Бесплатный фрагмент - Megalosaurus and The Fall of Man

Megalosaurus and The Fall (of Man)

By Munar Himor

Chapter 1: “The World’s Address”

To absolute void — so profound that a primitive mind could scarcely comprehend its very essence — nothing remains but to simply exist in utter darkness without any reason whatsoever. It just is. It has no purpose, no design — or so it thought. At times, it seemed impossible that it could simply reside among nothingness and be nothing itself. As if it were the void. Can nothingness truly exist? Is it not, by definition, nothing? Absolute darkness, which cannot even be called darkness if one is being precise. Nothingness cannot have color.

Nothingness cannot possess anything at all. And yet, it has a name. But… why? Does nothingness truly exist, then? Little can be said of it — it both is and is not. Strain as you might, try as you will — you will never understand. Even nothingness can doubt.

Under the weight of its own uncertainty, the void began to warp in ways it never had before. Its boundless, formless shell began to shape itself with a precision worthy of envy — as though a master craftsman had finally lent it some semblance of form. No longer trapped in alexithymia and utter stillness, motionless and purposeless, it stirred. Its borders contracted and expanded, compressed and stretched — each molecule that flickered into existence at its edges and within its depths burst forth with chaotic life, seeking its place in this newly acquired space. Matter seemed to divide itself — part blank canvas, part riot of colors. The empty canvas began to fill, steadily forming a grand tableau that would take eons to complete

— if it ever would. Matter became substance, distinct and interwoven, forging bonds. The interaction of different substances with unique properties would come to be called reactions.

Chemical reactions. Tiny particles exploded in a dance, spinning a fiery vortex of the universe that scattered in all directions, rapidly shifting, expanding, creating distance with mathematical precision. As though both an engineer and an artist had labored over this work. One carefully measured every fraction of space, arranging everything — however chaotically — while the other merely provided the materials, mixing a cosmic cocktail and splashing it across existence, concerned more with emotional resonance than meaning. Unseen, time moved forward, shaping a landscape of staggering grandeur: vast clusters of plasma, spherical and searing celestial bodies spinning madly like echoes of a long-dead star, mathematically flawless and stable systems hiding countless secrets and stories — and this was only the beginning. It was difficult to fathom the scale of the tableau painted by two different yet complementary brushes, whose sole purpose was to create. They did not know their original purpose, yet they had motives of their own. The sprawling splendor was mesmerizing, with no intention of stopping — it continued to evolve, striving for its own peak.

“This little planet took quite some effort,” said Chemistara in a light, carefree tone, as though mere billions of years had passed since they began their creative journey. To this entity, time meant almost nothing. She did not perceive it. From the perspective of a mortal, counting each fleeting day, her words defied all logic. She continued to toy with the geoid she had labored over for what felt like an eternity. The geoid, of course, was in no danger. Her divine touch was too majestic — too precise — to leave behind any tangible impression. She had nofingertips to truly touch, but it was simpler to speak as though she did. Her entire essence was too complex to grasp. He had no idea he was even being observed. Focused entirely on keeping pace with the rapidly shifting environment — only just beginning to take shape — she had crafted her first creation: Terra, a blue planet of mesmerizing allure. This was her first experiment, and it filled her with exhilaration. What if the first biological life she created perished due to her oversight? What if she had made a grave error? And yet, she succeeded.

Evolving, biological lifeforms perished and rose again, constantly overtaking and dominating the planet. She had merely sketched the outlines of future beings, setting them loose upon the world. She was not their designer. At least, not entirely. Chemistara did not know what happened upon that small earth. Her innocent nature did not fully grasp what she was *truly* creating. Even if she delighted in creation, she mostly did so out of a sense of duty and responsibility buried deep within her soul.

Her sister, Phys, gazed into the void, though she lacked any physical form — or even the faintest suggestion of one, unlike Chemis. She busied herself with endless, enigmatic tasks, never resting. She counted and calculated, organizing the universe upon her shelves and maintaining perfect order. The embodiment of pure calculations and formulas that any rational being must, no, *is obligated* to arrive at, otherwise they can only be called rational with great difficulty. “You’re doing excellently, but don’t think this level of effort could ever suffice,” she said in a rational tone. “This is definitely insufficient, because our creation doesn’t presuppose just one self-aware inhabited locality in the universe.” She always spoke as if nothing concerned her except completing their shared vision. As if its wholeness preoccupied her more than its content. “The chances of intelligent life developing successfully this way decrease quite significantly.”

“Of course, of course…” Chemis replied. “But don’t you want to stop for just a moment and live in the present, to enjoy what we’ve created together?” Her words carried dreamy inflections, as if her life still held so many things she wished to savor.

The geoid before her didn’t remain unattended for long, continuing under her watchful gaze. The beautiful blue sphere floating in the sky had become the first haven for intelligent life in this strange world. Now its inhabitants dream of leaving it, because responsibility and shame for their own attitude toward their only home in the universe came with realization, slowly and gradually. During the time this small planet had traversed, it underwent radical changes, repeating its own cycles over and over with varying intensity. Life on it kept pace, desperately fighting for survival without even realizing it. Yet she couldn’t overlook the

images of creatures so diverse and fascinating that she couldn’t help wondering: “What is that life like, foreign to them both?”

Her heart was conquered by humans, who appeared on Earth so recently. Their appearance enchanted her, and their consciousness, similar to her own, only intensified her desire to touch everything unknown.

Phys, without lifting her gaze, responded: “We have a purpose, Chemis. You know this. I live for this purpose, we live for this purpose,” her voice unwavering, permeated with that rationality and seriousness her sister never fully grasped, “and I care nothing for fleeting pleasures.”

Sighing, she felt a flicker of irritation, for surely such an entity should be fully aware of its own calling: meanwhile, she hadn’t the slightest clue. By nature she was naive and quick to yield, never objecting when her sister continued withholding something.

“…Why are you like this?…” she began, laying groundwork for the conversation that needed to happen. “You’re always like this. Always lecturing me about some higher purpose while I’m just trying to have a normal conversation… Is the problem with me? Am I the abnormal one?…”

“Still, I hope it’s at least worth it…” Her words implied some resentment, but her tone revealed quiet resignation.

“I promise it’s worth it,” Phys assured. “Truly.” Her replies were consistently dry and strictly to the point. Usually nothing superfluous. Just her thoughts, which she *almost* never concealed.

Chemis’s trusting nature, as always, heeded her sister’s words and believed them. This little bundle of happiness could do nothing about itself; it could only mindlessly follow her sister’s advice, who always seemed to know best.

Her sister’s words always calmed Chemis in some strange, perverse way, even when so dull and uninformative. Just one confirmation of her viewpoint already warmed her heart. She could do nothing about it.

Her sensitive core naturally gravitated toward her sister. It seemed factory-installed — a magnet constantly drawing her to Phys, making her always obey. Her attachment was utterly selfless.

“Alright,” she began after a pause, “whatever you say…” Her reply carried some hurt — unclear whether toward herself or Phys — and reluctant acceptance. It saddened her slightly that her sister’s words so easily gained control over her.

“Glad you trust me. It’s the only correct decision,” Phys simply replied.

Hard to say whether feelings or rationalism spoke these words. While Chemis was literally a bomb containing what seemed like an entire broth of chemical reactions making her feel certain ways, her sister was her opposite. Her emotions were switched off, and her desire to continue was tied only to an imposed purpose Chemis knew nothing about.

Meanwhile Chemis’s gaze remained fixed on the green planet that had become her primary object of adoration. Even observing superficially, unaware of processes occurring there on Earth, she was enchanted. By humans, animals, plants, landscapes. Everything seemed so beautiful, harmonious. Among the tempest of feelings within her lurked pride for work that had resulted in something so breathtaking.

“...Listen…” Chemis’s tone suddenly grew marginally more serious. As if she needed to discuss something with her precious sister.

“…A question has been tormenting me for a long time…” Chemis began cautiously after a brief pause. “…Why do we have personalities, but our emotions… Do I resemble a simulation? I… simply don’t feel real. As if everything I create has meaning, while I’m merely trying to resemble my own creations.”

Phys continued listening, feeling rather strange: she didn’t quite like how the conversation was unfolding. She had started talking about her feelings, which meant they troubled her. If they troubled her, then she must have certain problems. And her having problems… was undesirable. She needed her with a clear mind.

“I want to become… alive. I want my own body, not to remain incorporeal matter. My current state confuses me. I rage with emotions I shouldn’t be feeling. After all, I’m not a living organism, am I? Whatever I may be… I want to be real. I want to belong to all this chaos, not pretend as if there’s nothing within me.”

“...Sister, you… are very capable, aren’t you? Gravity itself, so distant and incomprehensible, obeys you. No one else,” Chemis politely requested, sincerely hoping to receive her blessing.

“Phys… I want to taste life. To experience it fully. I want to fly, to swim… to communicate with beings like us.”

Upon hearing these words, Phys instinctively wanted to open her eyes wide — eyes she unfortunately didn’t possess. If she had them, they would have expressed her feelings fully and without words. What was this? Though, if one were to think about it, one might conclude this was bound to happen eventually. From the very beginning, Chemis had been almost the opposite of Phys. One stays in place while the other can’t find her place. Given her entire emotional spectrum, which couldn’t fully express itself, it was only logical that at some point she would want to immerse herself completely in the flow of feelings.

“Are you serious?…” Phys asked, trying to conceal the surprise in her tone upon hearing such an unexpected request, yet despite her own doubts, she also attempted to devise a solution that would satisfy Chemis. “…But I suppose it’s possible.” If you think about it, there might be some benefit to this…

“Really?” Chemis asked excitedly, unable to suppress the wave of anticipation washing over her.

“Well…” Phys began thoughtfully, “It’s not that simple.” She was definitely worried about her sister, as refusal could mean many things.

“You see… One might say it’s impossible. You — are here, and you — are what people call a god. I can’t erase your essence and make you be born somewhere down there, on Earth.

That’s beyond my power. All I can offer you are simulations. Subspaces enacting scenarios. In them, you can experience the life you would have had on Earth. These simulations… Let’s call them subspaces. No different from our world, only in scale. Only in that what happens within them… is corridorshaped.”

Phys had more to say, but she paused, awaiting Chemis’s reaction to her explanation and the subsequent proposal.

Chemis, meanwhile, was slightly overwhelmed by the flood of information washing over her. As if it were a bit too much for her. Nevertheless, after analyzing her sister’s words, she noticed something left unsaid. Her expression didn’t show dissatisfaction, only… interest, pensiveness. The idea didn’t seem suspicious or questionable to her — everything seemed clear enough.

“But there’s a catch, isn’t there?…” Chemis asked.

“You could say that,” Phys began. “There is a catch — I’m not an artist like you. I can’t create scenarios, but I can analyze them. Extract them from human culture, recreate them.” It felt as though someone had just turned a page, if sound could travel in a vacuum.

At that moment, Chemis couldn’t help but wonder: “Why can’t I choose these… scenarios myself?…” A natural, almost abnormally logical question for someone like her had just been voiced.

Phys thought that giving her that kind of power would be too chaotic. The laws of their world existed for a reason — otherwise, everything would turn to dust if such destructive force controlled space.

“Want to know why?” After speaking, Phys materialized before Chemis’s face a rectangular spread made of some unknown material, which seemed utterly nonsensical. Trying to discern anything on it, Chemis failed completely and catastrophically. Her head began to buzz, as if cosmic hummers were flying around inside, having returned from the starry pastures with baskets full of ionizing plasma they’d gathered there.

“Take it away, please!” Chemis cried pitifully, calming down only after the unknown object vanished from sight. “What was that?” she asked, looking utterly bewildered. What had just happened right in front of her seemed like a portal to another reality — one she would never dare jump into.

“Words,” Phys answered as simply as possible.

“Wor… wor-what?” Chemis repeated, once again failing to comprehend. “Now you see why.”

“These are… symbols humans use to communicate and record information in their mediums,” Phys explained in plain terms. “You simply can’t understand them.”

“You speak the language of universals, which is equivalent to knowing none of this world’s languages. “Even if you’re a supreme being, you don’t understand human languages.”

“Why?” came the inevitable question from her sister.

“Otherwise everything would fall apart,” was the reply.

“Why would everything fall apart?…” The question slipped into her consciousness only to immediately slip away again.

To Chemis, this definitely seemed strange and not entirely understandable, but after what she’d seen, it became clear — arguing at this point was useless. It was better to just agree with everything her sister said, as she’d always done before, and it had always worked out.

“...Alright,” the conversation took a slightly different turn after Chemis’s remark, becoming somewhat lighter in tone. “What do I need to do?” “Promise me,” Phys replied cryptically.

Chemis felt the tension beginning to build again. Everything had been going so well, what if it suddenly went wrong? What would she do next if she had to refuse? Probably nothing good. With anxiety gripping her tightly, she cautiously asked: “Promise what?”

“Promise me,” Phys began, “that all new information and experience gained during this… experiment will be used to improve our world. I can’t leave you there, you know we have work to do. I myself don’t want to know what would happen if we betrayed our only purpose.”

“Fair enough,” Chemis thought, a lump forming in her throat at the thought of what might happen in that case. After considering it further, she concluded she agreed. It didn’t seem particularly difficult, especially in exchange for her dream. It seemed something very interesting was approaching. The anxiety within her was replaced by returning anticipation and impatience. Lifting her nose decisively, she answered: “I agree.”

“Excellent,” Phys replied, quickly flipping through pages that had recently dazzled Chemis with their immensity. She couldn’t read them. She didn’t need to when her sister, who could read them, was by her side. Her sister was responsible for every variable, not Chemis. With each such argument, the thought that “this makes sense…” occurred to Chemis more frequently.

“Now,” Phys suddenly spoke, having finished flipping through what seemed an unbearably large number of pages, “let’s move to the next stage.”

“Which is?…” Chemis asked hesitantly between the lines.

“I’ve sorted through every scenario from human culture that could help you understand and experience what life on planet Earth is like. As I’ve made clear, I didn’t create them. I selected them. I didn’t select them by meaning, but by content. By the number of variables and their relationships. I can’t comprehend what lies behind them, but I can certainly say they can give you the knowledge you seek.”

“Everything that happens on the other side is your responsibility, and I’ll have no relation to what occurs there.”

Overwhelmed again by the amount of information just dumped on her, Chemis looked puzzled, though she tried her best to parse every word from her sister. She couldn’t deny she often wanted to brush off her sister’s words and simply agree. Nevertheless, out of respect for Phys, she always tried to keep up whenever they talked.

“Now, tell me… No, *show* me the creature you like most on this planet,” Phys requested. It wasn’t clear why, but she demanded an answer.

The request surprised Chemis again. Everything was too unusual for her. Looking at the blue planet, she pondered. Taking it and spinning it momentarily, she examined organisms, searching for one that appealed to her most. Thoughts swirled, but deciding to stop thinking, she finally said: “This,” poking somewhere into the unknown in the blue sea at the planet’s northernmost pole. Somewhere very cold, where starlight doesn’t even reach. Somewhere almost no one lives. She pointed at something no one else loves. At what should seemingly matter to no one. Except those whose lives it only ruins.

“...Are you sure?” Phys asked, finding her choice rather strange.

“...No,” Chemis answered clearly doubting, as choices clearly weren’t her strong suit, “I honestly have no idea. Just please continue.”

“...As you wish,” Phys spoke her final words, closing and slapping the intangible book with a demonstrative sound. Suddenly, after the loud noise, everything went dark for her sister — but only for a moment.

Chapter 2: “You Don’t Like Me”

The enveloping mass of water is terribly cold, chilling you to the marrow, but this doesn’t bother you in the slightest. You’re naturally very slow, evolved to survive in latitudes and depths where over a hundred years you might just reach sexual maturity — if you’re resilient enough. Your place in existence is so frozen in time. Almost nothing changes here. You’ve learned to make do with very little, hardly ever feeling hunger. Though few creatures remain that your massive bulk could still catch, your slowed metabolism means you don’t worry about energy like every other living being desperately does. You hardly spend any energy, since you always perform the bare minimum of actions needed to continue existing. You feel sufficiently alive for someone who feasts once a week on a modest-sized cod. Right now, you certainly have nothing to worry about. Most of the time you simply drift, needing nothing but an ample reserve of time. It takes hundreds of years for you to reach sexual maturity.

You know perfectly well that life in these waters favors you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You, the sovereign of the twilight depths, are firstly incapable, and secondly have no need to change anything at all. You’re not insane. Long ago it was decided for you that your place is here. Your ancestors came to inhabit this place, gaining control over the best resources in one of the most horrific environments imaginable. Be grateful, for now you’re the apex predator. You live at obscene depths for a creature of your bulk, successfully devouring those slower than yourself, while remaining untouchable — a being with no natural predators. You’re repulsive and foul-smelling. Your flesh is saturated with urea, serving as antifreeze to protect you from the cold. It’s disgusting to taste. You’re not worth the time of those toothed whales who could tear you apart in seconds. They clearly have more important matters and tastier prey to attend to. Diving thousands of meters down for you? Absolutely not. Even if you surfaced closer to the water’s top layer, your appearance alone would be reason enough to avoid contact. Should some overly curious creature sample your flesh, they’d quickly choke on a piece of you and swim away, granting you a chance to survive.

Truth be told, there’s little to say about you. You’re rather dull. You’ve simply accumulated all the worst yet most useful traits, becoming the apex predator in a place where no organism can react to environmental stimuli without significant delay, much like yourself. You’re sluggish, dreary and unpalatable, yet utterly resilient to harsh conditions and perfectly adapted to life in what seems a fragile ecosystem. Even when the natural order was threatened, you remained indifferent. The water’s surface no longer admits light, now covered by a meter-thick ice sheet. Phytoplankton suffers. Species face extinction. However terrifying these words may sound, you’ve experienced them firsthand and survived all those seemingly catastrophic events. You endured. Simply ate even less than usual, but survived. Nothing terrible happened to you. No tragedy. These events barely affected you. You simply existed and continue existing somewhere deep in the water column. What could possibly occur that would destroy you?

Being so slow-moving and living in subzero temperatures, your life cycle is obviously unbearably long. It’s unlikely the world has ever seen a species that could reach what counts as old age for you, considering your sexual maturation begins only after several hundred years. Yet even with virtually no threats, throughout your lifespan there’s bound to be at least one curious orca that catches you straying closer to the surface and samples your flesh.

They’ll naturally be disappointed, trying to spit you out, and you won’t survive such an attempt on your life either. Yes, for this you’ll live so many years in solitude and inactivity.

Fortunately, you’re adapted to solitude, and your feeble brain doesn’t comprehend how pitiful and meaningless your existence is, just like all other deep-sea fashions around you. Not a single creature in this marine desert could boast intelligence. You’re scarcely different from them. This isn’t necessarily bad, for knowledge is the key to madness. The simplest way to survive where all life and non-life remains nearly unchanging is to act without contemplation. Just follow your instincts. Obey innate instructions, and you’ll be fine. You should be fine.

Nature demands nothing extraordinary from you. You’ll manage. Everything should work out.

The water column was dense, terribly cold and impenetrable. So dark that even the colossal squid with its enormous eyes would need to squint to detect the faintest light. You’ve chosen not to attempt seeing, having abandoned the effort long ago. You’re a severely visually impaired creature relying more on other senses than sight. This is a correct and quite advantageous strategy. It must be added that your blindness isn’t by choice or congenital. In truth, it’s yet another survival tactic. In symbiosis with parasites living directly on your eyeballs, you easily attract stray greedy fish that always gravitate toward bioluminescent light. One might say food swims right into your mouth. That small, beautiful glow lures them near. Half your work is thus already done, and your eyes suffer little from the parasites. The parasites themselves understand they shouldn’t ruin this splendid arrangement by killing you. In the abyssal darkness of the deep ocean, it matters not how sharp your vision might be.

Light is certainly not what awaits you thousands of meters below the surface.

A full century has already slipped into oblivion while you did nothing. A full century ago you emerged tail-first as a tiny fry. These years passed unnoticed, for you don’t comprehend just how horribly long and simply horrible your existence is. Now you’re enormous, your fins hardened, and your body keeps growing ever stronger. You seem like such a vulnerable creature, unable to properly defend yourself, yet your skin is thick as an elephant’s.

Unfortunately, that won’t help you. Your death will likely come without a fight. Your impressive stats won’t save you when a swift and vicious carnivore sinks its teeth into your liver.

Feeling slightly hungry, you gradually move where your keen sense of smell leads — toward where your favorite fish usually swim. You move leisurely, unhurried, with nowhere to rush — by your own estimation, you could go without eating for another week or so.

Probably even longer. Still, one should eat when the opportunity arises. Your hearing is working diligently too — you sense numerous vibrations nearby. An oddly large number of vibrations. They’re familiar to you, typical of the medium-sized fish you usually prey on. But this time, something feels slightly off. Clearly, it’s an entire school, yet even for a school… the vibrations seem oddly desynchronized, as if each fish is playing hunger games, trying to eliminate one another, shoving with their bodies and fins. It’s making your head throb. The sensation doesn’t fade, the headache grows worse — you feel a massive gathering of fish moving toward you. All you can do is head straight toward them. You hadn’t planned on running into an entire school, but there’s nothing else left for you to do.

The closer the vibrations get, the stranger they seem — they don’t stop, only intensify, moving at a steady pace without slowing. When this bizarre mass of what seemed like fish was right in front of you, something unexpected happened. You collided with countless others just as unlucky as you, pushing and thrashing against them with your body. You’re trapped, it seems. You’ve never encountered anything like this. You start moving with them in the opposite direction of your original path. They all flail desperately, trying to escape, their fins battering against you. Your own body can’t stay still either, contrary to its usual behavior. Occasionally flipping from the pressure and blows, you finally manage to do what you’d intended — one unfortunate fish happens to be near your mouth. Clumsy but powerful when it counts, your terrifyingly sharp jaws clamp down, crushing the fish into three pieces without hesitation.

The head and tail separate from the body, staining the water red. The tender flesh of cod fills your stomach, easing the lingering hunger that had been your main concern. One problem solved, but a new one emerges — you have no idea what’s happening, and there’s little you can do. You lack the strength and agility to overpower the force dragging you in an unknown direction. Something thin yet sturdy presses against you from behind. Your fins are slightly uncomfortable, but not enough to hinder you. Other fish, ones you hadn’t noticed before, keep bumping into you — fellow sufferers caught in the same plight. After a while, your movement slows, the pressure now coming from below as your body is pulled upward. You feel worse — someone is forcibly removing you from your natural habitat. The once- comfortable water pressure dwindles, making your body ache in strange ways. It won’t kill you, but the pain in your head won’t stop because of it.

The cables strain, hauling a considerable weight from underwater, fighting against the water pressure on the fishing nets. The sound is mechanical but not grating — just a low hum. The hydraulics are under immense stress right now. Meanwhile, you’re struck by the sudden alienation from the water’s surface, the wind brushing against your slick body. It’s an unpleasant feeling, being forcibly taken from the comfort zone you’ve lived in for the last few hundred-odd years. You can no longer breathe and sense that in a few minutes, you likely won’t be able to endure it. The pain throughout your body persists. The metal crane emits a sharp creak as it rotates 90 degrees to swing your net aside before carefully lowering it onto the deck. On the deck itself, you notice a section of the floor with a rectangular cutout — where the choicest specimens land, ending their life cycle forever as they’re turned to ice.

Right now, it’s closed. The net, filled with countless others sharing your misfortune, slams onto the deck, and you feel the impact. Logically, the net should’ve stretched, but it just lies there instead. Awaiting whatever comes next, suddenly, you’re grabbed by the tail — no mercy for you or your tail — and yanked out of the net. Another awful sensation to add to everything else you’re enduring right now.

“What the hell is this thing?!” grumbles a surly-looking man. Extra troubles definitely don’t lighten his mood. His tone doesn’t bother hiding the displeasure he feels right now. Your mere appearance could disgust most people with even a vague sense of aesthetics. “So little decent fish, and then this fucking abomination shows up…” Beyond irritation, his voice carries disappointment at the sight of you. Is it because of the insufficient catch they managed to haul in today, or is it because of his personal dislike for you?

“I’m so fucking tired of them. Bloody parasites…” commented the second sailor, watching the first one who was trying to chase you out of his precious net. His remark couldn’t help but make you wonder whose dislike for you was stronger. “They just ruin the fish, leave nothing for us.”

“Are you gonna keep fucking around or, goddamnit, help me?” the worker holding your tail asked in a rather impolite manner. “I’m already busting my ass while you’re doing fuck-all.”

“Yeah, yeah, just a sec…”

Finally, with four hands between them, they managed to drag you onto the deck, after which they stared thoughtfully for a few seconds. You’re repulsive, that’s the truth. Doesn’t seem

like anyone in this reality loves you or even tolerates you. Certainly not them. The second sailor continued musing with irritation: “Why did such a monster have to be born…”

It’s as if you’ve been sent to purgatory for all your mortal sins. Here, you’ll be judged for everything you’ve done in your life. Of course, you’re oblivious. You were just doing what you had to do to survive. Well, this world is completely different.

Ignorance doesn’t absolve you of responsibility. They don’t like you, and you’ll pay for that. All you can do right now is accept your fate and endure. You’ll have to expend all your energy just to endure, because it’s going to hurt. Really hurt. Too bad. No one cares. Suffer.

While he was pondering, the first one, as before, simply took action:

“Let’s just get this over with… I can’t stand it,” he reached for a blade. His voice was weary. Perhaps the reason for his anger and exhaustion was being stuck fighting the ocean on deck for the past two days while his loved ones waited at home, people he couldn’t even contact right now… but that’s just speculation, with absolutely no basis in fact.

Surprised by the first man’s initiative, he ran up to hold the fish firmly while the first one coolly gripped a huge knife in his hand. His hand didn’t tremble once as the blade began slicing through the stinking flesh of the polar shark, tearing through cartilage and muscle fibers in its tail. The second sailor, meanwhile, was fairly useless, since the gasping shark, suffering from pressure discomfort, offered no resistance. Either it felt nothing due to its extreme physiology, or it had no energy left to fight. Or maybe it had simply accepted its fate.

“You won’t be swimming anymore… won’t be raiding our nets…” the man with the knife muttered under his breath. “Ugh.”

The tail fell, blood flowing. The lifeless fin lay there, numb. A pathetic scene unfolded on that ship. Picking it up, the man tossed it overboard. After rinsing the knife in cold water, he sheathed it and returned to the shark, ready to lift it.

“Help me, don’t just stand there…”

“I am helping, quit your bitching already.”

With some effort, the two men lifted the enormous, helpless carcass — several meters long — and heaved it over the railing with a grunt. The body splashed into the water, slowly sinking. Its silhouette vanished from sight immediately, and once again, no one cared: “...Always dealing with this shit…” the knife-wielding man muttered exhaustedly.

Sinking deeper into your native waters, you managed to take a breath — one you unfortunately lived long enough to take. Now you’re just a useless chunk of unwanted meat, incapable of either continuing to live or feeding anyone less wretched. Without a tail, you can’t move, and a wound like that is just an open invitation for all kinds of harmful bacteria to finish you off. You flail, trying to turn and swim away from this nightmare, but all your efforts are utterly meaningless. Maybe some desperate scavengers will follow the scent of fresh blood, fighting their gag reflex to take at least a small bite out of you. Now all that’s left is to wait for death and hope it comes quickly. You don’t know when it’ll happen — your whole life, you’ve been a blind kitten, never seeing light, only darkness.

This is the end. The emptiness before can’t compare to the emptiness you now. feel — your body is slipping away, leaving you behind. Your soul, whatever it may be, is peeling away from it. You’re losing even the slightest sense of control, and the pain in your head won’t stop. In fact, it’s only getting worse. As if the universe itself is finally trying to pull you out of these depths, but you just won’t die. Death comes gradually, making sure you feel it fully and remember it forever.

You don’t even have the strength left for hatred — this time, you’re definitely dying. Everything stopped in that moment, as if you’d been struck by something heavy, just like your life. In that case, you’d have woken up eventually, but luck wasn’t on your side. Just say goodbye already. Be free of the suffering…

Chapter 3: “Mr. Me”

“…W-what was that?” murmured Chemis, still feeling numb from what had happened. “That was… a very strange sensation. This time, I really felt it… “But I felt like absolute nothingness…” Her entire being continued to tremble, stunned by these new yet so strange and simultaneously horrific sensations. The mere thought of one’s flesh being severed from their body by something so sharp and crude could send numbness throughout the body.

Experiencing it firsthand must surely be even worse. And this was just one of the many incomprehensible sensations for Chemis that left a mixed impression — mostly negative in nature.

“Let’s just say it’s one of the possible states of existence on this planet,” Phys replied matter-of-factly, as always, paying little attention to the emotional aspect of the situation. “It’s not quite what you wanted, I understand… But it’s also part of life. A necessary experience for someone who wants to understand what it means to be alive.” Phys is, in any case, capable of at least briefly analyzing her sister’s state to get some idea of what’s going on in her mind.

Emotions are very complex. She definitely recognizes the tone of an emotion — whether negative or positive. However, she doesn’t truly understand them and can’t offer comfort. She can’t experience such sensations herself. She only has access to a basic spectrum of emotions, ones without deep underlying causes that don’t require understanding or empathy toward others. Even she wonders why she has emotions at all. Perhaps the universe itself believes relationships can’t exist without feelings. They are, after all, signals that allow one to gauge another’s reaction. Still, Chemis isn’t so foolish and purely emotional either. She shares some traits with Phys, just as Chemis’s emotional nature is, in some way, present within Phys.

“At the very end, I… I don’t know how to describe it, but… it was horrible. W-was that… my death?…” Chemis’s already fear-laden voice continued to tremble, but by the end of the last sentence, it nearly broke, barely holding itself together at the edge. Her concept of death had been a little different. She hadn’t imagined it this way. It had seemed right — the departure of the old, the arrival of the new.

As she had now experienced firsthand, that very end wasn’t the beginning of something else

— it was, first and foremost, *suffering*.

“…I suppose it was,” Phys replied pragmatically. “I can’t say for certain, but judging by your signatures there, it seemed like it.” Phys’s ability to observe and analyze never wavered — she can still see absolutely everything, from the collision of the tiniest particles in the universe to the explosion of every supernova in that same millisecond.

“N-not the experience I was expecting… I’m still scared…” Chemis began. She had little to say, lacking knowledge about the world she herself had created.

“It was necessary.”

“R-really?… Are you saying my death was necessary?!” Chemis retorted, a note of anger in her voice.

“It’s an inseparable part of life. One thing dies, another takes its place. You should know

that…” Phys replied pragmatically, speaking plainly. Though her words were sharp as a blade, they carried no malice. She was simply stating facts.

“I — I didn’t expect it to happen like that!” Chemis tried to defend herself, inwardly aware that she was in the wrong here. She needed to cool her temper, wanting to shift the conversation to a topic where she wouldn’t be at a disadvantage.

“Listen…” she began, “you said I’d have to keep working on our world even during my little… disappearances, but how was I supposed to work in that scenario when I… when I wasn’t myself?!… It was… I don’t even know what to say. I was nothing! I didn’t even have willpower… It was like my very existence was being mocked. Was this your doing?”

When on edge, it’s all too easy to look for someone to blame, blindly following one’s anger. “Believe me, I had no part in what happened to you, whatever it was,” Phys answered.

“Practically?” Chemis asked suspiciously, still not entirely convinced.

“Hear me out. You have no right to judge me for my actions. I’m just doing my job. I’m incapable of mistreating you — my very limited emotional spectrum doesn’t allow me to mock you. I don’t know how. What happened was rooted solely in cold rationality and probability theory. What occurred was a truth that showed you the essence of existence, to some degree. All you can do is accept it.” Her words continued to sting, even though, as always, she wasn’t trying to hurt her sister. The concepts of good and evil are foreign to her — she’s merely stating the bitter truth, the kind one sometimes doesn’t want to hear. “I have no intention of ruining your experience. You’ll need it. I hope this new knowledge helps you in your future work,” she added at the very end.

Chemis listened, once again straining to analyze her sister’s words, pouring all her mental capacity into it. Phys’s words still felt like something very strange, a kind of white-threaded delirium that, surprisingly, still held some meaning. After another moment of thought, she hesitantly replied, “…I — I think I understand… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you.” Her voice was filled with doubt and a hint of guilt over her own words. “No need,” Phys replied bluntly. She didn’t seem the least bit offended.

“So, have you drawn any conclusions from this session?” — she continued, changing the subject.

“Conclusions?… What conclusions could there be here?” — Chemis asked in confusion. She was still green in this new world of meanings and subtexts.

“Absolutely any. As far as I know, images can… contain hidden meanings,” — Phys replied.

“…But I suppose this is new to you…” — Phys continued thoughtfully. “And to me too,” Phys’s words echoed in her mind, words she would hardly ever say out loud. Phys herself didn’t understand these meanings but was aware of their existence. She simply had no use for them. “I… I d-don’t even fully understand what that was… I was completely beside myself. Part of me acted in a very strange way that I didn’t anticipate. I moved in an unknown direction without thinking for a second…” — her tone was contemplative, and the self-analysis in the form of a monologue only helped her make sense of what had happened.

“…I suppose you lack the knowledge and experience to make a subjective assessment yet… Hmm. To be honest, I myself have no idea what all this could mean,” — Phys answered. It all turned out to be quite simple. Chemis still understood almost nothing, and Phys’s reasoning told her nothing. In fact, Phys didn’t even try to think about it all. Just stating the facts — that wouldn’t help her.

“How can you not know?… Don’t you…”

“I’m not omniscient. My specialization isn’t about knowing every detail in this world. I merely perform a function in it, which you used to do too until you wanted… this. We never initially intended to understand this world. That was your desire, something I myself don’t fully comprehend… Perhaps you’ll find answers to your questions later.”

It had been clear many times before that Phys was a fundamentalist who simply did her job. She understands nothing about the meaning of life, merely following the path destined for her — and for her sister too which she considers the only correct one. Her emotions are just tools for interaction, and she herself doesn’t understand them at all, just like everything human. She only cares about variables and their precision.

In fact, even everything Chemis created doesn’t concern her. She sees no beauty in it. She only needs the fact of her creations’ existence.

Chemis always found it difficult to hide her own feelings, especially disappointment. Her sister’s words could hurt a little, even though they were completely true. The enormous amounts of information pouring from Phys’s mouth always exhausted her greatly. Continuing to reflect, she asked a quite logical question:

“Is death really necessary?… Did I create it…”

“The system you built actually works quite well,” — Phys explained in response. — “Though if left unattended, all life will fade — sooner or later. I appreciate your work for its thoughtfulness.”

Chemis clearly didn’t realize the significance of her own work. For a genius artist, she’s indeed quite… foolish. Still, she doesn’t embody chaos for nothing. While Phys always monitored the chaos Chemis caused throughout the universe’s evolution, the chaos in her own mind is something she needs to learn to monitor herself.

“So then, do you want to continue?” — Phys spoke up somewhat suddenly.

Chemis found herself somewhat confused again. She should have expected such a question, but she still wasn’t ready for it. Her first experience in this world had been unpleasant, which undoubtedly affected her expectations. They weren’t met initially, and new expectations only frightened her. “Do I want to?… Well, I suppose it’s too early for me to give up, isn’t it? But I’m still scared… What if it turns out even worse than last time?” Chemis continued to doubt.

“Only one way to find out,” — Phys replied.

She doesn’t know if things could be worse than what she’s already experienced. Yet deep down she knows there must be something good in all this. And she yearned for that. “The first pancake is always lumpy,” she thought, completely forgetting how she cherished her first creation. Or perhaps she was simply mistaken.

“Wait… was I human last time?” — she asked her sister pensively. “No.”

“Does that mean… human life feels different? My curiosity hasn’t disappeared. I still want to know what it’s like to be human,” — Chemis mused enthusiastically. Indeed, this world must offer enough different perspectives to view life from, mustn’t it?

“So then, do you want to continue?” — the offer still hung in the air.

“You know, this isn’t what I expected… Definitely not this…” — she began her speech, expressing her true thoughts on the matter.

“But I suppose I have no choice… I can’t command my heart. I want to try again. I still have much hope for something good.”

“Good… Keep remembering that your responsibilities haven’t gone anywhere. You owe me, just as I owe you, since we agreed.”

“Yes, I remember,” — Chemis answered seriously.

“This scenario, judging by the description, should appeal to you more.”

“But I need to ask one last thing… — Phys changed the subject, — Name two colors.” “Which ones do you like?”

“Two colors?…” Chemis frowned, completely clueless. Her immediate response would have been: “Oh, I like everything, really!” if she hadn’t stopped herself in time. Clearly, that wouldn’t do. And she’d make herself look foolish again.

“Okay, I think…” — she paused for another second, but… nothing came to mind. She tried digging deep into her soul, searching for anything at all, but it was obvious she couldn’t name just two specific colors. Finally giving up, she turned to Phys: “I don’t know,” Chemis said calmly, with lightness in her voice, “could you choose for me?”

“I trust you,” Chemis added. Her sister remained the most precious thing in her world.

“Hm. Alright,” Phys replied in her typical monotone, making it unclear whether she cared at all or even felt any responsibility for her choice.

Though most likely not. Obviously, in fact. Activating her internal random color generator, she simply selected the two options that came up with an utterly expressionless face, not even bothering to comment.

“Good luck,” Phys suddenly seemed ready to say goodbye.

“Wait, not so fast!” Chemis abruptly cut her off. She clearly had something left unsaid.”?”

“…I still don’t quite understand what you want me to do… How should I keep working?” she voiced the question that had been tormenting her from the very beginning.

“You’ll find out,” Phys didn’t keep her in suspense. She’d find out regardless. Darkness falls around them, but the long-awaited dawn finally arrives.

Chapter 4: “It’s Good to Be Alive”

The last time began spontaneously, but the event itself didn’t bring any thrill or surprise. It simply happened, launching a new and utterly colorless existence. It didn’t feel like an event — more like some kind of rebirth, as if it were completely ordinary and happened regularly (though that might actually be true). This time is completely different. Ahead lies only light, growing brighter and stronger with each second, while everything behind no longer matters. With your entire being, you feel exhilaration, as if something wonderful is finally about to happen, and you — will live. You’ll live a life you never even dreamed of. Something you never even considered. Your lack of knowledge prevents you from understanding what truly good life is.

The vortex keeps spiraling, grinding you from head to toe — finally, you’re acquiring the long-awaited form you’ve desired all this time. It’s still invisible in the abyss’s darkness, and you can’t touch it yet, but as the light approached you, you prepared to emerge on the other side where you take shape. It’s a truly strange sensation, but you enjoy the excitement and impatience washing over you. When it seemed like almost nothing remained, the matter around you begins stretching, as if you’re falling into a black hole. In reality, it’s only your newly formed body elongating — growing in size, beginning to function, and struggling to gain control over itself. The all-consuming silence has left you; your mind is filled with white noise — even if there are no noise sources nearby, you feel something resembling an itch in your head — not unpleasant, and its origin remains unclear to you. Apparently, your brain is straining intensely right now to adapt and comprehend what’s happening. In any case, this sensation differs from the feeling of pressure across your entire body and the muffled sounds you once experienced underwater. Your limbs stretch out, acquiring their new and refined form. Your arms hang naturally as they should, and the soft surface of your palm makes the touch of your fingers against it even more soothing.

Your thighs rub slightly against each other, and your knees are bent. Your feet are neat and sensitive. You instinctively wiggle your toes, flexing the muscles there. Your torso is quite slender, and there’s definitely something about how your muscles sheath your skeleton: you feel control over your body. Your ribs comfort you, serving as a shield for your organs.

Finally, when the stream of light swallows you, you’re no longer flying but falling. A sense of loss fills you; your former confidence takes a backseat: what now?

Beyond your immediate sensations, your mind was empty until fragmented visions began gradually filling it…