He looked at the elevator, it was broken. Now only an half broken rope of some unknown material led down, it was in that moment that a thought occurred to him.

He stood up and looked at the elevator, it was bleach black and the rope might as well stop halfway through or simply break. Giving him a quick death and put him out of his misery.

He was already dead, he could do anything he wanted.

Animated more by primordial curiosity rather than the will to survive he attached himself to the rope and started sliding down.

The rope carried his weight, his little torch illuminated his surroundings, knowing that he would die soon no matter what gave him a sense of ataraxia

The rope was cut short he fell, the light of the torch spinned all around him.

A crack was heard in the moment of the impact.

When he opened up his eyes again his headache was worse than before and the hallucinations more intense, he was bleeding. Now the corridor in front of him had no walls, there was only a strange darkness that seemed to eat light.

He looked at the rope, it was too high for him. He couldn’t turn back. He stood there idle for some minutes, thinking of what to do. He checked his wounds, he had nothing to alleviate them. He took a deep breath and went into the darkness.

>

His body begun to feel lighter and lighter, his head begun spinning, he lost his equilibrium time and time again. His body begun to feel like a separate thing from him, he wanted to move an arm, but it didn’t move. His body was dragging him without its consent. He suddenly remembered the stories about the core. Horrible stories, beautiful stories, strange stories.

He heard stories of old explorer and strange men delving too deep and sawing an underground night sky. He never believed them, doing so will be heretical and weird and such people were send elsewhere to work and die.

This was no simple darkness, this was the night stary sky.

In the distance, he could see something, was it a home? He tried to stop not believing his eyes; that was his childhood home. Not the dirty and cheap apartment that he had now.

And it’s that a dog? Was that his dog? Is that a child? It’s that...no it can’t be.

It can’t be!

A sudden energy filled his body: rage.

With all the strength he was capable of he managed to dissolve the illusion, be it only for a few moments, all of that was a hallucination of his mind. In reality, he was in a dark, reinforced steel corridor with unlit lights and candles that hang from the ceiling.

Then the hallucination took hold of him again, his body moved to his house. Where he was going anyway? He paused and shrank, realizing the truthfulness of the stories. Stories from the mechanics of a strange voice that took possession of those who explored to deeply the mysteries of the machines, and he knew how those stories always ended up. They became part of the machine. Horrible monsters without souls who infested the low quarters and made living hell for those who were too close to the cavities, Ulhelms was their name. A warning to all to not study too much the machines.

And now he was close to becoming one of them. All of those effort only to become one of them? NO!

With its last strengths, he picked his rifle and pointed its pipe towards him. He placed his fingers on the trigger and…

CLING

The weapon didn’t shot, he shot one of the walls to make sure that he it worked and it worked

He looked at his weapon, it was too becoming possessed. Strange wires were inside it.

He looked at his hand moving hysterically, the fingers moved independently of the hand. He drew back in terror. He felt his entire arm being possessed by something, it began moving, screaming, he could hear it in his mind.

> the voice said in a peaceful tone > that voice mutated and became horrible > it was his father voice and words. He remembered them.

He tried to go back, maybe, after all, he could reach that rope. But a strange voice kept pulling him down. He felt powerless, he clung to everything, be it walls, stairs lamp. But nothing held, nothing.

He saw his home closer and closer, the face on people heads. The sun setting on the horizon.

> said a female small voice >

> said Jurgo moving its tail.