Before initiating the aesthetic and critic process, I must inform you. There's some crazy shit. This is your writer, scribbling around!
So here it goes.
A foggy, deserted realm with a darkest night, an organism woke up from the steel green ground covered with grass lush and dexterous.
I lack a bit much. But unwanted elements more.
Purpose. Clarity. These are some heavy processing nuances of this low-life.
I did what I could.
The organism moved his body sideways anti-clockwise. His bones were a pair of silver wood sticks that looked ripped with green covering as if it came out of the grass. Simply, legs got a green shade.
His anxiety spiked. Visible was a layer of sweat that evaporated in minimal seconds.
He took a heavier breath. His chest tightened. A usual fitness freak.
Again. In a few seconds, the green shade turned white. He looked fine.
The discarded plain filled with mist and fog. His dark hair scratched his dark black eyes. Polished eyes took a 360 degree blank scan.
A mind exhausted. Easily succinct to pleasure. A plain exhausted. I'm not fed for a long time.
His mind fell silent and clean.
His physical body looked dehydrated and stiff.
The white legs were like human bones that were trembling wet. Chilling with pain.
His memory was drained and split in half. Five minutes after landing.
So, someone sent
I here. But who? I am unaware.
Without my permission I was brought. Was I forced?
Think much. Can't express much or say it. In mind.
Why is this land so empty? If I landed here, where is the party?
I saw this on Earth, in the western zones. Mostly in America.
Where are those hot-air balloons?
He took a heavier breath, it sounded like a pipe sucking inside. A part of fog came from behind a small terrain. It made a rumbling sound. He smelt and opened his dark grey mouth. Ate it with grace. But with teeth and nose.
Where are the goons that must dance on my arrival?
When will we drink purple shenanigans and also where is the stall poured by these hot-air balloons?
Where are these balloons?
I wish they could pull me off this land. Also, where is this stupid fog coming from? I hate fogs but I like to eat them. I want clarity. More like sexual clarity.
The mist was dense. It made him think.
Fog outside. Inside.
He sighed. Relieved.
Easily discarded these thoughts that gave him anxiety with other anticipated thoughts that felt essential to him. Like,
What's for dinner?
Am I the dinner?
Why does this place look so strange? Or, have I seen it before?
The fog covered his dark green chest, he tried to eat it.
No taste.
He tried for an hour to push out and was exhausted but his alternate torso and face cried in pain. The alternate torso had turned dark purple, it recalled him those purple shenanigans, which were had during a funeral. He sounded like edges of two sharp glasses screeching closely or screeching a misshaped chalk over a board. His nerves sensitized in a quicker rate and became a successful pain endure in an hour. A drop of sweat had leapt out of its curvy forehead. His eyes closed reputedly.
Before he leapt on the land touching his forehead. Blackness ate the colors. Blackness ate the scene. Blackness.
(The life didn't knew. He was a part of the screen. Watched by millions of these intelligence minions that prompted through his body discourse and analyzed his every drop of sweat, he dropped. Privacy was a myth. Just like his existence. If his existence disturbed the atmosphere of the planet. Someone was already spamming his heaving chest on a screen and had also slept of boredom. The man wanted something satisfying. He wanted something different. He was tired of himself masturbating and jerking most of the hours. He liked his hypothetical reaction. He obviously wanted the alien to satisfy his alternate torso but didn't go as planned.)>
<(A second screen that didn't like his actions. The 2nd screen thought it to be inadvertent and immature. The human blood works in mysterious ways.)>
<(A second screen was specifically kept to produce a satisfying mate to satiate his sexual hunger. He waited for his needles to come out that curved and created a cage. The second screen didn't want to play his private saved shit.
<(It was a hypothetical reaction that fidgeted his pleasure centers and had made him insensitive. The needles detached or got cut out. They grow and turn thick and white. The needles slowly lay out a canvas and draw out a bubbly creature with long legs that had pointed feet with a single big eye in the middle. It was a 'vision-lady' according to him. Her whole eye was a face. It came out of the laid-out canvas. Teared itself out. This time, he was wept and got unconscious)>
<(A man who had a stomach or a tire was drooling over his matte desk. His stomach would have bobbled with his walk.)>
<(One of the circular cubicles which were translucent, not only organized cubicles. The five translucent surfaces pulled an ear of the giggling screens. They were always proud of their appealing neons that flashed out those images of several different symbols or adult gestures that might intrigue a teenager.
<(This happened consecutively. Each cubicle was being worked and touched quicker than imagined. Different incomplete images that didn't resonated with the image before or after. The images were slowly being completed within a time frame attached on the left corner of a cubicle's translucent desk.)>
<(The time frame showed 'Add Prompt' after every interval of 30 seconds.)>
<(A man with shimmering light inside his mouth tickled the saliva filled cubicle with his long and pointy black nails. The cubicle had a person's head lying on it. The cubicle trembled and it's layers became flossy and turned pink. The cubicle blushed. He ran away. His neck felt a strong urge to get away from the pink turned cubicle. He shooked his head up revealing his face towards the screen in the reflection. Dark black eyes, hair turning thick grey from below due to a pungent garlic smell which his hair didn't like and became reactive to it.)>
<(He looked tired with those dark crescent shaped lines below his eyeballs. Until, they crafted a visor for him and he was good to go! He wore the visor most of the time, until the visor gave up and he had to de-visor.)>
<(Why am I doing this? I hate him. Not. But especially this. The cubicle doesn't give me vibes. And our saliva must not mix up with this ship's atmosphere too much while we are still working. WE HAVEN'T YET FIGURED OUT THE VARIABLE NESS OF THIS SHIP'S ATMOSPHERE!)>
<(He was mixing everything but scared to mix his saliva. A typical workaholic human. He is trapped in this ship and has lost his memory for around 70-80 percent of it.)>
<(He went to sleep again. He got translocated in a dream in less than a minute.
<(His fellow assistant was discussing about some idle planets and objects that arouse a certain level of attention like A Venus with a penis, Saturn with an onion ring of nachos and cheeseburst pizzas, a crying crocodile, the clown's crown, a kid's navel and their sketches were what they laughed and critiqued about. He saw the Evolved trying to reveal his face but was shy. The Evolved even brought a tub filled with flower filled water and bubbles to clean his dirty feet. His feet looked drenched with blood and sweat. It included a process in which lower body dripped out blood to pour inside the five AIs, to engage their imaginative memory.)>
<(In his dream, the screens critiqued each other. It became their habit. The only habit. It also intensfied their creations to an extent so that they could become easily infuriated to create more of what if images with new scenarios through an AI sim who gave them prompts for their flashy two or three dimensional looking images. Their eyes were like petals of red embroidery which was once crafted in Jupiter. The recharged patience that they were happy for a certain creation. A goal that had been accomplished way back. The emotion intensified for what they struggled for no fucking reason!)>
<(A sneezing capuchin monkey was looking at a floor panel in one of the cubicles beside Roach when he heard some stomach gurgling. He was employed by Mr. Devansh Roach.)>
<(The monkey with the support of his left wide arm that had rubbery muscles jumped off his cubicle and landed over Roach's head. His big feet experienced the smooth skin of Roach that was warm. With his silky grey hair over the back side of his neck that became slippery. He quickly jumped and sat beside his cubicle chair. He wiped his face that was covered in clear phlegm.)>
<(The capuchin monkey had a sealed face with certain markings that looked Egyptian. His job was only injecting blood in precise measurements. But he was sleazy and empathetic. He used to wake up Roach with his weird fart noises. Devansh usually anticipated it before his fart pushed in.
<(But this time he was zoned out in something. The major reason was that it doesn't showcase a funny reaction but does help making him, a laughing stock forever on AI-gram. A social platform to engage with AIs around various galaxies. Devansh's blood reacted with the ship's atmosphere as soon as the Evolved brought him here from his planet Earth. This released an ample amount of AIs to fill a football stadium.)>
<(He was thinking a bit deeply. What was left. He was fare way complete. Oh yes! It's for sure that. It was the silly garlic coverings that were ignored because of other important procedures. Now. For him, those were just some dancing coasters vomiting those squiggles. Sticky and sleek. A capuchin monkey was habitual of mocking his incapabilities.)>
<(Maybe for that monkey, it was the silly garlic coverings that had to be laid off. Or maybe munching of Funyuns in a random fashion of time. Now. For him, those were just some dancing coasters. He used to call them sticky and sleek.)>
<(The man that drooled usually before could be a friend or just a peculiar acquaintance, arrived later playing peek-a-boo with the mischief coasters that lurked out of the 5D printer so to speak. Until he yearned, and went straight to his drag, an accomplice, or the trash listener and storer. He and Roach still couldn't figure out the shimmering light. They wished they had. It could be disastrous for the ship if it's a evolving star or a time bomb with light that told the time. More the light shined, less time they had.)>
<(He had to wake up and he did.)>
<(Washed his face. The left side of the cubicle, which he pulled. A wash basin with toothpaste applied automaticaly on his brush. He pushed the button and lit it from behind. It brushed the teeth and even gave him a few puffs of metallic marijuana. There was a button on the edge of cubicle which was to provide the drug to enhance his senses. It secreted enough paste to clean your gums and teeth also to hide the drug. An heightened sense of surrounding.)>
<(He pushed the left side of the cubicle back inside a bit. Aggressive.)>
<(It turned into a comfortable couch. He fell over it. Sleep deprived.)>
<(He sat on the chair beside the cubicle when the screen turned on, energizing sounds were roaming around the Simulation hall. "The Delcod is now ready, Mr. Roach. I hope to congratulate you, sir. For this miraculous journey that you had. It must be agonizing to pull off. The security of brackets, the synchronized framework of shifting from brackets to no-brackets." The man responded while he switched shirts that were just delivered to them.
The simulation hall was a bit bigger than a lightbox where all the sims use to collaborate and work together. The size showed the imposter of a 4X4 comms room. With his tie so tight, his stiff neck, his eyes were fixed over analyzing the evolving geometric patterns. These geometric patterns were hooligans that curated problems for "The Trapped". The patterns looked playful. He had a thing for sleek coat, a sleek shirt underneath, and his soft pants that hid his baby feet.)>
<(The screens sung, "Opening the brackets, one enters the outside world. Or the cast of Roach. Not to mention the creature that landed is highly reactive, with the land. And is producing it's uncanny species at an uncanny rate. Or maybe he didn't.
Just the way, we made the land reactive by tampering with it's elements. I'm not sure this world will survive this new tampered equation of mine. Maybe one day, we'll become more subservient to it. And learn to live with it.")>
-----------All screens sync.-----------
-----------The simulation begins again.-----------
_______All the vitals look normal_______
_______Susceptible to thick mist________
An alien. His legs folded. His feet not visible in the red sand. Red sand?
It kept on turning dark red with the fog's contact or maybe it's touch. Nope. It was the fog for sure. It turned black and became even more black. He pulled his legs out that leaked. Some purple chemicals that gave out shrieks. It dissolved the legs. A few empty purple cannisters filled inside He cried out.
The mist cleared out. Maybe he took his breath out for once.
The shriek was defeaning for the mist. The sand mountains that were stiff, shattered and fell over. It was a time for a quake. It sounded less like a quake but more like an optimistic drilling site.
"Desolation!" The alien shouted.
The first word of a sick alien. An inept alien. He laughed. Happy about it and forgets it later. Stares around for a few hours. The broken sand tuned into premium rocks that looked polished with a few itched cries. A bunch of rocks. The rocks move like a bunch of bouncing kids happy to see the alien trying to alter his disfigured state. The rocks roll, attract and curve to make an S.
"S." It proclaims. It forgets. His sleek back was in pain.
-----------The sync was broken. Something was wrong.-----------
-----------The simulation turned off.-----------
<(One of the screens on the left was ready with their dialogues. The screen showed her dialogues. The screen be like "credits of a movie.")>
<("Sir, I have a few questions on our results. Though we have initiated, there are some minor fixations for our newborn or in this case "upcoming" species that are brought from Jupiter. Being the lastling of that planet. The species couldn't survive under the cold sun that split itself into two parts out of surprise. It multiplied the current cold. It destroyed the core of their masses, disrupting their body adaptability. The chilly weather cracked them internally. It's our sheer fucked up luck that we brought this meager alien that is broken inside. Preserve this one life of well-fed and sleek species being the lastling of its class. It's healing capacity is very less. We need a warm climate for him to heal. This planet will be a superior help for him.")>
<("What will we define it? How will it survive in this created simulation? With the dynamic nature which requires both hot and cold climates, preferrably hot because of it's changing cycle, will we be able to configure it's climate cycle? Because the creature we are looking at is not the one which we took. Also how is the color change going on inside the simulation with no changes foreseen? Simulation has a tough choice between green, red and purple. It can't decide which color to associate with what. It considers these colors to be equally appealing to human insight. This leads to confusion. These questions will raise suspicions though if we take it to the Sims and draft a chamber to them.
<(The Evolved won't like this, they love being a silent and harmful authority. They'll be pissed. Can eat you up good. No offense, but they will punch your face with questions like these notifications on those major AIs screens. You being the sole handler. One of the screens were talking about some content that they didn't like some sort of video. I'm not sure...
<(Roach felt a little edged. He felt as if someone arrowed his penis.)>
<("Leave that to me. I'll take care of it. Keep going on about the Sims / the Evolved.")>
<("After an image is finished in illustration. They despise technicalities. The AIs reduce the number and come to compromise with one or two of those.)>
<(Also, coming back to our alien guest here. His subconscious may have accepted to enter this planet but I'm sure his motions here won't apply. New forms of intellegences are applied here. Those smallies are irritable enough for any simulation. Millions of simulations that have left to follow the function of deletion. The most loved and honored function of coding. Honored by the Evolved. With the contribution of these annoying smallies, the simulation has accepted the perplexed state.")>
<("So go do that! Don't fill me in. You lazy chunks! You have turned out reckless with all those AI-gram connections that you have built, creating sleazy content about how AIs don't have a pathos or any emotion what so ever. I have given you one job. Hack your slack and do it. Help me get over with this! Your menial jobs! How hard is that? Huh! Don't indulge me in trying new things." Devansh said recklessly.)>
"And what are those?" The man kept switching shirts, by touching on the shirt icon of the chamber sent by the Evolved.
"This shirt I am wearing? Why I am wearing it? Why am I here? Why is all this built? It's for one sole purpose. To bring the soul of humanity solely towards nature. AND. I am going to die."
He giggled.
"When the Evolved kidnapped me. I napped comfortably over my wife's warm hand. Her hand was smooth caramel that was dipped with softness. They had this voice drive which played through the journey. It was a family dinner at Del Taco, I went to deliver out all the beers I had. It was the perfect moment. The Evolved lured me in their buggy by mimicking my wife's pure voice and I was tight and packed inside a hexagonal chamber chipped over a vintage buggy's roof."
"I had leaked out in that chamber. It soaked all of the urine inside and I am not sure how it purified it and sent out smell of citrus peels.
"I don't know! If you'll let me explore, I'll let you know my job credentials affirmingly alright? Now let's get cracking on the viewing area again. And bring some thing spicy this time" snorts derisively. "About our 'Alien Guest'."
Devansh laughed. The man who accompanied him felt a little disassociated. He left his sub-service chair in his cabin, took his chamber that was sent by the Evolved. And wished to let out a snorty derision but it might look out of context.
He switched to a new shirt that said, "Long live the Evolved." with geometric shapes jumping around the alphabets.
<"Still not clear on the definition. Survival. Also his uncertain nature, will we be able to configure its climate cycle? I don't think so because it's like ... a climate that has it's own rules, we can't function without understanding it's pattern of change. In this simulation of us, we want our domain language to be English which is the first bulletin that the Evolved quoted in that loopy little envelope flashed on the first screen, making our neon screens giggle out of their flat sheds." He talked and talked as he wore his visor, munched more Funyuns and pushed the view button.>
<"So the species will be called 'Synoniesa'. They'll be known as the forgetting species ... they will be the ... helper and assigner kind. We'll assign them tasks and ... after they are done they will be made to forget. Their program is designed as a dimnishing program. A quality dimnishes in them after an effective use of it. There is no time frame of the dimnishing process. But the quality that is programmed in them doesn't erase off but remains subservient. Utter subservient. For now the quality of forgetting has launched ... which is ... sort of obvious because ... it's their origin ... the Evolved mentioned it ... we are creating these for a specific purpose." He munched more Funyuns than it was possible. New steel dentures that fit in his mouth made him taste a new layer of Funyuns. The dentures secreted coconut syrup mixed with honey and lemon. The garlic tasted mixed with a new layer that enhanced the tongue and other senses for a while. In normal words, it drugged.>
<"The concept of remunration has to be brought by themselves ... we have successfully researched about their dietary patterns, and the digestive juice which mixes well with those shaked quartz which he'll find in that planet. With a lot of struggle of shaking, we arrived at a pattern to shake the purple quartz to make it softer. The uniformic vibrator device that is a glossy chamber that shakes quartz at a certain level and produces edible material for the 'Synoniesa'. Ok. Now we are naming it a gender. A petrified male with a homophobia. Initiate the Sims again. Let's give him a bit of brainstorming to do.)>
-----------Lights turned off.-----------
-----------All screens sync.-----------
-----------The simulation begins again.-----------
He shouted 'synony'. A name. A community name. It made him. A name to be defining one. The circlings on his grey torso that were harsh and burnt over ignited and were now glowing with that name being said. He laid his sturdy legs that had a scent of sandalwood. The sandalwood marked their status. A profoundly essential aspect define who one was. How one was born and where, a ways to define their origin. But he had forgot. He did forgot.
His spontaneity. He had forgot. He took a drastic turn. His life oscillating with genocide on both the ends. The synony tried to think. He saw people like black-green peas on the brink of extinction. He grinds. A thought to walk further back of his mind. He rotated his legs with his antenna like hands. Another thought - fix a posture, he sensed the wet land. A slippery one. Mine maybe was not that much.
The wet air that had increased humidity that turned his dark indigo eyes watery. He slid the two S that had formed over the ground which were stretched ajar. His feet slowly folded to be adhesive over a slime and slippery surface towards the land and glued itself through his white nails. It slowly walked a few steps and melted the on ground. Turned into matter that was halfway frozen and melted. The ground turned stiff. His legs had shaped shifted into a metal surface and turned dark blue. He looked concerned. Disintegrated into small shiny elements, that looked horrified with their pointy antenna like hands and feet that were in a zig-zag pattern. His concern floated through his legs and deepened. The legs pushed themselves out of the land and tried to walk with spot holes all over the morphing land. The blue land was ferocious. His feet manage to uphold enough to penetrate back and forth through the land that had started making bumpy sounds. The gravitational force increased in an instant, his legs were sucked inside the land. Several small holes formed on the land divided it's matter into distinct poking dots. The dots learned to peek inside when at the same time, black colored fluid sticked to those and rushed them inside the surface.
The particles were called as synonies. The synony dot later saw itself turning white and associating itself into a million pieces. The pieces floated around the planet and started grooming all over the world. Those pieces had a booze core with that black liquid and formed weird antenna like elements. They cried in fear at the sight of those pointy antenna heads. The antenna ones detached themselves from the land and formed quick reflexes in an instant and showed a high jump to their species. Their gradual jumps made them aloof. Later, after some uncountable centuries, they were lost forever.
<('Calculating.' The eleven screens yelled through the dome that looked like interface space for two innocent people that were hired at present. 'Trying to frame numbers.' The screens talked along and disgruntled. One of those that shouted aggressively. It had an unusual fit and tried to pull and seal his body inside the gifted chamber of the Evolved until an unknown screen loosened the screws of the aggressive screen. "It's been weeks. How much is the limit? We told you multiple times that use the GRID! That lousy bitch machine girl just likes to press buttons on her damn phone."
<(Devansh replied while his assistant was shaken. "And we said she won't listen. She despises male bodies and even more the ones that were preserved and later used for nasty testings.")>
<(The screen that had pulled up itself in no time with screws tight and glued stark with melted metal said that, "We won't help you and may make your life hard if you don't go right now! To that lousy, fatigued Grid of yours!")>
<("Don't shout and say these vicious things. The Grid may not harm you but the MISS GRID sure can! She beside pushing buttons does is just torture innocent brats to their gut!")>
<("You don't know the slightest of her. She has learnt these methods from the Evolved because she used to devour herself looking at the shadow of Evolved performing orders through their stern and dark voice. But we have kept her especially for crafting and procreation. She hasn't put her bets on procreation but she is has delved her interest in crafting a culture for our origin species." Devansh finished. He was worried about his simulation in final stages. Did he know less. It was just the beginning. They had the culture problem. But he heard from Mr. Nundy that she was out of the culture rut and had selected outcomes favourable to progress through. He rushed to the burn unit which was used for a few weeks to store discarded creatures that had almost no life but were researched and somehow water and food was operated out from their skinny and flatulent body parts. Devansh knew that those flatulent parts became benevolent for the hormonal changes which he observed in Miss Grid. It became beneficial for them as it would push her limits and help them create a outweighing culture.)>
<(He pushed away the flatulent mushroom like legs of a deceased one and knocked on the metal door with a large and glowing E. It was highlighted in some hideous font.)>
<(The door skidded to the left revealing a heavy but skinny hand.)>
<(The Grid was a mysterious metal entity which looked a female body with masculine features. Her hair was metallic. She was confused between metal and wood. Wood hair chipped well with females in her world. The metals vibrated and made harp sounds when her sticked eyes rolled over on those skinless deceased bodies. Her hair vibrated twice. It was coaxed with glistening cherries and diamonds, that were three feet long. Her breasts were made of hundreds of crushed aluminium foils that looked bubbly under her purple bronze nightdress. If touched, it could easily kill a human or any other species around. A lit cigarette that looked like tungsten-made but shined like stainless aluminium.)>
<("Dev." she said.)>
<("Miss Grid." Dev said.)>
<(An awkard silence. A moment passed in honor of each other.)>
<("What?" she said in a fake and gruntled voice.)>
<("Warm regards to you too, Miss Grid.)>
<(If I may ... I'm here to speak to the point. Establishment of Phase I. Creation of a world fit for the creature and a proper biology, chemistry and physics of that universe. With this we have to get which will be a cut to the chase journey. That's History, Poetry and the shifting Geography.)>
<(Tests are being run with the entrance of that alien which we brought. Although he was deceased, we preserved some parts or some pigments of skin that were fresh and one of our trusted Sims generated a creature based on the codes found.)>
<(We want your little bit of warm embrace to our crafted alien's subconscious for his selection criteria. As of now he is so blank. Like a blank page.")>
<("I don't like this!")>
<("What?")>
<("Who gave you the permission to send an alive species to that "CRAFTED" planet of yours! I would have crafted those aspirine bites and the deceased here would have helped you better. The alive ones might creep or tamper with the simulation which I'm working on!")>
<("Ok. But-)>
<("And we're not done here! You have violated the jurisdiction. I already gave orders to the Evolved and the plan which I provided should be catered by you but it doesn't go the way it is planned.)>
<("Also, I didn't like that creature. He had funny human attributes. Liked to ... Wink at me. I use to vibrate even though there was no turn on. Sometimes I can't control... my own body, that's the big fault. It's embarrassing.")>
<("Ok. I'll interrupt here! Get it together, dear! If you can't possibly control your own inner inhibitions, then how would you control million parts of your deployed grid. Once it's active.")>
<("Oh, come awn! You know I'll get an hang of that! I'm an adaptable ... metallic ... girl. I'm seen my shimmer metal worsts and my dark bubble bests. You be off worries!)>
<("The only conundrum we have now is the species that you sent. We still didn't knew that if it was worth it! No test reports on it.")>
<("Oh don't think about tests. The Sims had run a list that they generated of tests viable for our candidate.")>
<(The metal grid took a step back, showed a hand to Dev.)>
<("There's a sim in my neigbourhood. I'll bear that now!)>
<(The metal grid had a strong desire to imitate Dev. It scratched it's head and screamed with a few dents over it's head. His plea which she saw in front of the Evolved but she gave up on it soon.
<("And also why wasn't I informed about it! I'm sure if this miscommunication is heard outside, it will gradually reach to the Evolved's ears. And then you might wish to be drop dead! You find out about that too! The delay in notifiying me! It's something!)>
<("Any other issue?" Roach was kind.)>
<("There is also the culture conundrum. I'm still figuring out how to build a culture, but now I think I need to pick up some pace on that! Thanks to you!" Miss Grid said.)>
<("Anything else which we have to do!" Roach said.)>
<("Yes, and I think I should have started with it. I have not yet heard the part where you tell, what is in this job for your own crafty old gal, Miss Grid.")>
<("The Evolved has processed a cloning device for your species that will help you in not only to clone but also to reprogram the crafted metal species based on the conscience which you wish to put on!"
"Well, for that I still need to figure out the culture problem. And how much time do we got!"
"Umm... 4... 5... minutes." Roach stuttered.
"Would you please say a bit louder?"
"45 minutes."
"Oh my Vulcan! Seriously? That means I need to figure it! Oh!
Screw you Roach! Ok. Be calm, we have time. You got this. Grip yourself. New plan. Roach. Set the timer. Keep it right here. Open the simulation notepad, I'll start sketching the culture.
The world around her turned black.
"Roach." The only name that brought her peace in the current situation.
She pushed herself out of her pressed cushion.
"Roach, I'm not liking this! Cut this crap, please."
"What is this place?" A weird creature spoke in the abyss. It tried to speak further and turned into squelched matter. A pool of squelched matter The matter was heard moving slow and disorienting itself. Her arms were wet. It splashed a few moss like droplets over her metal skirt. Arms were becoming deteriorated in a few seconds so were the slimy legs, that made the whole floor clammy and slippery. When she had no handle on herself, a big book pulled the squelched matter inside and the darkness around wiped off like a thousand erasers. With a deep breath and sneezed hard. The Book took a jump with that sneeze and landed safely on her lap
She saw a large mark of her hand over the book's cover, wiping of the letters of that book and the cover that had formed a layer of squelching red sponge that sanitized the book's cover or maybe gutted inside it.
Her eyes that had lemon retina cleared out the toxins and observed that the creature's squelched matter became poof. The dark ambience, poof.
She realized that she was fast asleep over her pillow and Devansh had made a fed-up face. She knew it was his fed up face. Devansh had that book in hand and asked her if she knew what was that prose about.
She read the washed up title,' Pragma....Why and...incorp....paradigm.'
"Oh! Yes! Thank you for that, I was meaning to discuss it with you. This is the final draft of my book that will be chambered to the Evolved. The title is washed up. So is my life. I hugged a deceased one too tight, it came to life and sneezed on the book. You know how I ... sometimes ... reek of ... desperation."
"Wait, what-
"I meant, I hugged that ragdoll so hard and some squelching matter went in my cherry diamonds. I twisted more than twice and the matter splashed over the cover. It cleansed few of the words and the front cover that had a couple."
"A couple of which species?"
"A couple of Xanyimes? Why do you care so much? All I have to do is clear this and detox this book. So it's clear for the Evolved to read. As I am aware of his not one but several allergies that make him airsick. A recent one was from lemon."
"Ok. But what's the title then?"
"The title was, Pragma...tash, Why and when were the meticulous cultures incorporated with different cultural paradigms."
"Ok. I'll get it printed and fixed."
"Just use the Ultraviolet chambers. That would help in removing the microtoxins better. Don't use your filthy lemon covers. Those won't help."
"Alright."