??Chapter 105: (Non-main text – Going on shelves) Containnt Object Short Story: The Forgotten Man
Chapter 105: (Non-main text – Going on shelves) Containnt Object Short Story: The Forgotten Man
(It’s going on the shelf… There are many emotions, but once spoken, they might change their flavor, since everyone’s state of mind is different. Therefore, I’ve decided to keep it to myself; rembering it sotis isn’t too bad… As usual, here’s a little story, and I hope everyone likes my imagination.)
“A long, long ti ago… ”
That’s how most stories start, isn’t it?
Exactly how long ago?
Several billion years ago?
Or several hundred billion?
Who knows?
In any case, suddenly, in the endless darkness, a point of light burst forth. Silence and emptiness instantly gained color.
Sparks of light began to spin ceaselessly. Stars scattered, spreading at an astonishing speed in far-flung directions.
And just like that, the universe was quietly born.
Who knows how much ti passed.
Those countless trillion nebulae shone brilliantly, billions of remnants clustered together, massive and coiling into one planet after another.
Among them was an incredibly small azure world. That was where our life was nurtured.
Madness.
Fear.
Greed.
Courage.
Creation.
Wisdom.
Pursuit.
….
And so on
Humans have many treasures they believe transcend material, thinking themselves favored by the creator.
Little did they know, they were rely birds, their wings clipped, thrown into cages.
Work… Interaction… Survival… Reproduction… We put all our experiences between each other, repeating the sa days, and after fulfilling the aningless missions assigned by ourselves or others, contentedly waiting for death.
We never thought about those questions.
For instance… why do we exist?
Well, maybe so people have thought about it while eating, while intoxicated, during casual conversations; these irrelevant answers by the next morning’s light, would lt away, traceless.
But unbelievably, I knew the answer.
Our existence,
was due to a story!
…
…
A long, long ti ago.
No, this isn’t another story, please be patient and listen to
to the end.
“Order Foundation”
This is a very mysterious organization.
Very few people know of its existence.
But I know.
Because… I was born there.
Oh, right.
“S-003”
That was my na.
But those few people in the Foundation preferred calling
by another na.
“God”
I really didn’t like this title, it made
sound like so kind of religious leader.
But they said I was very special, fully deserving of that title.
At that ti… I thought they were all crazy.
…
…
I, like all boys of my age, ate, slept, studied. Occasionally, I would go out, stroll the streets, watch movies, but all under the Foundation’s surveillance.
So… I had no friends.
Except for her.
She was the nurse specifically responsible for looking after .
I don’t know her real na… but that doesn’t matter, because I didn’t have a proper na either.
…
She was beautiful.
Sotis when I looked at her, my face would turn red.
…
Today
Tomorrow
The day after tomorrow
I thought life would just go on like this.
…
That day I lay in bed, my body hooked up to strange machines, linked to so large machinery, as part of a monthly routine dical check-up.
I could feel needles piercing into my veins, it was sowhat painful, and beside , a screen flashed, showing a spinning human model, emitting occasional “beeping” sounds.
She stood by my side.
Just like during every previous check-up, her hand rested on my shoulder.
“Hang in there, it’s almost over,” she said, smiling at .
Then, I could hear the beeping of the heart rate monitor speeding up a lot.
“Beep”
“Beep”
“Beep”
…
…
…
Silence
…
I was stunned for a mont.
Because the sound had not continued.
Everything suddenly beca quiet.
The air seed thick, hardly breathable.
Everyone around
was motionless.
It was like soone had pressed the pause button on a movie, everything frozen in that instant.
Except for .
At that mont, I had no idea what had happened. I was shocked silly.
It took a long ti before I realized.
Ti… had stopped.
…
…
…
…
I didn’t know why only I remained lucid, perhaps I had been endowed with so special ability, perhaps I had stepped outside of ti, perhaps I was not bound by anything, perhaps… I was a god.
What followed was an unbearably long span of ti. Since the door to the outside world at the Foundation required a passcode, I could only wander the hallways, gazing at the undecorated walls, feeling utterly alone and helpless. Gradually, I began to shout aimlessly, I beca angry, I smashed everything smashable, and I rolled frantically on the ground, like a frog that had been skinned and thrown into saltwater.
But none of this helped. Everything was bound like puppets, even the sound lost its vitality, unable to travel far before being swallowed by the thick air.
I began to experience a different kind of fear.
A fear that transcended everything.
This fear was difficult to describe in words, and I knew if even ti had forgotten , then my fear would be endless.
This thought raged within
until the mont I almost went mad.
Afterward, I went mad.
Perhaps it was madness, all I know is sothing in my brain cracked open, and a power began to erode .
A voice was saying, touch everything you want to change.
At that mont, I seed to understand sothing.
If I believed I was a god… then I might
actually be a god.
So, I did just that, and the mont my fingers touched that closed door, it disintegrated into dust.
I arrived at the surface.
Of course, it was also utterly silent here.
Next, I began to walk.
I touched the frozen stream beside , and it began to flow.
I touched the wild grass on the ground, and it quivered.
I understood a lot.
I walked on barren land. Looking at the sunlight that filled the ground, I waved my arms, and the wind and sand roared to life.
In this frozen ti, I touched every leaf, glided over every grain of sand, I summoned frost, rain, and snow, stirred mountains and rivers, watched clouds move, and saw flowers bloom. I shouted, and my voice began to carry. I squeezed the soil, and life began to sprout. I closed my eyes, and thoughts crossed the endless void, nebulae twinkled, and all things returned to the beginning.
Just like that
I restored the world to its original state.
In the endless ti that followed, I did nothing, every nook of mountains and seas, every corner of the earth bore my footprints, yet my fear remained unabated.
It was loneliness.
In the end, I returned to the Foundation.
Back to the room where it all started.
I lay back on that bed, watching her.
She might have been the most beautiful woman, but she could only remain as she was then, forever.
She was smiling.
I cried.
Because… I could not touch thoughts.
I had given the entire world new life, but I was still lonely… I went mad, then lucid, then mad again, and then lucid once more.
Years ago, billions of years later, past and future lost their aning, I sat alone watching the sunset, watching it turn blood red, the temperature on the earth rose to hundreds of degrees, the oceans evaporated, turning into a burnt land, the world beca a hell, and I was charred to the bone. After an indeterminable amount of ti, the sun extinguished, and there was only darkness and cold on the earth. The air had long since evaporated, and I was frozen under the glaciers.
After hundreds of thousands of millions of billions of years, the universe entered the dark era, the Big Rip started, even protons were decaying, the universe had returned to its origin, there was nothing left, I floated alone in infinite space, the entire universe, just . Or rather, I was the whole universe. Here, the concepts of ti and space had lost their aning. So I moved thousands of miles in an instant, a glance spanned thousands of years.
I wanted to do sothing, but there was nothing, I moved aimlessly in one direction, if there still was a direction.
…
After who knows how long, a point of light appeared before , my dormant mind finally stirred, perhaps that was the edge of the universe.
Maybe.
It was a screen of light, covered in dense text, and the content, all about this world.
At that mont, I understood, this world was just a story.
This flower, this grass, every person, the whole world, was all just a story.
And this story was dead… utterly lifeless.
I beca furious, my loneliness, helplessness, heartbreak, regret, helplessness, madness over countless eons all turned into rage, charging towards the screen of light, it shattered at my touch, opening a rift between story and reality.
…
…
In a dim room, a computer screen was emitting a blinding light.
The table was cluttered with leftovers that hadn’t been cleaned up for a long ti, and the ashtray was piled high with cigarette butts.
A man in his twenties was seated at the table, sowhat overweight, with very ssy hair. His hands were ceaselessly striking the keyboard, with each letter appearing on the screen.
Yet there was not a hint of life in his eyes.
When he saw the sudden appearance of , he showed no emotion, perhaps surprised, but that already decayed mind didn’t feel like reacting.
The mont I saw him, my anger vanished, and inexplicably, I even felt a pang of heartache.
Perhaps he was also a lonely person.
“Your novel…is dead!” I said.
His fingers, which had been tapping the keyboard, paused for a mont before resuming their clicking.
His face was expressionless.
But he was crying, tears running down his remarkably calm face.
…
“I know…” he said, his voice echoing in his throat.
“Why?” I asked, looking into his empty eyes.
“A book needs readers. A book without readers naturally dies,”
he answered mildly.
At that mont, I realized I had asked a question whose answer I should have already known.
…
…
A book is a world.
A world cannot be sustained by one person alone.
It needs an author, like him,
It needs a story, like mine,
but most importantly
…
it needs readers, like you.
I’m not good at speaking.
But simple words are not necessarily less powerful than a flood of eloquence.
Everyone has a story, and no one wants their story to die.
Every world needs readers.
So…subscribe…beco a reader.
For the morning sun, for the sweet cakes, for the laughter and cheer, for all the things you can think of.
Or…for the one you love.
Subscribe
…
Thank you
…
…
(I intended to write a more complicated plot and break off a chapter to lure so subscriptions, but I didn’t. I’ve been writing this novel for almost two months without specifically operating it, so I guess I’m not a good novelist. So, I’ll just try to be a storyteller. If it earns
so money, that would be even better.
Oh, by the way, Xiaoxiao is about to be promoted to C-level; D-level tasks are too minor, written timidly, but C-level tasks might be more interesting.
After all that talk, it really boils down to three words.
Of course, not “hehehe” but
“Subscribe”)
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