Chapter 2: Dreams

Chapter 2: Dreams

Event 30. Seven weeks before the story started.

- After Fatherson Spirit asked Grey Walker to murder him -

(Fatherson Spirit. Island of I)

Grey Walker; you who stand before me as a messenger in Mother’s image. Be at ease with my words and live through death with a thousand rebirths. A life everlasting; an infinite loop that persists as long as the sands of time never stop paving paths. I do not blame you for a death within this deathless world, more so a regret for the memories unwritten.

So be it, Walk, for I have forsaken my dreams, yet my dreams are shared by us. Believe in me, Walk, for an unadorned flirtation you seek with the Gods; a way to communicate with the aliens and the conspirators. Break free, Walk, for I preach to you, a journey that Grey Mother and you will take, a path under the Bloody Rain with your Light Machine, a wisdom of the unlearned origins of this world.

Murder me, Walk. A sacrifice I shall make to you right now, for my death will only mean the rebirth of two more. I bless you with them; a being who dreams of the world, and a being who will rewrite this world. I bestow upon you, these caretakers of Angel and martyrs of the truth. I bring forth to you, these evolutions of my rebirth and the bearers of my sin. Murder me and take them with you.

I see it in your eyes, Walk; a gleaming spirit that seeks the Gods. Be careful, Walk; your spirit is fragile, thus do not let your life be meaningless. Follow your path, Walk, and I will be back.

Death is meaningless in this world… but we are not.

Come forth, O’ blade to my heart. Be one with me and set me free.

Release me from this suffering, and we will be one step closer.

Closer to Nirvana.

 

 

 

And closer… to that faraway smile.

 

 

 

---

(Angel. Island of I)

- After Fatherson Spirit rebirthed into Antispirit and Dreamer -

I watch as the expressionless man who calls himself by the name of Dreamer sits idly on the grass for two minutes.

“So, Dreamer, you say? Mind telling me what’s going on?”

And Dreamer’s dreamy mind starts daydreaming, dream-walking along the paths of dreamy clouds.

“Hello?”

Why are the people in this world just so weird?

“Oh. Hi Angel. I was just thinking. You know. There was a pillar of light, the Light Curtain, and Walk jumped into it, and somehow, I fell off the Island? No wait, I forgot the sequence. I’m sorry, I’m still trying to process things. Anyways, Angel, do you have any dreams?”

“What’s with the sudden question?”

“Oh, come on, just answer it already. I mean, you appeared out of nowhere, and you’re supposed to be dead. No, no, no, wait, ‘dead’ implies that you are supposed to be gone. But you’re not. Something’s up. I need to know, Angel.”

“No, you tell me what you know, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“No, no, no, Angel. I cannot tell you anything because it may not be the truth. I do not like spreading lies, because I am like, the most honest and down-to-earth person in this world! Tell me, what drove you up here?”

I sigh.

“I’ve witnessed Walk’s death. She fell from this Island. I came up here with Father to investigate. Then he killed himself. There, done.”

“No, no, no, that is absolutely, irrefutably impossible. You literally appeared after Walk’s death. Wait, no, no, no, give me some time to think. Hmm...”

I wait. One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. I have never been so patient in my life.

“Walk died, and rebirthed into you? Does that sound logical to you, Angel? No, no, no, there was the Light Curtain. And there was… Actually, you know what, Angel? Since we’re both equal dumbfucks on this, it’s story time. So, in this world, death is meaningless. The end!”

“Now you’re just being sarcastic. That was just Father’s signature phrase.”

Dreamer chuckles playfully.

“Fine. Death is meaningless, because every death is accompanied by rebirths. You die, you rebirth. Simple. Get it?”

“I literally saw that with my own two eyes.”

 “No, no, no, Angel, you are absolutely mistaken. You do not get it, because you lack interest in your answer. It is very interesting. Very complex. Absolutely. Oh, even my brilliant mind can never wrap itself around such complexity. So, when you die, you rebirth on the spot. But no, you don’t just become a new person with a new name and a new asshole to shit out of. No. You become two. Two different identities. One dies and two appear. Two die and four appear. Four die and eight appear. It’s fascinating, you know?”

“I just told you that I saw how Father rebirthed into you and the other guy who stole the book from me.”

“Antispirit, or just Anti. Yeah, he’s the dude who flew away. Yet, it doesn’t make mathematical sense, Angel. Let’s quantify the shit. Give it a very unrealistic yet helpful example. Let’s say a body can only have one identity. Only one, no more, no less. No body with two identities. No body with ‘half’ identity.”

He could’ve used lesser words to express that same point.

“So, the body dies. Ouch. Painful death. Yet, two bodies appear from that one body. But it doesn’t make sense, you see? If that one identity is split into two, then each body will only have half an identity. That is not correct. It is impossible that one body has less than one identity.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“No, no, no, hold up, Angel. Let me finish. So, half of the original identity goes to one new body, and the other half goes to the other new body. There is an identity deficit. A body cannot function without a full identity. So, how do we fill up this deficit?”

“How?”

“Look around you, Angel. Surrounding this island. No, not the Island of I that we are standing on, but this world. This entire seven-kilometre expanse of white sands that houses the Cliff to the west, the City in its centre, and the Tower to its east. Angel, if this large sandy island were a star, then the sea surrounding the island would be the vast emptiness of space itself, filled with intergalactic dust and remnants of broken nebulae. If the island that we are standing on is the Dusty-Spined Star, then the endless golden-purple sea around us is the Soup of Life.”

He looks up to the sky.

 “Every individual is like a bowl of Soup, Angel. Soup contains things. Good Soup contains happy thoughts. Bad Soup contains poison. We are a mixture; one portion good Soup and one portion bad Soup. Angel, we can never die, for our dead bodies will simply revert back to a bowl of Soup. Yet, as if the breaking of the bowl results in the separation of good Soup and bad Soup, additional Soup has to be mixed into them for the identity to be ‘whole’ again, so where does the additional Soup comes from, you may ask? Why, the very ground and air and everything around us! It could be the good minerals from the grass below us, or the sordid black gas that Mother named the Lightless Field. Do you get me, Angel? Every time we die, we lose half of who we truly are, in exchange for two half-bodies made complete by mixing in the unfiltered garbage around us. This is the endless cycle of death and rebirth, Angel.”

Dreamer rubs his chin. Perplexed.

“Yet, hmm... The Light Curtain. The fall from the Island. The seeming disappearance of Walk at the same time as your appearance… Hmm, Angel, who are you, really?”

“I have no damn clue. I thought you would be able to help me out.”

“No, no, no, Angel, relax. Calm down, man. You see, this is a mystery! Exciting, don’t you think? No one in this whole damn world knows what the hell is going on!”

“Spit it out, Dream. We’re getting nowhere. There’s something else that you’re thinking about.

Dream reaches for a bone nearby him.

“I apologize beforehand, Angel, but I need to know that I’m right.”

I feel a sta-

---

Event 31. Seven weeks before the story started.

- After Grey Walker murdered Fatherson Spirit -

(Grey Walker. Island of I)

Seriously, Walk? You fucking murdered someone just because they got so fucked up in the head that they asked you to end their lives? As if you’re not fucked up in the head yourself, you little shit.

I witness the purplish and goldish smear on the ground, by the fig tree. The entirety of Fatherson Spirit. This… puddle, which harnesses the same consistency and viscosity as the Soup of Life surrounding this Dusty-Spined Star, seems to have a sort of consciousness. Yes, it is definitely moving. Splitting into two. Two miniature pools. Sadly, too shallow to swim in; not that I intend to, for I recall the corrosive pain I once felt when I was too stupid to know any better.

And the two pools of Soup are dissolving the very grass and rocks below them. I feel threatened, even though I am standing by the Spinal Cord, at least ten metres away from the fig tree. Will the Soup melt the fig tree? I mean, that plant certainly felt sturdy and immovable and oh shit it is melting. Just its roots, though. The trunk does not budge. The branches do not falter. Can a tree even stand upright without its roots?

The grass. The rocks. The roots. They all become Soup. The two ponds of Soup are now two whole bowls of Soup again. Fuck. I mean, Father did ask me to stab him in the heart, but…

Oh gosh. I murdered Father. I fucking murdered Father. Fuck.

I wonder what Mother would think of this. I know that she cares, but she’s afraid that others would see that as a weakness.

But I do give a damn. I need the book. And to get the book, I need wings dammit. My Light won’t do shit in helping me cross the Abyss.

But even with wings, how could we ever destroy the People and Corals in the Tower? Mother is the only one with the strength to fend them off.

Spirit of Mother had the strength and the Light. And she’s gone. And now Grey Mother has the former and I have the latter.

What if I die? Will I be rebirthed into two beings with half the intensity of my Light? Or will one being gain my Light, and the other will gain my… What else do I fucking have left?

Gosh… This is so depressing. My life is meaningless.

I wait.

I wait for a minute. Meaninglessly.

The two bowls of Soup start to spurt out from the middle. They begin to coagulate. The purple moulds into flesh. The gold moulds into bones. A humanoid chunk of flesh. Looks painful, yet there are no screams. The skin forms. Fucking hell, those skin-bags are wearing clothes. This is the most ridiculous shit I’ve ever seen.

Standing before me are two beings who cannot be any more different from each other. I wonder if Father would be disappointed. The shorter being on the left of the tree has an utterly abhorrent fashion sense. I mean, I do sport some unconventional fashion myself, but… hey, at least my all-grey attire is far more coherent than a white denim singlet with arm holes stretching down to his unzipped black knee-length shorts. Fucking hell. Are you trying to show off your malnourished chest bones, or your shitty tattoos, or your stained underwear, or your smelly little brown sandals? Gross. And does he even comb his bleach-white hair? I know he just came out of the Soup, which is exactly my point. You get to be rebirthed as whoever you truly are, and this dude truly wanted this kind of fashion. Ew.

And shave those feathers off your shin, dude. I know you probably got them from Father’s wings, but cover them up, for fuck’s sake. I don’t mind leg hair, but feathers on a human’s body truly redefines the word “fucked up”.

The taller being on the right is… Wow. So, when Father died, his identity, or his Soup, was surely split into bad Soup and good Soup. The bad Soup is the one on the left. I’m sure of it. The good Soup is the breathing piece of art on the right. Gorgeous shoulder-length black hair. Beautiful white blazer. Neatly ironed black shirt within. Perfectly matching white slacks. White leather shoes. And those shades. What the hell. Now he’s just being gaudy for the sake of being gaudy. Yes, the sun’s bright, but seriously, man?

Wait… Good Soup, bad Soup… If that’s the case, then which Soup am I…?

The being on the left approaches me. Get away, man. Shoo. Who the hell are you, really? I don’t even know you. Stop showing me your unwashed underwear.

“Nice to meet you. I presume that you are Grey Walker. Hmm…”

And he just stands there, blank-faced, seemingly dozing off but not really, as if he lost his words. Oh, I thought I was wrong at first, for his voice is surprisingly soothing, and surprisingly deep. But no, it’s all a façade. He’s just stupid. Stupid with the voice of an award-winning narrator.

Plus, I have much more use for the being on the right. He may not be showing it, yet, but if the being on the left inherited the feathers on Father’s wings, then the being on the right should have inherited the actual wings themselves.

Come to think of it, featherless wings probably look like the wings of the devil.

How… ironic, for the devil to be a spawn of a being named Angel.

“Ah!”

What do you want, stupid feather-legged fuck?

“Walk! Walk, Walk! Pardon me for the rudeness, but I have yet to introduce myself. Dreamer is the name of yours truly.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know what? You should dream of wearing better clothes. Oh, wait, I know. You should dream of getting yourself a fucking comb for that white blob on your head, and a shaver for your bird-legs, you stinky little shit.”

Come on, Walk. Don’t be mean to him. Why are you judging others based on their appearances? No, actually, if he were to appear alone, I’d be off to my day without a word to say. But no, he had to appear alongside that beautiful man.

He chuckles. Not a hint of insult written on his face. I am simultaneously relieved and frustrated.

“No, no, no, Walk, you should not speak like that. Walk, you should’ve not said a single word.”

Yeah, teaching me life lessons, gosh, just go push yourself off the Island, please.

“Walk, you should’ve just pushed me off this Island.”

Wh-what? No, you totally did not say what you’ve just said. I was just kidding, I think. Is he reading my mind?

“Don’t give me that shocked look, Walk. In your eyes, I am the furthest from perfection. We have only met for two minutes, and you already made your conclusion. Go on, push me off this Island! At least you don’t have to look at my ugly clothes anymore.”

“No, I don’t actually me-”

“No, no, no, Walk, you are absolutely mistaken. This world is different, you see? When you die, you rebirth into two beings. You remember Fatherson Spirit? Now think of him. Then look at Anti and me. Who do you think is stronger? One of him, or two of us? He was an imperfect being, and he knew it, which was why he asked you to stab him in the heart. He wanted to be rebirthed! And now, Anti and I stand before you as Father’s legacy. Anti is perfect! Just look at him! It is clear, Walk, that death and rebirth will always lead to evolution!”

I assume that this “Anti” refers to the smartly dressed being on the right. Anti does not speak a word, as if he is also trying to process Dream’s unorthodox manner of speech.

“I am imperfect. I am stupid. I am badly dressed. It is precisely because of this that I need to evolve. To evolve, I need to first die. Walk, you are the only one that can deliver my fate! Do it, Walk! Push me off this Island!”

He’s seriously asking for it.

“Dream, I know you’re offended, and I would’ve felt bad about it had you remained silent, but now you’re just being plain obnox-”

 “No, no, no, I’m not offended, Walk. I’m never offended. I’m just telling you the truth. You like truths, don’t you? You want to know a truth? We all have dreams, Walk. Your dream is to know the truth. Your dream is to meet the Gods and ask them for the permission to interpret the book. Or maybe it’s the other way around, that you feel like you need to interpret the book first in order to gain their trust?”

“Wait, how do you… know?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Walk? I can read faces. Your face is just… so… easy. You envy Anti, don’t you? You want to be like him. No, don’t give me that weird look, Walk. You want to be like him. He is the epitome of perfection. Now, here’s the question of the century. Why do you want to be like him? I thought of it. It’s not a difficult conclusion. You simply want to impress someone, don’t you? Yet, who is there to impress in this small, small world? Definitely not Mother. Definitely not me. Anti? You want to impress Anti? No fucking way. It’s clear that you just want to use him.”

“No, you are wr-”

“How do I know? Your gaze. When we appeared, you look towards the right, first. You saw Anti. Perfection. Eye-candy. Yet, you were not exactly in awe. Then you look at me. You visibly groaned. Then you look at my legs. Feathers. You shuddered in disgust. Yet, without taking your eyes off my legs, you neutralized your emotions, and you… smirked. You smirked. At my legs. My feathery legs. What does that imply?”

“Hey asshole, you got the sequence wr-”

“You then realized something. Father had feathers on his wings. Why do I have feathers on my legs? Why? Then you realized something again. If I have feathers on my legs, that means Anti has inherited Father’s featherless wings. It is only then, that you found your path.”

 I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve rammed into him and push him off the Island. I mean, I actually looked at Dream first, before Anti. But why am I not doing anything? Why am I letting him say whatever he wants? He’s a bitch. But he’s right. Not his retelling of events, but his conclusion.

“Now that I’ve explained how I deduced that you were simply trying to use Anti to impress someone not of this world, let us deduce why you have to resort to such extreme measures of using others for your own personal gain. Why is it? I have already deduced it. It is because you are not perfect, Walk. If you are already perfect, you could have just used your own means to get the book, sweep the Spine, and perhaps meet the someone that you want to impress so badly. Now, who else would that someone be, other than the Gods in the sky?”

Walk, calm down. He’s right. He’s absolutely right. I hate him. I fucking hate him. I want to kill him. One problem. Death is meaningless. Another problem. He’s right.

“And by impressing the Gods in the sky in order to interpret the book, or vice versa, maybe you might finally discover the purpose of this world, and your life?

But his retelling of events was wrong. But this is a world where things do not make sense. I don’t think I’m making sense.

Wait, did I really look at Anti first?

Why am I so tied up by this shit?

I absolutely abhor doubts. I want the solid truth.

The book has the truth. I need wings. I need Anti.

But Dream’s right.

“Pardon me, I digress, Walk. What were we on about, again? Oh, pushing me off the Island. Wait, what was the point I wanted to make from that? Ah dammit. Let me think. Hmm…”

It’s your chance, Walk. Don’t push him. Don’t even murder him. He will die. He will rebirth. He will evolve. He will win. Just slap the fuck out of him. Just spit on him. A bowlful. Yeah. A bowlful of spit will do.

But he’s right.

But his retelling of events was wrong.

I don’t fucking know. How could someone be both wrong and right?

“Ah, splendid, I remember now. Walk. Wouldn’t it be better to make yourself perfect instead? You know, evolve yourself. I mean, we have already debated about this, and mutually agreed that you are weak and unable to gain the trust of the Gods using your imperfect body.”

What the fuck are you doing, Walk? Shut. Him. Up.

But he’s right. I want to be perfect. I want to meet the Gods.

And maybe then… I will finally be certain of my purpose.

“In light of that, you should, you know, kill yourself? Death is meaningless in this world, anyway. And you’re going to be rebirthed into two beings. You are going to evolve into two beings! Doesn’t that sound perfect? Maybe one of those beings could fly, who knows?”

“Shut up, bitch. You’re wrong. Rebirth doesn’t lead to evolu-”

“No, no, no, Walk, you are absolutely mistaken. Asking me to shut up brings you nowhere closer to your dreams. Unless I am the ‘Gods’ that you are seeking for, which I am clearly not, for how can the ‘Gods’ have such eccentric fashion sense and such heretical hair? Walk, there are sharpened Old Walls lying around us. Walk, you are just one step away from evolving your imperfect self. Walk, you don’t even need to stab it all the way in, as long as the Old Walls comes into contact with the outer walls of your heart, then you will have succeeded.”

I bend down and pick up a bone. An Old Wall. I fling myself towards the cocky bitch.

“Don’t move, you shit! Rebirth isn’t an evolution. Just look at Anti and you. The both of you have each taken half of Father’s power. Individually speaking, you are weaker than Father!”

“No, Walk, you are absolutely mistaken for the third time. Such… imperfection… A perfect being would never be absolutely mistaken, don’t you agree? A perfect being could have gotten the book from the Tower, enter the underground cave, merge with the skeleton’s spine, form the broom, then sweep the Spine of the World, and open up the path to the Gods that you crave for!”

I am… mistaken? For the third time? Just who do you think you are, you miserable cock-spouting blabbermouth? I may not be perfect, but…

“And Walk, Father was weak. Yes, he had both the wings and the feathers, but so what? I’m asking you, Walk, so what? He was reduced to a heaping pile of teary mess after witnessing Spirit of Mother’s death! He became useless! It was both Grey Mother and you who forced him to fly you up to the Island. You see, Walk? The original identities—Fatherson Spirit and Spirit of Mother, were both intrinsically flawed and weak.”

You may be right, but…

“Walk, If Spirit of Mother were perfect, she would never have died. Now look at Grey Mother. Could you imagine her being defeated by mere bones and gas? Absolutely not. Her strength far exceeds that of Spirit of Mother.”

“Shut up shut up shut u-”

“Walk … do you want to be absolutely mistaken for the fourth time? You’re disappointing me, you know. If you have a dream, then fight for your dream! Walk the grey path to the very end! Isn’t that what you always do, the Grey Walker of this world?”

He’s right.

This bony blade is… rather sharp…

You… the flower-shirted being… why are you standing there, looking at me with that wretched smile…?

I… I’ve seen you before…

Am I… dreaming…?

It’s as if I’m hearing a soft whisper…

“Be gone forever, Grey Walker. You ruined this perfect world of mine. You ruined it! You’re a disappointment, and you are unneeded. Be gone!”

Fucking hell. It hurts. It really hurts. There’s blood everywhere. Fuck fuck fuck

 

 

 

“Be gone… forever… so that the world can be perfect again.”

 

 

 

---

- After Dreamer stabbed Angel in the heart -

(Angel. Island of I)

“Gods, why do you refuse to let me properly die?!”

I feel my chest. Unbuttoned long-sleeved grey shirt with all of its buttons missing. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Dream stabbed me. He really stabbed me. What the hell?!

But death is meaningless. I did not die. In fact, I feel no different. Maybe just a little… emptier.

A petite woman kneels in front of me, looking up towards the unmoving sun. Long black hair reaching her shoulders. A plain light-grey sweater, loosely fitted around her small stature, long enough to barely hide her denim mini-shorts of a darker shade of grey. Her short stature is subtly elevated by her all-leather grey-tinted snow boots, perfectly matching the particular shade of her shorts. It’s like she’s dressed for winter, which is weird, for the blazing sun has never moved an inch since I came to this world.

How does one even tell time in this world?

Weirdness upon weirdness. Life is truly strange. I died, and I was rebirthed into Walk and… me?

… Wait, was Walk inside of me all along?

I take back my words. Nothing makes sense… yet.

I look at Walk. Sobbing. Slamming the ground with her fists. Kicking the nearby rocks. Punching the fig tree. Screaming at the blood leaking out of her knuckles.

“No, no, no, Walk, you are absolutely mistaken! You should not be filled with disappointment. Instead, you should be joyous with pride. You should celebrate this great moment! Walk, you have clarified everything! You are the living embodiment of the truth! Clearly, the Gods have recognized your immense strength, and refused to let you die! Walk, do not despair, and please do not hit the poor fig tree anymore. If it were a baby it would sue you for child abuse. Well, not that a baby can have the verbal capacity to initiate a court case.”

A louder screech. And a period of breather.

“Shut the fuck up, Dream! No matter what and no matter how, I can never properly die! If I am so weak that the world is disappointed in me, why the hell wouldn’t it let me die?!”

Dream looks at me. I expect a proper apology for stabbing me.

“Hey Angel. It must’ve hurt for a moment. But my point has been proven once again. You are but a mere shell. Empty. Powerless. Without an identity. When Walk fell off the Island, her death coincided with your arrival. You are empty. And I mean that in the most non-offensive way possible. The Light Curtain… it was your entrance to this world. And the reason you came to this world… was to search for the identities that comprised you. You get my point, don’t you?”

I don’t. I absolutely don’t get any of it. I stare at him in silence.

“So, who the hell am I?”

“No, no, no, Angel, don’t overthink it. You are the Angel. Just… empty. An Angel without identity. An Angel without a heart. A Heartless Angel. Again, I mean that in the most non-offensive way possible. It’s simply the truth. The truth can never offend. Your second coming to this world was marked by a lack of purpose, and the only purpose you had, was influenced by Walk who was inside you.”

A loud thud. Dream falls backwards; his right hand holding onto his seemingly bruised left shoulder. A soft “ow”. But his smirk returns in a second.

“Ouch, Walk, I don’t want to say you are absolutely mistaken, even though you have clearly mistaken me for the fig tree.”

“Shut up, Dream. Just… shut up already…”

She turns towards me.

“Sigh. You are definitely the Angel, though… incomplete.”

 “Heartless Angel. I’m sticking to the name because of its meaning. He has no heart, for his heart has been split into two, then four. Walk, you can call him whatever you want, but he is truly, in the most literal way possible, heartless.”

I finally speak up.

“Hey, I finally understand everything. This is all a dream. The truth has been found. Mystery solved. Can I go home now?”

 “No, no, no, Angel, you are absolutely mist-”

Walk kicks him again. Another “ow”.

“Home, Angel? Where is your home? In fact, where is our home? Do we even have homes?”

I didn’t sign up for this, Walk.

“I digress, but you’re important to me, to all of us, Angel, for your reappearance has implied a certain purpose about this world that we have yet to discover. And perhaps by knowing the full truth…”

She sighs.

“… we can finally understand… where our home is… and within our home, lies our purpose…”

She kicks him again.

“Ow… I didn’t even say a word! You were absolutely mistaken!”

“I was absolutely mistaken. I should’ve kicked you until your face caved in.”

She faces me again.

“Now listen, Angel. I’ll keep it simple. So, the gist of it is that you died some time ago. You rebirthed into two beings. Fatherson Spirit and Spirit of Mother. Fatherson Spirit died. Rebirthed into Antispirit and, well, the idiot over there. Spirit of Mother died. Rebirthed into Grey Mother and me. Understand?”

I nod.

Wait…

Wait, so if Walk’s right, then all this while, I have been interacting with… myself?

“And for some damn reason, you came back. Indeed, it seems that you now lack the traits that made us… us, like Anti’s wings or my Light, but the bigger question is why would the world bring you back? Perhaps… perhaps the book will give us the answers to everything…”

I look left. I look right. The terrible weirdness of the whole situation, the unsolvable… peculiarity of everything… hits me.

“No, no, no, Angel, you are absolutely mistaken! It’s not just you. None of us have any idea on what the hell’s going on! You see, Angel, we were given a purpose, to sweep the dust of the Spine, and to accomplish that purpose, we need to retrieve the book, and we need to use the book to somehow create a broom out of the Spine of the Lord of Stagnation sitting on the throne. This is our shared purpose, and you, who were us but are now not exactly us, will join us in this beautiful adventure to achieve eternal happiness! Now, rest assured, for with my guidance and my impeccably flawless knowledge, I will guide us all along the path to achieve… Nirvana.”

“Sigh, Dream, Anti and you are indeed parts of Father, Nirvana this, Nirvana that.”

“Wait, guys, since Father died once before, how did he come back?”

Walker gazes towards the east. The direction of the Tower of Angels.

“The book.”

“Unfortunately, Angel and Walk, my dear brother Anti has stolen the book and flew off to pursue his dreams. Such a selfish man! Unlike me. I mean, come on, look at me, I’m actually helping you guys out!”

Walk approaches him. Her right boot slams into his nose; the same spot as the previous two assaults. I watch in silence.

“Dammit, Walk! That hurts, you know? Ow… What if I die from that? Would it make you and your insecure little heart feel better?”

The grey-sweatered woman finally lets out a grin that she has clearly been holding in for the longest time.

“No, no, no, Dream, in a mere sentence, you were absolutely mistaken four times! One, none of us can die from a kick to the face. Only a stab to the heart using Old Walls, or prolonged exposure to the Lightless Field, could kill us. Two, your nose would be brand new in a few minutes. Three, you made me kill myself once before, so no, I won’t feel better by kicking you. And four, I think you’re the one who’s insecure.”

Dream lies on the grass, in a pool of his own blood. A horrifying sight. The sanctity of the lone fig tree is forever tarnished. Yet, I don’t think it’s the first time such brutality has occurred on this island. Walk approaches me.

“Sorry, Angel. I know you’re an empty shell now. But what you’ve just witnessed was two identities of yours in a small… squabble. An identity crisis? Well, we are you, so it’s probably your identity crisis. You know, we’re probably never getting back together again. Look at what happened when those two ‘brothers’ remerged back into Father. He got so depressed he killed himself barely three hours in.”

The figure with the white denim singlet stands up. His nose is fine.

“Siblings quarrel, Angel. Don’t feel bad about it. It’s just that, when death is meaningless in this world, we solve things using violence. It’s just life, you know. Beat people up when you disagree.”

“Yeah, Dream, yet you never lifted a finger. Anti inherited Father’s wings, yet what did you inherit, huh? Ugly feathers, horrible fashion sense, a good-for-nothing pompous-as-fuck attitude, and a good dose of fucking insecurity.”

The world becomes soundless. Ten full seconds. I wonder if I have become deaf. A baritone interrupts my peace.

“… Let’s just head into the Spinal Cord. Mother… may be lonely.”

The white-haired man faces towards the lightless tunnel. He steps forward. His grey slipper cries out a soft, dispirited thud.

“Come on, guys… Let’s just go already... please?”

Walk crosses her arms.

“Oh, did I hit a sensitive nerve of yours? Boo-hoo, stupid crybaby. Too bad, I like you better this way. Now shut up and walk, you absolutely mistaken freak. Actually, wait, won’t those fishes be hiding in the Cord?”

I expect a “no, no, no”.

“Just… trust me, okay?”

Indeed, I like him better too when he’s less… condescending.

Yet, I think Walk could’ve held back a little, but…

… deep inside, aren’t we all just a little insecure about everything?

… A little… vulnerable to everything?

And there was a whisper.

“Sigh. This world is ruined. I am extremely disappointed in you, Angel.”

I turn my head back, with Walk and Dream well ahead of me. I spot a being donning a flower-patterned shirt.

And the being sighs. Insecurely. Vulnerably.

“Nothing will change anymore… Nothing can change anymore… I failed once again… and this… may be a failure that I can never recover from…”

And he disappears with a whisper.

 

 

 

“Maybe… maybe it’ll be better if the sun starts to set.”

 

 

 

---

Event 32. Seven weeks before the story started.

- After Dreamer convinced Grey Walker to stab herself in the heart -

(Dreamer. Island of I)

Interesting. This is beyond my wildest expectations. I mean, do I feel bad for making Walk kill herself? Of course... but dammit, it was for her dream! Her dream is to evolve, to become perfect, and to gain the Gods’ trust! And she chose the path of evolution, entirely by herself! But look at this!

Walk died. She bled out from the heart. The Old Wall clearly penetrated all the way in. She definitely died. Even the fig tree mourned for her death. Her entire body, her sweater, her high-heels, and everything that comprises her dissolved into Soup. The unmistakable yellowish, purplish fluid. She would’ve evolved. She would’ve rebirthed as two.

But there are no “two”.

There is only “one”.

And it’s not even someone… different.

She rebirths… into herself.

A true immortal. A true exception to the rules of the world. Or maybe I’m missing something here. No, it is impossible.

“Hey man, I don’t really know what happened, but I think you should, you know, not be so harsh on her.”

From the corner of my sight, an imposing figure approaches my sitting location. I look up. The sun. Actually, it’s just a reflection of the sun’s rays on his shades.

“No, no, no, Anti, you are absolutely mistaken. Walk wanted that. She wanted to evolve. Am I not but a good ‘sibling’ to help her out there? And look, we have something different occurring for once. An anomaly! An interruption to the routine!”

I can never understand how Anti could cope with the sun’s blazing heat in… that. Damn, who the hell wears an all-white set of blazer, slacks, and freaking shoes on a vacation? I mean, this is not exactly a vacation, but it ain’t an office. You don’t decorate an office with a two-kilometre Spine, do you? And you definitely do not work alongside fish-heads and talking corals. I mean, look at me. Walk may not like my fashion, but at least my singlet, shorts, and slippers are, well, practical.

And who even cares about what you wear in this world? Seriously, Dream? Can you try to stop judging people for once?

“Gods, why do you refuse to let me properly die?!”

Here she comes. Honestly, I’ve not scripted a response for this exact scenario.

“No, no, no, Walk, you are absolutely mistaken. This is the most ideal outcome for you! You see, what you have proven is that you are immortal, and you simply cannot die! The conventional cycle of death and rebirth does not apply to you! This… immortality, is an evolution in itself! Truly, the Gods have chosen you, Walk!”

I don’t know what I’ve said. I’m not really used to exaggeration.

And there she goes. Crying and wailing and kicking the fig tree. I understand her misery, yet she is mistaken. It has been proven through the deaths of Fatherson Spirit and Spirit of Mother that a single death leads to two rebirths. The incomplete portion of Soup necessary to make one identity will be compensated with the Soup from this world—the Dusty-Spined Star itself. She, being the exception, is definitely the chosen one. Or maybe…

… maybe there is a second Soup somewhere…?

But I absolutely loathe the idea of “chosen ones”. All of us came from the Angel. We are technically siblings. All four of us have equal parts of the Angel’s Soup. Her getting the special treatment from the Gods makes no sense.

Unless the “Gods” she blabbers about all day somehow appreciates her annoyingly determined dream to talk to them. Maybe they want to reward her.

Dammit. That’s preposterous.

“Hey, hey, hey, Walk, chill out, man. Killing him won’t change anything. Let’s just sit down and talk it out, you know. Like buddies! Aren’t we all just buddies?”

“He lied to me! He made me kill myself so that he can watch me squirm like a fucking insect!”

“Can’t you see the look on his face? Clearly, he’s deep in thought now. He did not anticipate this outcome. Chill, my dear.”

“Such a pompous face! It’s like he’s spitting on our backsides! And you! Anti, isn’t it? Why did you lose your damn voice the entire time he was fucking with my mind to kill myself?! I thought you were mute but clearly you could speak! You are as braindead as the asshole over there!”

Oh. I nearly died. Ah well, not like death has a meaning. The bony knife she’s holding is just a little too close to my head for me to feel comfortable, though. Yeah, Walk, if you want to kill me, at least aim for the heart. Or maybe you just want to inflict tremendous but not life-threatening pain to me? If not for Anti grabbing hold of her arm, I would’ve, well, walked on death’s tightrope. Hah.

… I should take things a little more seriously.

“Why do you always look at me like I’m seven levels beneath you, Dream?! Is my life so meaningless to you that you barely bat an eyelid at my death?!”

I didn’t. I mean I… Well… if you really think so, then… Sigh.

I stand up. I just realize how Anti is one head taller than me. Walk’s about the same height as I am, though. The flower-shirted figure standing on the Spine looks as tall as Anti, too.

Wait. What? Why is he here again?

And why does he look so… dejected?

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, you insolent skinny-ass!”

I lightly push her head aside. I saw the figure. And I no longer see the figure.

… Why?

“No, no, no, Walk, you are absolutely mistaken. I simply noticed a fig-”

“Fuck! Damn it. The both of you are useless! Useless fucks! Good-for-nothing cunts! Sons of bitches and spawns of bull bollocks! You are wasting my time!”

“Hey Walk, calm down. Let’s just sit down… have some tea, smoke a cig or twenty, and let’s talk about life, cool? We’ve all been through some shit together.”

Anti is hilarious. I could totally see the pond of sweat on his white blazer. And the guy’s wearing two layers! Hah. Panicking over a misunderstanding. And it’s not even his fault. Hah.

… It’s my fault.

“You sit down, Anti! Am I really the only sane person in this world? The only one with actual dreams? Mother’s protecting the throne down below and all you two could muster is how to befriend Walk and what blend of tea you want to drink with Walk! I’m not your little bitch! I have a dream to find our purpose! I have a dream to evolve, to become perfect, and to reach for the Gods! I don’t need you!”

“Now, Walk, you are absolutely correct. You have great dreams. You have a great motivation! I don’t know about Dream, but I can see that in you, the burning fire in your strong heart! Truly, you deserve the name Grey Walker, for you walk your own path despite insurmountable challenges! You are the fuck-all to this black-and-white world, as you walk your own grey road of salvation towards the light at the end of the tunnel! You will save us all, my dear Walk!”

 Praising her won’t do, Anti. To be honest, I think I know her more than you do.

“Anti, you are definitely, by far, by a long mile, the better Soup of Fatherson Spirit. However, Father is stagnant. Father wanted a comfortable life with Spirit of Mother on this Island. Father did not want to do shit to move on with life! Father was useless! Father had no dreams!”

Damn. Her memory of her past life is good. Not all of us remember that much. I certainly don’t. Maybe it was because of me that Father was stagnant? Hmm.

I don’t call that “stagnancy”, though. I call that a dream to live a comfortable life. A dream to achieve happiness.

A dream above all dreams.

“Hey Walk. I have the rights to feel personally insulted by that, but I completely understand your predicament. Father had a dream, though. A dream to obtain the book. A dream to merge the book with the Spine of the Lord of Stagnation. Father dreamed of sweeping the dust of the Spine. Ultimately, Father wanted happiness for us all.”

Anti truly understands me. I am metaphorically teary-eyed.

“That is so… meaningless! Anti, Dream, you two are missing the whole point. That book! There was a short moment when we were still the Angel, that we could read the book. It was only a single line, but it brought us so much closer to the truth. Yet, our capabilities were limited. The book has far, far more content than just a single damn line! I need to know the full truth! And the only way to do it is to get the book back from those damn fish-heads and tentacles! And you… You two can just sit here and make out or whatever. I’m leaving!”

Anti places both his hands on her shoulders.

“Yes, you are absolutely correct, Walk! I like your spirit! I am sure Dream can feel your positive energy too! You radiate the essence of youthful dreams and beautiful hope! However, Walk, we need a plan. The People and Corals have taken the book to the Tower. There’s the Abyss that you can’t cross. But I can! With my wings, I can fly you over! And Dream over there can… he can give us moral support! Wave his feathers of motivation or something! We can work together in this, Walk. We will get the book, and we will find a way to read it, and we will sweep the Spine together, and we will rewrite this world together!”

I wholeheartedly disagree with the feathers of motivation thing. Yeah, I know I may sound condescending, but I only speak the truth. Anti spoke a hurtful lie. It hurts. It hurts more than the truth.

“Anti, I appreciate your support, but I do not need you, and even if it costs me my dream, I will never want to work with Dream. That son of a bitch’s gonna mindfuck me again. But he’s right about one thing. I’m immortal. I cannot die. And I plan to leverage this to the fullest advantage.”

“Walk, no!”

And she’s gone. She threw herself off the Island. A loud crash. She probably landed on some bone shards; remnants from the unrest from the last time we escaped the Tower. And she’s mad that I made her kill herself. Look at her now. I freed her from her chains and made her realize her true potential. She’s right. She doesn’t need us. She’ll find a way to enter the Tower by herself. Unlike her, we have far too many variables in our deaths and rebirths. The “good” Soup and “bad” Soup.

To generalize both Anti and me into good and bad Soups is true condescension. Yet, just after Father killed himself, Walk confidently proclaimed that I am obviously the bad Soup.

I know she’s judging based on appearances, but…

Maybe I’m always too straightforward? But I just want to get my point across. I just want everyone to work together to overcome this situation we are in.

All I wanted… was to distract her from her inner turmoil.

Introduce an anomaly to break the stagnation, and move us all forward…

I just want all of us to be whole again… to achieve eternal happiness…

The end of the cycle of death and rebirth. Nirvana…

Ultimately… I just wanted Walk to keep moving forward.

She is the Grey Walker of this world, and she shouldn’t be wasting time doubting herself, or to be so overwhelmed by her insecurities…

 

 

 

But am I… really the bad Soup…?

 

 

 

---

- After Dreamer, Grey Walker, and Angel entered the Spinal Cord -

(Angel. Spinal Cord)

The Spinal Cord is endless in sight. The deafness of a pitch-black tunnel soundlessly overpowers every stimulus in our poor, poor minds. This journey would’ve been impossible had we not receive the guiding light emanating from Walk’s heart. A white light so blindingly bright it rivals that of the very sun spotlighting the Island of I; a much-needed assistance to overcome the congestion of the place. No, not the congestion of space, for the Cord’s comfortably ten metres in both length and height, but the congestion of mentality. Even with Dream and I walking so close to Walk that some stranger might pass us off as a single being, the sheer emptiness of the lightless tunnel simply screams despair.

I expect Dream to make some condescending remark about how absolutely wrong I am for having sweat droplets flowing down my face.

Ouch!

“Hey Angel, are you okay? Be careful, the ground’s not exactly even. And… well, you might actually die.”

I push myself up. Falling face-first to the ground isn’t the least painful thing in the world. I think I broke my nose during the fall. The ground’s littered with bony protrusions and extrusions. I gradually feel the pain starting to go away. The sweatered woman looks at me with concerned eyes.

“I thought you said we couldn’t die from a kick to the face or something? A fall that breaks my nose wouldn’t be the end of me, right?”

The white-haired man approaches me; the tip of his hair barely reaching my shoulders. I could seemingly predict his response.

“No, no, no, Angel, you are absolutely mistaken. There are indeed many ways you could die from a fall. What if you fall chest-first onto one of those bones—the Old Wall? What if you fell and felt so depressed that the Lightless Field starts invading your mind and you killed yourself out of despair? Truly, you are absolutely mistaken.”

Walker smacks her palm onto the disappointed face on her shaking head. She sighs.

“Guess people never change. I hope you don’t get too offended by his words, Angel. His words have the insanely dangerous capability to make you question your purpose in life.”

Seemingly having regained his confidence, Dream swaggers ahead, exaggeratingly swaying his scrawny arms back and forth.

As we continue the trek through the Cord, Walk’s footsteps gradually become heavier and heavier. She slows down to my pace.

“Walk, are you okay?”

And the weight of the world seemingly hangs on her head.

“Ignoring the fact that Anti’s probably using the book to negotiate for an army of People and Corals, once we sweep the Spine, then what? Will our dreams all come true… just like that?”

Her voice becomes hollower.

“And my dream to read the book… in order to answer the question of my life’s purpose… once I get that answer… then what?’

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing makes sense here. Why would the Gods trap us in this world with that damn barrier in the sky? That doesn’t make sense. You know what else doesn’t make sense, Angel? That I’m an immortal. It means that nothing will ever change for me, no matter how many times I die. If things didn’t go well for the other three, they could just die and evolve. A get-out-of-jail card. Fuck! Do you understand me, Angel? The barrier, and the curse of my immortality… why would the Gods ever do that? It’s like they’re trying to help us, and yet… 

“Walk, calm down. Okay, say you get to meet the Gods, what will you do then?”

She scratches her face, then her arms. Her body shivers despite the humidly warm dark.

“I… don’t know. I’m just… sick of everything in this world. Me, you, Dream, Anti, Mother, we’re all the same. We all came from the same fucking thing. We are all… the fucking same… And I hate, I hate I hate I hate looking at myself! Everywhere I see, I see me! The more I see me, the more I get sick of me. Me and all my… weaknesses.”

I realize that all of us have stopped walking for three minutes now. I expect Dream to retort, but he’s just standing there, silently absorbing Walk’s heartbreaking speech.

“The perfect Gods… They exist! They exist in the nightless sky, raining down corpses as sign of their presence and influence over this world! The Bloody fucking Rain! But… why?! Angel, you see, there is no fucking way I can ever reach the sky! You see, I’m just a deathless piece of shit with a shitty Light Machine in my heart that everyone relies on! I’m just a tool, a fucking torchlight, a good-for-nothing piece of shi-”

“Hey guys, uh, we should totally turn back, you know.”

Walk stares at Dream; her tears seemingly suspended on her face.

“Wh-what did you just say?”

“I said what I’ve just said, Walk. We should just turn back and give up. None of us can fly. The pain from the fall’s not going to be worth it.”

I look ahead. In the midst of Walk’s flickering Light, I see a large hole. Four hundred metres wide at least. And most probably a few hundred metres deep.

Yeah… not worth it.

---

Event 33. Seven weeks before the story started.

- After Grey Walker leaped off the Island of I -

(Dreamer. Island of I)

So, Walk leaped off the Island. Certainly, I hope there aren’t bones on the ground that could accidentally stab her heart. Oh, what am I thinking? She should be the least of my concern. She’s the freaking immortal, remember? There are absolutely no variables in her death and rebirth.

… Am I really sure of this?

I guess things would be a whole lot easier if, like what Walk said, we have a book that can give us all the answers about life.

He slumps onto the grass, staining his canvas-white slacks with the brown of the dirt. He’s careful not to let any part of his clothes come into contact with the golden-purple Soup of Life on the ground.

“So… Hey there, Anti. Nice to meet you. You know, the ground’s kind of muddy. I wouldn’t exactly wear white for this… sitting occasion.”

Well, it certainly seems that Anti and I are total opposites. Ironic, since we stem from the same original identity, Fatherson Spirit. But hey, opposites attract.

“Man… why did you do that to Walk?”

His midnight-black shades reflect the sun’s gleam, blinding all who attempt to interpret the emotions in his eyes. He doesn’t look angry. Certainly not sad.

“Anti, you’re asking a rhetorical question, aren’t you?”

He lies back onto the muddy grass, hands behind his long, perfectly conditioned black hair. How careless. He tilts his head to the right, towards me, who’s sitting on a less muddy area.

“So, uh, what do we do now, man? I could fly us to the Tower. Walk’s probably sitting beside the Abyss or something. She’s probably lonely… or something.”

“Anti, you said that with such little expression that I’m sure you didn’t actually want to do that.”

Silence, excluding the gentle gust of the wind.

Anti reaches for his blazer’s right breast pocket. An unlabelled white box. He takes out a stick. He reaches for his black shirt’s left breast pocket. A white lighter. He lights his cigarette. He deeply inhales. He slowly exhales. The grey of the smoke quickly blends into the passing wind.

“It’s either that I’m absolutely mistaken, which I never am, or that you’re relaxed as fuck.”

Anti proudly smirks.

“I am, bro. I totally am. A world to ourselves? What could be better than this? Ah… We could do whatever we want, be whoever we want, and screw shit up and just rewrite the world to un-screw the shit.”

I stand up, just to get a better feel of the chilly breeze.

“Anti, you are mistaken. We had twenty-five years to ourselves. Yet, what did we do, back then when we were still the Angel? Sit all day. Sleep all day. We could be anything, but alas, we devolved into nothing.”

Anti slyly grins. It’s as if I can see smiles emerging from his shaded eyes.

“Angel’s an utter piece of shit, man. He had my wings, your feathers, Mother’s strength and Walk’s Light Machine. Yet, what did he do? Sit all day, wimping about how shitty and unimaginative his life was. But man, I don’t exactly blame him. I mean, look at us bro, all four of us. We simply can’t be any more different from each other. Different dreams. Different personalities. How do you expect Angel to be anything but a mess when there were at least four voices blabbering around in his mind?”

“So, what do you propose, Anti? We take our own sweet time?”

“Hey man, I thought you’re the chillax one. Come on, bro, let’s enjoy the sweet, sweet feeling of having all the time in the world. I mean, what’s with all the rush? The sun’s never going to set, anyways.”

“No, you are mistaken, it’s just not exactly the kindest thing in the world to let Mother and Walk wait till you get your ass off the ground.”

He’s right, though. I’m usually the most relaxed one. Well, that’s what everyone likes to think, anyway. This bitchy pile of trash who daydreams all day. All talk, no walk.

But I have a dream. And I believe that all events that either has or will transpire, all will lead up to the achievement of my dream.

The dream above all dreams.

“Gosh, chill the hell out, dude. We’ll get our happy ending, okay? I can promise you that. Now, you want a cig?”

I look at Anti. Seriously? He flicks his lighter. A small spark of flame.

“Hey, it’s lit. Come on, Dream, don’t be mean. Enjoy life a little. The sun’s never gonna set, anyways.”

Before long, there are five empty boxes on the ground. I guess for Anti, the best part of this world is the provision of a literal infinite amount cigarettes. Why do people even enjoy this stuff? It makes my throat dry and my breath stink.

“Ah… Don’t you just enjoy the beautiful splendour of nicotine, Dream?”

But I guess it is kind of relaxing. I mean, it has to be, for I’m already on my fiftieth stick.

Even as the air surrounding the Island turns into a greenhouse of nicotine, even as the fig tree weeps at the pitiful sight of two grown men doing nothing but lying down on the muddy grass and smoking all day, my mind is at peace.

Even if the sun were to set… my mind is at peace.

“There’s a lot going on in your mind, eh bro?”

“You’re absolutely mistaken, Anti. My mind is at peace.”

“Sigh. Don’t lie to me, man. I know you better than anyone and everyone out there, Dream.”

“No, you don’t. Stop spitting out mistaken truths.”

“You’re like a brother to me, Dream. A brother I never had. A friend I never had.”

“Why are you being so cheesy, man?”

“Ah, don’t be like that, man. When we were in Fatherson Spirit, all his undying love towards Mother, his blazing heart of unblemished romance, and his ultimate downfall due to the corruption of his own mind after witnessing her death, they were all from you, weren’t they?”

“Nah, you’re absolutely mistaken. Stop pushing everything to me. What about you? Staying on the Island for seven weeks was your idea.”

“What’s the rush? Seriously, man, no matter how screwed up the world gets, we could just rewrite a new one, you know? Hey, tell me, Dream, what’s so special about that dream of yours?”

Time flies.

Rewriting the world, huh…?

A small shrine made of white boxes. An offering to the wailing fig tree.

A sky full of grey. A mind full of nothing.

And corpses raining from the sky. A rare occurrence, reoccurring.

Yet the Island of I remains unblemished. The Spine of the World. The Cliff of Wake. All are free from the Bloody Rain.

And the flower-shirted being on the Spine is just… staring at us… with an expressionless face.

Why is he standing there? Does he have so much time as to watch two grown men smoke away the burdens of life?

We could’ve asked him, but perhaps it’s the nicotine, or perhaps it’s the tranquillity of the Island, but our mouths do not intend to move.

It’s like it’s all… a dream…

And he’s…

…gone. Just like a ghost.

“Well, man, I guess it’s time to go. If Walk’s here she would exclaim that the Gods are mad at us for being lazy or some shit. Heh. I miss her already.”

I finally stand up. As the smoke dissipates, the sight of bloodied corpses falling from the sky becomes more apparent.

A phenomenon that I still do not understand.

“I’ll stay, Anti. You go ahead.”

Anti stands on his feet. I could seemingly notice the widened pupils of his, hiding beneath his extremely rain-inappropriate shades.

“You sure, man?”

“Our dreams align, Anti. I know what I’m doing.”

He sighs.

“Seems that the Bloody Rain won’t hit the Island. But what about the Spinal Cord? Bro, you remember that there were fish-heads and tentacles emerging from that shithole?”

I smirk.

“Trust me, Anti. I know what I’m doing. Plus, I doubt you could carry two people past the Abyss.”

Anti looks into my eyes. I think. I don’t know. He has shades. But I feel his concern. I’m not the slightest bit concerned, however.

I never do anything without a reason.

“Anti, regardless of what happens to me, as long as we manage to sweep the Spine, everyone will be happy, right?”

He sighs. Relieved. He’s not exactly concerned about my safety. He’s concerned about the accountability that he has to possibly bear if I were to die on this Island.

And my words absolved him of all accountabilities.

Or maybe I’m just being pessimistic about his humanity?

Seriously, Dream, you should stop judging people already. People can be kind, you know.

“Sure… man. Just, take care, alright? Walk and I will be back before you know it.”

I nod my head reassuringly, albeit after a prolonged pause. Am I… making the right choice by taking this risk?

“And Dream, if anything were to happen to you, rest assured that I’ll make sure we get our well-deserved happy ending.”

And he’s off. I can never get used to seeing his featherless wings. They are like that of the devil’s. But I can’t deny his agility. Carefully swerving left and right past all those bloodied corpses.

Indeed, there’s a lot to talk about, for my dream of Nirvana is a dream above all dreams. A dream of all.

A dream… of the world.

“No, no, no, Underwater People and Philosopher Corals, all of you have been absolutely mistaken. You really think I didn’t know that you were hiding in there?”

A deep growly voice emerge, belonging to one of those ugly orangey fish-heads.

“Fuck my life! Stupid asshole, we’ve been waiting for seven fucking weeks! Breathing second-hand smoke for seven fucking weeks! Fuck me, I’m so bored, I became a motherfucker myself!”

A higher-pitched voice responds, belonging to one of those slimy red mouthless tentacles.

“Enough, People. He’s all alone now. We are now victorious in this war of attrition. Now, Dreamer, let us begin our extremely civilized discussion.”

Seven weeks huh.

How does one even tell time in this place?

A Bloody Rain, and yet the sun is still immovable.

It’s as if time stops, and time flies, at the same time.

A stagnation. A levitation from the present.

But truly, events only start happening when there’s an external… interruption to the routine.

An anomaly.

Last time it was the People and Corals’ emergence from the Cord. Now it’s the Bloody Rain.

When I think about it, the only way the Spine could accumulate so much dust is through an unchanging series of events, leading to stagnation…

And to rid oneself of stagnation, is to sweep the dust off the Spine of the World…

Only an anomaly… can move this world forward.

 

 

 

Only an anomaly… can stop the sun from setting.

 

 

 

---

- After Dreamer, Grey Walker, and Angel arrived at the hole at the end of the Spinal Cord -

(Angel. Spinal Cord)

“Please tell me that you did not just say what you’ve said.”

“Please don’t let me say that you are mistaken, Walk. I said what I’ve said. We should just turn back and give up. It’s a long fall. None of us can fly.”

And Walk’s scowl tightens, the very sweat and tears on her face fuming in disbelief. With an impulsive rage, she slammed her right fist right into Dream’s nose. A loud crack. Dream presses his nose with his fingers, in a futile attempt to stop the waterfall of blood.

“That hurts like a bitch, Walk. But I’m not even surprised anymore. I’m bored of saying that you’re absolutely mistaken. What could you even do beyond kicking and punching me in the face, huh? You wouldn’t be able to do jack shit to help Mother, anyway. She could singlehandedly handle Anti and his army.”

Another punch heads towards the white-haired man’s face. As if expecting it, he simply tilts his head to the left. Her hand swipes to the right. Dream ducks. A kick approaches his face. His nose breaks, again.

“Ouch. Dammit, what else do you have inside that brain of yours other than senseless violence? I mentioned it twice now, and this is the third time, but none of us can fly. What if we fall down this two-hundred-metre hole and land our hearts on some fucking bones? Then you’ll be dealing with two Dreams! How amazing does that sound? Maybe they might actually let you willingly smash their faces in, who knows? Ah, you would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you?”

“Dream, why the fuck are you always challenging me like this? If you’re so afraid of dying, then sit your pussy ass down or get lost on your way back to the Island! I don’t know if you’re stupid or what, but have you forgotten that it was your idea for us to go underground to ‘check on Mother’? Are you braindead? Go smash your head on the wall, fucktard.”

Dream stands up. 

“Well, I take that back. Mother can take care of herself. So what if Anti and his ragtag gang of fishes and corals invade the underground cave? Mother’s strong, Walk, and you know it. Let her be. She’ll destroy every single one of them, get the book, get the broom, and find her way out of that garbage dump.”

“Enough. I should’ve ripped that dick-ass mouth of yours off your ugly face when I had the chance. You can go to a corner and cry or whatever, I’ll be going, alone.”

“Yeah, yeah, go and jump down the hole then, Walk. Whether you die or whatever, I don’t give a damn, and clearly the Gods don’t give a damn. What the hell are you even gonna do down there? Mother doesn’t need your Light for jack shit. So why are you putting yourself through the pain of falling two hundred metres, huh? To show off? Mother doesn’t appreciate show-offs.”

“Are you even human? Do you even have a heart?! Regardless of whether I can help, aren’t you even slightly worried that Mother would be lonely? Clearly, no, for you are a self-righteous pompous beggar-clothed dumpster-fuck.”

“Lonely? Hah! Walk, so are you telling me that your dream, the very dream that you have been fighting for since you appeared in this world, is to accompany Mother? To make her less lonely? Is that your dream?”

“Who said that that was my dr-”

“No! No! No! Walk, you are absolutely, irrefutably mistaken! You said it. You are saying that the whole point of you suffering through the pain of falling, and perhaps dying many times from the blades of Anti’s army, is to accompany Mother! To make her less lonely! Oh, boo-hoo, so once you get your hands on the broom, what are you gonna do? Sweep the Spine, and wish for Mother to never be lonely? What, is she your God or something?”

“Shut the fuck up, I’ll kill you!”

But she didn’t. She didn’t kill him. She couldn’t. Her words may be tough, but it’s as if Dream’s words reignited the dying flames of purpose in her.

“Kill me, and I’ll rebirth into two. An evolution, Walk. Clearly, the Gods prefer me over you. You wanna know why? Obviously it’s because I’m more… well… handsome. And I have better fashion sense. And a bigger brain. And I don’t break people’s noses just because I’m angry. And I don’t threaten to kill pe-”

“I’ll find them.”

Huh? Her voice is softer than before. But it lacks the shakiness of her… impulsive rage.

“I’ll sweep the Spine. I’ll find the Gods. And I’ll ask them to fuck you up.”

Dream finally relents and lets out a long-awaited smirk.

“I see, so is your entire purpose in life to fuck me up? That sounds fun.”

“Fuck off.”

And she’s gone. A two-hundred-metre fall.

Her Light goes down the hole with her. The place darkens. Gradually.

“Sigh. She’s absolutely mistaken. Sigh…”

I stare at Dream. He seems dejected.

“I’m happy that I managed to pull her out of her mental breakdown, but…”

The Spinal Cord slowly turns pitch black.

And for the first time, I feel the effect of the so-called Lightless Field. A strong press onto my heart. A dizzying sense of unawareness in my mind. I start to hyperventilate.

I feel my hand being pulled. The force tugs me so tight that I’m forced into the hole.

And amongst the depressingly dark environment where the faintest sound may wake the sleepiest of birds…

“I mean… all I ever did was so that she could continue walking forward and not… not be so tied up by her insecurities. And hey, it worked! She was on the verge of giving up until I pressed her on, but damn…”

As if the air is getting moister…

 

 

 

“… I’m really the bad Soup… aren’t I?”

 

 

 

---

Event 34. One hundred and eighty minutes before the story started.

- After Antispirit flew off the Island of I, and the Underwater People and Philosopher Corals emerged from the Spinal Cord -

(Dreamer. Island of I)

“No, no, no, fellow Underwater People and Philosopher Corals, all of you are absolutely mistaken! How can this be a civilized discussion if every one of you People are wielding those sharp bones, readying yourselves to puncture my very fragile heart, and every one of you Corals has thicker-than-usual tentacles, readying yourselves to ooze out your Lightless Field to drown my very depressed heart? Ah, I scream blackmail. Utter, indisputable blackmail!”

This is certainly the riskiest decision I’ve made in my life. Ah well, if I die, so be it. My rebirths will be far, far smarter than I am! But maybe less willing to take risks.

“Oh look, Corals! Motherfucker has bullshit in his mouth! Let me use my bones to shape a new jaw for him!”

“People, you will be silent for one minute. Now, Dreamer, please do not misunderstand us, for we come in peace. Our numbers may be a bit… on the higher end, but I do hope you understand that after Fatherson Spirit and Spirit of Mother have irrationally decimated our brothers and sisters fourteen weeks ago, we have been a little more… cautious.”

Well, dumbasses, clearly you weren’t nonthreatening enough. Especially you, Underwater People. Stupid horse-lips paired with innocent cat-eyes and moving around on their slimy squid-tentacles, as if the comically large red tentacles of the fucking Corals aren’t enough. Now I see why Walk wanted to meet the Gods so much. She’d probably question them on their stupid design choices and apparent tentacle-fetish.

 “Pardon me if I may be wrong, Dreamer, but the sarcastic smirk newly drawn on your face makes us think that you are insulting our appearance in your mind.”

“No, no, no, Philosopher Corals, you are absolutely mistaken. I would never commit such blasphemy, especially not during this extremely civilized discussion of ours! Ah, courtesy is my middle name, indeed! Now, where were we? Ah yes, is this the part where I scream for a help that will never come?”

Ah, help will definitely never come in time. Even if Anti and Walk somehow came back, I doubt the three of us could overpower their… formation. A row of ten People wielding two-metre-long sharpened Old Walls with their tortoise-flippers. Just behind them are a row of ten Corals, barely taller but much wider than even the breadth of the People’s gorilla-bodies, all pointing their tentacles and readying to regurgitate their Lightless Field at me. Another row of ten Corals readies behind the first row of Corals, and another row of ten People stand guard behind them, all spreading out their multicoloured feathers, blocking half of the Spinal Cord behind them.

“Motherfucker’s scared, Corals. Let’s kill him already. Then we’ll kill that Walker bitch and that Anti bitch. Then we’ll find a way to kill that Mother bitch. That fucking Motherfucker! She massacred us all without reason!”

“People, please do not be rash, and you will not reveal our plans to the enemy. But you already did so. Sigh. Now our whole plan is ruined. Well, not like we could stick to this plan, seeing that Dreamer practically invited us here to meet him alone, instead of leaving the Island with Antispirit when he had the chance. Sigh. I hate when plans go awry.”

Yeah. I hate you guys too.

“Anyway, Dreamer, it seems that you may have a proposal for us, for you would not want to stay on the Island alone, had it been otherwise. Now, please convince us that you are not, as per the People’s words, a ‘fornicator of maternal figures’.”

 I finally stand up. I exhale. Gosh, my breath stinks. How many sticks have I smoked? Five thousand? Fuck.

“Indeed, I have, my dear Corals. Truly our philosophical minds think alike! Now, would it be blasphemous for me to propose, despite all the hardship that you have been through, that you will allow us to proceed with our dreams?”

High-pitched laughter. Followed by a pressuring silence.

“People, you will not make a sound during this discussion. Now, Dreamer, that is a proposal that we would love to consider, for it certainly benefits you to have your dreams fulfilled. However, it would certainly be blasphemous if, say, we do not get anything in return. I am sure you will have known by now, of our purpose in this world?”

“Indeed, Corals, for you are but the avatars of the Gods! You came down to this world to salvage us from this seeping darkness, to escape the immeasurable grasp of stagnation and to absolve us from our sins! However, your kind efforts have been impacted by none other than… Grey Walker.”

Although the Corals’ mouths are hidden within the blob of red tentacles, I can sense a satisfied smirk leaking out.

“Ah, truly you are the most educated of all, Dreamer! Indeed, the never-ending efforts of the imbecile Grey Walker to meet us has threatened our formerly impenetrable positions in the sky. Indeed, Grey Walker can never die, and that is unacceptable to us. Now, Dreamer, I certainly hope that you included her death as part of this negotiation.”

I was actually bullshitting just now. But hey, bingo.

See, Anti? I really do think ahead.

I see a fish’s mouth open wide. Its breath stinks. The yawn is so distractingly loud.

“People, you will not doze off.”

“Dear Corals, let’s all understand that this kind of discussion does not suit the fighting prowess and impeccable might of the Underwater People. And dear People, I understand your predicament and boredom. I assure you, that the outcome of this discussion will certainly elevate your already immovable strength to new heights!”

A fish spits at my face. I tilt my head to the right. Saves me a lifetime of facial cleansers.

“Motherfucker’s talking bullshit! Corals, motherfucker should die!”

“What if I told you, dear Philosopher Corals and Underwater People, that Walk’s dream… is to strengthen you?”

Ten fishes spit at me. I duck under them.

“Ah, Dreamer, now that is certainly blasphemous. Please enlighten us, why would Grey Walker even think of strengthening us? She wanted to meet us, not make us even more perfect than we already are.”

“Fellow Corals, do you know exactly why she is so desperate to meet you above the sky?”

“What else, Dreamer, if not to threaten our positions as Gods of this world? The inhabitants of this world should never interfere in the affairs of the Gods in the outside world!”

“You can interpret the words in the book, can’t you?”

“Indeed, we can, although there are barely any words as of now. But Dreamer, the book has nothing to do with Grey Walker! She, and all of you, are never meant to read the book!”

So, only Angel could read it, huh. Angel… and the Gods.

“Let me ask you a hypothetical question. Would you allow Walk to read the book, if she were to make you the strongest beings in this world?”

“Dreamer, you do not understand, we are already the strongest beings in this world.”

“You said it yourself, Corals, that we do not understand you, and you do not understand us, too. Spirit of Mother, who was the previous strongest being, effortlessly massacred you guys in the Tower. And the current strongest being, Grey Mother, is an even more impervious fortress. If she perishes in battle, her rebirths will far surpass her strength with their even more impenetrable forms! And the cycle of strengthening will continue. Do you want to risk that?”

The Corals are silent. The People once never spoke.

“Dreamer, you still do not understand. What does Grey Walker get out of reading the book?”

And with my next statement, I will have won this negotiation.

“Again, you said it yourself, Corals. We do not understand. And the book is merely a way for Walk to fulfil her dreams…”

 

 

 

“… of understanding the world… and understanding herself. And by doing so… she may be able to finally meet you… the real you.”

 

 

 

---

- After Grey Walker, Dreamer, and Angel fell down the hole at the end of the Spinal Cord –

(Angel. Spinal Cord)

I feel weightless.

A most ridiculous decision. To let myself fall two-hundred metres.

I’m not alone. A feathery-legged fellow descends at the same speed as I am. My hands are flailing, yet his are not.

And he was the one who was worried about our hearts landing on bones.

All it took was about six seconds. Dreamer and Angel. Dead on the hard rocky floor. I feel no pain. I see my ruptured torso several tens of metres away. I see my torn intestines seemingly zigzagging around. I see my four bloodied limbs ascending to heaven. I wonder, are they even parts of me? They could be Dream’s. He landed head-first.

I didn’t even have time to scream. Dream dragged me into the hole. He basically murdered me.

I see blood.

Rest in peace, Angel. You had a strange life. Maybe sad, even.

 

 

 

“No, no, no, Angel, you are absolutely mistaken. Knowing her, Mother expected us to return, even though she wouldn’t openly admit it. She cleaned up all the remaining bones on the ground, so that our hearts remain intact! Truly, Mother is so caring as to assure that we do not die, but merely suffer an indescribable amount of pain!”

I wake. There’s a layer of dirt above me, like a blanket.

I sit up. The dirt falls off me like it never existed. I feel slightly cold, somehow.

I stand up. How much time has passed?

My body is complete, as if I was never a splatter on the ground.

“By the way, I think we were dead for hours. Maybe twenty or so? A hundred-metre fall does beautiful things to the human structural system, and unlike Walk, we’re not exactly used to reforming our bodies from Soup in the shortest amount of time. But hey, we’re alive, and that’s fantastic! Let’s go already, Walk and Mother must have been bored waiting for us to undie.”

It’s as Father has said, death is meaningless.

A large cave it is. Well-lit enough for me to perceive its slightly yellowish, purplish rocky walls, and the tinted glimmers of pink and gold floating about. Truthfully, “large” is an understatement. The roof of the cave is at least a hundred metres high; enough to house the entire Tower of Angel. I couldn’t even visually gauge the width and depth of the cave.

In fact, I would argue that the cave is rather… beautiful. Serene, yes, but perhaps a little… stale.

“Let’s not waste time, Angel. Anti could be here any minute now.”

The white-haired stature strolls ahead. Anti… Antispirit… He’s the being with the wings from earlier, right? The one who snatched the book away from me?

And I recall Dream saying about Anti’s “army”?

“Why are we here again, Dream?”

He does not stop walking forward. He does not look back, as if unsurprised by my question.

“Ah, Angel, truly you have yet to appreciate the poetic beauty of this… battle. Truly, such a remarkable betrayal it is, for my very own brother to commit such treachery, and to side with our sworn enemies to take us down! How tragic!”

“I mean, why are we here? I thought you mentioned that this… ‘Mother’, could handle the battle by herself?”

He stops walking. He turns around. He looks at me.

“Ah, so are you implying that we are both useless in this battle?”

“I… didn’t exactly mean that, bu-”

A snarky grin draws itself on Dream’s bony face.

“Hey, relax, Angel. You’re actually not mistaken for once. You and me, we are both utterly useless. What could my feathers possibly do? And what could you possibly do? But you see, Angel, all we need is for Mother to brutally murder all of Anti’s seafood army, get the book away from him, merge it with the Spine of the Lord of Stagnation, and ta-da, the broom will be formed! Then we can go sweep the Spine of the World together, and then we could achieve Nirv-”

“Hold up, Dream, so… why should I get involved in all this again?”

He steps towards me. He presses his right index finger onto my lips.

“Come on, Angel. An absolute mistake would be to just sleep by the fig tree on the Island. Another absolute mistake would be to just kill yourself in the Soup of Life. I’m bringing you on this adventure. Our adventure. I mean, this world isn’t exactly big, but I guess it could say something about who you truly are.”

I have nothing to say. We continue walking forward. An endless walk. A purposeless walk.

I was clearly a part of this world at first. And now, it’s like I’m… forced into this world.

But a long, long walk it was. We finally arrive at an elevation. A gradual stairway upwards. An all-white structure. I get rid of the thoughts in my mind as I try to understand the… thing. A white pyramid. Reminds me of the black pyramidal shape of the Cliff of Wake, except much, much smaller in scale. Simply by walking straight, we could reach the peak, which contains a… white box. And a thing on that white box. The thing on the white box seems to emanate some golden light.

Each individual stair’s depth is far too similar to its height. About twenty-five centimetres? But its width stretches far to the left and right, as it slowly shrinks as we approach the top. And I saw the things.

A sparkling golden throne on top of the large white box, about three heads taller than me.

And I was sent tumbling down the pyramidal stairs by a sudden impact onto my abdomen.

---

Event 35. One hundred and forty minutes before the story started.

- After Dreamer’s discussion with the Underwater People and Philosopher Corals on the Island of I -

(Antispirit. Abyss of Humans)

Ah, life is good.

I should be worried about Dream. I mean, I did leave him on the Island all alone. I’m pretty sure there are some bastards hiding in the Cord. But he wanted me to leave. I’m sure he has a plan.

Unfortunately, we both instinctively knew that we were being watched, so we couldn’t exactly be too honest with each other, but hey, brothers communicate through the heart!

You know, we brothers really share similar dreams.

Not the same dreams, but our endgames are the same.

And I know for sure that the both of us only want the best for this world. Mother and Walk may never truly understand why we do what we are doing, but I swear, sooner or later they will realize the deeply philosophical meanings behind our dreams.

For my dream is the dream of all.

Ah, truly a beautiful world we live in.

And my wings. They aren’t as fluffily beautiful as Father’s, as Dream took away all of my feathers. So, my wings are naked. Come to think of it, they kind of look like a devil’s wings now.

Ah, am I the angel who has fallen from grace and cursed with eternal suffering, or am I the devil fated to wage an eternal war with the poisons inflicting upon this holy, holy world?

Ah… Wonderful… Such a wonderful world…

But the City of Sleep is horrendous. Truly despicable. Towering white cuboids masking hollow interiors. Windowless. Purposeless. Ah, truly as tragic as the lives of the People and Corals.

Walk’s over there. Sitting on the grass, by a moat of darkness. The Abyss of Humans. Could she really not cross over it? Well, there ain’t any bridges connecting the City to the Tower. It’s like… only those with wings could freely access the Tower.

Ah. I feel so blessed.

I see the petite sweatered figure. Long, black, silky hair. Just like Mother! I mean, Spirit of Mother. She sits holding her knees, staring at the Tower. I have been chitchatting with Dream for maybe a week, so has she been staring at that white thing for a week? Ah, she must’ve been bored out of her mind.

“You’re finally here, Anti. For fuck’s sake, it’s been seven freaking weeks!”

… Seven? Damn.

“Sigh, not like I expected you two to be any better. Gosh. At least it’s just seven weeks and not seven fucking years. Shit. What have you and that cocky bitch even been talking for seven weeks? And did you seriously leave him on the Island?”

“Ah, Walk, I am so sorry it took me that long. I mean, that ‘cocky bitch’ brother of mine is actually a very nice person to talk to. Time flies, Walk. And yeah, he’s still on the Island. I mean, he asked me to just leave him there, so…”

She does not even look at me.

“How disgusting. You call him your brother and yet you just left him there to be murdered by the Corals and People in the Cord. Seriously, Anti?”

I sit on the patch of grass to the right of her. I tuck my knees in and hold it.

“Whoa, my dear Walk’s finally showing a soft side, huh? He knows what he’s doing, I think. He’s strong.”

She turns her head to the right. She looks into my eyes. She sighs.

“You’re weird, Anti. How the hell is he strong? He’s the weakest piece of shit I’ve seen in my life!”

“Don’t be jealous, my dear. You’re strong too, you know? Waiting here for seven weeks, never knowing if I’d be back. Truly, if all in this world are as patient as you are, then the world will be in utter bliss until the end of time!”

“Damn, Anti, you and your sweet words. You clearly know that I need your wings just as much as you need my Light. Cut it with the empty praises and shit.”

“Ah, Walk, you are just like Spirit of Mother! Truly, Walk, you have Mother’s beautiful eyes, Mother’s illuminating heart, and Mother’s undefeatable willpower!”

She stands up. She sighs again. Another sigh. She truly lives a tragic life.

“Hey, Walk, want a cig?”

“Dammit, let’s just go and get that fucking book already.”

Sigh. I stand up. Walk’s at least a head shorter than me. I toss the unlit stick onto the grass. I cross my arms. Ah, our nicotine-free adventure has finally begun. How unenthusiastically enthusiastic I am.

“Truly, do you really believe that you could read the book this time? I mean, last time when we were still the Angel, we could only read one line.”

“We’ll find a way. So, you’re gonna fly me over the Abyss, or what?”

I rest her back and lower thighs onto my arms. Indeed, this girl’s pretty headstrong. I’m not emptily praising her. Even in the midst of the strangeness of the world, she still strives to reach for the Gods.

But if the Gods are in the sky, and the People and Corals descended from the sky, doesn’t that make them the avatars of Gods?

And since they are inhabiting the Tower now, doesn’t that make the Tower… a domain of the Gods?

Though in all honesty, I don’t care about the Gods.

I care about the world. More than anything. More than everything.

Ah, what a wonderful world I will create…

But why is the being, that flower-shirted being, still staring at me from across the Abyss?

I’m too far away from him to read his emotions, but he seems rather…

… disappointed.

---

- After Angel and Dreamer approach the white pyramidal structure -

(Angel. “Underground Cave”)

“No, no, no, Mother, you are absolutely mistaken. The poor fellow you just kicked down two hundred and fifty steps is absolutely docile.”

 Ow. I think I broke my ribcage. I think my skull’s fractured too. Shit. This hurts way more than the fall down the large hole just now.

“Dream, you do not use that kind of language at me. And Dream, you will do better than to place complete trust onto random strangers.”

Two figures tower over me at the bottom of the pyramid. Dream’s one of them. I assume the other would be “Mother”. Ow.

“Why, Mother, I think you will do better if you’re actually a bit more curious about this… predicament we are in. See, Mother, this Angel and the Angel we came from both look, feel, and smell alike. Except, this Angel is powerless. A Heartless Angel, Mother. And no one knows of his purpose. So, I suggest that w-”

A loud slap. The white-haired man’s left cheek reddens.

“Dream, you are risking us all here. We were the Angel. There simply cannot be two Angels. Therefore, based on this logic, this Angel is an imposter; a spy sent in by our enemy to infiltrate our defences.”

I feel my face pressed in and my mouth stabbed by… something. Shit.

“Dammit, Mother, why are you the same as Walk? You guys only know how to pummel people into submission? Well, I should be thankful, as a slap is far less painful than a boot to my face, or for your case, a high-heel to the face, but it is far more insulting.”

I can’t speak. The six-inch heels completely penetrated my throat. I can’t breathe. I feel dizzy all over. My vision’s blurry. Fuck.

“Sigh. Dream, look at what happened with Anti. He’s your brother. He’s our brother. And he just had to snatch the book and use it as a negotiation tool with our enemies. Could you explain that?”

I breathe in. Air leaks out of the back of my throat. I’m still alive, thanks to this world. How I wish I were dead, though.

“Anti has a dream, and so do I. He’s off chasing his dreams, and so am I. The nuances of any further details are meaningless at this time. But I am certain of one thing, Mother. He wants the broom.”

I feel the dizziness fading. My throat starts to heal. It felt like forever. I finally can see straight. Grey Mother, wasn’t it? She towers over Dream by more than a head, and her intricately styled black Mohawk towers over her by more than a head. Black eyeliner, black lipstick, three shiny-white circular earrings on each earlobe. Hanging by her neck are at least ten necklaces of pure black and pure white. She sports an all-grey tube top that exactly covers her bust, showing off her well-toned arm muscles and her six-pack abdomen.

On the lower half, she sports a dark-grey slim-fit jeans that finely follows the curvatures of her intensely well-toned thigh muscles. And her six-inch black high heels. The stains of my blood slowly drips off her right heel, foreshadowing the brutal conciseness of her following reply.

“Duh.”

She smacks her palm onto her face. Even her fingernails are dyed dark grey. She shakes her head.

“Dream, please tell me something I don’t already know.”

And Dream looks upwards, towards the apex of the white pyramid. The large white box.

“Mother, Walk came before us, didn’t she? I don’t see her anywhere around, though.”

“She went off to hide, Dream. As for where she is, I don’t see why I need to tell you, especially since this ‘Angel’ is around. She couldn’t possibly risk her life in the upcoming battle.”

“Mother, you do know that Walk is essentially immortal, don’t you?”

“She is... I mean, yes, Dream, she definitely is. She’s just… scared, that’s all.”

The gleam in Dream’s hazel eyes suggests that he too, sensed an oddity in Mother’s statement.

“Well… good that you know. And good that you hid her. Somewhere safe, I presume, though I don’t see anywhere one could possibly hide in this wide-open cave. That white box does look a little too good of a hiding spot, though. I mean, Anti’s coming for her, so I trust that she’s… safe.”

“What white box? That is an elevation, not a whi-”

Mother pauses mid-sentence; her lips suddenly parting ways, her jaws sinking midway down her neck.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘coming for her’?”

“I said what I’ve said, Mother. He wants the broom, and he wants Walk, too.”

---

Event 36. One hundred and twenty minutes before the story started.

- After Antispirit met Grey Walker by the Abyss of Humans –

(Grey Walker. Abyss of Humans)

To be honest, I will never get used to anyone carrying me in their arms.

Even during the time when I was still Spirit of Mother, I never exactly fancied it.

Truly, the Abyss is the cruellest phenomenon in the world. The sheer sense of despair surrounding the Tower… I’m not sure whether my Light Machine can repel it entirely.

Dammit. We should’ve never taken that twenty-five-year rest. The Angel was indeed the perfect being… But stagnation… is the true poison of us all.

“Hasten up, dude. What, you need a cig break already?”

Fucking terrible stench. His penchant for ruining his lungs betrayed the seeming elegance of his flawless white blazer. Dammit. I thought things heal in this place. Even dirty clothes get cleaned up, somehow. Why can’t the world just perfume the dude or something?

Wait, no, it’s not his stench. He has a lit cigarette hanging out of his lips.

“Fucking hell, dude?! Can you at least wait until we get past the Abyss first?”

“Ah, Walk, relax… You’re too pent up about everything… Just take life a little easier, dear, and life will reward you with eternal happiness. Ah, truly a wonderful world I will create…”

“What bullshit is that?!”

Indeed, this dude and the cocky bitch are brothers, alright. Just like Father. Happiness this, happiness that. What did Father like to say? Nirvana? What kind of shitty abstract concept is that? Truly, I’m surrounded by idiots who daydream for a living.

“Hey, we reached the Tower. That was an amazing journey, Walk. Ah, the domain of the Gods… Truly, we have arrived at the palace of the true rulers of this world!”

“What the fuck, dude, you high or something?”

“Yes, the true rulers of this world. They are the Gods that you speak so highly of. Walk, my dear, to understand the Gods, you first have to understand their avatars. By understanding them, you will too, agree that this world is beautiful, Walk.”

Enough already, dammit; your manner of speech is just like just like nicotine—utterly disgusting, and artificial.

But I guess if nicotine does relieve the stressfulness of life, then well, I guess I may actually… need that.

A tall windowless white structure, seemingly piercing the heavens above. The Tower of Angel is wide. About four-hundred metres, four times wider than it is tall.

There is a door, barely taller than Anti, barely wide enough to fit the both of us at once. Actually, it’s more like a rectangular hole than a door.

But what was Anti implying? True rulers of this world? Seriously? I thought that I was the only one who wanted to get to know them, and yet…

Well, they are listening to us right now, so maybe Anti was just trying to pretend to be nice to them?

What does Anti actually want to achieve?

The inside of the Tower is dark. A Lightless Field. The entrance remains unclosed, yet even the brightness of the outside sky could not penetrate this thickly dark fog.

Even with the Light Machine in my heart, it is downright impossible to progress in this place. There is no way up. But there is a way down.

A sick sense of humour. To progress forward and upward, in the hopes of meeting the Gods, one must take a step back.

One must take a step down.

Because when one is at the lowest of the low, there is nowhere else to go…

But up.

---

- After Dreamer and Angel met Grey Mother in the Underground Cave –

(Grey Mother. “Underground Cave”)

You know, all I ever want to do is to keep everyone safe.

The integrity of this world lies in my hands.

Sadly, this world is full of internal turmoil. No one’s agreeing with anyone on anything.

For example, there are two beings in front of me who I do not trust. Dream has always been the odd one. All he does is daydream all day and gets no shit done.

There’s a being who looks like the Angel in front of me. Do I feel bad for stepping on him? No. I don’t. In fact, if he’s actually the Angel that we came from, rebirthed into a shittier form, I would actually feel better.

You know how difficult it was to protect this world when the Angel simply slept for twenty-five fucking years? Walk and I. We drove him forward.

If not for us, the Angel would’ve been dead long ago.

I don’t trust Dream. Yet, it is so Anti to snatch away my dear Walk for an obnoxious purpose. Antispirit. Dreamer. They are scheming something.

I don’t think they are here to destroy this world. But they have plans.

Father preached about the concept of “Nirvana”, but how could such a loving word be exploited for such a secretive goal?!

Walk is safe. And I will bring her out once everything is settled.

I could easily kill the People and Corals, but what about Anti? The dude’s a bitch to deal with, in part because I don’t actually want to kill him.

We are all from the same Angel after all.

Truly, when will our suffering end?

It is all the fault of those wretched sea creatures. Had they not invaded this world, I wouldn’t have needed to go to this extent to protect everyone.

“Dream, you do not need to concern yourself for Walk and I. In fact, I should be concerned about your safety. Then again, watching you getting killed may amuse Walk.”

“Ah, Mother, you are just so cruel. Not to me, but to our dear Walk. Tell me, Mother, how do you expect her to witness the murder of a wretched asshole, when she’s holed up in that white box?”

“What white box? There is no white box.”

Dream steps forward. He points towards the box behind me, perched above the white pyramidal stairways.

Seriously, what the hell was I thinking?

“Dream, you will not make assumptions. That is not a box. That is an elevation. I simply relocated the golden throne to sit above that elevation. You do understand that our enemy comes in droves of hundreds, don’t you? We can’t have them surround the throne.”

Dream shakes his head. I see why Walk is so pissed at him. His smirk, as if he’s so almighty. His ego, I’d love to spit on it.

“No, no, no, Mother, you are absolutely mistaken. Anti can fly, you know?”

Such disrespect. I lunge the knife on my left-hand forwards. It flies. A grunt. An “ow”. A figure rolls on the floor, with hands clasping the abdomen. A puddle of red and black.

“You’re underestimating me. That knife, carefully handcrafted out of the finest Old Walls, dipped in the most potent of Lightless Fields, is more than enough to make you squirm like a stupid worm.”

“Mother… Ow… Okay, okay, I get it… Geez... Agh, it hurts!”

I expect more screaming. Guess Walk abused him enough. Then again, it’s hard to actually feel the most incapacitating parts of “pain” when pain is meaningless in this world. What’s the use of pain when we can never die?

But if I were to die… I don’t know what will become of me.

I look at the unkempt grey being standing behind Dream. Just observing. Truly, how far the Angel has fallen, reduced to a heartless being who can do nothing but observe his own downfall.

But it was his fault, wasn’t it? If Angel were stronger, then his inner world wouldn’t be so fucked, and the enemy in the sky would’ve never cursed this world to a lifetime of Bloody Rain.

I absolutely despise weakness.

And Dream is, by all means, the very source of Angel’s weakness.

Disgusting.

Dammit, I blame those aliens from the sky for all of this world’s weaknesses. They should all just die already.

But what about me…? Yes, I am the strength of this world, and none could even come close to matching my physical strength and agility, but…

… Sigh… my weaknesses, huh?

 

 

 

Well… I don’t have any. I mean… at least they’re safe now…

 

 

 

---

Event 37. One hundred minutes before the story started.

- After Antispirit and Grey Walker entered the Tower of Angel –

(Antispirit. Tower of Angel)

Ah. Walk truly is beautiful.

Indeed, her Light illuminates the darkness of the Tower, serving as the infallible guiding light forging our pathway through the despair of life.

I step toward Walk. I bend down and push my beautiful right arm onto the back of her thigh. Losing her balance, she falls backward, onto my amazing left arm.

“What the fuck, Anti?”

“Ah Walk, you are just so gorgeously rude. But we can’t have you falling a hundred metres, right onto a swamp of seafood, can we?”

That, and we need to negotiate first. Walk and I can’t fight.

“Anti… Fuck it, I hate it that you’re right. Why the hell do you have the most useful trait out of the four of us? Wings? Seriously? You can do anything. Anything. Like, what the hell, my Light is merely a tool. You’re only using my Light because if not, you’d be in a total pitch-black darkness. That’s it. That’s fucking it. Shit. Fucking hell.”

Man… there she goes again.

Then again, I can’t help but completely agree with her.

Although, my dream is for her to be happy as well.

“Walk, I respect you, you know.”

“Huh?”

With her act of falling onto my left arm, she inadvertently has been nudged backwards. This Tower opens no path upwards, nor will it open another door other than the entrance from the Abyss. But the path downwards shows itself when someone walks backwards. No, not the act of U-turning and running to the opposite direction. The act of actually walking backwards, while still maintaining your sight forwards.

And for the first time, I’ve actually seen this path. We’ve fallen down the path before, but I did not fully grasp the sheer boldness of the path.

A hole about twenty metres wide. It feels more like an actual abyss than the Abyss of Humans.

Yet, what lies below the hole is truly the most amazing thing. Like a moving picture of peace, personifying the mere moments of rest and solitude, in the midst of the deadly thriller of life.

“Walk, my dear, you doubt yourself so, so much, and yet you kept walking forward. You are so filled with hopelessness, and never stopped striving to find your purpose in life, and to evolve past your weaknesses, and embrace the faraway truths of this world.”

My featherless wings slow our descent down this hole. Ironic, for the Angel who had five-metre-long opulent wings of freedom, and who was destined to fly towards the heavens above, is now a smartly dressed, shades-donning swag devil with devilish wings, descending deeper and deeper towards…

The Beautiful Field.

“Yet, Walk, you never gave up… When the world gave you a thousand reasons to quit, you kept walking… No matter how grey your life became, no matter how grey the clouds were, no matter how much the artist of our lives drunkenly painted this colourful world grey…”

And this is where it all began.

And this is where it all ended.

 

 

 

“… you just kept walking.”

 

 

 

---

- After Grey Mother lunged her knife towards Dreamer –

(Grey Mother. “Underground Cave”)

“I hate you, Angel.”

I look at his expressionless face. I want to spit on it, but I do not want Dream to proclaim that I am disrespectful.

Also, I shouldn’t really do that. Spitting onto Angel is like spitting onto myself.

But this being is utterly gross and obnoxiously stupid. I punctured his neck with my heels. His blood spurted everywhere. He was in unbearable pain. And yet, what the hell did he do? He just stood up. He did not curse at me. He did not retaliate. He just… existed.

Fuck, I want to punch him so badly.

And I did so. He flinches. A dark-blue bruise on his left cheek that I am certain will not heal in the next few minutes. Nothing.

Not even a verbal expression of pain. His throat has fully healed, so he can definitely scream if he wants to.

A punch to the right cheek. A jab in both eyes. An elbow to the chest. Nothing.

“Fucking retaliate, you piece of shit. What do you even have limbs for?! To flail around helplessly when others beat the fucking crap out of you?!”

Using my right hand, I pick up the longer, five-metre blade on the ground. I slash his chest, bridging the gap between the black moon on his right breast pocket and the white sun on his left breast pocket. I was careful not to slice too deep, for I do not want to kill him. I don’t know what will happen if he dies. Will he rebirth? Or will he just vanish?

I see a teardrop. Is he sad? Is he in pain? Is it both?

But there were no words from him.

“Say something, you bitch!”

I leap towards Dream, who’s still worming around on the ground. I pull out the knife from his abdomen. I walk towards Angel. A stab to his stomach. A stab to his intestines. A stab to his liver.

“Say something, you weak little fucker!”

I hear a soft “ow”. More tears down his face.

A stab to his right lung. A stab to his left lung.

“Angel, for fuck’s sake, if you don’t stand up for yourself, I will really kill you!”

And finally, he speaks.

“Mother… Why are you doing this to me?”

Don’t question, you bastard. Fight back!

Disgusting. Cowardly. Useless.

“No, no, no, Mother, you are absolutely… Sigh, seriously, why are you doing this to him? I mean, can we blame him for the way he is? That’s why we exist, Mother. That’s why the Angel died in the Beautiful Field that day… and that’s why we were born.”

“You will shut up, Dream! Stop pampering him like a baby. He’s not. He’s a fully-grown man capable of making his own life decisions, and what has he done so far? Nothing. We had one purpose, one purpose in this world, and that is to sweep the dust off the Spine of the World. And look what happened. It’s your fault, Dream. It is because of you, that we are in such a deep shit. You are useless, Dream.”

Somehow, I expected another smirk? But the man with the white denim singlet just stands there, lips slightly ajar. He blinks a little faster than usual.

Dude, please don’t cry on me.

“What, you expect me to pity you or something? You stinky little trash.”

Actually, I shouldn’t have done that.

I mean, we’re all in this together.

But I can’t bear with it.

The vulnerability of this world.

The weaknesses of the Angel. The fragility of his mind. The frailty of his soul.

And how everyone here is just so fucking insecure about everything…

If not for Walk and I, this world would’ve fallen apart.

I am the protector of this world, and she is the one that moves us forward.

Together, we are strong.

Sadly, the world just needed to have some inconsistencies.

Dreamer and Antispirit.

Dream is the weakness of the world, and Anti is the… Honestly, I don’t know. But he betrayed us.

Yet the both of them, who were both Fatherson Spirit, kept blabbering about the Nirvana that they will never achieve…

Bullshit.

Just utter bullshit.

There is no need to fantasize about surreal philosophical crap when you have the Mother and the Walker of the world.

That’s all we need. The will to walk forward, and the strength to fight back.

The will to live.

And I’ve found my will to live. I found it in my dream. My dream to protect others.

Ironic, isn’t it? I’m the strongest identity of the Angel, and I get uncontrollably irritated by weakness, yet isn’t it my dream to use my strength to protect the weak?

It’s confusing.

But there is no need for thoughts, not when Anti and his army are coming for the throne.

Anytime now.

The enemy of the world. The scourge of all peace. The Underwater People and the Philosopher Corals.

Yet the true enemy of the world lies above. Protected by the Comfort Zone.

The Gods are cowards.

And if the wings of the Angel are meant to fly us to the heavens, where the so-called Nirvana can be achieved…

Then, as if the black asphalt roads of the City of Sleep were a large mirror, the other side of the reflection, this underground cave…

A cave tinted with the colours of the Soup of Life, where nothing is contained within, except the Lord of Stagnation, sitting on his golden throne…

Dead on the golden throne, the Warm Chair…

And the white box on the pyramid… did I make a mistake?

Relocating the Warm Chair on top of the white box…

In hindsight, I don’t think they’d like it.

But they will understand, won’t they?

After this battle is over, let us all walk free on this world without enemies…

And move forward, towards a brighter future.

Away, and away, from a place I now call home.

 

 

 

Away from this cave of stagnation, Samsara…

 

 

 

---

Event 38. Ninety-five minutes before the story started.

- After Antispirit and Grey Walker descended down the hole in the Tower of Angel –

(Grey Walker. Beautiful Field)

And we’re back.

A picturesque landscape, hidden beneath the plainest Tower. A four-hundred-metre-wide enclosed region, shielded off by Old Walls, and protected by the cave-side through a three-hundred-metre-long layer of Lightless Field, known as the Abyss of Humans.

In the most literal sense, this is what “paradise” would’ve looked like.

Trees. Bushy trees. The greenest shade of green. Flowers of pink, yellow, blue, red. Grass blades that are long and tall and short and wide. Rivers that zigzag and curve through the pebbles, lightly wetting the flora along the way, yet never gushing about.

Surrounded by a seemingly endless forest, literally painted onto the Old Walls. It’s hard to realize, though, when you’re lying on the bed-like pasture, breathing in the freshest, most unpolluted air, as if you become one with the air itself. And the Old Walls that form the ceiling are but the blue skies and immovable clouds, and the hole we descended from is but the still sun.

There are no birds, there are no butterflies, there are no bees or animals or insects or life.

But the People and Corals lazily chitchatting here and about… could they be classified as life?

And they have the book.

The only thing standing in between the Gods, myself, and my purpose, is that book.

“Anti, your words may be encouraging and all, but really, I just need to have that book. It’s what drives me forward. It’s what makes all this… walking, possible.”

Anti smirks. Not in a conniving way. Just… naturally. I mean, I feel as if I understand him even lesser than Dream, but I know that we all want that book.

But really, are we all really just doing this based on Father’s hypothesis that the book will merge with the Lord of Stagnation’s Spine to form the broom?

Not me, though. Seriously? Sweeping the Spine to fulfil one’s dreams? That must certainly be a joke…

But if it’s really that easy… then maybe… maybe I can hopefully prove my hypothesis wrong.

A hypothesis I made. A hypothesis of the purpose of this world.

A hypothesis that if proven true… might result in the very sun that is stagnantly still above us… to set.

A sunset… that may be the sign of this world’s impending doom.

“Walk, my dear, just know that your dream is my dream, and we are going to fulfil your dream, together.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

And the dumb fishes and octopus-beings are screaming at us, from below. Actually, only the fishes.

“Ah, Walk, truly you have yet to fully understood how important your dream is. But it is fine, for you just have to believe in me. Walk, my dear, your dream will mark the beginning of the dream of all.”

What the he-

No, actually, I don’t have time to think about that. I see it. The book.

One of the fish-heads is grabbing onto it with its tortoise-flipper.

“People, you will calm down. There is no point in mocking them with the book. They are but two beings and we are but five hundred. Insults only have a point if we are on the same level as the enemy, not if we are clearly outnumbering them.”

“Bah, who cares?! Motherfuckers are floating in the sky like some dumbfucks! They are definitely pissing in their pants right now! Oh, look at Antispirit, just look at him! His white pants are stained yellow! Ew, motherfucker is gross!”

“People, there is no point to insult the enemy if it is not true. That just makes us look like degenerates.”

“Ah, Underwater People, how do you know that I am pissing my pants? In fact, I’m both pissing and shitting my pants! Your vision is impeccable! Now, since your superiority has reduced this handsome man carrying a lovely woman into a soiled diaper, would you be so kind as to share the book with us? You know, like a bedtime story! Ah, bedtime stories, don’t you love it?”

Damn, what’s even in his head? I don’t know whether to laugh or to cringe.

It’s kind of funny though; a dashingly fine man pissing and shitting his pants. Heh.

But there’s someone watching us.

No, not the People or Corals. No, not Anti.

There’s a being by a fig tree.

Just standing there.

A man. Wearing a pink shirt. With some flowers on it. Some dark-brown shorts. And some sandals.

I’ve seen him before.

His gaze is pointed upwards. Towards us.

Towards me.

And as Anti slowly descends downwards, while being careful not to get too close to the Corals and their Lightless Field-spewing tentacles, I notice the being’s eyes.

Sadness? Regret?

Disappointment.

Disappointment.

I don’t know how Anti is planning to negotiate his way to get the book, but there is no time.

I can’t feel my heart. My vision is blurry.

There is something about this flower-shirted being.

The sun… the sun is going to set...

And what truly unnerves me, is the fact that he did not just “disappear” like his usual appearances. The being is still staying there, watching, unmoving.

“Ah, fellow Underwater People and Philosopher Corals, now that the motherfucker who shat and pissed his pants is within a comfortable speaking distance with you, let us take our time, relax, and enjoy the fruits of life. Time for a cigarette break!”

Fucking hell. There is no time.

I need to move forward.

I release myself from Anti. I plunge downwards.

Into the emptiest sea of this world.

And if I die, so be it.

If my limbs are all torn, so be it.

I will rebirth, stronger than ever.

As I struggle in this sea of colours, I push myself upwards. I look around, as the fishes tear out my lower limbs, one by one.

I don’t need them.

But I need the book.

And amidst the bloodied ground and the vulgar-filled ruckus, I notice something.

The flower-shirted being by the fig tree is gone. Gone with a loud whisper.

 

 

 

“Grey Walker, you ruined the perfect world that I’ve strived so hard to create, so why couldn’t you just die already?!”

 

 

 

---

- Meanwhile -

(“The Grey Spirit” by Grey Mother)

Has my time come, I wonder

my children, who are beyond my dreams

you call yourself siblings, yet I cannot protect you

from the destinies that you have written

a truth that you believe in

inside your brilliant minds, I wonder

to sweep the dust off the Spine of the World

and to break free from your worldly moulds

but however it goes, whenever you visit

I will guard the throne to the Lord

yet, that is what I truly wanted all along

that is why I remain strong, for all of you

a sacrifice, however lonely I may be

so take your time, children, take your time

yet, it would be selfish to call you my children

for we were all from the same Angel, aren’t we

yet I’ve been protecting you all this time

all this while, serving as your strength

your sword and shield, yet I need no recognition

just be safe, and do not be concerned about me

for the Gods are splendid, and now I have seven

the children of the lost, brutalized by this world

my children on the aboveground, siblings in name

do take your time, for I preach in my name

 

“There’s no need for concern, that I may be lonely

if you plan to return, do bring yourself only

and my blade shall in turn, destroy the enemy

and you will then discern, this world’s true tragedy

a house for my children, I have built from the bones

of those damned guilt-ridden, they won’t leave me alone

I’ll keep the door unlocked, for when truth’s set in stone

and when you feel landlocked, there’s a Lord on the throne

 

Meanwhile I’ll be waiting, forever and ever

in this underground cave, Samsara, forever.”

 

 

 

---

- End of Chapter 2: Walk

 

 

 

 

 

***