An Austere Sort of Truth
“Sensory deprivation”. Those two words, innocuous as they might seem,
have come to define this eternity I have spent in here. My only
connection to the outside world is the breathing apparatus that prevents
me from drowning, floating in this tank of pitch-dark water. I have
long since forgotten who I am or why I am being experimented upon, if my
cooperation was willing or coerced, what my past life was and how long I
have been caught in this dreamless sleep.
And yet, here in this limbo, this no-man’s-land between real and unreal, I have never felt more alive. I see him, Niisha, the one who is called Sanity’s Anthesis. The God of Secrets, grasping outwards from the furthest recesses of my mind. Entreating me to join the others.
The others. All those in Human history who have lost feeling, who lost all hope, who came to be dead to this world. Niisha watches over us, gives us purpose. I am ready to reach back and accept his offer. He tells me the day will come when we, The Unfeeling, bleach the universe that bore us of all colour and emotion. In this, the grey between good and evil, nothing and something, we will see truth.
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