Idiott
Arcane
That dream...
...same thing every night.
But it's all forgotten in the morning, as usual.
Maybe it's for the best...
Only a glimpse of memory will remain, of gates – half-opened, as if inviting me somewhere – with two frozen stone pioneers standing close.
And also that strange girl... who keeps asking me:
Come?
But where...
... and why?
And where am I, anyway?
Of course, if it all would have happened in real life, I would have certainly be scared.
This much is sure!
But this is just a dream. The same one I see every night.
There must be a reason!
You don't have to know where or why to realize: something is really happening.
Something, desperate for my attention.
Since everything that surrounds me here is real!
As real as things in my own flat: I could open the gates, hear the hinges creak, brush the crumbling rust away with my hand, inhale the fresh cool air and shiver from the cold.
I could; but to do that, I would need to pick myself up, make a step, move my hand...
But this is a dream. I understand that, but what of it? What would change my understanding?
Because here it's just like on the other side of the cracking screen of an old TV, which struggles to the fight against static noise and strives to show it's audience everything without missing a single detail.
But the picture is getting blurry... I must be waking up soon.
...
Maybe I should ask her something? The girl.
What's her name...
About the stars, for instance...
Why the stars, though?
I rather ask about the gates! Yes, the gates!
She would be so surprised.
Or better, why dot over i was called a tittle, but dot over j was called a superscript dot?
Nice letters...
As if they don’t exist anymore!
Still, what do letters, gates and stars have to do with this place?
Because if every night I'm having this dream, which will be forgotten soon anyway, I've got to look for answers here and now!
And there, if you look carefully, you can see the Magellanic Clouds...
As if I ended up in the Southern Hemisphere!
...
In a dream, there are the small things that catch the most of your attention: unnatural colour of grass, impossible curves of straight lines or your own distorted reflection – while the real danger, which could put an end to everything right here and now, seems a trifle.
It's natural, since here you cannot die.
I know it for sure – I've done it hundreds of times.
But if you cannot die, is there a point in living?
I should ask the girl. She's a local, she should know.
Yes, exactly! I should ask her about the owl, for example.
One strange bird it is...
Though, it doesn't matter...
...
And every time I have to answer.
It's the only way, otherwise the dream will never end, and I will never wake up.
If he stays here he may keep monologuing...
Every time it's so hard to decide on the answer.
Where am I, what am I doing here, who is she?
And why does so much in my life depend on this answer?
Or maybe it doesn’t?..
It's just a dream after all.
Just a dream...
Sometimes it really did seem to me that it was conscious of itself, had its own thoughts and wishes, ambitions; that it had feelings, could love and suffer.
As if in our relationship, the screen wasn’t an instrument – it was me, lifeless piece of plastic and textolite.
There is some truth in that, probably because the computer provides 90%% of my communication with the outside world.
Anonymous imageboards, some chats from time to time, rarely ICQ or Jabber, and forums even more rarely.
People on the other end of the internet cable simply do not exist!
They are all simply creations of its sick imagination, an error in the source code or a kernel bug, which started living a life of its own.
If one looked at my existence from the side, such thoughts would not seem so mad, and a psychologist would surely give me a bunch of sophisticated diagnoses and maybe write me a doctor's referral to an asylum.
Damn, we look like shit.
I never liked winter. Though hot summer is not my season either.
It’s just that I see no reason to point out any particular time of the year, it does not matter much what weather it is outside since you spend 24/7 at home.
The bus today was running so late, that I was about to curse it all and spend the last few hundreds rubles for a taxi (the idea of returning home didn't cross my mind for some reason).
As usual, millions of thoughts flew through my mind, but there was not a single useful one to seize.
Such thought that you could bring to existence, give it a shape, turn it into an idea and put it into practice.
Maybe I could start my own business? But where would I get the money from?
Or maybe I could go back to working in an office? No, no way!
Maybe I should try freelancing? But what skills do I have? Who needs me after all...
A bus pulled over.
There is something abnormal about it – I thought.
Then again, doesn’t matter: only the '410' runs this route.
Or maybe not sparks, just wakens them...
Because those feelings, they have been living in me for a long time, quelling down and waking up again.
The driver's radio was playing some very familiar tune. But I wasn't listening to it.
I was watching the cars passing by through the fogged up window.
Because people are always rushing somewhere, chasing something they need, stuck in their own little worlds, why would they care about mine?
They probably have their own serious problems; or, maybe, they have much easier lives.
You can't know for sure, since all people are different. Or aren’t they?
Sometimes, someone's actions can easily be predicted, but if you try to look inside his soul you will only see impenetrable darkness.
...
The bus was approaching downtown, and my thoughts were interrupted by the bright city lights.
Hundreds of adboards, thousands of cars, millions of people.
I was watching this light show, and somehow I got terribly sleepy.
At first I didn't pay attention, as I wasn't fully awake yet.
On their own, my legs carried me towards the door.
Damn, looks like I fell asleep and missed my stop!..
But there were no doors…
I've looked around the bus and realized that it wasn't a good old worn-out Marcopolo, instead the bus was the Icarus model, and new!
I was frozen in shock.
~ How?.. What?.. Am I dead?.. ~
Weird. The text in '~' seems to indicate that he is thinking to himself. How is that different from his previous monologue I am not sure. Also, travelling in Icarus certainly makes you wish you were dead.
~ Have I been kidnapped? ~
~ No, I must be dead... ~
I touched my body wildly, slapped myself in the face a few times, struck the back of the front chair with my forehead...
~ It's clear: either I'm still alive, or, being dead, you can still feel the pain. ~
~ But how could all this happen?! ~
~ Maybe I was asleep for too long and ended up in the bus depot. ~
~ And then what, did they put me into another bus?.. ~
Greenery wherever I looked: tall grass on the roadside, trees, flowers...
~ Summer! But how?! It was winter just a moment ago... ~
I had a terrible headache. As if my head was going to explode.
Step by step, I started to recall.
~ I think I was sleeping; but how then can I remember all of it? ~
And then... A gap...
Some girl leaning over me.
She is softly whispering something to my ear.
Then a gap again...
~ Who is that strange girl? ~
~ Or was she just a dream? ~
For some reason thinking about her made me feel better and calmed me down a little. I felt warmth all over, coming from the inside.
~ Could it be her who brought me here? ~
~ Then I need to find her! ~
~ And the best way to look for her is to get away from here. ~
I rushed to the left, then to the right, then stopped hesitating where to go, and finally ran in the direction, where the bus probably came from
Physical exercise does refresh one's mind. Thoughts become clearer, and it gets a little easier to evaluate the surrounding reality.
Not in my case however – I was sitting on the roadside, wheezing and trying to ease my sore throat by gulping hot air.
In any case, the run did its work: the fear withdrew for a while.
~ Maybe I'm really just dreaming?.. ~
Though after recalling my self-harm, I immediately rejected the idea.
I am neither dreaming nor dead...
A narrow road was running through the field and far into the distance. That exact road from my dream.
I must be very far away from home.
And it is not that it was winter yesterday and it is complete summer now.
It is about the environment.
~ Of course, the summer is usually like that: green and hot; but here everything is not just like in real life. ~
Everything looks like it was taken from the paintings of Russian landscape artists of the XIX century.
The grass is just too lush; the bushes are not like what bushes should be, they are so thick that you can't see anything through them, like treetops, honestly...
And the trees themselves... The forest was quite far away, but the trees looked as if they had closed their even ranks and were now just waiting for an order to advance into the fields and plains.
I caught my breath and looked at the bus, which was now barely visible.
~ That was a good run... ~
Fear took over me once again.
~And those power lines... There must be people here! ~
But what does it mean?
In fact, that means nothing at all! Even hell can have power lines?
Baking and roasting the sinners is too old-fashioned...
I must have reached the point of no return, after which you should either lose your mind completely or finally try to understand what is going on.
~ And while I still have the choice, I should rather pick the second option! ~
I slowly headed back to the bus.
~ Of course, it was frightening. ~
~ But I'm not likely to find an answer in the fields or the woods, and this wretched bucket of screws is the only kind of link that I have with the real world. ~
...
Is that a statue of kid drinking a beer?
The trip's taking a bit too long today.
I smirked.
A person may start acting inadequately in extreme situations.
~ Something like is probably happening to me now. ~
This place didn't look abandoned at all – no rust on the gates, no damage to the walls.
'Sovionok'...
~ What could have a name like that? ~
~ Judging by the pioneer statues, it could be a kids summer camp. And this camp seems to be working! ~
~ Of course, the simplest explanation, logically, explains nothing at all. ~
~ The strange girl, the altered bus, summer, the pioneer camp... ~
Thousands of theories went through my mind instantly: from alien abduction to lethargic sleep, from hallucination to time and space shift...
None was worse than the other, but there was really no way to pick a single one.
Then it all came to me: I can try to make a phone call!
I took out my cellphone and dialed the first number from my contact list.
But instead of signal strength bars, the screen was showing a thick cross.
~ All right, there may be no signal in such backward country place. ~
~ Though I cannot be the only who got here! ~
~ Buses don't go on their own! ~
Bits of dirt on the bottom, some rust here and there, faded out paint and worn out tires: no, this is definitely a very ordinary 'Icarus'.
~ Yeah, exactly the kind of bus, which takes you to places beyond your understanding if you carelessly fall asleep. ~
I gave a nervous chuckle.
It came out by itself, sporadically. Because it wasn't a right place or time to laugh...
~ But where on earth is the driver? ~
I cautiously sat down on the curbstone beside the bus and started waiting.
...
My patience didn't last long.
My anxiety seemed to have reached the top, and I started going slightly mad.
In such situation, anyone would have probably felt something similar.
Aliens and parallel universes were gone from my imagination, leaving only void and darkness.
~ Is this how it will all end? How my life will end? ~
~ But I wanted to do so much, so many things that I had no time for yet... ~
All this porn won't watch itself!
I was taken over by the idea: that was definitely the end.
~ But why?! ~
~ It's not fair! Surely I'm no worse than anyone! ~
~ God, why?.. ~
Tears were burning my eyes unbearably, I curled up and started rolling in the grass.
WHY?! WHAT DID I DO?! WHY ME?!
But my outcries were only heard by speechless statues of pioneers and by a bird on a tree, which immediately flapped her wings and took off, having cried something in its own bird language, as if laughing at the idiot who dared to interrupt its after-dinner nap.
At last I was breathless with my weeping, and just laid quietly, sobbing from time to time.
...
After a while, I managed to pull myself together.
Mind cleared up a bit, as if terror and the fear of death gave me a little break.
~ All in all, if someone wanted to kill me, what is all this for? ~
~ Doesn't look like an experiment either. ~
~ If this is some crazy coincidence then it probably carries no threat. ~
~ Anyway, for now, it seems there is no danger. ~
The panic was soon gone.
Of course, the blood was still pounding in my head, and my hands were still shaking, but at least I could think clearly now.
~ Right now, there is nothing I can really change anyway! So, no matter how much I think or get mad, it would only make things worse. ~
~ There's no point making guesses until I get some facts straight. ~
~ In any case, I won't learn anything by lounging about here. ~
A girl came out from behind them...
...same thing every night.
But it's all forgotten in the morning, as usual.
Maybe it's for the best...
Only a glimpse of memory will remain, of gates – half-opened, as if inviting me somewhere – with two frozen stone pioneers standing close.
And also that strange girl... who keeps asking me:
Come?
But where...
... and why?
And where am I, anyway?
Of course, if it all would have happened in real life, I would have certainly be scared.
This much is sure!
But this is just a dream. The same one I see every night.
There must be a reason!
You don't have to know where or why to realize: something is really happening.
Something, desperate for my attention.
Since everything that surrounds me here is real!
As real as things in my own flat: I could open the gates, hear the hinges creak, brush the crumbling rust away with my hand, inhale the fresh cool air and shiver from the cold.
I could; but to do that, I would need to pick myself up, make a step, move my hand...
But this is a dream. I understand that, but what of it? What would change my understanding?
Because here it's just like on the other side of the cracking screen of an old TV, which struggles to the fight against static noise and strives to show it's audience everything without missing a single detail.
But the picture is getting blurry... I must be waking up soon.
...
Maybe I should ask her something? The girl.
What's her name...
About the stars, for instance...
Why the stars, though?
I rather ask about the gates! Yes, the gates!
She would be so surprised.
Or better, why dot over i was called a tittle, but dot over j was called a superscript dot?
Nice letters...
As if they don’t exist anymore!
Still, what do letters, gates and stars have to do with this place?
Because if every night I'm having this dream, which will be forgotten soon anyway, I've got to look for answers here and now!
And there, if you look carefully, you can see the Magellanic Clouds...
As if I ended up in the Southern Hemisphere!
...
In a dream, there are the small things that catch the most of your attention: unnatural colour of grass, impossible curves of straight lines or your own distorted reflection – while the real danger, which could put an end to everything right here and now, seems a trifle.
It's natural, since here you cannot die.
I know it for sure – I've done it hundreds of times.
But if you cannot die, is there a point in living?
I should ask the girl. She's a local, she should know.
Yes, exactly! I should ask her about the owl, for example.
One strange bird it is...
Though, it doesn't matter...
...
And every time I have to answer.
It's the only way, otherwise the dream will never end, and I will never wake up.
Every time it's so hard to decide on the answer.
Where am I, what am I doing here, who is she?
And why does so much in my life depend on this answer?
Or maybe it doesn’t?..
It's just a dream after all.
Just a dream...
Sometimes it really did seem to me that it was conscious of itself, had its own thoughts and wishes, ambitions; that it had feelings, could love and suffer.
As if in our relationship, the screen wasn’t an instrument – it was me, lifeless piece of plastic and textolite.
There is some truth in that, probably because the computer provides 90%% of my communication with the outside world.
Anonymous imageboards, some chats from time to time, rarely ICQ or Jabber, and forums even more rarely.
People on the other end of the internet cable simply do not exist!
They are all simply creations of its sick imagination, an error in the source code or a kernel bug, which started living a life of its own.
If one looked at my existence from the side, such thoughts would not seem so mad, and a psychologist would surely give me a bunch of sophisticated diagnoses and maybe write me a doctor's referral to an asylum.
I never liked winter. Though hot summer is not my season either.
It’s just that I see no reason to point out any particular time of the year, it does not matter much what weather it is outside since you spend 24/7 at home.
The bus today was running so late, that I was about to curse it all and spend the last few hundreds rubles for a taxi (the idea of returning home didn't cross my mind for some reason).
As usual, millions of thoughts flew through my mind, but there was not a single useful one to seize.
Such thought that you could bring to existence, give it a shape, turn it into an idea and put it into practice.
Maybe I could start my own business? But where would I get the money from?
Or maybe I could go back to working in an office? No, no way!
Maybe I should try freelancing? But what skills do I have? Who needs me after all...
A bus pulled over.
There is something abnormal about it – I thought.
Then again, doesn’t matter: only the '410' runs this route.
Or maybe not sparks, just wakens them...
Because those feelings, they have been living in me for a long time, quelling down and waking up again.
The driver's radio was playing some very familiar tune. But I wasn't listening to it.
I was watching the cars passing by through the fogged up window.
Because people are always rushing somewhere, chasing something they need, stuck in their own little worlds, why would they care about mine?
They probably have their own serious problems; or, maybe, they have much easier lives.
You can't know for sure, since all people are different. Or aren’t they?
Sometimes, someone's actions can easily be predicted, but if you try to look inside his soul you will only see impenetrable darkness.
...
The bus was approaching downtown, and my thoughts were interrupted by the bright city lights.
Hundreds of adboards, thousands of cars, millions of people.
I was watching this light show, and somehow I got terribly sleepy.
At first I didn't pay attention, as I wasn't fully awake yet.
On their own, my legs carried me towards the door.
But there were no doors…
I've looked around the bus and realized that it wasn't a good old worn-out Marcopolo, instead the bus was the Icarus model, and new!
I was frozen in shock.
~ How?.. What?.. Am I dead?.. ~
~ Have I been kidnapped? ~
~ No, I must be dead... ~
I touched my body wildly, slapped myself in the face a few times, struck the back of the front chair with my forehead...
~ It's clear: either I'm still alive, or, being dead, you can still feel the pain. ~
~ But how could all this happen?! ~
~ Maybe I was asleep for too long and ended up in the bus depot. ~
~ And then what, did they put me into another bus?.. ~
Greenery wherever I looked: tall grass on the roadside, trees, flowers...
~ Summer! But how?! It was winter just a moment ago... ~
I had a terrible headache. As if my head was going to explode.
Step by step, I started to recall.
~ I think I was sleeping; but how then can I remember all of it? ~
And then... A gap...
Some girl leaning over me.
She is softly whispering something to my ear.
Then a gap again...
~ Who is that strange girl? ~
~ Or was she just a dream? ~
For some reason thinking about her made me feel better and calmed me down a little. I felt warmth all over, coming from the inside.
~ Could it be her who brought me here? ~
~ Then I need to find her! ~
~ And the best way to look for her is to get away from here. ~
I rushed to the left, then to the right, then stopped hesitating where to go, and finally ran in the direction, where the bus probably came from
Physical exercise does refresh one's mind. Thoughts become clearer, and it gets a little easier to evaluate the surrounding reality.
Not in my case however – I was sitting on the roadside, wheezing and trying to ease my sore throat by gulping hot air.
In any case, the run did its work: the fear withdrew for a while.
~ Maybe I'm really just dreaming?.. ~
Though after recalling my self-harm, I immediately rejected the idea.
A narrow road was running through the field and far into the distance. That exact road from my dream.
And it is not that it was winter yesterday and it is complete summer now.
It is about the environment.
~ Of course, the summer is usually like that: green and hot; but here everything is not just like in real life. ~
Everything looks like it was taken from the paintings of Russian landscape artists of the XIX century.
The grass is just too lush; the bushes are not like what bushes should be, they are so thick that you can't see anything through them, like treetops, honestly...
And the trees themselves... The forest was quite far away, but the trees looked as if they had closed their even ranks and were now just waiting for an order to advance into the fields and plains.
I caught my breath and looked at the bus, which was now barely visible.
~ That was a good run... ~
Fear took over me once again.
~And those power lines... There must be people here! ~
But what does it mean?
In fact, that means nothing at all! Even hell can have power lines?
Baking and roasting the sinners is too old-fashioned...
I must have reached the point of no return, after which you should either lose your mind completely or finally try to understand what is going on.
~ And while I still have the choice, I should rather pick the second option! ~
I slowly headed back to the bus.
~ Of course, it was frightening. ~
~ But I'm not likely to find an answer in the fields or the woods, and this wretched bucket of screws is the only kind of link that I have with the real world. ~
...
I smirked.
A person may start acting inadequately in extreme situations.
~ Something like is probably happening to me now. ~
This place didn't look abandoned at all – no rust on the gates, no damage to the walls.
~ What could have a name like that? ~
~ Judging by the pioneer statues, it could be a kids summer camp. And this camp seems to be working! ~
~ Of course, the simplest explanation, logically, explains nothing at all. ~
~ The strange girl, the altered bus, summer, the pioneer camp... ~
Thousands of theories went through my mind instantly: from alien abduction to lethargic sleep, from hallucination to time and space shift...
None was worse than the other, but there was really no way to pick a single one.
Then it all came to me: I can try to make a phone call!
I took out my cellphone and dialed the first number from my contact list.
But instead of signal strength bars, the screen was showing a thick cross.
~ All right, there may be no signal in such backward country place. ~
~ Though I cannot be the only who got here! ~
~ Buses don't go on their own! ~
Bits of dirt on the bottom, some rust here and there, faded out paint and worn out tires: no, this is definitely a very ordinary 'Icarus'.
~ Yeah, exactly the kind of bus, which takes you to places beyond your understanding if you carelessly fall asleep. ~
I gave a nervous chuckle.
It came out by itself, sporadically. Because it wasn't a right place or time to laugh...
~ But where on earth is the driver? ~
I cautiously sat down on the curbstone beside the bus and started waiting.
...
My patience didn't last long.
My anxiety seemed to have reached the top, and I started going slightly mad.
In such situation, anyone would have probably felt something similar.
Aliens and parallel universes were gone from my imagination, leaving only void and darkness.
~ Is this how it will all end? How my life will end? ~
~ But I wanted to do so much, so many things that I had no time for yet... ~
I was taken over by the idea: that was definitely the end.
~ But why?! ~
~ It's not fair! Surely I'm no worse than anyone! ~
~ God, why?.. ~
Tears were burning my eyes unbearably, I curled up and started rolling in the grass.
But my outcries were only heard by speechless statues of pioneers and by a bird on a tree, which immediately flapped her wings and took off, having cried something in its own bird language, as if laughing at the idiot who dared to interrupt its after-dinner nap.
At last I was breathless with my weeping, and just laid quietly, sobbing from time to time.
...
After a while, I managed to pull myself together.
Mind cleared up a bit, as if terror and the fear of death gave me a little break.
~ All in all, if someone wanted to kill me, what is all this for? ~
~ Doesn't look like an experiment either. ~
~ If this is some crazy coincidence then it probably carries no threat. ~
~ Anyway, for now, it seems there is no danger. ~
The panic was soon gone.
Of course, the blood was still pounding in my head, and my hands were still shaking, but at least I could think clearly now.
~ Right now, there is nothing I can really change anyway! So, no matter how much I think or get mad, it would only make things worse. ~
~ There's no point making guesses until I get some facts straight. ~
~ In any case, I won't learn anything by lounging about here. ~
A girl came out from behind them...
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