synkar - rho & tau

– what happened that interval? – a person asked me. it was as if i could see every outline of his body, yet his figure was unknown to me. he lit up an electronic candle light; his finger only touched the tip of it as it simply burst into flames. – i have no visible memory of waking up… – was that my question? what was my question? – close to it, i assume you have no identification of my past… – under no assumption, john. i ask of only your credentials. your struggle of meaning is meaningless when compared to my request. – your request is more important than meaning? – meaning is unimportant. – i had hurried myself from my sleep. i was covered in blankets, sweating. i was in my…father’s room. i have no visible memory of how i got there. – i answered, rushing to a conclusion, expecting my theoretical analysis of his question to end poorly on my side. – association? invisible memory? – none at all. my father, however, he hated me. – why? – it was as if the person had suddenly gained interest. i had thought he had no interest until this moment. – my father hated me – i hadn’t realized i repeated it after i already said it. as if i had no consciousness. – why? – i don’t remember. – your mother? – neutral. she was always neutral. you could see her making the dishes or washing my clothes. her stare was paralyzing. she wasn’t very intimate. she never had talks to me. a person is always hidden until the moment of mental submission. she was acting, she cared not, or she would have mentioned me. it felt as if… she would’ve been contempt, not happy -- just contempt, if i was her slave… physically, of course, but the punishment of that was always mental. as if, every second of her speaking made me twice as crazy. if i left the house at any moment past the time she once saw me sneak adultery into the closet, i would have become a serial killer, a sexist. a murderer… – continue. i had realized, the only real punishment came when you acted stupid. humiliation was definite, there was no reason to ask what to continue with, there wasn’t much on the table. – i stood up, and walked towards the sink. there i saw my ugly face, staring back at me. i had thought, that very day, i had thought, what a fucked up day to be alive. if it was any day, why exactly then? – does it matter? – do i matter? – no. – well, i sat on the ground… looked through the sink. i felt a sharp stick poking me… yet i knew it was simply my imagination. i stood up and went to the kitchen. we didn’t even have a kitchen; it was breaking down at every moment. – does it matter? they always asked you if it mattered. we always knew humiliation wouldn’t be taken into consideration, but it felt so sharp when my arguments were scolded for being children’s tales. i simply sat on my rusty chair and stood silent. – what happened when you entered the room? – he continued. – i saw my mother. she was sitting at a bench, staring at me. not a moment after i heard the remote control go off. i heard the news reported mumble something about a hole. i forgot all it said, but i remember, very distinctively the words “the workfolk are now in consumer practice, free government use is officially issued” or something along those lines. almost instantly, a group of individuals came knocking on my front door. i was afraid to open it, knowing they were searching for someone in the house. i just wasn’t so sure who it was going to be the one to be taken… me or my father? my mother swiftly rushed to the door, her face instantly turning mellow. she hopped out of the chair she was sitting on, an item of furniture so dominant in the household. it was everywhere, yet it was never used. she grabbed onto her walking stick, which was modern and high-class… well, at least what i consider to be... she was quite hesitant at first; however… the very moment she looked through the peephole she burst the door open. i was expecting artillery of soldiers to come through and force either me or my father out of the household, or a group of protestants or middle-class, fuming individuals to spiral through our household and take what they want, taking someone as a hostage or stealing my blind dog. my dog was the only one who truly loved me. nevertheless, he never saw me. i imagine, if he saw my disgusting figure he would have loved me less. or, if he could somehow get his hearing back he would probably run away, and drop the seamlessly obvious act that he attempts to help me when my mother shouts at me continuously for hours when i forget to clean my room every single hour, as the routine goes. i only forget to do so once a week. my father beat the sound out my dog when he stepped on his foot once. he did nothing to deserve it, but he was beat almost to death, only stopped by my rapid cries, since my father’s veins were unstoppable, i felt like a dust of wind when i faced him, he really never cared about me. that was when my dog was only thirty days old. since then it’s been quiet forever, since he didn’t know his own volume after he got the sound beat out of him, and every single time it attempted to speak it squealed loudly, forcing my father to come in my room and beat it again... i met it when i was out for a walk, it was close to a park and i saw it, it was only two days old… – the story, john. a slight weep came out of me, forcing a figure on the left to hit me with a leash, instantly triggering a burning sensation of pain onto my lower throat. – …as i said i expected something normal… instead, a group of witches burst through the door. my mother turned around, her face instantly turning green and pale, her eyes darkening. her nose suddenly elongated, and her throat’s veins suddenly thickened. she ran towards me, the rest of the witches following. my father didn’t turn into one, he simply watch— a barricade of people suddenly started laughing at me. the unknown, blurred entity in front of me simply continued to stare at me, not laughing but inconsistently swapping between subconscious thinking and external judging. humiliation usually didn’t matter… except now. now, my story simply wasn’t believed. – how is it that… every single person who went down to that hole has the same exact answer…? i simply stood quiet. a coarse of uneasiness leapt through me, forcing me to mouth words out. – w…what? – it’s all the same story. the blind dog. the hating father. the witches. how is it that the witches arrive before the hole? isn’t the entire hole an experiment made by the government? we questioned all 199 people that went into the hole before you did. you’re the last one, and every single one has had the exact same story until their inevitable drop down, which for some bizarre reason seems to be completely different? how? another wave of laughter erupted from the unknown people surrounding me. i felt a course of uneasiness leap through me. – but…how? that is exactly what happened… i remember once my mother gifted me a blue necklace for my birthday. look, its still here, i have it… i went over to my chest and exposed it, revealing… nothing a third wave of laughter erupted. a clicking sound suddenly emerged, but only for a couple of seconds, ending as soon as it began. one of the dark entities walked over to a cabinet, or at least that’s what it looked like, placing an item inside. a sudden screen emerged behind the unknown entity who was questioning me. the first light i saw for a long time, i couldn’t even remember the last time it happened. was it maybe a couple of months ago? before the hole? nothing happened before the hole a sudden voice emerged. i jumped out of my seat. – whoa there, calm down kid. it’s just a screen. what, haven’t seen one? i stood quiet, in shock by the sudden existential rupture. were the witches coming back again to get me? was it, this time, zordo himself, coming to get me? yet… the voice talking on the screen was appealing. i looked up, it was number 199. the dialogue was exactly the same as mine. my nausea stopped and suddenly i felt moved by the screen. it started calming me down. the voice in front of me started speaking, its character yet still completely dim and unnatural, lighting was behind it yet i couldn’t even dimly see its face, or even its outline. it could’ve been a titan for all i know, or a midget, or, it could’ve not even been there, maybe it was a device? – the words, the style of speaking, the hand movement, the facial expressions, the body language, the context and emotional connection to the content. they’re all the same, before the hole. nothing changes in any 200 of them. we have concluded, your memories are false. before we send you off to the mines, tell us… the face suddenly came right next to mine… yet… i couldn’t see it… i could simply feel it. – what happened when the witches came inside of the room? – well… they took me and put me in front of a wall. at one point, unsure of the time, i turned around. the entire area was walled off for miles. no sky in sight. there was only one direction, so instead of turning back, i walked through the mud— – no, after that, we have interpreted that dialogue. – well, i saw the hole. it was a dead end. i could’ve either went inside or died of starvation, walled together, with only a hole in place, merciful at my existence’s end, yet a little proud to be gone. i made a decision and jumped in. instantly, the wall was deleted. i could see a mass amount of people staring at me as i was falling down, one of which was my mother. she had a smile on her face. instantly a memory flashed. it was that of a children and a mother walking down the street. i had remembered, a sort of glimpse, a momentary terror when suddenly a disgusting figure dropped down the stairs of its house and ran passed me. i stared at it as the child took my bag of groceries an spilled it on the ground. i had simply continued walking. i felt as if i turned around and faced it, it would’ve turned into something else… like a spider with legs, ready to eat me. or a rupturing, slim, root-infested zombie, balancing on two feet, taking the shape of a sort-of monkey, its ugly broken nails barely attaching it to the ground. instantly, as i dropped down, i could hear a huge amount of screaming. pain, lingering, the screaming and jeering of a child. a creature signing a type of melancholy opera. a person screaming “take them, not me!”, or something similar to that. i already felt like i was dead. i knew it, from the very moment i jumped in the hole i knew it was all over for me. however, it hurt. if death wouldn’t hurt i would’ve ended myself a long time ago. but it does. however… this? this wasn’t melancholy. it wasn’t regret. it wasn’t fear or hatred. it was pity. i pitied the fools who had to deal with me. the ugly monsters and witches, who i knew where at the bottom of the whole. i felt sad for them. they were forced to brew me in a pot. they were the ones who had to deal with me, the most disgusting creature on this planet. the most disgusting entity both mentally and physically, the very definition of a vile monkey. i was smelly, old, forgotten, i wasn’t even loved by my blind dog which i now realized doesn’t even exist. i was useless. i was scarred. my teleportation there was in fact, from the very start of my vile life, inevitable. i was the satan, they were the ones who had to run. at that point, i felt almost immortal. then, suddenly, it disappeared. i questioned life as i was dropping down, but then again, did it even matter? my drop down was inevitable; i was simply waiting for the time. my fall felt like it took almost forever. i already knew i was the last one there. the place felt excessively full. i did not take it seriously enough while i was cleaning my room, when i overheard that the hole’s diameter was too large, and that a dropped item was never heard from the ground. i knew that i was a proletarian, but i had no idea that i was that hated and useless to society. i had no idea the whole had this much length to it. by now, i was preparing myself for the fall. i saw a small peak of light below me. that’s when i knew it was time.