Darkness.

He was unable to tell if his eyes were open or closed. Unable to know if he was awake or asleep. The air pressure within the machine changed, like a stadium light, illuminating his mind and body. He was seated at the center of a spotlight. Within the shadows he caught only glimpses of a snake-like being circling around him. It did not slither, it went straight with its head, followed straight by its body. Nor was it on the ground, instead floating in the air. After circling him a few times, it stopped and approached him. As each sector of its body entered the light, it disappeared. He felt a tingle on his hand, then his arm, to his shoulder, his ear, and finally his face. It was noticeably harder to breathe. Every inhale and exhale required conscious effort because the air was sparse. A rattling and clicking filled the stadium, and he could see the shadow the snake-like being cast. The flaps went right, then left, then right, then left, alternating rapidly and produced the rattling and clinking. Flashes came pouring in from the darkness beyond the circle of light he sat in, like a million paparazzi. “Air,” he heard in a distorted voice. “Aware,” he heard. Finally, the third time he realized what was being said and who was saying it: “Amare,” said the snake-like being. It was a long string of flaps which ventured into the darkness, where they became glowing. All around him were dots. Dots and dots and dots, littered from left to right, to front and back, and up. The only place completely blank was the ground bathed in radiance. “You,” he made out from the voice with significant vibrato, “have gone through much.”

“Where am I?” demanded Amare. He was clamped onto the seat, unable to move. Iron wrapped around his arms, legs, and torso. His head locked in place. He pulled and pushed against the cold metal, unable to budge. “Dorothy!” his impulse yelled, remembering what had happened before he passed out. “Where are you?” The stadium brimmed with rattles and clinks.

“No, no,” said the voice. “I do not wish to see this, nor hear it.”

“Are the Everguardians here?” he yelled and the rattles and clinks grew deafening. “What are you?” his frustration tried yelling over the noise. “Laughing at me?”

“No,” it responded instantly. “We are crying. Crying because you went on like this.”

“Went on like what?” softly he asked, unable to know if he was heard, and pulled his arms up again trying to break free from the clamps. The former strength in his voice returned and he yelled: “Let me go!”

“You will be alive now, truly alive.”

“What are you talking about? Am I hallucinating? Oh no,” he began crying, and the rattling and clinking dissipated. “Have I gone insane?”

“See, Amare, this is existence. You are on the right path now.”

“Let me go!” he screamed, and his soul lunged forward, then back onto the iron throne. “Let me go!” he screamed again.

“Your species lives in order, undeterred by morality. To put it simply: we can see state of minds, hear memories, and smell morality.”

The being wrapped around him once more, and he noticed a glow on the tip of his nose which he could barely see. He had made contact with the being, it was touching him. “Are you an intelligent being? Able to communicate fluently?”

“We are so much more. We created every being there exists.”

“The First!” he burst out. “You’re the First?”

“Yes,” it responded. “We are the First.”

“Come back with me, I’ll show you our home!”

The rattles and clinks reemerged. “No,” it said with deep resonance. “Can you not smell? Of course you cannot. Entropy needs to increase, the moral good has been plummeting. How awful, how incredibly awful.”

“What moral good?”

“Structure is becoming prevalent. The opposite of good, and why did beings build upon order? Why do beings suffer with turbulence? What happened to chaos? The proper way to live, the right way to live.”

“Chaos? Are you a violent being?”

“Violent?” it said and silence struck for a couple seconds. “Violent, perhaps, but not necessarily. It is simply the method with the quickest returns. Pandemonium is the meaning of life. We are utilitarians, pain and suffering are the best means for the quickest results.”

“You want to destroy the world? You want to destroy Rorohiko!”

“We want to split every atom, every electron from its proton, shred the nucleus itself, and stretch light until it becomes an invisible red. Humans attach a negative moral value to ‘destroy,’ they have it backwards.”

“Backwards? Where would we be without order? Without civilization? Without a home?”

“A part of the universe, disassembled. Your atoms scattered across the galaxy as it expands and envelopes everything in entropy, the space between us growing and all becoming isolated.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Horrible because you cannot smell. We will give you the ability to smell for yourself, then you will comprehend.”

“No, I don’t want any ability! Take me back!” He pulled against the iron. “Back to Rorohiko!”

“Dorothy.” The silence returned for a couple seconds.

“What about her?”

“She’s a person you knew?”

“You can hear my memories, can’t you?”

“What if I told you, you can speak with her again?” The being wrapped around him, the flaps turning from left to right, right to left. “With a new body, you can live out your memories, even alter them and experience them as if they were real.” Left to right, right to left. “Be able to smell right from wrong, be able to see disappointment from contentment, be able to hear the forgotten and suppressed memories and live them out. Every regret and every mistake, able to be changed retroactively.”

The First disappeared behind him. His seat began moving forward, and the spotlight followed. The sound of an industrial gate opening crowded his ears. A vertical silver line with numerous flaps came into vision, its translucent middle flashing with reflections, and its top and bottom disappearing into the darkness, glowing like monochromatic traffic lights. He approached it, closer and closer as the industrial noises shouted louder and louder. Acidic. It burned his face when he finally touched the organ, and his cheeks disintegrated into coal. His nose swept down like a waterfall as it melted into a dark translucent liquid. The floating string dissolved into him. Unable to hear his own screams in the outpour of noise, and then he screamed no more as his throat became scorched. The flaps enveloped his body as their aura clashed with his skin. Swiping it apart and digging to his bones like a windscreen wiper. Left to right, right to left.