Everyone wishes they could change the past.

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Report Log [075]


I've found a window. I'm still backtracking my route (starting back in [049]) and I am not doing that. No, that's wrong -- I turned around and retraced my steps. And yet, my steps are not here -- I left my Down Arrow key on the ground before (as I've said), and I know I've passed along where it should have been.

But do I? This place is... broken. It is a land of twisted time and distorted sky -- the space between the tick and the tock. Space itself snaps and falls into an endless, neverending abyss from which there is no recovery. You could walk with eyes closed and never touch walls; it is only in the viewing of walls that there are walls at all. You walk two steps forward and one step back; you walk into a wall. Rhyme and reason are destroyed, leaving only trial and error. I am caught in the stomach of the leviathan.

I look out the window. I see my reflection in it. I'm wearing my mask. It is a disturbing reality; it is order in anarchy. It is darkness in this light. It is respite in warfare. But outside the window, I see a vast, inhospitable land. There is no life here. There could never be life. It is merely the imitation of life allowed to exist -- there is a hospital, in this world where health is not a priority.


When did it appear? I looked up from the screen and to my right, there was a door. I touched it and it opened; solid paving stones. I am outside.

I'm going to need to check this.
-Achromatic Morality-

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