The Death Knell

"They said you were extremely close to the ‘boundary’ of that world, is it true?"

The Medusa mask aroused the curiosity and courage of the middle-aged man. When faced with a notorious villain like the psychic pirate, he was still able to ask questions.

"I will always be stripped from this world, almost every time, so the boundary doesn't actually feel any specific to me, but it sounds like you have heard of me before?"

"Yes, I know you are the second generation. You used to be an insignificant robber in New York, Roger Hayden. You found this mask and it gave you a new look."

When the middle-aged man said this, he paused for a while, then he patted his thigh as if remembering something:

"Do you know? When I have the ability, we can be partners, you know, I have a lot of good plans that can make us all a fortune."

The psychic pirate doesn't have any interest in money. What he is worried about right now is not this, because he has seen the guy with his head burning and claiming to be the recorder of the almighty universe, and now Roger is deeply confused.

So he just smiled and spoke softly:

"Let’s wait and see, then, for the second question, you can already know what we can ‘know’, then what is ‘real’ among the things that we know?"

This question is a bit deeper. The middle man thought for a while, he leaned on the back of the folding chair with his arms, tilted his head to look at the lamp.

The light bulb emits light and heat, and even through the mask, it seems that you can see what the current looks like when it passes through the filament.

"Only emotions are real, everything else in life may be false, the whole world we are in may be illusions or illusions, maybe each of us lives in the same tank of "The Matrix."

The man suddenly spoke imaginative words. It was not like what an ordinary middle-aged man could say. It was probably the Medusa mask that magnified his sentimentality:

"My answer is this. The things that inspire our emotions may be false, but our emotions are real. We are not the masters of emotions, but emotions constitute our hearts, or our souls."

"Well... this is also a good answer." The psychic pirate squeezed his chin and nodded slowly: "You are amazing. Even when I wear a mask, I can't think about things like you."

The middle-aged man behind the mask laughed. He raised his head and looked at the dark void above his head:

"Right? I have an interesting soul, just like you. The purpose of your answering game is to find a similar companion in this false universe, so as to get rid of that loneliness."

"Well, the third question is also the most difficult question,'Who' are you'?" Mr. Hayden put a smile away. He is a lone traveler, living in his own spiritual world, and he seems lonely. But I don't want to share this loneliness with others.

But to eliminate this loneliness.

The man across the table was taken aback for a while, rubbing his hands on the table a few times, because this question sounded the simplest.

But reason tells him that as the third question, it must not be that simple.

"I am an ordinary person, working as a chef in a roadside fast food restaurant that no one cares about. Every day I watch truck drivers, prostitutes, elderly people and children passing by travel in and out of my shop, trying to show that I have existed. The meaning of the trivial things that have built the world, so I want to do big things that can affect the big things in this world."

He thinks this answer is good, with deep thoughts, and he did not reveal his real name.

"Oh." But the soul pirate stood up, he sighed, and slowly shook his head: "It's a pity."

"What?" The man was astonished.

"You don’t understand what I’m doing, you’re just playing mystery, you don’t have any'experience' and'story' of growth at all, none of us have it. This universe is only a few months old, because the last time it was restarted Now, we are all poor bugs trapped in grids and dialog boxes."

"What are you talking about net?" The man really didn't understand it anymore.

"Grid, grid, spacer, square, line segment, whatever you call it."

The talking psychic pirate raised both hands as if grabbing something, and then jerked it down.

The surrounding darkness has all faded away, revealing the pale background of the space. No, the space has lost its meaning. At this time, the existing things have been suspended, as if they have lost their constraints.

"My God! My God! Where are we?"

The weightless middle-aged man lay on the table, and he kept spinning in this seemingly boundless white world.

"Now you see the truth behind our universe. Every world is built on this white fiber paper. They will be destroyed and forgotten as they please, but they will eventually be rebuilt, copied, and used. I am the one who is excluded every time the universe restarts. This is what I want to discuss with someone."

The psychic pirate has said a lot. He is not excited, or has no emotions, but just flat out some of his own opinions, and sighs with some regret:

"Actually, I sent out the news that I wanted Batman or Death Knell to come to me, not you...Your IQ, the information you have, can't help me at all. It's a pity, it seems that I imitated Luther, taking out the spiritual power as a prize, they still can't make them value me, this little person, ha ha."

But at this time, the middle-aged man could not answer him anymore. He was buckling the mask on his face, not knowing when it started, as if he had grabbed all his organs, making him unable to breathe.

He grabbed the edge of the mask and wanted to take it off, but even harder, he tore his chin, broke his nails, and spilled blood in this blank space.

The mask didn't move, but the blood he shed quickly turned black, like a string of inconspicuous ink stains.

"It's useless, you are afraid. The Medusa mask will magnify this fear thousands of times, and then absorb these emotions, so you will be scared to death by yourself."

As if confirming what he said, the middle-aged UU Reading www.uukahnshu.com quickly kicked his legs a few times and lay on the table without moving. The mask automatically fell off his face with a crisp sound. On the table.

At this time, the face of the corpse became as white as paper, in other words, he had faded the color, leaving only the outline of the black line.

After this, the psychic pirate picked up the mask in a sigh, ready to continue his lonely journey.

Because he is the one who was stripped of the universe, he remembers every restart, every crisis, every flashpoint, every time...

He observes them from another level.

But when he picked up the mask and raised his hand to put it on, he suddenly stopped and began to look around:

"Who is talking?"

"You haven't listened to your own questions, psychic pirate."

A voice seemed to come from high above, like the voice of God.