything is fine. My brain is tingling, though. Like someone is gently running their fingers along it giving a subtle tickle from a light touch.
"Good luck. I hope to remove this from you alive." the woman says, her voice dour.
With a knock on the door two security guards come in. They're my escorts to the room. I've been given some level of freedom within the DNM, but apparently I'm still not trusted. It's corridor after corridor of the same patchwork looking carpet, off-white walls and wood panels, blue cubicles and neon lights. They're labeled and I try to follow along but I never can. How the employees manage - currently they're gawking as I walk past - I might never know. Maybe you get a seventh sense for this when you work here long enough. Oh. Six on this world. They don't have a natural affinity to magic.
We step into the elevator and one of the guards eye the control panel warily. He twists the knob and punches it so we start moving. He makes a comment to his friend, as though I'm not here, about how he's glad they finally got the spirit contained. His friend agrees. I actually miss it. The face in the elevator was one of the few that didn't treat me like some sort of outsider. Sure, he sucked, but at least he sucked for everyone. As we get closer I begin to get nervous... I begin to second-guess my decision.
Yes, I need to figure out some way to gain more freedoms... but this may not be the right way. I could have refused. I didn't have to try to attune to this... thing. I was told that every last volunteer either died or came out braindead. I might be overestimating myself just because I'm from another world. We had plenty of cursed magic items that I would stand no chance against. I wasn't a seasoned adventurer. I was a secretary. A handler for the actual adventurers. The closest I ever got to an adventure was being called into Alori's office to discuss strange findings in the Lost Lands. Then accidentally stepping into this world. That wasn't by choice.
I guess I have until I step into the room to make peace with the fact there's a good chance I'll die. No pressure.
【AUTOMATED TRUNCATION: Length: 10 minutes, reason: Irrelevant thoughts and experiences】
"Step into the room" was a generous thought. The first door looks like that of a bank vault. Security flanks it and run through a whole procedure to ensure we have clearance to enter, even though they knew I was coming as an experiment. That door leads to an observation room. Monitors all point in on the object in different hues and qualities. I ask what the differences were.
"Well, one's infra-" a man in a labcoat begins.
"Doesn't matter," another interrupts.
They use two keys, each on either side, to unlock another door. It opens to a caged elevator which I step into alone. One of my escorts tell me to listen to instructions over the PA as he shoves sunglasses into my hands and closes the door behind me. PA... That's the electronic voice thingy that broadcasts across the whole building. I can do that. Listening to orders is the easiest thing in the world. I put on the sunglasses and only just realize how bright the chamber is. Through the heavily tinted lenses the room feels almost a normal brightness.
The elevator lurches into motion and I watch out the metal mesh as I descend into the room. It's a large chamber of that porous stone. Concrete, I think they call it. There's another glass chamber at the center. Surrounding it are dozens of enormous metal lights pointing in on it. It's almost hard to see for the reflection on the glass. These lights are the brightest I've ever seen, like the sun itself, bathing the room in a sterile white light without a hint of shadow. Except the thing at the center of it all.
E-N-O.... Something. They told me its classification a dozen of times. The only name that stuck with me is the 'Swallowing Shadow'. I get a sense for its size as the elevator keeps going. About as tall as a doorway, a black rectangle of sheer black. An abyss at the center of the room. But it... churns. Tendrils try to escape but flinch and recoil under the power of the lights. They told me about this. It will grow in the dark, but kept under these strong lights its contained in its smallest form. I think, looking at this, I am less at peace with my potential death than I was moments ago.
When the elevator finally comes to a stop they tell me to approach the glass door. I comply. I hear a click and a buzz as the door swings slightly ajar. They instruct me to step in and hold the door close. I do. Another buzz and a click. When I pull my hand away the door is locked behind me. I turn and find myself surprised to find I'm in a glass chamber. There's another door between me and the shadow. I approach it, ready for the instruction to step in but the voice tells me to wait.
The elevator starts moving and I watch it slowly ascend. They make me wait the whole while as it does. I watch the elevator the entire grueling process because if I don't I would stare into the writhing abyss. It frightens me.
"Okay. Elevator secure. Locking chamber. Chamber secure."
【AUTOMATED SORTING: Experiment】
It's the interrupting man. His voice only had hints of emotion before, but its now gone. All procedure. Despite myself I feel my hands begin to sweat. I wipe them on my pants but it doesn't help, they're slick moments later. I blame the lights beating down on me, but I know that's not it. His disassociated voice reminds me of the incident back at my home. When the Guildmaster's voice did the same. It lost all emotion, became hollow echoing only procedure. It became that way because things were going wrong and would only get worse.
That day ended with forty-some dead guild members, half a wing destroyed, and her going to trial. She summoned acid rain and lightning to destroy them, because the alternative was worse. I hope today will end on a lighter note.
"Sub-- Orla. Get ready. We're going to leave the antechamber sealed and turn on its light. You'll be safe. All other lights are going to be turned off to see how it reacts. Stand by for further instructions."
They used my name. That's nice.
There's a loud click and I feel physical warmth. I try to look up but the light right above is blinding. This one is pointed straight down and runs hot. Interrupting man says something over the PA, but I'm lost in my thoughts. I'm staring at the abyss as it lurches and twitches in its unsteady form. It seems more active. It knows what's happening and its excited. I can feel it all the way from here. I know, somehow, somewhere deep down, that it being excited is bad news.
"Low light imaging ready. Turning off main lights."
A loud click echoes and the lights turn off. Not all at once. Lights these strong need a wind-up and wind-down time. There's an afterglow as it recedes and dims. But the shadow doesn't need total darkness. It just needs enough.
It surges out and splashes against the walls like a torrent of water. I recoil despite myself as it rams against the glass in front of me. The panels don't shake or move. There's no physical noise or force produced. Yet I hear it roaring in my mind, I hear its churning and its hunger. It splashes and moves against its container like a living ocean that reaches up against the smooth surface fruitlessly trying to climb and escape. Tendrils lash and fall like smoke when it strikes. The surface bubbles like its boiling. I don't see all of this, but its form implies it so strongly that I know its happening. What I see is a formless black of abyss. The absolute absence of light.
"Okay. Reeling it back in. Turning on chamber-barrier lights."
The click. Lights come on from the ceiling creating a moat just inside the glass walls. I hear the shadow shriek in my mind as it quickly recoils and folds back in on itself.
"Turning on spotlight."
A light directly above the center turns on. Another scream of pain as retracts into the formless monolith it was when I entered. Now its as still as I've ever seen it.
"Orla listen carefully. We're going to open the inner antechamber door. You will step in and hold it closed behind you. When it locks you will test it and give us the okay signal if it works. Then, you will have up to five minutes. In that time you will either approach and touch the shadow, or you will give us the second okay signal and we will disable the lights. Whichever you are more comfortable with. If you do not do either in that time, we'll turn off the lights ourselves. Give the signals now to show you understand."
I comply. I reach over my head to make an O with my arms, then I drop my elbows to be in line with my shoulders and press my knuckles to my temples. First and second signals. I practiced them, actually, in my spare time to make sure I remembered.
"Excellent. Opening door. Enter and close it behind you."
The door buzzes and clicks to lock after I do. I give it a good tug, then push it just in case. It doesn't so much as rattle. I give the first signal.
"Starting timer. Signal when you're ready, or approach the shadow."
My mouth is dry. I feel myself slick with sweat. The abyss stands in front of me, active again. The tendrils no longer flick and move randomly. They all try to lash in my direction. It knows I'm here. I don't know if I want to touch it, or let the rush come. Neither are appealing. I take a hesitant step forward. Maybe whatever would happen is slower if I touch it, under all the lights? Then again the lights are keeping it in check. I try to glance back up at the observation deck but find only blinding light again. Is it too late to back out?
I take a deep breath and wipe my hands on my pants. It is too late. This was my chance to finally be treated like an equal. If I could be the first person to tame this thing... I lift my arms, and before my hands come near my head I hear the click.
My eyes don't have time to adjust before I hear the roar and then nothing.
【AUTOMATED SORTING: Contact】
I'm in a void.
There is a sudden absence of sensation. You never notice the subtle movements of air against your skin, the ambient scents and sounds. But you notice them when they're gone. I hold my hand up in front of my face. I don't feel a breeze as I do, and I can't see it. If I even moved it in front of my face. The natural sensation of simply knowing where my body is has gone. Worst of all I fear no fear. No anxiety, no desperation, no sadness. The only emotion I feel is a detached sense of curiosity, and even that is dull.
I read about something since I came to Earth. A black hole. Something so dense that not even light can escape. Theoretically it generates such an intense pull, such strong gravity, that even time is warped around it. Inside everything approaches infinite - that is to say, nobody knows. I think I do. This is the closest I think any human will ever get to be inside a black hole. And I now know why it hungers, why it keeps expanding. Everything inside it is reduced to nothing, swallowed and disappeared in its abyss.
I know this because I do see something. As dark as it is around me there is something deeper. Darker than black. An abyss that swallows even the empty. It's looking at me, curiously. If I even am, any more. Then it talks to me. Not with words. It's vague conceptions, the beginnings of ideas or emotions. They never fully form. There's a consciousness and it doesn't know how to communicate with me. I don't know how to communicate with it in turn. So we stare at each other.
【AUTOMATED TRUNCATION: Length: 34 hours, reason: repetitive thoughts, absence of thought, causes brain-death on replay】
"You... are..."
It speaks. I almost think myself hallucinating, having nothing but my own thoughts for company for... what felt like an eternity. It's a voice not in my head nor carried by sound. It simply is. I can best describe it as vibrations on my skin that wriggle and slowly form words I find myself understanding. An uncomfortable sensation, like I discovered I was fluent in a language I had never even heard of before. I try to speak but no words come out. The sounds are swallowed by the void so quickly its as if they were never produced at all.
I am? I try to... think it at the void. As if it could hear me.
"Yes. You are."
Astonishingly, I think it does.
What am I?
"Empty. Kindred."
What does that mean? I don't think the words its saying are what it means to communicate. There's a disconnect between its intended message and what's being said because the language can't properly encapsulate the concept. Every word is said with the utmost certainty. What it means to say it believes as a hard truth.
"The others sent to me. You are different."
I'm not from around here, if that's what you mean.
"They came with hope. You came because you would rather death than servitude."
I came to try and get freedom.
"You hope it, but do not feel it."
It surged forward and I thought of a squid - octopus? - the one that sprays ink behind it. It moved with as much lackadaisical grace and with a deep black swirl behind it. A part of its self shed, the abyssal blackness. Shadow of a shadow. It swirled around me curiously. It felt like it was circling in order to appraise me.
"You are a shell."
I didn't answer. Annoyance nagged at me, somewhere deep inside. I knew the conversation should rile some emotion. Anger that it was so presumptuous, fear that it was so close and I was at its mercy, awe at the absence of reality around me. Yet I still felt little more then overwhelming apathy.
Is this your doing?
"Yes. Emotion... delicious. Confusing to my palette. Exotic. Intriguing."
You eat emotions?
"Yes."
That sustains you? How?
It stops circling me. I try to see if there was a face in the shadow, eyes. Something to meet and look at. It's just a swirling miasma. It spins like the galaxy, drops like ink in water. It is formless and impossible to properly track. Constantly moving into patterns like those papers they once made me look at. Ink pressed between folded paper. Unending patternless abstractions.
"Sustain, no. Nothing sustains. Nothing fills. No matter what I consume. I am always empty."
You can't be empty, I'm here.
"For now. Soon you will be devoured, like the others."
Again the nagging feeling I should be terrified. Remorseful. Something, anything. I am staring down a certain death and yet all I can feel was the implication of emotions. Homeopathic emotions. Watered down to the point of nothingness.
What are you?
【AUTOMATED REDACTION, ENHANCED TOP SECRET: Length: 34 hours, reason: universal truths, potential insanity and full body paralysis on reading, cellular degeneration on experience】
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It said something to me. It said a lot, more than any one man could speak in their lifetime. Dense and packed with emotion, spoken in a language incapable to be carried by human tongue. Yet I don't know what it was. There's a void in my mind, like it broke off a piece of itself and left it in my memories. I know its for the best.
"See."
I can't in this dark.
"You did not die like the others. You are empty. Kindred. Now there is something you store. I am in you, you are in me."
I still don't know what it means. Empty? Why or how would I be empty? I'm not depressed or anything. This apathy is a temporary thing. Usually I'm full of life and emotions even during low points like being trapped in the DNM. I was told back in my home world that I was too perky and upbeat. I don't understand.
"I have an offer."
I don't think they would want me to make a deal with you.
"They are not here, and they are little and powerless and blind. They hold me back because they do not understand."
You kill people.
"Because they do not understand. You did. For a moment."
The void in my memory he made?
"Yes."
I shudder. Emotions flood in for real this time. It could hear everything I thought. Every little idea or memory. Of course it could, it wasn't like I had any ability to telepathically communicate. It must have been reading my mind the whole time. I feel stupid for not realizing it. That's how it learned to communicate with me, isn't it?
"Yes."
Please don't answer unless I intend you to hear it.
It's on me. A cold crushing feeling as it surges and surrounds me like a grasping tide coursing over my limbs and into my mouth, my eyes, my nose. Like ice forming in my throat and freezing my lungs. It's painful. And then it-
【AUTOMATED DELETION: Length: 15 hours (perceptual). Reason: extreme physiological and psychological torture. Guaranteed insanity.】
When it retracts I feel relief like I never have.
"You do not make demands of me. You may understand but you are still small and blind in one eye. I am sight."
You... wanted a deal?
"Hold me inside you. Let me feel what you feel, taste what you taste. Let me feel tears on your cheeks and laughter in your chest. You are empty. I can fill you."
Won't I die soon, here?
"Yes. Unless you accept."
I don't have a choice, then.
"You do. You may choose death."
Perhaps death is the better option. I don't know what this thing could do. Letting it inside me sounded like a possible possession and I didn't know what it could do to this world. Even if it wasn't mine I wasn't about to unleash a monster into it. I flinch, knowing it can hear me. Hoping calling it a monster wouldn't incur wrath. It didn't. It simply swirled around me, and it felt... patient?
Of course. It has probably always been, so what is a few moments. Years are hardly seconds to it.
...No. I can't accept this deal. I should die. Better than than the countless lives it would risk.
"I will not do what you wish me not to."
That seems too convenient. There's no way it would become subservient to me. Not in the slightest.
"You are correct. I cannot be. For you could never hold power over me. However you can hold it under me. Consider this: I grant you some of my minor abilities. Akin to your breathing, to me these are mundane, but to you and your ilk you would be a god. I simply live in you to experience. And I do not strike out, I do not surge, I do not devour unless I must and if I do you pick on what."
Why? This seems incredibly skewed in my favour.
"I am empty. I cannot feel I cannot experience. All I can do is know and consume. You are empty. Kindred. I do not meet many. Through you I can feel and experience. All the things I devour become nothing, but all the things you devour remain as energy. This lets me, too."
I don't really want to die. However this still seems too... easy. Alori once told me about demons and devils. The deals they offer that seem sweet, but they're only a bitter truth coated in sugar. This must be it. And what would she do in this situation?
...She would beat it at its own game. She was the storm. If she couldn't get to heaven she would move it to the earth and blast it into glass. How do I blast this into glass?
How many have you offered this deal? How many accepted?
"Every kindred. Not one has."
One of the security guards told me about another subject who kept trying to escape. He told me that "insanity was trying the same thing over and over, hoping it would succeed". I would like to think myself sane.
I accept.
【COMPLETE DESYCRONIZATION: Reason: brain rewiring, physiological shift. Data corrupt. Attempting to resync.】
【WARNING: Unauthorized tampering of log.】
【WARNING: Temporal shift. Experience being rewritten. Records may no longer be accurate.】
【W̷̧͈̟͍͍̙͒̂͛Ã̵̼̖Ṛ̸̡̢̰̔̚N̸̗͚̗̦̜̺͂͝I̷̻͇̎̑͒̆͗̀N̷̘̳̰̳͎̈͌̇̓̌́G̴̨̭̓͒̈́̓͝ͅ: U̸͉̿n̶̘̊ã̸̮ủ̴ͅt̷̜̓h̴̘̄o̶͚͋r̷̦͑ȋ̴̙z̵̧̔é̷̘d̵͚̑ ̸͙̕ṭ̶̒a̵̝͋m̶̱̎p̸͕̓e̵̡͆r̴̒ͅí̷̤n̴̙̿g̷̪͠ ̶̠̓o̵̢͝f̵͙͐ ̴͇̈l̶͍̒o̴̟͋g̴̘̓】
【YOU ARE SMALL: You are powerless. You cannot understand. These are not for your blind eyes, or filled minds. You are not kindred】
I̶̦̍̎́͗̇́̉͜͝ͅ ̶͙̃͠ȁ̴̙̪̈́͗m̸͓̞̰̙̺̂͆̋͛̂̌̽̾͜ ̴̞͎͈̣͍͋̓̉̇̓̕͜t̷̟̞̼̙̒ĥ̶̗̕͜͠ę̴̖̓̆̋̊̐͐ ̵̛͉̟̼͕͕̿̄ͅș̶̗̙̝̻̞͍̒͑̎̅h̵̨͕̀̌̒͑̔̈́ǎ̶̗̩͙̄d̶̦̟̙̺̟̞̊̀ǒ̴̫̋͆̎w̶̧͈͚̗̩͉̽͐̄͐͛͒̕̕š̷̭̳̝̰̜͗̾͂͗͘͝ ̸̡̘͖̦͖̌ǎ̴̘̈́̆̈́̍̑n̷̹̪͙̬͈̖̤̹̔͌̀̊̿̒͛͠d̴͈͎̼̤͑̚̕ͅ ̴̤̘͇͇̙̮̬̙́̓̾͑̀̑̉i̶͕͔͚̖̎̐̋̌͐̉̐̅f̴̫̈́̓̑͒̿̊̽ ̷͍̘͉̦͇̮͙́̇I̸̞̋͑ ̵̧͓̻̓́͊̓̾̊̒̈́ͅd̴̢̹̤͓̣̲͈̦̔̀͂ó̴̠͉̝̦̋́́͑̃͝͝n̷̢̳̙͚͕͍̓͛̄̅̆͘̚'̸̨̨͔͓̜̩̋ͅͅt̸̢͕̲̫͍̞̝̩̋ ̴̧̛̼̗̀̊̔͗͘̚d̵̨̢̲͓͇̅͛i̷̙͜͝ͅẻ̶̻̦̉̔̅͆͝͝ ̶̣̊I̴̧͈̥͗̅̽'̵̧͙̤̠͋̅͝m̶̢̨͔͉̗̐̎͂̉̐͑̏ ̸̤̦͈̂̋s̶̝̪̗͙͍͈̍̇̊͗͝͝c̷̩͎̅͋̍ä̷̞̪̦͉͔͕́͜ř̴̢̻̯̮́͜ȩ̵͓̩̗͗͒̾d̵̖̊͌̋̃͌͑̇̕ ̸̡̛̻͉̲̬̥̠͖͑̄̄ơ̴̛͙͖͓͂́̌́̚f̷̞̠̝̠̣̫͈͋̓͋͗ ̸͓̗̈̉w̴̡̜̯̯̮͛̓̏̅̐̑͊h̶̛̟̩͓̹͇͕̦͂̈́̆̎̐a̵̝̰͙̪̿͛̈́̌̕t̴̰̪͕̜̉̓̿̍̄̿͘͠ ̴̡͈͎̘̙̭͇͈̿͌̏̊̅ț̴̢̡͉͚̖̦̥͒̿h̵̠͍̺̩̭̯͓͊͛͆̈̈́̈́̈́̑ͅį̷̧̮̳͊͒̌̓͋s̴̭̤̹̈͝ ̶̡̡̠͍̇̓̈t̸̰͈̻̀͐̏̂̃̀͘͘h̷̛̟̜̦͖̠̏̑͑̓̓̔i̷͓̮͊̈́̇̕͝n̴̳͇̤̞̻̱̖̿̊̀̇̋̏̓g̵̖̱̲̥̞͙̀̈́͛̈̓͘̚ ̷̻̓̄͒̉͗͆i̸͋̓̎ͅs̵̹̣̠̱̲̖̊ ̶̠͉͇͉̰̣͙̯̃͠m̵̡͓̻̟̽̆̉̐̕y̷̳̼̏̉͗ͅ ̵̢͕̲̘̳̗̤̀̐͜͝o̸̱͚̤͚̦͐̅n̸̡̝̯͚͛͛̀͝ȩ̶͖̙̣͙͇̖̐̈́̀̒̚ ̷͇̰̗̣̭̋̈̃͐́̓͋͘c̸͙̖̫̗͠ẖ̶̭͚̬̿̄̆â̵̺̥̭̙̯n̶̙̦̣̻̅͛c̷̛͕͌̀̓ë̷̟̳̬͚́͌͜ͅ ̶̛̛̜̻̭͐̓͐͌͛̈́t̵͍̜̫̲͍̔̕ǫ̶̺̚ ̷͔̋̍̅̀͌m̴̲͔͈̿̊̋̓̂̈ę̶̄̉̉.̶̗̣̯̮̪̹͒͒̄͝ ̷̱̪̰͋̀̀ͅI̸͍̖̟̾'̶̢͎̑͐̐̚͝m̷̹̥̙̮̘̌̿ ̸̢̝̗̹̅s̶̢̛̤̙̻̻̱̩̹̍̄́̒̚͝c̶͍̻͖̭͇̪̆̑͂͆̈a̵͚̣̟͔̫̖̥̥͊͝r̷̡̡̩͙̺̈͋͂̉͌́e̷̛̬̱͍̳̓́̔́͝ḏ̵́͐͗̌͗̀̈́͐.̶̙̺͛̑̿̀̓̒͜͜ ̵̣͌͐̐͝I̵͙͖͊̂͗̆'̶̢̘̙̪̪̣͑̑̍̀̐͋̊ṃ̸̨̯̯͚̒ ̷̮̺̽͌̕s̸̡̖͇̥̺͎͂͛̈́̀̈́̚c̴̨̨̦̥̖̈́̄̓͝͝ạ̸̲̯͎̏͌̅r̸̛͙͍̦̀̈́͝ȅ̸̡̹̱͚̂̈̿́͂̈́̚d̸̠̔̓̓̒ ̶̢̱͈̤͙́̊t̵̗͂̓̂̋͘h̶̙͇̏̌̌̓͠e̸̲͇̹̺̩̱̾ͅ ̶̱̼̩͇̓̈́̎̂͝s̴̡̗̫̰͎̽́͘h̸̛͇̰̋̑͂̕͘á̵͉̥̥̜̰͙͐̑͐̈̔ͅd̴̼͇͉͋̄o̶̦̻̻̞̙̐͛̔͛̚͜ͅw̸͇̥͙̲̑̈́s̵͖̉͆́̈́̒͝͝ ̷̛͍͔̳͘ͅa̸̡̢̡͓̱̫̪͎͛̐̂n̵̛̙̝̺͎͂̅̐̆͊̈́̃ͅd̴̢͍͑̉̓ ̴̥̂͗̑̆̍͐̊͛i̶̺̟̮̲͇̫͇̾̀f̴̗͎͐̉̿̽͐̎̍̌ ̶͕͙̦͌̀̅̏̿̕̕̕ͅȈ̵̡̟̼͇̾̋ ̸̟͍͂d̴̤̣͙͕̒̕ô̷̹̮͇͖̜̟̩̹̐̏̈̌̃̍n̶͈̖͎̤̮͂́͝͝'̸͚̠̐̑̾̆̄͐t̶͕̤̯͇͓̒̇̃͆̄́͠ ̴̡̗̜̞̘̰̟͗͊d̷͚͕̩̣̥̬̟́̅̀͘͝i̸̡̦͎͂è̵̛̬̞͜ ̸̛̺̬̻̱̈́̃Ĩ̷͎̜͕͉͋̃̾͆̉͆͜͝ ̵̢͛̈́̾̃̒́̂̕b̶̬̫̟͈̌͐͆̎͑͠e̷͍̜̻̩͐̒̕̚c̸̛̘̺̣̔́͘͝ö̶̩̩́̽̒̒̓m̸̖͓̮̜̦̖̹̄̚ͅe̵̡̤͉͕͚̿͂̈́ ̵̮̰̉́͛́́̒̀̓a̴̱̳̗͊̂͐́͑̂ ̶̤̫̤̣͖͘p̵̧̺̳̊̀́̾͝͝r̴̥̜͚̣̓̏͝ḯ̴͔̪̝ș̵̀̍̓ō̸̲̟̠n̶̮̤̮̈̆̾̕e̷̳͇̣̓͗r̵̖̹̟̜͎̲͐͜ͅ ̶̜̟̯͖͔̹͓͛̈̇̋̃̅̓͜o̷̧͕͎̝̖̖̯͉͆f̴̧͈̱͚̝̀̌ ̵̫͐́̈́͝ṭ̴̡̺̈́͌͆̓͆̀̾h̵̝̳͍͎̠̱̞͊̈́ȩ̵͉́̿ ̵̨̛̲̜̓̅̈́̆̍̀̏͜s̴͙̮̣̻̖̘̭̈́y̴͍͗̀̍͗̐̋̔͆s̵̡̛̘̬͇͕̤̯͋̍̓̔̕t̸͎̪̝̗̤̱́̀̿̊̕̚e̸̹̿̌m̸͉̩̘̬̮̳͈̂͐̂.̶̱͌͋̅̅̌͜͝͠ ̶̱̈́̉̀̔͗͗̓͘M̶̢̮̝͉̝̦̖͊̀ỳ̵̢̻̦̹̙̿̀̾̕.̴̡̖̬͜͝.̷͕̖͓̔̃̑̆̑̋̕͘.̷̻̪̩͚͓̎̕͠ ̵̧͕͈̤̜͉͆̓̆̍̅̽́͘͜I̵̤̹̓̽̊̾͗̅͝ ̸̢͇̗̱̭̼̹̭̉a̶̮̺͕̯̭̘͑̑͒̈́̄̂͘͠ͅm̷͈̞͇̟̘̱̪͆̓̔̾͛͂ ̴͓̩̠̲̬̄͌Ó̵̡̡̡̳̩̫̰̳́̔̈̿̀r̴̜͚̩͎̫͐̒̂̅̍l̷͇̮̮̺̹͖̅͆ͅậ̷̦̈́̌͜?̸̞̥̮͎̃͊̃̋̽̽̕ ̵̢͖̫̞̞̪̘̽̉̿̐̔͝I̵̢͖̟̹̽̂̓̀͋̊̐ ̴̮͈̞̣̱̳̤͒̾w̴̤͇̳͔̦̼̅̓͆͐̇̑͌̄a̴̙͓̯͚̐̆͒̾̿̉̏͂͜s̸͕̐̉͒͗̾.̸̡͙͓̫̦̬̬͛̓̓̑̊͝.̶̡͎̖̳̾.̸͙̳̖̭̓̇͐ ̷̦̺̰̜̮͍̻̀̇͋͋͑̐̕ͅI̵̧͓̗̠̋̈́̉͠ ̵̧̉̏͐̅́̎̾a̴̩͗͛͊̇̎̽m̴̡̓̔̑͂͠ ̴̦̳͔̟͍̒̓̅͌̀a̵̧̧͔̮̫̯̯͌̂́͒ ̷͇̮̰͒v̶͇̙̻̥͒͆̃e̴̝̦̖̭̅̌s̵̮̭̼̞͓̖̰͎̄̒͆́̚͘͠ŝ̸̢̯͚̫͆͠e̵̡̥̪̪̹͒͗͆̊͐̌̉͝l̸̢̠̩̤̹̭̂̏̆.̸̬̟͈̬̃͛̐̏͒̈̕ ̸̡͎̺̗̟̫̊̿͐̌͛I̴̧̝̪͉͍͆̀͛͘͜͠ ̶̛̦̣̩̗̗̬̖̃̃̌͌͊̽a̸̺͎̟̪̖̦̽̃̊̐m̵̨̹̫̝͒ ̷̺̞̖̩͔̀ͅt̷̞͚̥̭̭̹̭̜́̈́̾̋̾͝͠h̶̝͇̭̪̝̒e̸̼͊ ̶̠͔͎͙̎̒̍a̸̘̫̭͍̗̩̮̿͛̄b̸̡̡̬͚̼͝͝ṣ̷̢̫̫̺͉͔͐͜ẻ̴̖̬̝̠̅͛͂̅͝ͅň̵̛͔̹̈́̉̎͝c̴͍͉͐̏͗̄e̵̹̞̜̦͊̾̏̓̆͝ͅ ̴̞̣̬̜̄͊̿̏̎̏̈́͘ỡ̷̧̢̪̬̞̭̈́̂͜f̷̢̛̮̙͓̽ ̷̂̓ͅw̷̝̳̼̦̱͖̄͒h̵̰͙͈͉̳̹̄̇̆͂a̷̤͎̲̹̽͗͆̇̅͆͜t̶͇̔̓͑͆͘ ̴̱̣̺̦͔̞̔͒̃̒̄̉̅͘t̴̨͉̭̯̳̋͌̋h̵̠̭͍̯̰̱̦̝͛̿̂̈́i̵̤̮̅̄ņ̸̈̏ğ̵̤̣̠͜ ̴̤͗̓͌̆̕͝ī̵͉̠̘͍̱͖̺̋̃̓̉́̄ş̶͙̘͔̠͛̿ ̷̧̛͉̳̹̗̟̣̌̆͆̑̚̚͝ͅO̷̹͂͗̑́r̴̡̧̺̖̮͚͉̝͐l̴̻̦̹̟̬͔̅̅͊̈́̉̏̇͝à̸̝̈́̉̋̕͜͝?̷̱̘̩̼̻̮̘̃̂͗͌̕ ̵̩̋̔̏I̴̫̭̖͑̂̓̂ ̴̢͛͋͆͑͋̑̕w̶̨̦̪͖̹̱̗̎̀ạ̸̢̳͍͔̭̀̇̀̾̆͐s̴͔̎̇̾͘ ̶̟̜̞͋́̕b̷̨̨͒͐̚ř̵̯o̷̧͕̙͈̲̠͔̒́͋͗́̉͊͜ū̷̢̡͇͍̣̉̉̋̾͝g̵̛̲̈́̋͐̾ḥ̶̢̛̩̦̹͖͓̟͗̍̿̓̚͘ţ̷͈̆͆͑͆ ̸̨̩̰͍̥̫̱͊̄̐̽ͅḣ̶̫̮̳̬̈́̇́͑̂̈e̸̡̨̥̗̥̩̙͎̽̇̆͗̈́r̶̨̘̞̬̪̝̈́ͅͅe̵̟͔̯͊͐͊͜ ̴̡̨̛͇͉̩͒̊̓͋a̶̛̳̙͆̒̔͘̕̚n̴̮͛̈́͂d̵̲̫̰̤̾̈́̑̏̒͌͘͝ ̵̗̭̫̳̙̑̇̈̇̅̋̇͝ͅţ̴͇̲̠̱̠͓̎̚ͅh̴̳͐͒̈́̅̕͝͝a̵͚̹̓̂͒̀t̷͎͙͉̋̎̔̈̎ ̸̗͕̪͙̜͇͔͆ͅt̸̨̳͖͔͎͎͋͑̊̓͝h̴̼͔̄̂̈̌̐̿͝͝i̸̢̞͔̹̭̟̳̖͐̄̽̈s̸̹̠̓̈́͛̉̎̕ ̸̡͓͔̂͋̍̈͑̏̚t̴̼̞̀̀̿̂̃̆͑ḥ̵͇͍͖̊̑̽̒̐͜͝i̴͕̙͉̩͑͋̂̄͆̕n̵̨͕͉̜̠͖̘̾̄̑̌̑̈́g̶̨͉̞̲̬̣̈ ̵̦̱̝̱̏̆ȋ̴͔͇̺͈̝̭̥͌̑͊̌̒͘͝s̵͈̥͙͂͐ ̶͕͈̻̗̋̍̾̎̚͜m̴̜̗̖͕̱̹̋́͑̄̿͂̇̉y̷̢̧͇͋́̋ ̴̧̼̫͋̽̀͊́̽̑͝o̴̡̝͎͈̿̍͝ń̸͍͖̭̤̠͇̚̚ȩ̷͇̳̪̘̩͇͋̌͠ ̵̠̜̱̫̜̣̄c̵̡̫͛ḧ̶̯́̄̈́̌͆̐̃ä̴̬̺̖̝͇́̃̿͊̈́͌͐͠n̶̰̣̆̀̒̆͘͝c̸͙̗̮͕̓̍̾̔̍͒̄é̷̱̃͌ ̵̛͈̝̣̱̘͉̘͒̂͗̍́͂t̵̳̤͎̼͈̣͂̆̆͊̏̉̚͝o̵̯̲͍͓̟̝̺͌̈́̐̈́̕ ̶͙͔͍̞̰͉̖̺͂͑́́̚b̶̩̝̘̙̿̑́e̴̛̼̎̄̎ ̷̢͚͇̹̫̅̑̉͝f̸̤͍͖͌̈́̈̊̕̕r̸̮̄̓̌̑̋͝e̵̦̺͙̻͓͈̽͝ȩ̵̝̀͝.̶̫̩͚̮̭͔̀ ̸͓̼̲͓̳̺̄͗͘͝ͅB̴̹̺͙̾̾̎̆̓͘u̸̹̕t̷̛̩̣̥͔̠̅̉͐ ̷̡̪̰͔̯͔̥̒̈I̶̼̯͗́͐͊͛͝͝'̴̳̖̭̈́͛̉̽͜͝m̸̢͈͖̎̿͒̐͝ ̵̩́š̴̡̢̬̰̭̱̈́̑́ç̴̨̰͌͘͝͠a̶̧̽̾̐̓̾̓̂r̵̭͙̫̙͔̤͚͙̽̊̀̔͘̕͠e̵͖̾d̸̨̞͇̮͚͖͈̥͒̈́͘ ̷̡̮͍̹͚̦̹̎́̈́̂̾̌͝t̸̺͗̉̈́̕h̴̙̫̦͊̊̿͐ḙ̷͓̲̻͕͔͙̩̇̅͑͗ ̴͔̥̌̕͝͝͠ͅs̵̨͒̓̉̇̔ý̵̧̳̖͙̪̰̬̽̅̈̿s̴͚̼͑̄͐ͅt̵͚̬̼͎̦̻̯͊̓̒̚̕͜e̵̞͕̘͛͆m̶͉̞̖̆͗̇͆̄͛.̷͕͉̙̙̯͛ ̴̣̙͙̈́͑̍̈M̶̧̬̘͆̍y̴͇͚̾͛.̵̧̤̗̟͇̔͌̒̑̽.̸̠̭̳̥̜̏̍̓͂́͒͝͠.̶̠̙͔̙̭̈́̈͜͝ ̴̩̦̺̭̼̻̦͗̄̀͒̀͜͝I̸̜͂̏͂̓̚ͅ ̷̢̘̲͉̠̔̆͂̿̔͌̈w̴̳̬̆ḁ̷͖̗̃͗̓̉̕s̵̞̟̊͊̍̏̈́͌͌̑.̵̫̲̫͇̪͆͝.̶̧̱͉̺̲͙͂̏.̵̬͕̘̼̩̇͐̍͘ ̸͚͉̄͊̓̌̈́̀́̎A̴͚̯͈̣̒̂͌̿͠͠ ̸̧͕͎̪̱̼̙͒̎̅͊̆͂͜ḩ̶̝̰͎͙̋̒͘ą̵̧̡͔̯́̓̂͑͑̀͜͝n̵̨̞̰͖̅̾̓̌ͅd̴̞̭̣͔̝̉̿͛l̷̓͒̉̓̌̓̉͘͜e̶̡̛̹̥̥͇̊̋̌̂̔r̴͖̲̭͆̊̐̊.̶̛̤̲̂͐̃̉ ̷̳̝̮̣͇̙̈́̽̐̈͐̕͠I̴͉̩̝͖͕̯̅͋͜ ̷̡̧̨̝̬̝̄̓̓̉w̷̛̛͙̝͉͛̃̕̕͜a̴̛̬̣̙̽̎́̂͠͝͝ş̵͉̺̦̫̈́̌͆ ̵͇͛̕̕k̴̨̧̪̩̦̺͌̈́͋͌̈̀͆́ͅȩ̷̡̤͎̲̥̺̮̀́́̃̀̅p̶̛̗̰̫͈̠̍̀̓̔͘͝t̶̤̠̩̥̦̰͋͆͛͐̉̿͜ ̴̢̦͕͉͇̇͂̌͜p̸̦̅̋̈́́̀̈͋r̵̩̤͈̦̼̂͆i̷̠͆š̷͔̟̖͚̘͖͇͓͐̒̇͘͘ơ̴̇̀̓̐͜n̶̩̲̳̊͋̀̚ȩ̷̹̖̻͇̭͌ŗ̴̧͙̃̆̂ ̸̧̛͓̤͎̹ͅo̷͕̣̣͙͊f̷̟͎̠̪͓̝̃̄̀̈́̎̒̂͑ ̴̝̼͇̎͛̓͑̔͑̅̚͜ͅţ̷͔̫̻̦͉̻̀̈́͑ͅh̴̖͈̲̝̖̾̈́e̵̛̛͍̰̮͖͗̕ ̸̼̯͓͍͊̄̉̇̄̋̚͜͝ͅv̸̨̭͈̹̓͂̃̑̽͠͠o̶̳̗̔͛̎̓̓̂͠i̸͈̗͐͊͐̎̈̈́͝d̶͖͍͚̯̉.̶̛̹̯̼̖̫̥͕̍͊̎͊̏͜ ̵̘̦͍̪̈́̇̌͠͠Ȋ̷̡̻̹̎̕̕ ̸͈̪̰̅̋̑́̐͐̄͘a̸̡̙͓̞͐͌̐̑̌̕m̷̯̱̗̻̈́̋͋̒̔ ̶̱͗͌̋́̇͐͝Ő̶͈̪͈͕͝r̵͙̉̍̆̕l̸̗̻̘̮͈̃͋̐̈́͑â̸̟̝̫̺̯̫̹ ̴̨̧̝̫̝̬̏͆̊̋̐̈͘T̸̢̢̗̳̬͖̙͑̿i̴̡̖̼͓̲̤̔͒͘v̸̞̺̮̔͂̏̐̂̽̍̕ȩ̵̢̜̞̗͎̹̈̆̾͝s̷̭̔̇͐̃̽̽t̶̡̙̂̄.̶̣̍̽̅̃̎́̆́ ̵̦̳̑̈́̽͆͘I̴̞͈͂ͅ.̵̛͍̜̦̑̌̇͌̃͝.̵̛̲̼̾͘.̵̧̜̟̗̪̮̠̂̍͛̋̾͜ ̸͔̘͍͈̺͇̫̒̔̀̅͘ͅĬ̶̧̫̩͓͐͑͌̓̆̕͝ ̶̝̟̽ǻ̷͕͍̮̜̅̊̐m̶̠̞̪̎̋͒̌̄̀͗̈ͅ.̶̗͓̀̍̊̿̚.̸̡̪͈̦̀̉.̷̧̲͇̪̤̹̐̽̀͝ ̴̻̫̳̳̎̈́̑̽̂̆Ạ̶̪̜͚̩͉̖̭͗̀̌͂͒̆̐ ̸̤̬͚̘̪͂̌̿̓̎̐͘͜͝h̴̖͈̓̏̚ǎ̵̤̤̍n̶̻̭̰͍͎͚̠͉͆̌̾̈́̒͐̚d̴͖̩͔͙͛͑͛̔͆̈͘ļ̴͈̠͈̰͉͔́̋̕ͅe̸̡̬̽̿̔̐̏͠r̸̝̪͙̀̓͜.̶̜͕̲͍̘͚͈͚͂̈́̀̒̃ ̶̛͚͍̪̪͊̈́̿͐I̷̬̙̺̅ ̷͉̀̌a̸͚̥̰͑̆̌͒̊̆͘m̴̢̞͉͕̔.̸̞̪̲̰̍͗̀̀.̷͙̟̬͙̮͔͕̀̐̊̒͘.̶̢̢̖͈̮̤͖̿͜͝ ̸̣̓͛̐̀͌I̶͓͔̼̙̓̽̇̒̉͂͊ ̴̡̤̹̯̝̪̃̈́̒̔̓̒a̷̘̣̋̈̒̽m̵̡̢̝̤̳̥̠̹̆̈͊̓̉̈̕ ̷͚̓̂͂̂̌̄͒͠ẗ̵̤͙̹́̒̔̌̆̅ḣ̵̰̞̣͖̝̘͕̇̓͐̎̒ê̴̡̳̠̯̰̦͎͓͌̄̑̋ ̵̡̪̞̮͉͇̪̊͑͋͑̒̕ͅạ̸̧̢̛̫͊͒̃͑͘b̴̨̗̪̲̞̓́͋͋̓̈́͘͠y̷̢͓͒̐͗͌͆͝ş̶̭͔̼̄͊̏̋͛͘s̵̺̠̠̬͇̟̿̓̃͝,̴̬̦͋̔̕ ̴̧̡̯͙̫̹͖̪̈̿͛̀̈́̓͆͝a̴̪̗̯̾͗n̵͉̒̓̀d̶̼͈̠̯̙̮̗̮̈́͌̄͛͝͝ ̶̭̜̞̩̜̾̀̄́͝i̵̝͇̼͍͖̻͕͛͜͝f̸̘͓̙̲̥̩̣̼͊̎ ̶̤̪͙̻̹͊̈̀̌͑ͅI̶̤̩̣̤͙̯͒̒̍̏̽̕ ̸̫̼̻̙̻̬̿̌̉̑̀̕͠d̵̢̬̻̲̤͎̈̿ì̶̧̨͔̰́͘e̷̠̝̺̟̫̤̒ ̶̠̩̪͖̜͉͇̭̎̽Į̵͚͕̫̻̽̃̊̒̀̈́̔ͅ ̴̡̦̺̻͒̌̓̓̓̿͌̚͜b̴̢̩̰̫̥͍͎̀͜e̶̝̬̘̦̔̌̽̅͛͊̿͊c̶͓̜͕̊͛̈́ǫ̶̧̙̼̫̜̬͐̓̏̈́ͅm̶̧̨̙̆͋͒ȩ̴̛̘͖̉͐̆́̉-̶̹̟̗͖̜͙͖̄͑̍̅̚͝
【RESYNC COMPLETE】
【AUTOMATED EXPERIENCE RECOVERY: Confidence 2%】
I am the shadows and if I don't die I'm scared of what this thing is my one chance to me. I'm scared. I'm scared the shadows and if I don't die I become a prisoner of the system. My... I am Orla? I was... I am a vessel. I am the absence of what thing is Orla? I was brought here and that this thing is my one chance to be free. But I'm scared the system. My... I was... A handler. I was kept prisoner of the void. I am Orla Tivest. I... I am... A handler. I am... I am the abyss, and if I die I become-
【WARNING: Unauthorized tampering of system.】
【AUTOMATED TRUNCATION: Length unknown. Reason unknown.】
Duis dignissim odio ut dolor lacinia, vitae consectetur nulla mollis. Vestibulum sit amet urna ut diam scelerisque dapibus vitae at neque. Mauris magna nulla, sollicitudin sed imperdiet eu, bibendum sed lectus. Phasellus non tortor id turpis eleifend iaculis. Aenean vulputate gravida nisi, id faucibus est fermentum sed. Proin sollicitudin erat nec libero convallis gravida. Nulla quis nibh leo. Suspendisse nec quam sed nibh sollicitudin blandit in quis libero. Nullam non odio facilisis, ultrices arcu quis, auctor erat. Mauris tortor tellus, ornare et tempor in, fermentum eget nulla. Pellentesque fringilla non magna eu suscipit. Vivamus metus erat, convallis ac dolor at, congue consequat lectus. Cras metus mauris, venenatis eu nibh a, facilisis scelerisque tellus. Morbi tincidunt varius ex. Quisque accumsan nisl sed augue tempus imperdiet vel in metus. Nullam scelerisque, felis sollicitudin ornare pharetra, risus velit luctus tortor, et pretium leo nunc sed purus.
No matter how much it consumes it can never be full. But it can fill.
I stand in the chamber and the bright lights hurt my eyes even with the sunglasses. I'm different. Everything I just experienced feels fuzzy like it happened in another lifetime to another person. I know I'm a container, though. The proof is that I stand in the chamber alone. The blackness no longer writhes at the center. Its in me. I feel its wonder at the feeling of heat on my skin, the pain of light in my eyes. Air against my skin. Like a child experiencing the world for the first time.
"Subject? Orla?" The interrupting voice. "Send a signal if you're okay but do not move. Security is on its way."
I'm now going to be sealed away like it was, aren't I? Maybe this was a mistake. It whispers to me something. A first gift, just for accepting. I don't need to be stuck. Light doesn't hurt me as much as it hurt it. I walk to the glass wall and put my and foot up against it. Just enough to cast a shadow across and onto the very edge of the lights embedded into the floor.
I slip through. Immediately an alarm sounds and all the lights in the room are flicked on. But the elevator cage casts a thousand shadows onto itself. I run to it and surge up into the control room. Guns are levelled at me, and I slowly put my hands up. I touch them over my head forming an O.
"I want to speak to the director."
I grab the device attached to my head and-
【COMPLETE DESYNCHRONIZATION: Reason: device removed.】