WayFarLost
Bluelighter
Something I've been working on... I just want to know what other people think, of my thoughts. If that isn't strange?
He awokened outside, in a manner typical of his species. A quick stretch, a yawn, a few scratches of the chest and stood up. A man maybe in his late forties, his custom tailored suit now a heap of rags strewn upon him, his velvety black italian leather dress shoes now something a cliche fisherman might snag on his line.
"Welcome, welcome newcomer! We havn't seen someone the likes of you in ohhh... I'd say about seventy years or so. It truly is nice to see an original face again."
"Shut the fuck up old man. Where am I?"
"Why my old friend, you are at The Construct! Marvelous, isn't it? We, or I should say I, have been watching you for some time."
"Oh? So then you know I have an extremely important meeting I have to get to. I don't have time for any of this fucking nonsense."
"No no no, there is no nonsense here my old friend, I can assure you of that. But if you wish to leave I'm afraid we must traverse through The Construct. It is the only way out, I'm afraid." The old man turned, and headed for the entrance.
"Ugh, this is going to be one shitty day." He started walking and was soon entering the building next to the old man. "You mind telling me how my clothes got so fuuu-" He paused, dumbfounded. "What in Gods name is all of this?" He stood before an enormous and extravagantly decorated room. With only one door at the far end, and a complex series of gears and pulleys decorating the ceiling.
"The Construct! Marvelous, isn't it?" The old man smiled, thought for a moment. "I'm afraid I couldn't tell you what it is in Gods name however, she never seems to visit."
"God is a man you dumb prick. Now just get me out of here." A look of impatient anger growing upon his face.
"Oh yes, yes ofcourse, right this way. Through the first door. I've heard of your upcoming business deal, it seems it would be rather.... unfair? Wouldn't you agree? To most of the people having no say in the matter."
"It's their fault for being born in the wrong country, so fuck 'em" The man headed for the first door, turned the handle, and found it to be locked. "Open up the door old man."
"I'm afraid I can't, only guests may open doors here. I know the keys to opening them however. For this door in particular, all you must say is 'please' and it shall open."
"What? Are you fucking kidding me old man? You expect me to ask the door to 'please open'? You're full of fucking shit." He tried the door again in anger, and found it be unlocked.
The old man began laughing quietly and spoke "The Construct. Marvelous, isn't it? You are already getting the hang of it I see. Oh yes. Yes, yes I see that you are." The old man followed him into the room, and stood silently with him for a moment at the entrance.
"Birds?" The only word he could muster.
"Oh yes, the birds. I've always loved the birds, perhaps too much." The old man whistled a bird call, and one of them flew delicately up and landed on his finger. "This one I like to call Jeffrey, but he doesn't like the name, do you Jeffrey?" The bird let out two short whistles, and the old man flung the bird back into the swirling mass of avian entropy circling the room.
"Why do you keep so many birds old man? I thought this was a factory of some sort."
"A factory... No, well yes. It is a close definition. But it is The Construct. Marvelous, isn't it? It's name defines its purpose.... better than simply just calling it a 'factory'." He started walking across the room, towards the next door. "Watch your step, there is a fair amount of feces on the floor." He mumbled something about a janitor always being late for work, as the younger man walked with him towards the door.
"You still havn't told me why you keep these birds in here." He said, while carelessly letting his tattered shoes get covered in bird droppings.
"Oh the birds, yes. Well, you see..." He paused, stopped walking. "These poor birds. I can't say I don't truly weep for them. They fly around the ceiling in a circle to turn a turbine, when it has been turned enough a large supply of food falls to the ground for them. They only ever stop flying or eating when they die, and fall to the floor. Then they are used to feed the other animals."
"Other animals? What other animals do you keep locked in this place?"
"Oh you shall see soon enough." Said the old man, continuing the long walk to the next door.
"But, you said they only ever stop flying to eat. I'm no bird expert but shouldn't they need to breed at some point or else you will run out?"
The old man chuckled. "No no, ofcourse not. The birds know they have no time for such things. And besides, there are always more birds out there. Always. They should know they would be better off in the wild, where they belong, but there always seems to be a constant influx of them entering The Construct. Marvelous, isn't it? Those poor birds."
By now they had reached the next door. The younger man asked, "Allright now tell me whatever bullshit I need to say to get this door opened."
"For this one, it is a simple key. You must simply tell the door 'thank you' for being such a nice door." The old man stood their smiling blankly at him.
He stood for a moment, rubbed his forhead and said "Thank you." He tried the handle, the door opened, and they both entered.
"Ah, good good. Yes I've been needing a break, haven't you?" Said the old man as he sat himself upon a red velvet lounge chair of almost obscene extravagance.
"What's this room for?"
"Why, it is a waiting room my good friend. Come and sit with me."
He sat himself upon an almost exactly similar chair, the only difference it being purple. "And what's the purpose of this room?"
"To wait. Ofcourse." The old man let out a great laugh. "The next room is not ready. The janitor, you see. It's always the janitor. He is still preparing it."
"Preparing it for what?"
"For... guests? I suppose. I wouldn't know. We don't speak the same language."
"Yea, neither does mine." He decided to look around him. To his great amazement, next to him was a small table. On top of which were his favorite brand of cigars, and his personal engraved lighter. Without question or thought he began smoking.
"Some people say waiting is a burden. I rather enjoy it, don't you? Yes, yes I can see that you do. It seems as if it were such a hassle, such a laborious chore for those of less wisdom and age. Why, most of them couldn't go for more than six hours without needing something to do. Such people could never appreciate the value of a moment. Wouldn't you agree?"
He ashed on the floor. "So how do we know when the next room is ready?"
"The door will be unlocked. The Construct. Marvelous, isn't it? Why don't you try the handle, you never know."
He got up, slowly, tried the handle. It didn't turn. He sat back down. "Locked"
"Oh darn. Well enjoy yourself while you're here." He wafted his hand through the air. "You will find this room has anything you can desire."
"Then where's the fucking whores?"
Another great laugh from the now almost sleeping old man. "Oh, I have tried. This room can't make lifeforms come out of thin air, only things. One man got his cat once, however. Marvelous. Is there any whore you admire as deeply as a cat?"
The man joined in on the laughter. "I know one named kitty."
"Why, I don't beleive that's quite enough." Chuckled the old man. "Try the handle again, you never know. From what I understood it should be soon. Yes, yes quite soon"
The handle turned. He walked through, with the old man immediantly behind him.
"Fish?"
"Yes, yes I rather like the fish. Perhaps not enough." He dangled his fingers in the nearby water. "This one I call David. He loves his name, right David?"
An almost six foot fish jumped out of the water as high as he could. The fish was badly hurt. Missing most of its scales and some flesh down to it's bone.
"What the hell happened to David?"
"Oh, yes. Well. I. These poor fish. Their food only comes out in those smaller pools over there." He pointed down the room and started walking over. "It contains a mild acid. It produces food for the fish, so they can live."
"And how do you keep getting more fish?"
"Oh they never die, other than old age ofcourse. Fish don't even feel pain, every good fisherman knows that. They are fine with their life. And always more coming in, yes."
"I just want to get out of here, can we go now. Please?"
"Oh allright. Why such the hurry though?" They continued the walk to the other door.
"I just want to see my wife again."
"Oh, how is she doing?"
"She's fine."
"That's good to hear. And your kids?"
"Also fine."
"Good, good. Yes."
They finally reached the door. By the smaller pools of grayish reddish water.
"How do I get this one open?"
"Oh, haha. Yes this is a simple one."
The man stood there waiting. "What do I have to say to open it?"
"Haha. I just told you." The old man continued laughing. "You must laugh for the door to open. You must know a funny joke? Remember something hilarious that has happened to you?"
He suddenly remembered how very little humor there was in his life. And laughed at the irony.
"Very good." He smiled. "Let's get going, shall we?"
He entered the room. "Why the fuck do you have a jungle indoors?"
He scratched his head. "To be quite honest, I don't know." He started walking along the path to the other door. Roughly five feet of paved walkway.
"So what's living in here?"
"Nothing. Plants though, and trees. Watch out."
"For what?"
"Don't touch the trees or something. No one has ever tried, yes."
"You need to stop doing that."
"Stop doing what my friend?"
"Answering my questions before I ask them. It's creepy as shit."
"I was not. Well maybe by coincidence." He stopped walking. "Lets move back a few steps."
They did. A huge tree fell where they were.
"What the shit old man?"
"Oh I don't know. Lucky coincidence perhaps? Let's continue on, yes."
They climbed over the tree and continued onwards.
"You know something you old motherfucker. Something you aren't telling me."
"Well, I suppose so, yes. Everyone knows something that you don't. It's being aware of such fact that even makes you human, correct?"
"Rude"
"Oh what is?"
"Answering my question with a question. What aren't you telling me?"
Another tree fell somewhere in the distance behind them.
"A great many things I suppose."
"Answer me now old man."
"Yes, yes, no, no, yes, yes, yes, no. Happy now? I've answered all your questions. If you have anything else to inquire I urge you to do it audibly, seeing as you disapprove of my methods of clarification"
"Are you human?"
"Yes."
"Well allright then." They continued walking in silence for a moment. "Do you lie?"
"Me? No. I am no liar. But how would you ever tell? The best liars truly beleive the lie they are telling. It is literal truth to them, their mind perceives no other reality than the one they fabricate for themselves. Do you lie, my good friend?"
"Yea, I've told a few. They all worked out in the end."
"Acquisition. And logistics. All means neccesary I suppose."
As another tree fell without a sound, they reached the door.
"How do I open it?"
"I'm not sure. This room does something. I can't remember." He looked up at the huge sign hanging over the door. "Oh right, you must say your name."
He stood there, blankfaced. "I... I can't. I don't know."
"Well try saying random names, you never know."
He couldn't think of any.
"You must know atleast one right?"
He paused, thought hard. "Johnny Walker." He tried the door, it opened.
"Cats?"
In the room layed hundreds upon hundreds of scratching posts, cat toys and other such nonsense.
"They eat the birds you see, a neccesary process. For to keep everything spinning in order some resources must be expended, you see? The Construct! Marvelous, isn't it?"
"The dead birds are gathered up and brought here?"
"Yes yes yes!" Cried the old man "It is simply how things work" He began the long journey across the room. "If it didn't, how could things continue? Would they simply be, or not be? Could things exist without other things simply having existed? It is a requisition, as is all things, of life, you see."
"A circle of life?"
"No no no, a thousand times NO." He stopped, a look of genuine anger and hatred upon his face for the first time. "There is no 'circle of life'." He glared upon the younger man. "There is merely a continuation of life. A repetition of what was once and never more. A circle represents rejuvention, a reminder of what previously existed. This, my dear friend, is indeterminate in shape. In size, in color, in form, it is The Construct! Marvelous, isn't it? There is no 'circle' here, my good friend. If anything, it is a line, of life."
They continued walking.
"I own a a car, a rather nice one, in fact."
"Yes, I know."
"And that car runs on fuel." He calmly and casually stepped over a few cats that were hoping for some attention. "What is the fuel of this place?"
"Give me fuel, give me fire, give me that which I desire? Is that how you would put it?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" He said as he flicked the remains of his cigar into the eyes of an unfortunately curious cat.
"Oh, it's just a song that someone sang to me once, thought you might be familiar, nevermind." They continued walking.
"But give me that which I desire? Is that not your purpose?"
"Purpose? No, no. Define 'purpose' for me would you please?"
"Umm, the reason for doing things?"
"And you beleive you were brought here for your desires? Is that why you think all of this is going on?"
"Where the fuck am I?"
"The construct." Said the old man tiredly. "Marvelous, isn't it?"
They reached the next door.
"This one--" He yawned "Just say the name of your first love."
"Getting rather personal now aren't we?"
"Sit in the room and rot then, I rather love the cats. I can spend some time here, I don't mind."
"Give me some time then." He sat down next to the door, multiple cats still pleading for his attention. "I need to think."
A wall opened up, a great many dead birds fell to the floor.
"Good, good. Maybe I won't fire that janitor, he's right on time for once. Good, good."
"Thank god the fucking cats are leaving me alone. How do I know who my first love was? What is your definition of love?"
"I beleive, I might be wrong, but I beleive that the Constructs definition of 'love' is someone you would die for, and be happy about it."
"And it wants to know the first person in my life like that?"
"Well not your mother, obviously, the first person like that, who you were romantically involved with. Like a girlfriend, or whatever your preference."
"I ain't no fag."
"Yes, yes, ofcourse." A fat and happy cat wandered over to the old man. "This one I like to call Xavier, I'm not quite sure if he's recognized that I've named him. Quite funny things, names, wouldn't you agree? Naming things is acceptable, perfectly common, but naming a living thing, as if you were the god of said entity, seems... funny. Yes? Like naming your child, you decide what it will be known as, what it will be called for the rest of it's existence. Like it's your property. Infringement and blasphemy upon any who should defy its name."
"So do these cats just live in this little utopia you built for them? Or is there a pool of acid or some bullshit I'm not seeing?"
"The toys get boring, the food becomes bland and tasteless, but yes, yes, they live in an utopia."
"Paige." He tried the handle, it turned, he entered the next room.
"It's empty."
"It's supposed to be."
They continued walking across the barren expanse of blank room before them.
"Inefficient."
"What is?"
"Having an empty room, with no purpose whatsoever. Seems wasteful."
"Oh, I don't beleive so. There is a purpose behind everything, even if you can't see it. That is the reason of this room. To remind you, of the nothingness."
They kept walking, the door never getting any closer.
"I don't get it."
"Get what? There is nothing to 'get' here."
"Something to remind you of nothing. That doesn't seem strange?"
"All is one, and one is all. That is fact. But I offer to you... a falacy. What if nothing was all, and all was nothing? What if any and all motivation had no purpose? If all things strived for... were nothing. Being strived for by nothing, for the greater accomplishment of nothing?"
"That would be hell."
"Agreed."
They continued on in silence, the door seemingly impossibly moving away from them.
"Am I in hell?"
"You would have to die first. Hold on, just let me check." He stabbed the man in his chest with his bony fingers.
"Ouch motherfucker."
"Nope, you aren't dead, this isn't hell."
More silent walking.
"But wouldn't you still be able to feel pain in hell? That doesn't prove anything."
"The dead feel no pain. Hell is more of a.... mind game, than anything."
"What happens to you?"
"In hell?"
"Yea."
"It's more of a prison sentence, than your typical perception. The devil has one wicked sense of humor. Some beleive the price of your sin is measured in his laughter."
"So then everyone would do some time in hell, theres no way to avoid it."
"Yes, that's true. Even some popes are still doing time in hell."
"Wouldn't God give some special treatment to the fucking popes?"
"God simply does not care for whatever titles or accomplishments you have achieved or acquired through your mortal life. Or even what religion you followed. Life isn't fair, God tries to be."
The door became closer.
"You seem to know alot about him, have you met him before?"
"I know of 'His' true nature, anyone sensing for truth from a neutral perspective would know as much as I do. Problem is, obviously, humans like to think the're so smart. As if they knew his intentions and motives, even going so far as to propose they know the very words he spoke."
"What about those eastern dot-headed motherfuckers who beleive in multiple gods?"
"They are actually more correct than most, in a way. God can't answer everyones prayers, or atleast he doesn't want to. He has ammased, over many generations of existence, lesser gods to reign over his great kingdom. Much like how your feudal system worked, not so long ago. You see?"
"I'm a good christian. So why weren't 'MY' prayers ever answered?"
"You were probably praying to the wrong name. I havn't the slightest idea who the god is that has domain over your planet. And even besides that, you people give names such little meaning. All of those saints and god-like figures you pray to..... Did you even know those aren't their real names? You're 'bible' translated the names of everyone involved, even your savior Jesus Christ was translated. And you wonder why he doesn't answer your prayers? Fools. How can your 'mail' reach the right deity without proper names being used? Just simply foolish."
"But what---" He walked face first into a wall. "Fuck me man."
"Tricky how this room works isn't it? The nothingness.... suddenly creeps up on you."
They walked the short distance towards the door.
"For this one, you must state what you have learned so far."
"Fuck it all."
The handle turned, and he entered.
He awokened outside, in a manner typical of his species. A quick stretch, a yawn, a few scratches of the chest and stood up. A man maybe in his late forties, his custom tailored suit now a heap of rags strewn upon him, his velvety black italian leather dress shoes now something a cliche fisherman might snag on his line.
"Welcome, welcome newcomer! We havn't seen someone the likes of you in ohhh... I'd say about seventy years or so. It truly is nice to see an original face again."
"Shut the fuck up old man. Where am I?"
"Why my old friend, you are at The Construct! Marvelous, isn't it? We, or I should say I, have been watching you for some time."
"Oh? So then you know I have an extremely important meeting I have to get to. I don't have time for any of this fucking nonsense."
"No no no, there is no nonsense here my old friend, I can assure you of that. But if you wish to leave I'm afraid we must traverse through The Construct. It is the only way out, I'm afraid." The old man turned, and headed for the entrance.
"Ugh, this is going to be one shitty day." He started walking and was soon entering the building next to the old man. "You mind telling me how my clothes got so fuuu-" He paused, dumbfounded. "What in Gods name is all of this?" He stood before an enormous and extravagantly decorated room. With only one door at the far end, and a complex series of gears and pulleys decorating the ceiling.
"The Construct! Marvelous, isn't it?" The old man smiled, thought for a moment. "I'm afraid I couldn't tell you what it is in Gods name however, she never seems to visit."
"God is a man you dumb prick. Now just get me out of here." A look of impatient anger growing upon his face.
"Oh yes, yes ofcourse, right this way. Through the first door. I've heard of your upcoming business deal, it seems it would be rather.... unfair? Wouldn't you agree? To most of the people having no say in the matter."
"It's their fault for being born in the wrong country, so fuck 'em" The man headed for the first door, turned the handle, and found it to be locked. "Open up the door old man."
"I'm afraid I can't, only guests may open doors here. I know the keys to opening them however. For this door in particular, all you must say is 'please' and it shall open."
"What? Are you fucking kidding me old man? You expect me to ask the door to 'please open'? You're full of fucking shit." He tried the door again in anger, and found it be unlocked.
The old man began laughing quietly and spoke "The Construct. Marvelous, isn't it? You are already getting the hang of it I see. Oh yes. Yes, yes I see that you are." The old man followed him into the room, and stood silently with him for a moment at the entrance.
"Birds?" The only word he could muster.
"Oh yes, the birds. I've always loved the birds, perhaps too much." The old man whistled a bird call, and one of them flew delicately up and landed on his finger. "This one I like to call Jeffrey, but he doesn't like the name, do you Jeffrey?" The bird let out two short whistles, and the old man flung the bird back into the swirling mass of avian entropy circling the room.
"Why do you keep so many birds old man? I thought this was a factory of some sort."
"A factory... No, well yes. It is a close definition. But it is The Construct. Marvelous, isn't it? It's name defines its purpose.... better than simply just calling it a 'factory'." He started walking across the room, towards the next door. "Watch your step, there is a fair amount of feces on the floor." He mumbled something about a janitor always being late for work, as the younger man walked with him towards the door.
"You still havn't told me why you keep these birds in here." He said, while carelessly letting his tattered shoes get covered in bird droppings.
"Oh the birds, yes. Well, you see..." He paused, stopped walking. "These poor birds. I can't say I don't truly weep for them. They fly around the ceiling in a circle to turn a turbine, when it has been turned enough a large supply of food falls to the ground for them. They only ever stop flying or eating when they die, and fall to the floor. Then they are used to feed the other animals."
"Other animals? What other animals do you keep locked in this place?"
"Oh you shall see soon enough." Said the old man, continuing the long walk to the next door.
"But, you said they only ever stop flying to eat. I'm no bird expert but shouldn't they need to breed at some point or else you will run out?"
The old man chuckled. "No no, ofcourse not. The birds know they have no time for such things. And besides, there are always more birds out there. Always. They should know they would be better off in the wild, where they belong, but there always seems to be a constant influx of them entering The Construct. Marvelous, isn't it? Those poor birds."
By now they had reached the next door. The younger man asked, "Allright now tell me whatever bullshit I need to say to get this door opened."
"For this one, it is a simple key. You must simply tell the door 'thank you' for being such a nice door." The old man stood their smiling blankly at him.
He stood for a moment, rubbed his forhead and said "Thank you." He tried the handle, the door opened, and they both entered.
"Ah, good good. Yes I've been needing a break, haven't you?" Said the old man as he sat himself upon a red velvet lounge chair of almost obscene extravagance.
"What's this room for?"
"Why, it is a waiting room my good friend. Come and sit with me."
He sat himself upon an almost exactly similar chair, the only difference it being purple. "And what's the purpose of this room?"
"To wait. Ofcourse." The old man let out a great laugh. "The next room is not ready. The janitor, you see. It's always the janitor. He is still preparing it."
"Preparing it for what?"
"For... guests? I suppose. I wouldn't know. We don't speak the same language."
"Yea, neither does mine." He decided to look around him. To his great amazement, next to him was a small table. On top of which were his favorite brand of cigars, and his personal engraved lighter. Without question or thought he began smoking.
"Some people say waiting is a burden. I rather enjoy it, don't you? Yes, yes I can see that you do. It seems as if it were such a hassle, such a laborious chore for those of less wisdom and age. Why, most of them couldn't go for more than six hours without needing something to do. Such people could never appreciate the value of a moment. Wouldn't you agree?"
He ashed on the floor. "So how do we know when the next room is ready?"
"The door will be unlocked. The Construct. Marvelous, isn't it? Why don't you try the handle, you never know."
He got up, slowly, tried the handle. It didn't turn. He sat back down. "Locked"
"Oh darn. Well enjoy yourself while you're here." He wafted his hand through the air. "You will find this room has anything you can desire."
"Then where's the fucking whores?"
Another great laugh from the now almost sleeping old man. "Oh, I have tried. This room can't make lifeforms come out of thin air, only things. One man got his cat once, however. Marvelous. Is there any whore you admire as deeply as a cat?"
The man joined in on the laughter. "I know one named kitty."
"Why, I don't beleive that's quite enough." Chuckled the old man. "Try the handle again, you never know. From what I understood it should be soon. Yes, yes quite soon"
The handle turned. He walked through, with the old man immediantly behind him.
"Fish?"
"Yes, yes I rather like the fish. Perhaps not enough." He dangled his fingers in the nearby water. "This one I call David. He loves his name, right David?"
An almost six foot fish jumped out of the water as high as he could. The fish was badly hurt. Missing most of its scales and some flesh down to it's bone.
"What the hell happened to David?"
"Oh, yes. Well. I. These poor fish. Their food only comes out in those smaller pools over there." He pointed down the room and started walking over. "It contains a mild acid. It produces food for the fish, so they can live."
"And how do you keep getting more fish?"
"Oh they never die, other than old age ofcourse. Fish don't even feel pain, every good fisherman knows that. They are fine with their life. And always more coming in, yes."
"I just want to get out of here, can we go now. Please?"
"Oh allright. Why such the hurry though?" They continued the walk to the other door.
"I just want to see my wife again."
"Oh, how is she doing?"
"She's fine."
"That's good to hear. And your kids?"
"Also fine."
"Good, good. Yes."
They finally reached the door. By the smaller pools of grayish reddish water.
"How do I get this one open?"
"Oh, haha. Yes this is a simple one."
The man stood there waiting. "What do I have to say to open it?"
"Haha. I just told you." The old man continued laughing. "You must laugh for the door to open. You must know a funny joke? Remember something hilarious that has happened to you?"
He suddenly remembered how very little humor there was in his life. And laughed at the irony.
"Very good." He smiled. "Let's get going, shall we?"
He entered the room. "Why the fuck do you have a jungle indoors?"
He scratched his head. "To be quite honest, I don't know." He started walking along the path to the other door. Roughly five feet of paved walkway.
"So what's living in here?"
"Nothing. Plants though, and trees. Watch out."
"For what?"
"Don't touch the trees or something. No one has ever tried, yes."
"You need to stop doing that."
"Stop doing what my friend?"
"Answering my questions before I ask them. It's creepy as shit."
"I was not. Well maybe by coincidence." He stopped walking. "Lets move back a few steps."
They did. A huge tree fell where they were.
"What the shit old man?"
"Oh I don't know. Lucky coincidence perhaps? Let's continue on, yes."
They climbed over the tree and continued onwards.
"You know something you old motherfucker. Something you aren't telling me."
"Well, I suppose so, yes. Everyone knows something that you don't. It's being aware of such fact that even makes you human, correct?"
"Rude"
"Oh what is?"
"Answering my question with a question. What aren't you telling me?"
Another tree fell somewhere in the distance behind them.
"A great many things I suppose."
"Answer me now old man."
"Yes, yes, no, no, yes, yes, yes, no. Happy now? I've answered all your questions. If you have anything else to inquire I urge you to do it audibly, seeing as you disapprove of my methods of clarification"
"Are you human?"
"Yes."
"Well allright then." They continued walking in silence for a moment. "Do you lie?"
"Me? No. I am no liar. But how would you ever tell? The best liars truly beleive the lie they are telling. It is literal truth to them, their mind perceives no other reality than the one they fabricate for themselves. Do you lie, my good friend?"
"Yea, I've told a few. They all worked out in the end."
"Acquisition. And logistics. All means neccesary I suppose."
As another tree fell without a sound, they reached the door.
"How do I open it?"
"I'm not sure. This room does something. I can't remember." He looked up at the huge sign hanging over the door. "Oh right, you must say your name."
He stood there, blankfaced. "I... I can't. I don't know."
"Well try saying random names, you never know."
He couldn't think of any.
"You must know atleast one right?"
He paused, thought hard. "Johnny Walker." He tried the door, it opened.
"Cats?"
In the room layed hundreds upon hundreds of scratching posts, cat toys and other such nonsense.
"They eat the birds you see, a neccesary process. For to keep everything spinning in order some resources must be expended, you see? The Construct! Marvelous, isn't it?"
"The dead birds are gathered up and brought here?"
"Yes yes yes!" Cried the old man "It is simply how things work" He began the long journey across the room. "If it didn't, how could things continue? Would they simply be, or not be? Could things exist without other things simply having existed? It is a requisition, as is all things, of life, you see."
"A circle of life?"
"No no no, a thousand times NO." He stopped, a look of genuine anger and hatred upon his face for the first time. "There is no 'circle of life'." He glared upon the younger man. "There is merely a continuation of life. A repetition of what was once and never more. A circle represents rejuvention, a reminder of what previously existed. This, my dear friend, is indeterminate in shape. In size, in color, in form, it is The Construct! Marvelous, isn't it? There is no 'circle' here, my good friend. If anything, it is a line, of life."
They continued walking.
"I own a a car, a rather nice one, in fact."
"Yes, I know."
"And that car runs on fuel." He calmly and casually stepped over a few cats that were hoping for some attention. "What is the fuel of this place?"
"Give me fuel, give me fire, give me that which I desire? Is that how you would put it?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" He said as he flicked the remains of his cigar into the eyes of an unfortunately curious cat.
"Oh, it's just a song that someone sang to me once, thought you might be familiar, nevermind." They continued walking.
"But give me that which I desire? Is that not your purpose?"
"Purpose? No, no. Define 'purpose' for me would you please?"
"Umm, the reason for doing things?"
"And you beleive you were brought here for your desires? Is that why you think all of this is going on?"
"Where the fuck am I?"
"The construct." Said the old man tiredly. "Marvelous, isn't it?"
They reached the next door.
"This one--" He yawned "Just say the name of your first love."
"Getting rather personal now aren't we?"
"Sit in the room and rot then, I rather love the cats. I can spend some time here, I don't mind."
"Give me some time then." He sat down next to the door, multiple cats still pleading for his attention. "I need to think."
A wall opened up, a great many dead birds fell to the floor.
"Good, good. Maybe I won't fire that janitor, he's right on time for once. Good, good."
"Thank god the fucking cats are leaving me alone. How do I know who my first love was? What is your definition of love?"
"I beleive, I might be wrong, but I beleive that the Constructs definition of 'love' is someone you would die for, and be happy about it."
"And it wants to know the first person in my life like that?"
"Well not your mother, obviously, the first person like that, who you were romantically involved with. Like a girlfriend, or whatever your preference."
"I ain't no fag."
"Yes, yes, ofcourse." A fat and happy cat wandered over to the old man. "This one I like to call Xavier, I'm not quite sure if he's recognized that I've named him. Quite funny things, names, wouldn't you agree? Naming things is acceptable, perfectly common, but naming a living thing, as if you were the god of said entity, seems... funny. Yes? Like naming your child, you decide what it will be known as, what it will be called for the rest of it's existence. Like it's your property. Infringement and blasphemy upon any who should defy its name."
"So do these cats just live in this little utopia you built for them? Or is there a pool of acid or some bullshit I'm not seeing?"
"The toys get boring, the food becomes bland and tasteless, but yes, yes, they live in an utopia."
"Paige." He tried the handle, it turned, he entered the next room.
"It's empty."
"It's supposed to be."
They continued walking across the barren expanse of blank room before them.
"Inefficient."
"What is?"
"Having an empty room, with no purpose whatsoever. Seems wasteful."
"Oh, I don't beleive so. There is a purpose behind everything, even if you can't see it. That is the reason of this room. To remind you, of the nothingness."
They kept walking, the door never getting any closer.
"I don't get it."
"Get what? There is nothing to 'get' here."
"Something to remind you of nothing. That doesn't seem strange?"
"All is one, and one is all. That is fact. But I offer to you... a falacy. What if nothing was all, and all was nothing? What if any and all motivation had no purpose? If all things strived for... were nothing. Being strived for by nothing, for the greater accomplishment of nothing?"
"That would be hell."
"Agreed."
They continued on in silence, the door seemingly impossibly moving away from them.
"Am I in hell?"
"You would have to die first. Hold on, just let me check." He stabbed the man in his chest with his bony fingers.
"Ouch motherfucker."
"Nope, you aren't dead, this isn't hell."
More silent walking.
"But wouldn't you still be able to feel pain in hell? That doesn't prove anything."
"The dead feel no pain. Hell is more of a.... mind game, than anything."
"What happens to you?"
"In hell?"
"Yea."
"It's more of a prison sentence, than your typical perception. The devil has one wicked sense of humor. Some beleive the price of your sin is measured in his laughter."
"So then everyone would do some time in hell, theres no way to avoid it."
"Yes, that's true. Even some popes are still doing time in hell."
"Wouldn't God give some special treatment to the fucking popes?"
"God simply does not care for whatever titles or accomplishments you have achieved or acquired through your mortal life. Or even what religion you followed. Life isn't fair, God tries to be."
The door became closer.
"You seem to know alot about him, have you met him before?"
"I know of 'His' true nature, anyone sensing for truth from a neutral perspective would know as much as I do. Problem is, obviously, humans like to think the're so smart. As if they knew his intentions and motives, even going so far as to propose they know the very words he spoke."
"What about those eastern dot-headed motherfuckers who beleive in multiple gods?"
"They are actually more correct than most, in a way. God can't answer everyones prayers, or atleast he doesn't want to. He has ammased, over many generations of existence, lesser gods to reign over his great kingdom. Much like how your feudal system worked, not so long ago. You see?"
"I'm a good christian. So why weren't 'MY' prayers ever answered?"
"You were probably praying to the wrong name. I havn't the slightest idea who the god is that has domain over your planet. And even besides that, you people give names such little meaning. All of those saints and god-like figures you pray to..... Did you even know those aren't their real names? You're 'bible' translated the names of everyone involved, even your savior Jesus Christ was translated. And you wonder why he doesn't answer your prayers? Fools. How can your 'mail' reach the right deity without proper names being used? Just simply foolish."
"But what---" He walked face first into a wall. "Fuck me man."
"Tricky how this room works isn't it? The nothingness.... suddenly creeps up on you."
They walked the short distance towards the door.
"For this one, you must state what you have learned so far."
"Fuck it all."
The handle turned, and he entered.
Heres the next part, I'm going to sleep....