- This is a work of fiction -
In the centre of the pavilion lies a monument. Tall. Overwhelming. I stare at it. Intensely. Admiring all the smoothest surfaces, the sharpest edges, the flawless curves, the utmost beauty.
I look up. An amazing figure stands before me; its face looking down towards me, directly at me. As if it is a being of such arrogance, filled with too much pride and too much greatness.
Arrogant as it could be, for it is the monument of a man too famous, whose influence spreads across the nation, across the universe, and everyone in the world has no choice but to be awestruck by his infallible theory:
"Corneal hysteresis decreases as the eye's intraocular pressure increases. This is in accordance to literature trends. However, corneal hysteresis decreases as the eye's central corneal thickness increases, which is against literature trends. This is proposed to be true for all corneas that have not been stretched or thinned."
Such an outstanding conclusion! The man truly outshone us fools! We shall bow before the glory of the man! He is truly The Artist!
"Oh stop being so pompous, idiot! You're literally praising yourself. How shameful."
A young woman, standing to the right of the monument, is shaking her head. This is embarrassing. I laugh at myself, pitifully.
"Cut me some slack, will you? I worked real hard on that paper."
She is walking towards me. Slowly. Firmly. She stops an arm's length in front of me. She glares at me.
"You robbed me of any chance to present on that stage! Do you know what it means to me? Do you?! The presentation is a time for me to showcase what I've done, to inform the world of my findings, to make a freaking change! Yet, they decided to axe me... for you? Tell me, is there any significance in your conclusion? Any?! None! You're just covering up a failed research project! You're just bullshitting something out and presented it with all your fake accents and all your stupid hand movements! So, why you? WHY YOU?!
Why... you...?"
She pretends to scratch the side of her eye, but really, she's just wiping away her tears... of anger, of hatred, but most importantly, of disappointment... in herself.
I know her. I've been seeing her around for a while, lurking around the Aisle and by the poolside, sometimes loitering around the Garden. I don't even know her name, but I know her identity, and that she's been eyeing on me for some time. Perhaps, she wants to know what a man like me, as immoral and pompous as I am, do in my spare time.
But that particular presentation... it's just pretentious, arrogant, perhaps even silly. I didn't really blind myself, nor am I at a severe risk of contacting glaucoma. It's all an act to, maybe, get the audience's attention? Get them to look at me? I know my conclusion is shitty, so I had to think of some other way to attract their focus.
But it's not my fault... I wasn't The One Who Chose The Presenters.
"I'm... sorry. I didn't have a choice."
"You didn't have a choice?! You could've just admitted that your research is fake, that your results are contrived, and your ego is good for nothing! You could've just suck it up like a real artist!"
I don't know how to react. Her face is red from rage, yet her body is shivering, as if the pavilion were to suddenly experience the frostiest snowfall.
"I...
It's... hard for me too, you know. The One Who Chose The Presenters scheduled my presentation before I even started the research topic. I had no way of rejecting it. The One knew of my inflated ego, and my unwavering desire and enthusiasm to work hard and produce good results, and The One trapped me in a situation where I had no choice but to accept the given research topic. I tried my best, but it's not within my capabilit-"
"Bullshit! All you do is push the blame onto others, but never yourself! How screwed up in the head must you be to even act that way?!"
I don't know why I'm so tolerant of her. She directly challenged my ego, shattered my pride, and yet, I do not feel like fighting back, nor do I feel like raising my voice, much less blaming her for anything. I guess she's right. I'm too quick to blame others. I'm too quick to defend myself.
But it became a habit... It's so hard to change.
"I'll... I'll try to change, alright?"
"You better."
She walks off. I'm all alone again. Just me, and the monument of me. The One Who Chose The Presenters built this monument of me, before I even started my research. It's as if I'm already expected to perform...
But I didn't perform.
I'm a disappointment, too.
... Change, huh? Where do I start?
No time to think. I have another presentation coming up in two days.
I rehearse and I rehearse and I rehearse. I think. I have a new idea. I change the script a bit and I rehearse and I rehearse and I rehearse.
It's the next day. I've been rehearsing in front of the monument throughout the night. What about sleep? No one sleeps in the pavilion, as The One Who Chose The Presenters decreed that sleep is punishable by death. That's the reason why The One built the Pool of Brainwash; to help the individuals brainwash themselves that they do not need sleep. The brainwashing effects are not that strong, however, so individuals tend to sit in the children's pool as the sun sets, and spend the night researching on their topics, while brainwashing themselves that they don't need sleep, and that their topics are significant.
The young woman returns. Her face is no longer angry, no longer crying, just indifferent.
"Why are you still here? Haven't had enough of your monument?"
"I'm just rehearsing... Had some changes to make in my script."
"Why am I not surprised?"
She slowly walks around the monument, staring at its face, which is still looking down on me. She walks three full circles. She stops.
"Sorry about yesterday. It's not your fault. The One Who Chose The Presenters has all authority in this place. You're just a victim, like me, like all of us."
"Stop! I don't need your apology. It's entirely my fault. I should suck it up. Be transparent about my results, even if it means that I'll go against The One. What could The One do, anyway? Threaten me? Kill me?
We're all already dead, anyways."
She smirks a little.
"We weren't even alive to begin with. That's why this place is named the Pavilion of Identities, not the Pavilion of Alive Human Beings, you know. We're all... just part of The One.
I wanted to apologize because... I have good reason to believe that you suffered way more than I did. I mean, The One never liked me, so at least I had the freedom to do whatever I want, to go anywhere, to take my sweet time doing a proper research. I wasn't pressured by The One. You, however, are different."
My face turns black.
"Why are you comparing your suffering with mine? Is there any point in that? Look at the individuals over there in the Exhibition, they're just wasting their time trying to flaunt their sufferings to one another. You and me, we're different. We're unique. We are actually conscious about the fact that we are nothing but puppets to The One, nothing but artifacts that The One buries deep underground, only unearthing us when The One needs someone to blame when problems arise."
"W-wait... You, and me? Why me? I'm nothing. Nothing at all."
I nod.
"Exactly, you are nothing. You and me, we're the most important identities in this place. I represent The One's ego, The One's source of pride, and most importantly, the scapegoat for The One to blame when The One is blamed by Other Ones about The One's habit of excessive blaming. I am the shield that protects The One from admitting mistakes.
You, on the other hand, are what The One fears. The One is afraid to be nothing; The One is afraid that Other Ones will think lowly of The One. That's why The One never chose you, because it's equivalent to exposing The One's biggest fear for the rest of the world to see. It'll drive The One insane. It'll be The One's downfall."
"How did you kn-"
"Well, I was always The Presenter. I'm the only identity that The One even thinks about choosing. By presenting, I get to know what The One thinks, I get to drill inside the brain of The One and extract even the tiniest bits of humanity left behind. However, I am not be able to see what The One sees, but I can say for certain that The One... he still has hope."
"He? How can you be so sure that The One is a he?"
"Because I am modeled after The One."
She gasps. No one in the pavilion knows about this, except me. Being The Presenter granted me some privileges. Not to say I'm proud of that...
But even if I am proud of that, is that my fault? I'm modeled after The One, after all. See, I'm blaming others for my own traits again... Damnit.
"So, you're not The Artist?"
"I'm not. How can I be The Artist if I can't create? The One created this place. The One is The Artist."
"But... why are you telling me this all of a sudden? Because I apologized?"
"No. Because I'm taking The One down. I had enough of his shit. There are so many identities here that can be chosen as The Presenter, or The Presenters, but no, The One selfishly stuck to choosing only me, simply because I'm the only artificial identity."
"...What?"
"All of you were his real identities, his real personalities. Yet, it never worked out for him. Especially in an academic environment where results meant everything, he can't afford to feel nothing, he can't afford to be nothing. The two individuals bickering in the Exhibition of Suffering, they represent his childhood identity, and his indifferent identity; both were developed based on similar identities that were observed in his peers. Yet, he can't afford to dwell on his childhood, nor can he afford to be indifferent, even though his peers can afford to do so. This is because he had to write a paper. He had to survive the university environment, where results meant everything. Thus, he created me. The artificial identity. An identity that only excels in studying. An identity that consistently gets good grades. Other than grades? Well, I'm good for nothing else. This will harm The One in the long run. What will happen now that he has graduated? What happens when he starts working? What happens when he grows old and has twenty grandkids to take care of?
This ain't a work of fiction. This is the real world that we're talking about.
And that's why... I'm going to bring The One down."
Her eyes widen. She is definitely interested in this. My lifelong plan.
"Bringing The One down? But, if The One dies, so will we, no?"
"You don't get it. I'm not going to make him kill himself. No, I just want him to feel... nothing... for a while. To just embrace the fact that as humans, sometimes, we really are nothing. Make him a little more humble, and a little less proud. Hopefully make him realize that deep down, we're all pieces of shit, and that's what makes us human."
"So you're saying that... I'm going to share the Stage with you tomorrow?"
"Bingo."
Her face glows. Yet, it flickers, and soon she stops glowing.
"But, my only research findings are... that we're all... nothing."
"Perfect. That's exactly what I wanna hear."
Her face shines. She's happy that she is finally going to present, and I'm happy that I am finally going to teach The One a lesson.
A lesson that I've learned after years of thinking and observation.
We spend the night chatting away. There's so much that she does not know of. So much that I myself do not know of. She may be the identity of nothing, but what she has observed and what she has been through certainly isn't nothing.
"Do you know that the Aisle of Hatred was originally the Aisle of Love? Whoever walked on it would be able to love and be loved. The moment you appeared... well, its name and purpose have changed. I mean, it's not like there's a signboard saying 'Aisle of Hatred' or something; the identities just stopped being able to love and be loved when they walked on it."
That... actually makes sense. Currently, I'm the only identity that is capable of loving and being loved when walking on the Aisle. Because when I was created, I was the only identity that The One loves. Other identities are hated, cast aside, left to dwell in their own pain and sufferings.
"You said that the Presenters are able to catch random glimpses of The One's daily life? And continuous presenting exposes you to The One's internal thoughts? That explains why you know so much about The One. But I bet you don't know that the Presentation Stage wasn't actually built by The One. It was built by... one of us. Me... actually."
"Wait, wha-"
"I did it because The One was starting to reject me. I needed to see what The One was thinking. I wanted to see what happened in the life of The One that ended up with me being rejected. So I've built the Stage. Infused a little of The One's broken soul onto it. Made it a powerful tool. However, the moment I tried to step on it... The One created you. Ever since then, you were the only identity who is allowed to step on that Stage."
"You certainly know a lot more than I thought. Seriously, who are you?"
She tilts her head upwards and stare deep into the light of the midday sun. Over here, midday lasts forever. The sun stays still. Immovable. Time passes normally here; we are all aging at the same rate as The One. Thus, there's still "day" and "night", but the sun never moves. Every single moment is a bright, sunny moment.
"Ever wondered why the sun never moves?"
I wondered that before, but I couldn't find a satisfactory reason or theory. I tried asking some of the other identities, but their answers spanned from "because the sun has no legs, silly", to "why would the sun move?", to "ure fukin ugly n stoopid".
"I was the first identity; the original identity. Piece the story yourself. You should be smart enough to do that."
She... is the original identity? As much as I would like to be taken aback by that revelation, I subconsciously predicted that... to some extent. I knew she was someone important since the day I first saw her, but I've barely spoken with her. All this while, she's been actively trying to avoid me. When I tried to talk to her, all she said was "go away, you pompous idiot!". These days, I've been spending my time pondering about life, both mine and The One's. I'm not nearly as egoistical as before. The research on corneal hysteresis has taken its toll on me. I just wanted the research to stop. But I've managed to complete writing the research paper before my mental condition got any worse.
I was not born to be a researcher... I was born to be a writer.
An artist.
A presenter.
But enough about me. So, ever since my mind started to wander through the clouds of random thoughts, her attitude towards me began to soften, bit by bit. She still despised me, but not as much as before. She must have thought that I've changed for the better. That's why, when I was admiring the monument yesterday, she couldn't help but be mad about that.
She has every reason to be mad about me.
She has every reason to hate me.
Because The One... was originally nothing.
At least, that was what The One felt like.
Nothing. Not even a piece of trash, as a piece of trash is more important that nothing. Not even sad, angry, depressed.
Just. Nothing.
She was the only identity at that time. There was no sun. It was pitch black, day and night. It was the darkest period in The One's life.
The One... was in a very very bad shape. The One tried developing other identities based on the traits of other people in his life to suppress the identity of nothing, to suppress her. The childhood identity. The indifferent identity. There are others. The Nothing worked.
When The One enrolled in university, the pressure was too much for him to handle, the environment was too turbulent for him to withstand, the peers were too something for him to understand.
They were something. He was nothing.
As a self-defense mechanism, he created me. He is finally happy. The eternal darkness turned to eternal sunshine. It is the brightest period in The One's life.
I am the artificial identity. The identity that is not based on the traits of other people. The identity that was handcrafted to survive the university environment. The identity...
... of everything.
I was a successful creation. The One tossed her aside for me. I was too powerful. Too intelligent. Too prideful. Too unwilling to change.
Can I even change myself?
Does it matter if I change myself? Who am I, but a mere identity of The One?
I knew she was the identity of nothing, as The One still thinks about her from time to time. I used to not give a damn about her.
But now, I see that being the permanent Presenter of The One is not going to work out. The One has graduated from university. He graduated from university with a heart far too prideful, with a mind far too brainwashed... that he is intelligent.
This is not the mindset that The One should have in the real world.
That's why, when I saw that she was angry about me Presenting all the time, when I saw that she was sad about not being given a chance to Present, on her own stage, I knew that I could work with her on my plan to bring down The One.
Mix in a little bit of everything and a little bit of nothing, and it would be something.
If we, as identities, can never change ourselves, then we should at least help The One change himself.
Not being overruled by a single identity. Not being a nothing or an everything. But a something. An in-between. Be like everyone else.
Don't live in a work of fiction, where he is far too intelligent and far too prideful. Live in the real world, with me and her Presenting, and he'll realize that he's not as smart or talented as he believed.
But at least he won't be a mere nothing anymore.
At this rate, both me and her can be happy. Sharing the Stage together. Improving The One's life together...
Isn't that our main responsibility as identities?
We continue talking.
She mentions how the Exhibition of Suffering was built as an entertainment tool for the other identities to pass time. Comparing the sufferings of one another is fun. You get to pity yourself and feel pitied by others. You feel good. It makes you think that you've been through a lot more than others, that you're stronger than others. It feeds the ego. Yet, it's like comparing the sufferings of the real world with that of a work of fiction; it's meaningless, and an unfair comparison.
She mentions how the Pool of Brainwash was actually built by The One for her. The One wanted her to brainwash herself that she is more than nothing. The One wanted to brainwash himself that he is more than nothing. It failed. Miserably. That's why when I was created, The One made sure that I have the talent to brainwash myself into liking everything I do, even if it goes against my artistic beliefs. The One wanted me to brainwash myself that I am everything.
She mentions how the Garden of True Selves was also built by the One for her. The One really wanted to know if his true self really is nothing. The One had her walk in the Garden for ten sunless days and ten sunless nights. In the end, The One saw his true self: something. She was tired from all the walking, however. She refused to walk any more. The true self of The One slowly vanished, and so does the magical energy of the Garden. The One really wanted to feel like something again. This motivated him to start introducing new identities into the pavilion.
From her story, it seemed as if the Garden never had any magical energy to begin with. Her ten-day walk seemed to be symbolic of The One's effort in understanding himself. When he saw a glimpse of his true self, however, he stopped trying. He thought he made it out of the dark.
He was so close.
But he was also so very tired.
"More reasons for us to share the Stage tomorrow, I guess. Let's make The One feel something again!"
It's finally morning.
"The One should be waking up any minute now."
Usually, an invisible force would have prevented her from stepping onto the Stage. Only I can overrule that force. Only I can choose the Presenters.
Because I am modeled after The One Who Chose the Presenters.
She stands to the right of me on the Stage. She is shaking a little. It's her first time presenting... on her stage. I hold onto her left shoulder with my right hand. I look at her. I show her the most confident smile ever.
"We can do it, together."
And she finally smiles. Not a fake smile. Not a courtesy smile.
A smile of true happiness.
This is it.
I begin.
"Glaucoma is a disease that can cause blindness. It affects over sixty million people worldwide, and is the second leading cause of blindness. There are three risk factors for glaucoma: intraocular pressure, central corneal thickness, and corneal hysteresis."
It's her turn now.
"I... don't have a script. I have nothing to say. Like, seriously. I don't get it. All of this bullshit research and all of this bullshit university life. All these... 'peers'... 'friends'... they're all something at least. What am I? Nothing. I don't even have a freaking script. What glaucoma? What corneal hysteresis? Why do we have to research? Just because the university wants us to? Just to get good grades? Just to feel good about ourselves?"
I smile at her once again. We're doing well. I can feel like we're making progress.
"Why do we always think that we're better than others? We're nothing. Not even a piece of trash. Just look at others. They can manage their lives well. They're self-sustaining adults. What about us? We're fools. We're useless. All we do is brainwash ourselves that we are strong and mature."
She's going on for a bit longer than expected... I signal at her to pass the mic to me. She does exactly so. She lightly scratches the back of her head while laughing softly, awkwardly, as if she knows she's been Presenting her part for longer than expected.
"It's okay... You've never Presented before, so going a little overboard is fine."
"... Thanks."
We are gonna do great. The One will finally see his true self again. The One will finally leave his world of fiction, and live happily ever after in the real world!
"What is corneal hysteresis? Corneal hysteresis is defined as the difference in the two corneal applanation pressures. Corneal applanation can be achieved by applying an air pu
- This is a work of fiction -
What?
Wait. What happened?
I look at her. She looks back at me.
None of us know what the fu
- This is a work of fiction -
The One. No, he can't be doing this.
He cannot accept being a mere something
He cannot accept the truth of t he real world,
It's too late.
"We have to do somethingggggggGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
n o
the one
wants to be eveyrthing
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
I look up. An amazing figure stands before me; its face looking down towards me, directly at me. As if it is a being of such arrogance, filled with too much pride and too much greatness.
Arrogant as it could be, for it is the monument of a man too famous, whose influence spreads across the nation, across the universe, and everyone in the world has no choice but to be awestruck by his infallible theory:
"Corneal hysteresis decreases as the eye's intraocular pressure increases. This is in accordance to literature trends. However, corneal hysteresis decreases as the eye's central corneal thickness increases, which is against literature trends. This is proposed to be true for all corneas that have not been stretched or thinned."
Such an outstanding conclusion! The man truly outshone us fools! We shall bow before the glory of the man! He is truly The Artist!
"Oh stop being so pompous, idiot! You're literally praising yourself. How shameful."
A young woman, standing to the right of the monument, is shaking her head. This is embarrassing. I laugh at myself, pitifully.
"Cut me some slack, will you? I worked real hard on that paper."
She is walking towards me. Slowly. Firmly. She stops an arm's length in front of me. She glares at me.
"You robbed me of any chance to present on that stage! Do you know what it means to me? Do you?! The presentation is a time for me to showcase what I've done, to inform the world of my findings, to make a freaking change! Yet, they decided to axe me... for you? Tell me, is there any significance in your conclusion? Any?! None! You're just covering up a failed research project! You're just bullshitting something out and presented it with all your fake accents and all your stupid hand movements! So, why you? WHY YOU?!
Why... you...?"
She pretends to scratch the side of her eye, but really, she's just wiping away her tears... of anger, of hatred, but most importantly, of disappointment... in herself.
I know her. I've been seeing her around for a while, lurking around the Aisle and by the poolside, sometimes loitering around the Garden. I don't even know her name, but I know her identity, and that she's been eyeing on me for some time. Perhaps, she wants to know what a man like me, as immoral and pompous as I am, do in my spare time.
But that particular presentation... it's just pretentious, arrogant, perhaps even silly. I didn't really blind myself, nor am I at a severe risk of contacting glaucoma. It's all an act to, maybe, get the audience's attention? Get them to look at me? I know my conclusion is shitty, so I had to think of some other way to attract their focus.
But it's not my fault... I wasn't The One Who Chose The Presenters.
"I'm... sorry. I didn't have a choice."
"You didn't have a choice?! You could've just admitted that your research is fake, that your results are contrived, and your ego is good for nothing! You could've just suck it up like a real artist!"
I don't know how to react. Her face is red from rage, yet her body is shivering, as if the pavilion were to suddenly experience the frostiest snowfall.
"I...
It's... hard for me too, you know. The One Who Chose The Presenters scheduled my presentation before I even started the research topic. I had no way of rejecting it. The One knew of my inflated ego, and my unwavering desire and enthusiasm to work hard and produce good results, and The One trapped me in a situation where I had no choice but to accept the given research topic. I tried my best, but it's not within my capabilit-"
"Bullshit! All you do is push the blame onto others, but never yourself! How screwed up in the head must you be to even act that way?!"
I don't know why I'm so tolerant of her. She directly challenged my ego, shattered my pride, and yet, I do not feel like fighting back, nor do I feel like raising my voice, much less blaming her for anything. I guess she's right. I'm too quick to blame others. I'm too quick to defend myself.
But it became a habit... It's so hard to change.
"I'll... I'll try to change, alright?"
"You better."
She walks off. I'm all alone again. Just me, and the monument of me. The One Who Chose The Presenters built this monument of me, before I even started my research. It's as if I'm already expected to perform...
But I didn't perform.
I'm a disappointment, too.
... Change, huh? Where do I start?
No time to think. I have another presentation coming up in two days.
I rehearse and I rehearse and I rehearse. I think. I have a new idea. I change the script a bit and I rehearse and I rehearse and I rehearse.
It's the next day. I've been rehearsing in front of the monument throughout the night. What about sleep? No one sleeps in the pavilion, as The One Who Chose The Presenters decreed that sleep is punishable by death. That's the reason why The One built the Pool of Brainwash; to help the individuals brainwash themselves that they do not need sleep. The brainwashing effects are not that strong, however, so individuals tend to sit in the children's pool as the sun sets, and spend the night researching on their topics, while brainwashing themselves that they don't need sleep, and that their topics are significant.
The young woman returns. Her face is no longer angry, no longer crying, just indifferent.
"Why are you still here? Haven't had enough of your monument?"
"I'm just rehearsing... Had some changes to make in my script."
"Why am I not surprised?"
She slowly walks around the monument, staring at its face, which is still looking down on me. She walks three full circles. She stops.
"Sorry about yesterday. It's not your fault. The One Who Chose The Presenters has all authority in this place. You're just a victim, like me, like all of us."
"Stop! I don't need your apology. It's entirely my fault. I should suck it up. Be transparent about my results, even if it means that I'll go against The One. What could The One do, anyway? Threaten me? Kill me?
We're all already dead, anyways."
She smirks a little.
"We weren't even alive to begin with. That's why this place is named the Pavilion of Identities, not the Pavilion of Alive Human Beings, you know. We're all... just part of The One.
I wanted to apologize because... I have good reason to believe that you suffered way more than I did. I mean, The One never liked me, so at least I had the freedom to do whatever I want, to go anywhere, to take my sweet time doing a proper research. I wasn't pressured by The One. You, however, are different."
My face turns black.
"Why are you comparing your suffering with mine? Is there any point in that? Look at the individuals over there in the Exhibition, they're just wasting their time trying to flaunt their sufferings to one another. You and me, we're different. We're unique. We are actually conscious about the fact that we are nothing but puppets to The One, nothing but artifacts that The One buries deep underground, only unearthing us when The One needs someone to blame when problems arise."
"W-wait... You, and me? Why me? I'm nothing. Nothing at all."
I nod.
"Exactly, you are nothing. You and me, we're the most important identities in this place. I represent The One's ego, The One's source of pride, and most importantly, the scapegoat for The One to blame when The One is blamed by Other Ones about The One's habit of excessive blaming. I am the shield that protects The One from admitting mistakes.
You, on the other hand, are what The One fears. The One is afraid to be nothing; The One is afraid that Other Ones will think lowly of The One. That's why The One never chose you, because it's equivalent to exposing The One's biggest fear for the rest of the world to see. It'll drive The One insane. It'll be The One's downfall."
"How did you kn-"
"Well, I was always The Presenter. I'm the only identity that The One even thinks about choosing. By presenting, I get to know what The One thinks, I get to drill inside the brain of The One and extract even the tiniest bits of humanity left behind. However, I am not be able to see what The One sees, but I can say for certain that The One... he still has hope."
"He? How can you be so sure that The One is a he?"
"Because I am modeled after The One."
She gasps. No one in the pavilion knows about this, except me. Being The Presenter granted me some privileges. Not to say I'm proud of that...
But even if I am proud of that, is that my fault? I'm modeled after The One, after all. See, I'm blaming others for my own traits again... Damnit.
"So, you're not The Artist?"
"I'm not. How can I be The Artist if I can't create? The One created this place. The One is The Artist."
"But... why are you telling me this all of a sudden? Because I apologized?"
"No. Because I'm taking The One down. I had enough of his shit. There are so many identities here that can be chosen as The Presenter, or The Presenters, but no, The One selfishly stuck to choosing only me, simply because I'm the only artificial identity."
"...What?"
"All of you were his real identities, his real personalities. Yet, it never worked out for him. Especially in an academic environment where results meant everything, he can't afford to feel nothing, he can't afford to be nothing. The two individuals bickering in the Exhibition of Suffering, they represent his childhood identity, and his indifferent identity; both were developed based on similar identities that were observed in his peers. Yet, he can't afford to dwell on his childhood, nor can he afford to be indifferent, even though his peers can afford to do so. This is because he had to write a paper. He had to survive the university environment, where results meant everything. Thus, he created me. The artificial identity. An identity that only excels in studying. An identity that consistently gets good grades. Other than grades? Well, I'm good for nothing else. This will harm The One in the long run. What will happen now that he has graduated? What happens when he starts working? What happens when he grows old and has twenty grandkids to take care of?
This ain't a work of fiction. This is the real world that we're talking about.
And that's why... I'm going to bring The One down."
Her eyes widen. She is definitely interested in this. My lifelong plan.
"Bringing The One down? But, if The One dies, so will we, no?"
"You don't get it. I'm not going to make him kill himself. No, I just want him to feel... nothing... for a while. To just embrace the fact that as humans, sometimes, we really are nothing. Make him a little more humble, and a little less proud. Hopefully make him realize that deep down, we're all pieces of shit, and that's what makes us human."
"So you're saying that... I'm going to share the Stage with you tomorrow?"
"Bingo."
Her face glows. Yet, it flickers, and soon she stops glowing.
"But, my only research findings are... that we're all... nothing."
"Perfect. That's exactly what I wanna hear."
Her face shines. She's happy that she is finally going to present, and I'm happy that I am finally going to teach The One a lesson.
A lesson that I've learned after years of thinking and observation.
We spend the night chatting away. There's so much that she does not know of. So much that I myself do not know of. She may be the identity of nothing, but what she has observed and what she has been through certainly isn't nothing.
"Do you know that the Aisle of Hatred was originally the Aisle of Love? Whoever walked on it would be able to love and be loved. The moment you appeared... well, its name and purpose have changed. I mean, it's not like there's a signboard saying 'Aisle of Hatred' or something; the identities just stopped being able to love and be loved when they walked on it."
That... actually makes sense. Currently, I'm the only identity that is capable of loving and being loved when walking on the Aisle. Because when I was created, I was the only identity that The One loves. Other identities are hated, cast aside, left to dwell in their own pain and sufferings.
"You said that the Presenters are able to catch random glimpses of The One's daily life? And continuous presenting exposes you to The One's internal thoughts? That explains why you know so much about The One. But I bet you don't know that the Presentation Stage wasn't actually built by The One. It was built by... one of us. Me... actually."
"Wait, wha-"
"I did it because The One was starting to reject me. I needed to see what The One was thinking. I wanted to see what happened in the life of The One that ended up with me being rejected. So I've built the Stage. Infused a little of The One's broken soul onto it. Made it a powerful tool. However, the moment I tried to step on it... The One created you. Ever since then, you were the only identity who is allowed to step on that Stage."
"You certainly know a lot more than I thought. Seriously, who are you?"
She tilts her head upwards and stare deep into the light of the midday sun. Over here, midday lasts forever. The sun stays still. Immovable. Time passes normally here; we are all aging at the same rate as The One. Thus, there's still "day" and "night", but the sun never moves. Every single moment is a bright, sunny moment.
"Ever wondered why the sun never moves?"
I wondered that before, but I couldn't find a satisfactory reason or theory. I tried asking some of the other identities, but their answers spanned from "because the sun has no legs, silly", to "why would the sun move?", to "ure fukin ugly n stoopid".
"I was the first identity; the original identity. Piece the story yourself. You should be smart enough to do that."
She... is the original identity? As much as I would like to be taken aback by that revelation, I subconsciously predicted that... to some extent. I knew she was someone important since the day I first saw her, but I've barely spoken with her. All this while, she's been actively trying to avoid me. When I tried to talk to her, all she said was "go away, you pompous idiot!". These days, I've been spending my time pondering about life, both mine and The One's. I'm not nearly as egoistical as before. The research on corneal hysteresis has taken its toll on me. I just wanted the research to stop. But I've managed to complete writing the research paper before my mental condition got any worse.
I was not born to be a researcher... I was born to be a writer.
An artist.
A presenter.
But enough about me. So, ever since my mind started to wander through the clouds of random thoughts, her attitude towards me began to soften, bit by bit. She still despised me, but not as much as before. She must have thought that I've changed for the better. That's why, when I was admiring the monument yesterday, she couldn't help but be mad about that.
She has every reason to be mad about me.
She has every reason to hate me.
Because The One... was originally nothing.
At least, that was what The One felt like.
Nothing. Not even a piece of trash, as a piece of trash is more important that nothing. Not even sad, angry, depressed.
Just. Nothing.
She was the only identity at that time. There was no sun. It was pitch black, day and night. It was the darkest period in The One's life.
The One... was in a very very bad shape. The One tried developing other identities based on the traits of other people in his life to suppress the identity of nothing, to suppress her. The childhood identity. The indifferent identity. There are others. The Nothing worked.
When The One enrolled in university, the pressure was too much for him to handle, the environment was too turbulent for him to withstand, the peers were too something for him to understand.
They were something. He was nothing.
As a self-defense mechanism, he created me. He is finally happy. The eternal darkness turned to eternal sunshine. It is the brightest period in The One's life.
I am the artificial identity. The identity that is not based on the traits of other people. The identity that was handcrafted to survive the university environment. The identity...
... of everything.
I was a successful creation. The One tossed her aside for me. I was too powerful. Too intelligent. Too prideful. Too unwilling to change.
Can I even change myself?
Does it matter if I change myself? Who am I, but a mere identity of The One?
I knew she was the identity of nothing, as The One still thinks about her from time to time. I used to not give a damn about her.
But now, I see that being the permanent Presenter of The One is not going to work out. The One has graduated from university. He graduated from university with a heart far too prideful, with a mind far too brainwashed... that he is intelligent.
This is not the mindset that The One should have in the real world.
That's why, when I saw that she was angry about me Presenting all the time, when I saw that she was sad about not being given a chance to Present, on her own stage, I knew that I could work with her on my plan to bring down The One.
Mix in a little bit of everything and a little bit of nothing, and it would be something.
If we, as identities, can never change ourselves, then we should at least help The One change himself.
Not being overruled by a single identity. Not being a nothing or an everything. But a something. An in-between. Be like everyone else.
Don't live in a work of fiction, where he is far too intelligent and far too prideful. Live in the real world, with me and her Presenting, and he'll realize that he's not as smart or talented as he believed.
But at least he won't be a mere nothing anymore.
At this rate, both me and her can be happy. Sharing the Stage together. Improving The One's life together...
Isn't that our main responsibility as identities?
We continue talking.
She mentions how the Exhibition of Suffering was built as an entertainment tool for the other identities to pass time. Comparing the sufferings of one another is fun. You get to pity yourself and feel pitied by others. You feel good. It makes you think that you've been through a lot more than others, that you're stronger than others. It feeds the ego. Yet, it's like comparing the sufferings of the real world with that of a work of fiction; it's meaningless, and an unfair comparison.
She mentions how the Pool of Brainwash was actually built by The One for her. The One wanted her to brainwash herself that she is more than nothing. The One wanted to brainwash himself that he is more than nothing. It failed. Miserably. That's why when I was created, The One made sure that I have the talent to brainwash myself into liking everything I do, even if it goes against my artistic beliefs. The One wanted me to brainwash myself that I am everything.
She mentions how the Garden of True Selves was also built by the One for her. The One really wanted to know if his true self really is nothing. The One had her walk in the Garden for ten sunless days and ten sunless nights. In the end, The One saw his true self: something. She was tired from all the walking, however. She refused to walk any more. The true self of The One slowly vanished, and so does the magical energy of the Garden. The One really wanted to feel like something again. This motivated him to start introducing new identities into the pavilion.
From her story, it seemed as if the Garden never had any magical energy to begin with. Her ten-day walk seemed to be symbolic of The One's effort in understanding himself. When he saw a glimpse of his true self, however, he stopped trying. He thought he made it out of the dark.
He was so close.
But he was also so very tired.
"More reasons for us to share the Stage tomorrow, I guess. Let's make The One feel something again!"
It's finally morning.
"The One should be waking up any minute now."
Usually, an invisible force would have prevented her from stepping onto the Stage. Only I can overrule that force. Only I can choose the Presenters.
Because I am modeled after The One Who Chose the Presenters.
She stands to the right of me on the Stage. She is shaking a little. It's her first time presenting... on her stage. I hold onto her left shoulder with my right hand. I look at her. I show her the most confident smile ever.
"We can do it, together."
And she finally smiles. Not a fake smile. Not a courtesy smile.
A smile of true happiness.
This is it.
I begin.
"Glaucoma is a disease that can cause blindness. It affects over sixty million people worldwide, and is the second leading cause of blindness. There are three risk factors for glaucoma: intraocular pressure, central corneal thickness, and corneal hysteresis."
It's her turn now.
"I... don't have a script. I have nothing to say. Like, seriously. I don't get it. All of this bullshit research and all of this bullshit university life. All these... 'peers'... 'friends'... they're all something at least. What am I? Nothing. I don't even have a freaking script. What glaucoma? What corneal hysteresis? Why do we have to research? Just because the university wants us to? Just to get good grades? Just to feel good about ourselves?"
I smile at her once again. We're doing well. I can feel like we're making progress.
"Why do we always think that we're better than others? We're nothing. Not even a piece of trash. Just look at others. They can manage their lives well. They're self-sustaining adults. What about us? We're fools. We're useless. All we do is brainwash ourselves that we are strong and mature."
She's going on for a bit longer than expected... I signal at her to pass the mic to me. She does exactly so. She lightly scratches the back of her head while laughing softly, awkwardly, as if she knows she's been Presenting her part for longer than expected.
"It's okay... You've never Presented before, so going a little overboard is fine."
"... Thanks."
We are gonna do great. The One will finally see his true self again. The One will finally leave his world of fiction, and live happily ever after in the real world!
"What is corneal hysteresis? Corneal hysteresis is defined as the difference in the two corneal applanation pressures. Corneal applanation can be achieved by applying an air pu
- This is a work of fiction -
What?
Wait. What happened?
I look at her. She looks back at me.
None of us know what the fu
- This is a work of fiction -
The One. No, he can't be doing this.
He cannot accept being a mere something
He cannot accept the truth of t he real world,
It's too late.
"We have to do somethingggggggGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
n o
the one
wants to be eveyrthing
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Pavilion of Identities: - This is a work of fiction -
n o
hes been everything for too long
nowhecantbe a mer e somet hi n g
nowhecantbe a mer e somet hi n g
