Rose Blumen ~

(Aïsshean)

I interacted with these shards of memories that continued to twirl along these walls.

And my human end will also likely continue to be repeated by ghosts onward.

Reality is a tapestry in this place in relation to time and erosion. History unfolds, but is also inscribed as it goes.

Things pass, but their marks linger.

A civilizational memory and scientific work is good at reading the past from the marks remaining later.

And here, events also get somewhat memorised in another form. Either as mnemonic patterns from brains, or otherwise as energetic signals, but also as instantaneous prints of situations, likely kept inside these very walls. Like photosensitive materials used to take pictures.

Memory is information. And there is a lot of chaotic and sometimes structured information floating around here. Enough to make me believe this place was built by humans aiming for such purpose, not so long ago.

Because the ways these memories are written and then read as they float through me, sometimes I can read them as naturally as if they had been mine.

I've read these memories of people whom I do not know who preceded me here. It's all blurry and incomplete, but parts still are clear. And it likely means that the ones who will follow will also be able to reach what floats on top of these fluid piles.

Mine.

They will hear my name, see images of my fate, and hear our will of how we worked to save what's left.

They will know from my absurd fate and body, and what's left floating away from my brain, what really lies ahead.

How long will I wait I can't say, and none of these memories carry any defined sensation of time. There is mainly the clue, when the sight is clear, of how different the corridors looked in the past.

Maybe this wasn't made by humans sometimes I think, as I could find no computer to oversee nor tell me more.

The white day changed the world and also this place clearly and entirely.

My odd flesh resolidifies rapidly. I don't exhaust myself trying to control that thing anymore. I just continue to wonder, while I still have a sense of self and abstraction. My body growls, scratching the ground. I'm already so far gone...

I pray my sisters' selection will be wiser. Around here, everything becomes so fluid and very still altogether. This place feels like a bubble out of time, under the glare of this pareidolic eye. I'm gradually melting in its pool of fluid, feeling my mind continuing to fall further.

The burning sensation of the sight of the source lingers for ever.

Its shower and rain over the world may now be milder, but for me it remains still a violent and constant wind to fight after.

This body has found its way to hold against it, but my thoughts from a past life not so old, not much longer.

The shape holds against most effects and feeds on this energy directly, like an early adapted organism. But the more archaic parts from it are bound to shrink and debilitate, until the selection of constant exposure clears this obsolete past of which I come.

It's an unpleasant and lingering sensation of doom and growing dementia. Something will remain, but I as Aïsshean will be gone.

Sooner rather than later, my thoughts won't be mine anymore. They will devolve into random clusters of memories passing by each other and others in these waters.

My new form of brain will read them as if they were mine, indifferently, and my sense of self in continuity will vanish.

I will melt along the memories of this world and place. And so long it lasts, which I can't foresee, this body will carry on, as an incarnation of these floating moments of the present and past, trying to resurrect spontaneously at times.

I'll become a part of something wider but abstract, a concept above us without design to itself but in the source and reason for nearly everything that happened recently.

A poor definition of history or theology.

I had sacrificed all my ambitions the moment I reached the floor up here, if not long before. Unless I still hold them in our will... I'm not so sure anymore...

And it's still a long way to go until I lose all perception of time and reality, but I will erode to this eventually.

I don't know what I'll become, but I won't live forever...

~

The source still and always glows inside my head, like a sun scorching it, blowing its atmosphere away without end. No matter in which direction I turn, I can see it... In the back of my head, it shrinks my mind, sublimating it gradually.

But as much as it feels like this little sun is burning me, I also feel like I'm continuously falling deeper into it. As if this circular shape with radiance was more akin to a tunnel with no discernible end.

I'm falling into that tunnel. That thing may be localised, inside this ship, but now to my dizzy head, it feels the other way around. It feels as I see it anywhere as if it was the only end of a tunnel I was travelling into at relativist speed, and carrying the whole place as well.

It's like I'm seeing the horizon, only it's a round dot instead of a line. It also carries this endless sensation of attraction, like I'm constantly falling through space at great velocity toward it. But since the entire castle is as well as me, the planet itself even maybe; we don't feel it.

These sensory illusions are a puzzling strain, of relativity in front of a physical singularity; or more simply symptoms of my intellectual decay. However fascinating they may be to experience and study.

This sensation of falling through a tunnel that would actually be bigger than everything, bigger than the galaxy itself possibly, for which all we could see is the circular horizon here, it's troubling me.

Only one end, one side to go through. And it's not localised in this castle from this perspective, but nowhere or everywhere. It's only its focal point of symmetry or perspective that we carry in a room below.

Maybe we're only carrying a weird distorting lens, that opened a window to a space we shouldn't have peered into.

Maybe it's a dimensional funnel, that was meant to pour limitless energy for that country, and it was more than they could ever have handled that fell through.

I will likely never quite figure it out myself...

Although that sounds like something the city of the sun out there would have done. I can't find any memory clear enough to conclude either way about the intent or purpose behind this anomaly.

More importantly as I peer into the odd abyss, I feel now a reflection from the infinity, hinting that it's more a perspective illusion than reality.

As if a mirror of unreal dimension was along the world of the horizon, or behind the focal point as a way of a chromatic aberration; I see an imaginary reflection filling the whole of space.

I see some of my thoughts and patterns of thoughts observed and reflected through the well.

And this tunnel to infinity feels there as small as if I was only gazing at a room mirror in our plane.

Just a little mirror.

A mirror studying me as it decayed, as I did the same.

A shade of a being losing itself, mere memory of its past self, trying to bid its time and understand its fate.

I saw the pale thing, inverted from me, as bright as I was turning darker, as undefined as me as we faded.

I saw the reflection of these puzzling sensations of hope and incomprehension, of worry. I peered at a reflection of myself beyond the hole, understanding this odd thing was draining my visions and imagination, reading me and reflecting my memories.

Again, I felt how much my humanity was no more but a faint memory, and my complete merging with these new aspects of reality my current fatality.

I have seen the eye, as it has seen me. And as lost as I was, its reflection was as confused as me.

Sacrificing myself to prevent the next calamity is my decided destiny.

Although now I can't quite say anymore whether this choice was from my own desire, or another decision programmed into me.

I can no longer say confidently what is real, and what past from this place is reflecting itself upon me.

An absolute will from this place might be peering through me, like an omnipotent design or answer from a past now unclear. I can only continue to swim through this sea where I've lost sight of aim and myself.

I will wait patiently, for another Aïsshea to bring the conclusion of my drifting journey eventually.

~