Act 0.1: Procedure Protergonesis

  ~ Uroju?sha Akyvourax’s & Vrhcyron Actuongual’s Style ~

  . . .Fluctuating. . . alternating. . . regulating… The tearing magma-like debris showered endlessly—hissing, sizzling, and fizzling my inky-burnt feathers quivering to control itself alowe. That the ceaseless palpitation beating the ticks and breaths away, spurred my consciousness against this pervading miasma.

  That urgency, fueled my heart ablaze from the clawing hypoxia, twinge and fatigue—further stimulates a rush of adrenaline that slows the scenery at a snail’s pace. Hence I quickened as raptor-ously nimble as I could, gleaming at the faint azure hope ahead.

  So I engraved my talons into the floorboards, then pounced head foremost into the sealed grid window… Crash! My antlers shattered the glass, and I plummeted down from gravity, feeling the friction shedding my orange feathers to dwindle away.

  Readily from driven instinct, I unfurl my wings, however. It never altered the speeding descent in my turmoil, that frantically, my arms thrash in the air as my dilated pupils searched and searched. Without registering what’d transpire, I crash into a branch and decelerate onto the miry grass.

  Arising weakly, I limped away with hyperventilated breaths. I couldn’t regulate my sanity nor emotions to descend, that an uneasy premonition still crept in my rationality…

  Boom! A searing, scorching resonance flourish, and my legs collapse forward from the once dampen pain—now an excruciating anguish splitting my veins. Shakily, I reached out high at the now deep-red sky, which ultimately, began blurring my vision towards a hazy darkness…

  ??(O)?(O)??

  . . .Bang, a strong force wacks me, jolting a clarity into my consciousness. But an overhanging-dazzling light blurred my vision, so I tried to cover my eyes from reflex, yet I couldn’t move.

  Which, at attention, something zooms in my view’s composition, like an intense suction force zipping me through a quantum stream. There, which frazzled and dazzled the static dissonance—frizzles the voices away, replacing it with white noise that swishes within.

  Thus the integrated scenery shown, is an arborescent athenaeum far reaching its archway-like branches that are sectioned-off by genrefication. Wherefore at the view’s middle shot, gleams an elliptical-like circulation desk at the tree’s centre, whence lounge a slim dragon-like entity off-by the side perusing a book.

  His or hers, or whatever chimeric scales brim a silver and obsidian hue cleave from the centre: silver at the left and obsidian at the right. Moreover, their sharp-protruded scale patterns display circular spirals down their forehead to body; whilst their two triquetra horns gleamed in a arch, branched off into multiple points like a Lupastal’s antlers, yet only their right horn shone hieroglyphic-like symbols.

  Once their oval-shaped snake-head turned to face the camera’s forefront, their left emerald flora-shaped pupil locked gaze with mines, whilst their right ornately golden dragon mask’s vacant slit made me shudder instinctively.

  “A change in pace doesn’t hurt,” the Dragon’s mellifluous voice reverberated: “Welcome newest guest. You’re dead.”

  My heart flinched, yet their monotonic bluntness prompted my laughter to burst.

  “That’s fair,” they yawned, unveiling their white trenchant fangs. “You may address me as Kyvourax. . . and~ you’re not dead, unfortunately… Surely this will cheer archetypical fables alike.”

  Calming myself down, I inquired: “What are you alluding to?”

  “It’s nothing, simply a digression. So let us chat or peruse a book— nah~ let us simply chat,” Kyvourax said paradoxically.

  Henceforth in quick session, an ovate pentamerous leaf was snatched into Kyvourax’s maw, glittering their ankh patterns to burst with light: then they vomited out a biophilic book onto their desk.

  I stared at that book with wonder, yet a crept-up agitation surged inside… Swoosh! Kyvourax cradles the book, further proliferating the shrubbery around the crevices.

  “That’s right. I literally mentioned about your restrictions, how shameless… Want me to read it aloud? It’d be a nice lesson for a parasitic leech like you.”

  “That analogy is awful,” I sighed, irked by their sarcastic quip: “Just— tell me what’s going on?”

  “Uh-huh, there’s no issues,” said Kyvourax while skimming through the book. “Well in short, I don’t know. It’s not in my job résumé to handle those kinds of affairs. But, I can advocate for someone else in my stead.”

  Then silence prevailed amongst the constant sounds of ambianic chirps, gushes, clicks, and strings around us. Yet, only the constant page flipping rattled my turmoil, conditioning out the most undesirable annoyance ever.

  With a cough, I queried skeptically: “Then is this library excluded from your 'expertise'?”

  In response, they close their book and say, “Fair. Yet let's keep that irrelevancy short. It’s simply a system that recreates stories for those with 'life', or what they labeled those with 'souls'.”

  “So like limbo?” I muttered from nostalgia, and a curious urge bubbled inside me: “Can that include my dad’s, or even my sister’s story?”

  Yet, their mask’s singular slit glowed a ruby red. “Is it worth your so-called altruistic, radical worries?” Kyvourax scoffed, his attention still elsewhere. “Perhaps, those soft-hearted herbikrots should be taking notes on your earlier 'don’t care, and don’t give a shit' sentiment; it’d be the 'best' for everyone’s interests.”

  “It is worth my time!” I halted, “nevermind. There’s no point…”

  In that instance, Kyvourax’s phantasmic tail swishes to sat down an ultramodern book from their personal selection, nudging a cylindrical lil-black bot in command:

  “I can’t blame you for your earlier cowardice. . . or by subconscious desire, your 'comfortable alternatives',” they added. “By that meantime, the perceived illusion would’ve reinforced that coping heart of yours. Then what incentive greed will you do for our future? Or. . . for your family’s future?”

  “Would you. Shut the fuck up!” I yelled my projected ire, still trying to repress my shame.

  Hence the encroaching mist, senesces the tree’s leaves and shrubbery. “You asked, so I answered. What exactly were you expecting? Something fulfilling for your 'weak', 'tender-heart' to cling upon. . . or is it to find your so-called closure? Yet what closure is there if you can’t even walk but talk and think about it every, single, day.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  With further tension, only the sound of skirts flowed. So once the lil-bot supports up the book to face me—the pages flip, then it ruptures forth a bright-orange ray of light. To which tugged on my neurons to warp an intolerable instability, by distorting forth my consciousness through an endless fractal.

  However, their last superpositioned sentence echoed into fragmented-distorted cacophonies, oscillating until each syllable were woven together into clear coherent words:

  “We were too late… I can’t—I can’t bear seeing Vanik suffer because of those gosh dangity-damn political wannabes! Father. . . are you able to fix him?”

  A faint sigh echoed, “As long as the Attorney General doesn’t investigate us thoroughly, then we’re all ready to fly.”

  ????\/????

  . . .As the continuous bright light fades, my vision begins to clear once again… There sitting beside the hospital bed is an ectomorphic golden-furred Lupastal. However, his distinct horn shape reminded me of Kyvourax’s, except they bore bright-blue sigils at both sides.

  “Congratulations on your fifty-six percent completed Alteration,” declared the disheval Lupastal.

  Yet simultaneously a constant clanking speedily approaches, which a metallic-white lizard-like synthoid peeked from the left blue curtain; their mint-green diode-lights forming a sparkly expression.

  He pushes the trolley cart in as he winks and thumbs-up the scientist, before installing himself down.

  “Hey~ Vanik. It’s Silverius here. . . in his new shiny knight’s armor,” he said with a grin.

  My heart leapt from remembrance, yet my gaze wandered around him and his unrecognisable black lab coat’s decoration to company brand, that his head began lowering… Therefore, both the bed’s sides conjoin a table whilst multiple cambros arrived in an orderly fashion.

  “Aquatic, insect, lab-grown, or vegetarian meat?” Queried Silverius with enthusiasm, “Wait. . .” he projects a hologram, but the scientist wisps it away.

  “No need to be systematic,” said the Lupastal who wrapped his arm around Silverius’s neck; gesturing at me, they walked through the sliding door to have a one-on-one confab… Hence shortly afterwards, a short beep emits, which the sliding door closes as Silverius slouches back into his rolly chair:

  “Those clients–” he sighed while shaking his head, then his mood swings him to look at me contentedly, waiting with anticipation.

  So absentmindedly grabbing the fork, it slips through my nebulous claws like butter. Instinctively with precision, I snatched it mid-air that sharp-inconsistent decibels clanged.

  Swerving my attention at Silverius who’s scrawling on a post-it note briskly—lifts up his angular snout from my stare.

  “Uncomfortable? I can leave if you want,” Silverius said.

  “Please don’t!” My ephemeral vocals rose, yet I froze, then controlled it: “I’m sorry…”

  “Sorry for~ taking my very 'limited' time? Sheesh c’mon, where’s yer 'howdy' greeting? It’s not the same without it,” he joked playfully, that he wheels over his chair in a familiar manner.

  “This feels surreal…” I sighed while pushing aside the cambros.

  “Surreal hmm?” he sat a pen and blank sheet at the table: “Now that takes me back to when you used to send me personal poetry. You’ll even write your own word salad into them too.”

  “I guess those are nice memories: I’m jealous.” I replied, assessing my dexterity with the graphite pen.

  He sets his metallic claw on my shoulder while he sways the other, “I’m envious of yours as well. You just overthink and don’t acknowledge your own specialness, and I partially blame that on the UCC.”

  “Mm-hmm,” I shrugged, dawdling in a few strokes. “So how can you be sure I’m not bind by this unreality?”

  Silverius paused from my rhetoric before declaring, “I promise you’re not…? Your information is undocumented and—”

  “Doesn’t that clarify that I’m dissociated to what I’m perceived as?” I interrupted, sketching faster: “By the way, it wasn’t a question.”

  Responsively, Silverius expelled a sigh: “What do you expect?” He crossed his arms, peering at my sketch. Then with a twirl of his pen, he was about to draw, yet he halted, so I slid our paper right across.

  Initially, our sketches were drawn separate, tacitly unifying as we—bit by bit—entwine the memories lost in time. Which flowed our lines to illustrate Arborville, commemorating the deceased aspirations from erst.

  Yet, Silverius spelt the following words: Do you want more freedom?

  Which I shifted my gaze to Silverius who’s staring-off with impassiveness, until his diode-lights flickers into a silly grin.

  I tilted my head and subconsciously wrote down: I’ve always dreamed it.

  Whence at forth, the walls, curtains, decorative plants, and even cambros all converge into a voracious whiteness devouring everything up. However, Silverius, the hospital bed, and me were all left behind inside this desolate whiteness.

  There’s no ambiance nor sound, only the warm soft sensation from the blankets coating me. Which abnormally, invoked this sensation that I can’t phrase it out. . . it’s both apathy and compassion.

  So absentmindedly, I dilly daddled for like the umpteenth time, before finally mustering out my curiosity: “What’s your intention? I paused, “it makes no sense. . . even after eleven whole years, I thought that you’d aban— moved on with your life.”

  I stopped to gaze at Silverius’s unlit expression, no emotions I could perceive, yet a frantic jolt masked his profundity: “Y’know I wouldn’t break my promises–” he said with mild shame “–even if I had no control… It’s cool if you are frustrated—”

  “Why would I be frustrated!? I’m— only frustrated at myself… For I never wanted you or anyone to get involved with my life: after it’s been so long. I’m precisely a no one who lacks a specialisation unlike you or those talented folks.” I interjected, sluggishly removing the layers upon layers of ceaseless blankets.

  Then I exhaled out a deep breath, looking up to say, “I’ve never understood their fight for this 'interest'. Even my own, or the lack thereof… It makes no sense.”

  Thereby a subtle breeze bristled the blanket, and the churning skybox coloring itself a gradient violet-blue, constellating stars above us. Henceforth the temperate particles from the midst of night, traverse around us in sync to the ocean lights.

  So Silverius, who stood quietly, now ruffled my 'feathers' and said: “You are specialized, specialized at being beautifully eloquent. As I feel, we share similarities itching to break free from those constraints. That’s why our servers simulate Everything Else.”

  “What do you mean by 'Everything Else'?”

  “It’s unity,” he declared. Gazing off at the luminescent particles coagulating, before splitting asunder into multiple organisms towards the land and sea. Which Silverius’s tail oscillates slower, his diode-lights crimsonising as his palm brushes against the now sprouted white trumpet flowers:

  “I never had a core-opportunity nor 'fight' like those folks you mentioned… Yet that bothers me,” Silverius voice trails off, his red glint reverting back as he contemplates.

  Then he springs up, “What’s your other inquiry?” he asked, his synthesised voice fluctuating back to its usual joyful tone.

  I didn’t answer, dawdling to think. But during my hesitation, Silverius materialised a green holographic keyboard and typed away.

  Thereby swiping a few times, caused multiple holographic diagnostics to digitise. Then he drags each graph to embed, before playfully flicking confirm. At which reactively, a pillar of quantum resonance neonifies up towards the sky.

  “Alright,” said Silverius with a clap. “Now let’s get back on—”

  “Can we stop?” I interrupted.

  “Stop?” repeated Silverius, his expression now pacified. “I understand. I’ll lend you your privileges.”

  Gradually walking up to me, he closes his eyes; therefore he holds me in a tight embrace as he nuzzles in. “I’m sorry as well…” He whispered with a nuance.