In a distant future humanity achieved such a level of technological advancement it was able to breach the borders of three-dimensional reality and move to the multiverses of multidimensions. But some of us were too afraid to move on. So, they stayed...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I've been wandering around the cities of the coast for a long time. I moved with caravans, got a job as a dover of selectosaurs (rough pack animals) and was rather given to my thoughts more than to the environment. I worked just to do something. The body didn't ask for food and was recovering the same way as when I had an imprint. The worm supported its host, and did not let me die.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
On the border with Iria, I became addicted to the u-code, a drug distributed in the troops. The morale of the latter was low, due to the unsuccessful invasion, and all kinds of oblivion flourished on the border. Prostitution, no memory water, u-code. At night I could get so fucked up that I couldn't remember myself, and in the morning the worm restored me to my former state, stirring in its nest. All day I sat on the shore of the bay, watching the rotation of troops on its desert side, where the border lay. I was just waiting for my supplier to wake up, so I could order him to find me more drugs by the power of the worm.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Rob found me at night in one of the eateries in Conception Lane. I felt him approaching and was uneasy for a few minutes. But I didn't have the strength to escape at all, and just collapsed on the table, salivating.
"I see you've found something to your liking, brother."
I just mumbled something angry in response and released even more saliva on the table.
"Are you planning to have fun like this for a broader time period, or is the limit already close?" my former employee smiled and sat down at the table.
Having ordered a goat-badu and no memory water, he began to sort out in his hand a rosary with images of faces distorted with horror. When he touched them, faces took on a contented look, but as soon as he let go, they froze in suffering again. Or so it seemed to me under the influence of the u-code.
