It’s pitch dark. I can’t see anything—there’s nothing to focus on. Where am I? Am I floating? No... I’m lying... on something... but what? I can feel the weight of my hands resting on my chest, but I can’t lift them. In fact, I can’t move at all. My ever-present claustrophobia kicks in. My breathing quickens, and hyperventilation begins to build. No! I scold myself, trying to get a grip. I have to fight it.
With all the inner strength I can muster, I control my breathing and my heart rate, and finally, little by little, my right hand moves to the side of my body and slides from my chest. But instead of landing on the ground with a dull thud as I expected, I feel or hear nothing at all. My arm dangles helplessly. Maybe I’m lying on something high. I try my left hand, it moves more easily but it also falls down without resistance. I must be lying on something high, a ledge or something. How high? How narrow? There’s no way of knowing. I freeze. Any careless, uncontrolled movement could make me fall into the darkness of unknown depths.
There I lie, helplessly wrapped in impenetrable darkness, waiting for my eyes to adjust. But they don’t. I lose track of time completely. Only after what feels like minutes, hours, days do I finally hear something—a whisper, barely recognizable.
“Who would have thought?”
The voice sounds thin, almost transparent, as if it might evaporate or fall apart if you listen too intently. It’s not even a real voice. I mean, the air isn't moving. I hear it only in my head. A second voice, just as transparent and fragile, responds to the first.
“Balthazar did,” a second voice answers.
“Balthazar believes in anyone; that doesn’t count,” a third voice interjects.
“Still, he was right. We gave her a chance, and look at her... she’s still alive!” exclaims the first voice enthusiastically, as if my survival alone is an enormous accomplishment. The three voices are easily distinguishable from each other, yet they all share the same undertone of irony as if everything is funny.
They continue, alternating at a rapid pace.
Two: “That she’s not dead doesn’t mean she’s ít.”
One: “We still have to abide by the rules.”
Three: “Ah yes, where would we be without the rules.”
Two: “You can complain all you want, but without those rules, our bodies would be floating through space like a cloud of molecules.”
Three: “You’re right, I’m still quite attached to what’s left of my body.”
One: “You’ve always been the most sentimental.”
Two: “Too proud to let go.”
“Hey!” I finally say, fed up with being ignored.
For a moment, my head goes completely silent, but then a musical, polyphonic laughter starts to dance inside my head like a flock of butterflies. “Who are you?” I say louder now. “Tell me where I am!” The laughter inside my head only grows louder.
“HEY! CUT IT OUT!”
Finally, I seem to have some effect. The laughter dies down. They start talking again, taking turns so quickly now that I lose track of who is speaking.
“This is new. It wants to talk with us.”
“The earlier ones were only afraid.”
“Or passed out.”
“Or tried to ignore us.”
“Maybe we can say something to her.”
“That’s against the rules...”
“They were more like guidelines.”
“Real solutions come from inspiration.”
“Okay, you do it then.”
“Keep it simple.”
“It might not be very intelligent.”
“Okay, I’ll try, but don’t laugh. It’s been a long time since I used my voice.”
Finally, the air is moving. A real voice reaches my ears—soft and fragile at first, but growing more confident with each word. I think it's Voice Two.
“Well, girl... eh... you are a girl, right?
“Pffffffft.”
“Sorry, it's been a long time.”
My already short fuse has burned up completely by now. I’m not a mindless insect; I’m human, damnit. I have the right to know where I am.
“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? WHERE AM I?”
If I thought my outburst would make an impression, I was sorely mistaken. All three start speaking again.
“Yes...”
“We understand that you don’t understand, and...”
“Now that you’ve come this far, you deserve...”
“To know more about...”
“Things to come, because that will be...”
“More serious and dangerous than...”
“What has happened up until...”
“Now.”
Damnit, they are completing each other’s sentences now. Like Huey, Dewey, and Louie, the nephews of Donald Duck. “Stop! One at a time, please.”
“This one is something else.”
“This has never happened before.”
“She has a point, though.”
“Okay, let me do the talking again.”
“So... what’s your name this time?”
“Max. I’m called Max. What do you mean, this time? Have I been here before?”
“Yes.”
“Kind of.”
“In a sense.”
This is the moment I officially freak out. As if sensing my panic, their voices calm down.
“Well, eh… Max, it’s complex. And that’s fine for us. We love complex things. They feed and excite us, but you’ll probably get frustrated and angry. Humans always do. So, I’ll try to explain it in a simple way.
“Hey!” I protest. The other two start laughing again.
“Now you’ve made her angry.”
“She’ll shut down, just like the rest.”
“Sorry, nothing personal. We were like you a long time ago.”
“I’m not angry. I want answers!”
“I try, but there are rules, you know. We’re not allowed to intervene on your level. That would be considered cheating. But then again... this isn’t a normal situation at all.”
“Yes, yes, very special, good to know. But where am I? And why? And how can I get back to my reality?”
“Ah, yes, of course, you still believe in reality.”
“Give me a straight answer!”
“Sorry, I’m searching for the right words. Your language is so limited.” I swallow down a curse. “It’s like this: you’re here and you’re not here. In fact, you’re in between everything. It’s a miracle that you found this.”
“Eh... what?”
“You’re in between all things, but without being part of them. The nothing in between the everythin. Get it?” No I don’t. I’m tuning out. This is hopeless.
“Look, uh... person… being… forget the question. I don’t need to know where I am or what I’m supposed to do anymore. I just want to go home...”
“Ah.” The voice sounds disappointed and relieved at the same time. “That’s easy. You only have to think it.” It takes me a moment to realize that this is the whole answer, and when I do, I can’t help but feel disappointed.
“That sounds... easy? And where will I end up?”
“Wherever you want to be the most, of course. From here, you can get to any place, in any time.”
“But I don’t even know how I got here.”
“Yes, that’s a bit of a problem. But you are talking to us now, and even if you arrived here unconsciously, that’s phenomenal. Even we, didn’t see this coming, and that makes this so exciting. We haven’t been surprised in eons. It’s the first sign that all might not be lost. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll make all the difference.” The voice sounds so merry that I almost don’t realize how ominous the words really are.
“You’re mistaken. I can’t do anything.”
“The strongest are the blindest.”
“You three always have an answer, don’t you?”
“Yes, and still... we don’t know what’s going to happen next, and that’s fantastic. You’re a ‘joker.’ That’s what you call it, right? In a game of cards. Something unpredictable that can change the game completely.”
“I don’t want to change or save anything. I just want to get out of here.”
“We know. It’s easy. Just choose. Where or when do you want to go? What world, what planet even? It’s up to you. Your choice can determine the future of this world.”
Suddenly, it’s all too much. All these expectations, all this pressure. It’s exhausting. Although I’ve cursed my life many times, right now, I miss it painfully. I just want to go home and continue my insignificant life. I just want to see my friends. In my head, I hear a deep, polyphonic sigh—no disappointment, no surprise, only an acknowledgment of my decision—and then they are gone. I want to say something, but I know there’s no one to hear me.
“Friends,” I think, and immediately, I roll off the ledge and tumble into the darkness, accelerating towards a potential fatal end. I only have to wait for the crash, and then it will be over. But however long I fall, I don’t hit anything.
At first, the wind rushes past my body, but eventually, that too ceases. Now, I can’t even tell if I’m still falling or merely floating in an empty void.
Finally, light starts to shimmer through my eyelids. I hear a voice—not in my head, but in my ears. A friendly, crumbling, familiar voice, and when I open my eyes, despite the harsh light that makes tears run down my face, I look right into the wrinkled face of Williams, smiling down at me.
“Welcome back, Miss Kwintens. I must say, you’ve done admirably. Of course, I never doubted for a moment that you would find your way back home again.”