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STRIKED
What a strange world.
A huge field, covered in huge stone plaques, stretches before you. There are some people on some of the plaques that you see - some of them are staying where they are, the others are running. Each plaque bears a number, a random number. The sky ahead thunders - there's a storm here, a big one, and you can feel the electricity in the air. And then - lightning strikes, with a loud noise that vibrates through you, and a man drops dead, his skin blackened.
You walk forward without even a pause, across the field of numbers. The lightning strikes again onto a "5". You don't pay attention. Your eyes keep sweeping across the field, and you murmur to yourself, in a low tone:
"Numbers, numbers numbers. There are countless numbers. Looks like the lightning will go on forever, too."
More people are dead. You don't pay attention. How could you, in this world of numbers? You continue to talk to yourself, like it's somehow a way to distract you from the task at hand.
"The lightning and the numbers. What could the connection be? What meaning does this random arrangement of numbers hold?"
Something finally grabs your attention. You turn your head to stare at it. In the distance, there are small mountains, and on one of them is...what is that?
It's...a person. A young woman? In some kind of strange chair. She's too far from you, though, but you're making your way towards her. You speak up again, speaking to yourself, as if you need to fill the silence between the sounds of thunder with something, anything,
"No, it doesn't. No, it can't. It's impossible to ascertain the sequence the lightning makes. There are too many numbers. The strikes are far away."
You shake your head, smiling.
"In other words, to survive this world, you don't need to ascertain the sequence!" You heave a sigh - it almost sounds like a sigh of relief.
A huge field, covered in huge stone plaques, stretches before you. There are some people on some of the plaques that you see - some of them are staying where they are, the others are running. Each plaque bears a number, a random number. The sky ahead thunders - there's a storm here, a big one, and you can feel the electricity in the air. And then - lightning strikes, with a loud noise that vibrates through you, and a man drops dead, his skin blackened.
You walk forward without even a pause, across the field of numbers. The lightning strikes again onto a "5". You don't pay attention. Your eyes keep sweeping across the field, and you murmur to yourself, in a low tone:
"Numbers, numbers numbers. There are countless numbers. Looks like the lightning will go on forever, too."
More people are dead. You don't pay attention. How could you, in this world of numbers? You continue to talk to yourself, like it's somehow a way to distract you from the task at hand.
"The lightning and the numbers. What could the connection be? What meaning does this random arrangement of numbers hold?"
Something finally grabs your attention. You turn your head to stare at it. In the distance, there are small mountains, and on one of them is...what is that?
It's...a person. A young woman? In some kind of strange chair. She's too far from you, though, but you're making your way towards her. You speak up again, speaking to yourself, as if you need to fill the silence between the sounds of thunder with something, anything,
"No, it doesn't. No, it can't. It's impossible to ascertain the sequence the lightning makes. There are too many numbers. The strikes are far away."
You shake your head, smiling.
"In other words, to survive this world, you don't need to ascertain the sequence!" You heave a sigh - it almost sounds like a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness. With so many numbers around..."
And then, your body feels like its exploding with fire, the crack of lightning searing through your clothes, your skin, your heart screeching to an absolute halt.
A woman's voice sounds out in the darkness, stern.
"ANAIDO HAS DIED."
And then, your body feels like its exploding with fire, the crack of lightning searing through your clothes, your skin, your heart screeching to an absolute halt.
A woman's voice sounds out in the darkness, stern.
"ANAIDO HAS DIED."