Yet to be named #2

A house, as in the Clods’ language, is a quintessential symbol of their dissonance with life. Covering themselves in what’s left of those once were alive, the Clods separate themselves from the disastrous consequences they have done. No trace of life, not a single. They delude themselves into thinking that they are so good of a race that life can be excluded from them. I affront them, affront their ignorance and stupidity. They have everything but have nothing.

They brought me to a cramped room, covered with their ideas of so-called happiness that are expressed by trivial objects. Vulgar colors on worthless items placed inside an artificial space that was built to lock life outside. How can they live like this, that is the question we could never answer.

The idea of staying here disgusts me, but this little sacrifice is no match for our endurance for the past 500 years. I played my role flawlessly as if I am just another normal pre-hit body, which once was what it is before the Clods came. As the night took over the sky, I made my first contact with her from this world.

“No suspicion?”

“No suspicion.”

“3 days to complete the initial procedure, then he will come.”

It has always been like that. We are not allowed to get close to her by any mean. A voice and a blurred image, different for each of us; we just know. She gives us everything we need to know since our birth as well as our mission, we follow without question. “Assimilation is unforgettable, the void awaits those who fall.”

“4 years”, she reminded. “Our entire future lies on you, the last generation.”

Death. How does it feel? Is it the same with the kind of death that the old Clouds always tell us? Seconds before “the hit”, we have to leave these hosts and reluctantly let the Clods take over; that is the only death we know. Will it be different if we fail this last effort?  Even if we were gone, no trace will be and should be found. Our existence will forever be an enigma but without a way to solve. Life will be gone. Life will join us in the black hole of the glorious past as we forever will be torturing ourselves with regrets. She does not want that, and she taught us not to.

He is coming, she never lies. My sixth sense, our gift of knowing where each of us is, tells me the same thing.

3 days until the beginning of the end.


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