“Are you awake?”

The metallic sound floats through heavy air, crashing on the walls of the pod, and fades. Like a metronome, the recorder keeps on uttering the same sentence, again and again. Time is not a servant of any commands, however.

An infinity passes. The sound degenerates to a broken pulp, the receding whispers of technology, breaking ever so often.

In between, a new algorithm had changed it. Now it pleads, and if a conscious existence could piece the shattered noises together, it would sound like “Wake up.”

But I’m not conscious.

I don’t know what I am anymore. My eyes are fixated on the window. A blue planet is in front of me, blue and indigo-green with lacquers of white.

Eons of emptiness drown the distance between us in its cold void. The universe is between life and death, between eternal conscience and an eternity of nothingness.

Now it is but an abyss where comets are trying to be amphibians. But there’s no shore.

I keep on looking at the big glowing ball of rock, knowing not whether it is a curse to be sentient.

The voice returns, stuttering and crying.

Who is asking me to be awake?



Author: chironx

I am a wanderer. I overthink, and sometimes I write about what I feel. People say I am a simple guy with no directions, but I think I have too many places to go.

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