don’t be afraid, human

2013

note
This was my very first proper attempt at writing in English. Despite the occasional hiccup here and there, I still really love this story!

Don’t be afraid, human

Four fifty nine.
Four fifty nine.
Four fifty nine. A huge black fly sat on the digital wall-clock that my eyes are focused on. Probably the fattest one I have ever seen. I wonder what he is thinking about, maybe “I wonder what that guy at the table is thinking about?” or “Come on, clock, show me five o’clock and I will fly home to my lovely smelly wife and eat some rubbish, can’t wait to do that!”.

Five. God, it took ages. I quickly breath in, fill every cubic centimetre of my tired squeaky lungs with air, hold it in a bit so my blood becomes saturated with oxygen, and slowly breath out making a fading fizzle noise, stretching my mouth in a bubbly shape. I check my pocket for my cell phone, in case Harold put it in the microwave again. Here it is. You know, we live in the age when people are used to having a permanent tiny weight in their pockets, such as their phones or ipods, so they can’t really tell whether they have it or not, as it has become something essential, a natural unnatural part of our bodies. Although, in most of the cases of the random feeling that you are missing your “pocket-thing”, it is in your pocket, you just suddenly stop noticing it rubbing against your thigh and giving you a weeny bit of an extra weight. Otherwise you wouldn’t walk out of your house, I bet. The phone vibrated slightly, and I took it out to see who or what was going to either brighten or darken the rest of my day. “Going out with Caty and Tiff tonight, left pizza on the table. Love you.” was shining at my face from the phone’s screen. The best Friday in my life. I get up with a huge joyous smile, take the car keys from the drawer and wade through the office toward the exit. The fat fly jumped off of the clock, and flew out right after me, bending its way in the air due to the fatness.

Mr Huggins affably rubs against my leg, saying something that only other cats would understand, as I open the door and walk inside my house. Something to do with food, I guess, and maybe with patting those special places behind his ears. “Do not worry, mister, the cook is home, but you have to wait until the pat lady comes back.” I say and take my shoes, pants and socks off, shuffling into the kitchen. Ten minutes later I am sitting in my wicker chair outside in the garden, with my best friends: pepperoni pizza and two cans of Budweiser on a glass table. The time is six fifty four in the evening, the sky is looking tremendously beautiful, it is that time of the day when the sun starts experimenting with its rays and our atmosphere and paints the sky in flamingo pink, or poppy reddish, or sometimes light green as unripe white gooseberries. It has always amazed me, the dawn. I close my eyes and open them again.

An apparent blink took at least two or three hours, because the sky was now looking like a black tablecloth with salt sprinkled all over it - stars were flickering everywhere. Must be the fatigue accumulated during the week doing its job pretty well, that put me in sleep. I glance at the pizza and find a really huge fly sitting on it. Staring at me.

“Hello, Nicholas” came a deep, husky voice. “How are you?” it asked. “I am alright, thank you” I said, not having any idea of who I am speaking to. I could think that I am having something going on with my head, because I remember reading an article about how people become schizophrenics, they start hearing voices in their heads, talking to them. But not in my case, no, it was someone real, speaking to me from a distance. The owner of the voice just lightly coughed.

“I am here, on this pizza, Nicholas” he said. “Let’s go for a walk.”

That evening, the fly who asked me to call him Leland Graves, walked me down the street I live on (or flew me, as he was slowly floating a metre ahead of me, showing where to go), until we found the park and entered it. As we were making our way across the river, Leland was telling me how important it is that I understand that he is not an alien, that he is a remarkably intelligent fly. A remarkably intelligent fly. At that point, I noticed some kind of queerness in the current situation. After five minutes of wandering among the trees, we found a huge silver plate-like spaceship floating above the ground, the top of which was flickering with green and blue lights, turning the surroundings’ shadows into some interestingly looking creatures.

“Oh, look, Nicholas! How lucky are we, to find something extraordinary like this spaceship while having a simple walk?” then said Mr Graves, “We should have a go inside, my friend,” the fly turned around in the air and looked at me, waiting. “Yes, why not” I said and walked past him suspended in the air. Suddenly, the part of the ship that was facing us separated from the rest and created a shining with cyan light entrance. There, in the middle of it, was standing someone, creating an immensely tall silhouette. The person was beckoning me with his or her hand. “Don’t be afraid, human.” I heard a very smooth, a bit electrified voice. It was sounding in my head, as if I was thinking that.

I moved towards the figure in the spaceship, and, all of a sudden, at the very moment I blinked, I appeared in an absolutely white room with a grey box a metre high in the middle of it. And an alien-looking person standing by the box. I was about to ask it who it was, but the answer happened in my head faster than I could open my mouth: “I am Leland, the fly” sounded that familiar husky voice. “Oh, you don’t look like a fly anymore. At least, not like a tiny one” I said. “This is my natural body, Nicholas. Besides, being a fly surely provided me some… surprisingly well feeling benefits.” Leland’s voice resounded in my head, jumping from a very high pitched tone down to something more robot-like sounding, but always having those familiar husky notes in it.

“So. You are here, in the dimension of mine. I am sure, you can feel some kind of an invisible presence floating around you. It would be my mental field. Or, basically, you can feel the power of my mind.” the person was standing in front of me, as his words were popping up in my own mind. And I could truly feel something pressuring me from every side of my body, as if the air in this room was pumping in every second I had been there, making the pressure stronger and stronger. All I could say was “Ah… It’s pretty impressive, Leland! Maybe, you could tell me something about yourself? About what you are, and why I am here?”

Silence. I could hear nothing but my own thoughts this time. And then something extraordinary (compared to the extraordinariness of the whole situation) happened: when I tried to move my leg, it didn’t move. Instead, I walked out of my body. Stepped forward with my own spirit, leaving the weight and imprisonment of being captured in that useless piece of meat behind.

Here we go - a human is not just a piece of meat. I could see it with my own eyes. Though, what is a human then? What am I?

“Do you want to know the answer?” asked Leland. “Yes, I do” I attempted to say, but couldn’t, as I didn’t have my throat or my vocal cords anymore. “Damn!” I thought. “Learn to keep your mind clear, for it is the source of life and being in the world. I need you to come here, to the resonator.” said Leland.

For an unknown to me reason I knew that that grey box standing by Leland was the resonator he just mentioned. But here came another problem. How do I walk?

“Simply will to be where you want to be, Nicholas. Where you need to be.” an advice appeared in my head. I imagined being near the box, and… there I was. Unbelievable.

“Now, I need you to question yourself. To think of who you are, with every single part of your soul, try to comprehend your nature. Dive into the ocean of thoughts, swim down to the essential. Seek the answer in yourself, and you will find it.” said the voice.

“I am a human. Although, I think, not anymore. But who do we call a human? We just made up a word to call ourselves, but we don’t know what we are. We don’t know what we can. We don’t know what we live for. Look at all the wars that we started, at all the conflicts. Should we call a terrorist, whose goal in life is to kill other people, a human? We don’t know. And you are asking me, not even a scientist or a person with a deep interest, to think about who I am? Well, here is my answer. I am Nicholas Wazek.”

As new ideas and more questions were appearing in my head, my vision started vibrating, with irresistible force pushing me deeper into my memories. A tremendous strike of knowledge killed my entire soul and resurrected it, vibrating my mind, pulling up every thought I ever had, and extending them a million times. The most painful yet most prodigious experience. Then, Leland reminded of himself: “Nicholas. We provided you the comprehension of the world, as to process your consciousness to one hundred percent of what it is capable of. Now, you are a truly free being, your life and your way is in your hands. You can come back to Earth and seek for loyalty amongst other people, sharing your knowledge with them. Or, you can continue your own journey. You are free.”

Every part of me felt unclenched and released. So as every part of me wanted to go upper, to be lifted closer to the unreachable top of… knowing.

“They won’t listen to any word I say. People are blind and deaf. If you give them the power of knowing, they won’t appreciate it deservedly. Now, when I am seeing the whole picture, the only right decision I am able to make is to leave. Earthlings have to progress only with the help of themselves. Don’t touch any other man. Me was enough. Leave them be. Goodbye, Leland Graves. And thank you.”

I imagined a place that couldn’t be imagined before. And there I was.

Nicholas’ body was found on his wicker chair the next morning, by his wife. He had a smile on his face, and a very deep, calm look in his eyes.