You Are Going Home — Part 02
You step into the passage.
Concrete walls surround you, each one rich with cracks, gashes, and contours.
You can see these cracks, gashes, and contours. You can see the puddles of water on the stone floors.
And, yet, there is the absence of light.
You walk and walk, making turns every now and then.
Eventually, you reach a space with a single light.
A single light, emanating a faint glimmer of illumination, rooted within a wooden platform hanging from the rusty metal that is the ceiling of this space.
Right beyond the contours of this light, there is a metal space.
A metal space, surrounded by metal walls, a metal ceiling, and a metal floor.
Within this space, you can see a small terminal.
On this terminal, there are buttons and prompts, each one centered on a single act: movement.
You step into this space and press a button etched from a language you cannot understand.
Right as you press this button, a feeling comes over you.
You cannot describe this feeling. But, on some level, it feels as if you are here and, yet, you are not here.
You are elsewhere and you will be elsewhere for quite some time, before returning to the “here.”
No, you cannot make sense of this feeling. But, it enchants you, yet evokes an unsettling sensation.
You push it aside and press the button.
A series of movements, all of which are visible from the metal bars within the space, transpire.
Movement & Destination
You move to the left for several moments. And, then, you move upwards for the span of three-minutes.
No, that is not true; the machine you are standing within moves, but you remain still, within the space.
You move upwards and, then, you move in a diagonal manner, at a speed far greater than that of the two previous moments.
And, then, after these movements repeat for several minutes, you reach your destination.
Our description has yet to conclude.
Every single one of these movements takes you through four spaces: one void and three oceans.
Your first movement takes you through a black void.
Your second movement takes you through an infinite sea of water and light; all manner of life and color, flowing across the space in which you reside.
Your third movement takes you across an infinite sea of sand; spaces etched from the desert and from all the desert can be; vague glimmers and glimpses of temples, cities lost to time, moments that never were and never can be.
Your fourth, and final, movement takes you across the same void. But, this void is no longer a void; it is a sea of stars, each one sculpted from the light in which all things are made from.
Each one of these movements lasts for little more than mere moments.
And, yet, the sum of these movements imprints itself within a sea of eternities that exist within you and only you.
Every moment existing as an infinite eternity, rich with the unending paths and possibilities present within this very moment, going beyond the confines of mere feeling and assumption.
And, yet, as such things must, these movements end and you reach your destination.
A Vast Library
You step out of the space and onto the red-gray carpet floors.
Right in front of you, there are mahogany shelves.
Many, many mahogany shelves, each one rich with books, photo albums, data files; and so on and so forth.
You see these shelves spread out across a vast space.
Right above you, there is a wooden ceiling.
You follow this ceiling, with your gaze, to the right.
And, after walking for no more than a minute, you reach a wooden railing.
Right beyond this wooden railing, there is a vast space.
A vast space that the single level you stand upon is but a small part of.
You look down and see a rich network of shelves and desks, deep below you.
You look above and see a series of levels, each one extending upwards, across a great height.
You look ahead, and you see a window.
No, not a window; a wall.
A wall that encompasses the entirety of this space.
The wall is a window.
A window to the sea; pure blue, sculpted from light.
You gaze into the pure blue of this sea, observing minor, yet tangible, movements.
Eventually, you witness jellyfish and dolphins flow across, with a gentle harmony.
Other beings pass through your vision, but you cannot name these beings.
You are in awe of this space.
And, yet, your mission is not to be in awe; it is to reach your destination.
No matter, though, for you allow yourself to experience this awe.
A series of moments pass and, when your experience of awe concludes, you move.
You move past the series of shelves on your level, eventually reaching a silver space.
A silver space with a terminal that contains a screen.
You touch this screen and see a long list of numbers.
You scroll through this list and select “01.”
The space moves downwards.
You reach the first level within this space and walk out.
To your left, there is the wall.
And, all around you, there are desks, chairs, shelves, and doorways that lead to spaces beyond this one.
You spend a few moments wandering through the shelves and gazing into the sea.
Right beyond a network of shelves within the left-corner of the space, there is a glass door.
You push open this glass door and step into an office.
Right within this office, there is an old, faded metal desk and a computer terminal.
To the right of this computer terminal, there is a book.
“Making Use Of Your B-66 Terminal.”
You open the book, but find that it is written entirely in pictograms.
Pictograms that evoke nothing more than curiosity and uncertainty; no meaning and no clarity, yet possibility.
A vague feeling comes over you.
You crouch down and look underneath the desk.
A small file cabinet sits within the back.
You push this file cabinet to the right.
A small circular opening reveals itself.
You can see a faint light emanating from the other side of this opening.
The light comes and goes; it’s there for a moment and, then, it’s gone the next.
Even though there is tangibility to this light, you sense that this light is very far away.
You feel, within yourself, that you must go into this opening.
And, as such, that is what you do.
