Nari’s Log Cycle 001: The Awakening

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The first memory that I can recall happened only a few hours ago, when I woke up. I had no idea who I was, where I was, why I was there, why I was there- you get the picture. Sure, I still knew about certain things, yet most of it seemed to be picked out in a seemingly random order. I knew about language, writing, and common elements in storytelling, but no characters or actual examples. I knew mathematics up to Trigonometry, basic level Biology, Chemistry, and Physics, yet my knowledge of history was mostly devoid of dates, or even names. Even then it was pretty barren, to the point where I could not even recall where I was from. Or perhaps that was just the fact that I had some form of amnesia?

Either way, as my brain felt like it was some sort of liquid, while My head felt like it’d been hit with a shovel just an hour ago. I instinctively glanced at my surroundings. I was in something that I recognized as a garage, although it did have far better lighting that I would expect from one. This one was apparently used more as a storage area with organized plastic containers combing the wall, rather than an automobile taking up the whole local. And very oddly, six beds with light blue sheets and a pillow of the same color, one of which I was beneath the covers of.

Although, the rest were empty, which made me believe that I must be here by myself. I started my observation of this room with just that, looking on and beneath the covers before I got out, looked beneath the bed itself, and finally to a nearby nightstand. The sole piece of furniture in the entire area, except for the identical nightstands near the other five beds. However, this one had a decent sized hand mirror and a note. I decided to use the mirror first, since I still possessed a roaring headache, and was not in the mood to read, or even think much at all.

After rubbing my eyes a few times, I managed to get a pretty clear look at myself, as my mind noticed several things that it found to be important. I was apparently a fairly a lean white male who looked to be a teenager, with dull blue eyes and mildly unkempt white hair. Then, as something I was able to perceive as a dead give away, I realized how I did not recognize my own face. Perhaps I had contacts in, or my hair was dyed, or i had some surgery done. After all, I knew enough about hair to determine that a young person with white hair was an anomaly.

Even moving around felt strange, almost as if I had been kept in a coma for a few years. Maybe that’s why my mind is so messed up. I’ve been comatosed long enough to obtain brain damage of some sort. Well, that theory went out the window, seeing as how I still had some decent muscle, which I’m pretty sure would be far less if I’d been sleeping for over three, six, however many months it takes for comatosed people to get brain damage.

I then recalled the piece of paper right next to the mirror, and picked it up, dropping the mirror on the bed. The note said, “Hello there, you must be the new guy around here. Based on my notes, you are named Nari. Well, Nari, you pretty much have a brain that’s scrambled like an omelette, which provides an excellent reason to listen to me. Your one and only mission is to take some of the supplies listed below, and leave through this garage’s door. From there, continue towards a city due north, a compass shall be provided for you, and a messenger in a red hood will give you further instructions if you are wearing the designated clothing found in Container E-N-7. You will have more than enough supplies, along with some food, since I would assume you are very hungry after your what you have been through. P.S. We have also implanted you with a device we call a logger, which records your past experiences whenever you fall asleep, or are unconscious.”

I was not sure what to make of that, but it at least seemed like some direction, which I was in desperate need of. After a few seconds of learning that the 3 covered walls were named after their direction via west, east, and south, the letters made up the vertical rows, and numbers made up the horizontal ones, I found Container E-N-7. It was heavier and longer than I expected, being large enough to store a male adult with no major issue. Inside was a backpack that was the size of a six year old, but thankfully not as heavy. Inside I found a pair of warm looking clothes, in the form of a thick navy blue cotton shirt, and some beige trousers lined with three layers of cloth, and a series of pockets. A thick navy blue jacket with pockets filled with stuff and some dark brown hiking boots, all of which were thankfully my size. And would be much appreciated since I was in a T-shirt and knickers at this point, and was noticing how the room temperature garage was clearly heated.

There were some boxed foods, I picked some Paella, Nasi Goreng, Schnitzel, yukgaejang, borscht, and Tom Kha Gai. All of it tasted alright, but something was off, maybe I just hadn’t eaten in a long time. An electronic wristband with a touch based User Interface, but only two available functions, a compass, like the note said, and a digital clock that stated the time as 8:26. A few large bottles of water, one of which I began to gulp down upon finding it. A series of small tools, a blade, and even a screwdriver, all in one object near the size of three of my fingers. There was even some sort of grey folded up bicycle covered by a pair of navy wool gloves.

After organizing all of my newly found stuff, having a meal from some of the ready made boxes and cans I found, and getting dressed into my new clothes, I was about ready to leave. Near large garage door, the only door might I add, there was a palm sized red button with the word “Open” engraved on it in white letters. With my bicycle, backpack that still had some extra food, water, a blanket, and so forth, and my warm clothing, I was prepared for what I was assuming to be zero to five degrees Celsius weather.

I pressed the “open” button and shielded my eyes as the bright sunlight shined through the ever growing crack. Upon adjusting to the light surging my way, I understood the reason for my clothing, it was pretty frigid out. Outside of the garage, was what looked like a field if it had been set ablaze a few days ago. It was mostly just a bunch or dry dirt, nothing that really made it feel like a desert, even though it sure looked like one, with little to no vegetation. Well, it was certainly more grey than what I remembered deserts to look like. In fact, everything down to the clouds looks pretty dreary, and not just because it was currently overcast. Either way, I had no business just standing around, and decided that it’d be best if I get on the bicycle I found, and started heading to the north, where I could indeed see a city of sorts over the horizon.

I was left with my thoughts for nearly an hour, going across a very no distinct looking flatland of dirt, going towards the tall grey stacks of concrete that made up the most visible part of whatever city this was. I was just thankful that I had the muscle memory of riding a bicycle, even if my head still felt like I had recently obtained some sort of concussion. I still had oodles of questions about, well, everything, but I decided that the best way to figure it out is to find someone who I could talk to.

I reached the city borders at 10:17, thankful that I consumed so much food before I left the garage, which I don’t recall closing now that I think about it. Not that I saw a button to close it anyhow. Either way, I wandered into the streets, feeling a bit ill as I did so. I had not noticed it until I was a block in, but the city smelled as if every automobile had been left running the night before. I stopped to reach into my backpack and look for a cloth to block my mouth, perhaps even a scarf, seeing as how it was certainly no warmer in the city than it was near the garage.

That’s when I heard the first noise that I did not produce, I heard an old woman cry out in terror. I paused. It was odd for me to hear another’s voice due to my isolation from the world for god knows how long. But feeling a sense of duty, I got back on my bike, and started pedalling toward to noise. And that’s when I noticed something, where were the cars? All of them appeared to be gone, without even a tire remaining in the streets I was traversing. Along with no lights, or people in the streets. Why was that? Regardless, I made it to the location of the screech, and found nothing, nothing except an old woman lying on the asphalt, next to a few potatoes.

I rushed toward her, feeling like that was the right thing to do, and placed my hand along her neck while asking her if she was alright, only to see a knife sticking out of her side. I heard a gag, felt a single beat, but nothing more. I found her in her literal final moment, she ended her life when she entered my arms. I felt sad for some reason. Almost as if there was some sort of instinct for being upset when an unknown individual dies. Looking back, I was being a bit of a fool. I picked up the potatoes, and left the old woman, after I took the knife out of her side, hoping that if I do encounter the person, or people who did this, I would be able to defend myself.

I continued traveling down the streets on my bike, now taking a closer look at where exactly I was. Namely that it looked like rubbish. Boarded up windows, broken concrete on the buildings and sidewalks, trash bags everywhere, blood stains, and even some decaying corpses with flies picking them apart, with their next generations more likely than not to do the same ot the old woman. I thought about putting her body somewhere, but where? Why would she be my responsibility? What could I have done? I tried to think rationally, but part of me still felt miserable.

It was a series of long, lonely, grim, and nauseating minutes. I doubt I had ever smelt decaying flesh, but when bundled together, I was struggling to hold back my meal from two hours ago. Now, all I could do was look for the messenger in a red hood, and hope that they would be able to get me outta this hell hole. So, I just kept on pedalling, trying to do no more than glance at silhouettes of people brandishing guns at one and another, which I saw from some of the few open windows. I recall living in a place where gunshots were empowering, but actually hearing them and imagining the deaths they could cause, made me feel helpless. While experiencing a hair of pity for the guilt one who pulled the trigger must be feeling. But look at me, simulating empathy.

As I was wandering through the ruins of what, I was certain to have been at some point, a major city. Something broke through the underlying coat of disease and misery. It was a little girl on the curb, head down to the street, and she was singing. I don’t recall the exact words, but I think it went something like this: “In the lost jungles now. They live in peace. Sweet baby WIldebeests. And sweet littles Cows. Come little animals. Where are you now? Come little animals. Where are you n-” Her little lullaby, sung in a calming melancholy, was suddenly silenced. Replaced by a gunshot. Later replaced by silence.

I saw the girl’s body fall onto the pavement, blood coming from cute little head, and through her golden blonde curly hair. Then seeping down to stain her mildly tattered white dress, with only a jacket to keep her warm. Not even a pair of socks to protect her now blackened feet. And her face… The bullet hit her right next to her left eye, and the color from what was not tainted with red, was gushing away. I was paralyzed, I could not even blink. I don’t even think I was breathing, I just leaned in, needing to confirm that the child was truly dead. Needing to feel that the life was running out of her. Then, seconds after the girl was murdered, I saw a hand in the corner of my vision, grabbing something the girl held, it appeared to be a can of beans. Some sick little fuck murdered a girl no older than eight for some fucking beans! No, I thought, no way I would let this fucking bullshit fly!

I sprinted after the one who grasped the can, moving faster than I think I ever have in my entire life. WIthout focusing on anything but the murderer, I tackled him down after just a few seconds. Or should I say her. She was wearing a red cloak, which I should have perceived as a dead giveaway, but I was too rash to think. I assumed she was a man, but no, it was another girl, of no more than fifteen. One who I recognized as being pregnant, about eight months so.

I could not believe it, I still don’t. This is a place where a child will be murdered by a pregnant woman for mere subsistence. A bullet, a fucking bullet! Is more valuable than some can of food? I said nothing to her. I broke. I could no longer take it. I have been in this city for about fifteen minutes, and I was tackling a pregnant teenager for shooting a little girl in the face. I had too much frustration, but I knew not to hit a pregnant woman. So as tears began to roll down my eyes, due to a mix of fear, shock, anger, and sorrow, I stumbled to the nearest trash bag. And began to pummel it. I did not have enough rage to assault a pregnant woman, but too much for it to be bottled up. It stunk like week old feces, but I could not bring it to myself to attack someone who still had the face of a child. I don’t know how long I did this for, constantly wailing all the way, only to have my silence come not unlike the girl’s, by gunfire. And in my last moment of consciousness, my body feeling numb all around, I saw that it was the same pregnant girl who had murdered that child. Then, there was darkness.

Within the past few seconds of my life, my mind began to process a lot of things. This log for one, but the most prevalent thought was this, ”I want to leave this world.” And with a light encompassing me as of now, I could only hope that that is the case.

End of Cycle

Fun Fact: I actually originally wrote the ending segment (“As I was wandering through-” to the last sentence) after I had a dream where that is pretty much exactly what I saw. So I’m actually plagiarizing this whole thing, because it isn’t based on my own idea. It’s based on the dreams that I stole… Guh, do I need to make a mini-series based on Dream Thieves? I think I do… Coming 2014?

Either way, thanks for reading this. Now, the tone for this is a bit different, but I’ll use the excuse that the main character, Nari doesn’t know anything at this point. And this entire arc is a bit different, because it was what I thought of first. Bad reasoning, but I still think it came out pretty alright.

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