Voidwatchers

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    • Intro/Disclaimer


      "Voidwatchers" wird eine längere Geschichte, eine Art kosmische Reise durch Verstand, Realität, Sinn und Unsinn. Die Reise einer Freundesgruppe, auf der Suche nach einem unbekannten Faktor der mehr und mehr ihr Leben bestimmen wird, obwohl es vielleicht nicht ein mal existiert.

      Dieses Intro schreibe ich nur als Warnung. Voidwatchers ist auf seine eigene Weise ernst und real, sensible Themen, z.B. Suizid, werden Thema sein.

      Bei Fragen oder Rückmeldungen bezüglich der Geschichte und alles was damit zu tun hat könnt ihr sehr gerne auf mich zu kommen!

      Viel Spaß!

      P.S.: Achja, Englisch, es mag vielleicht abschreckend sein, aber es ist die bessere Sprache für diese Art von Geschichte!


      Oblivion

      The Present
      The room was cold and dark, filled with a smell that would remind you of nothing at all, so neutral. Machinery and computation devices ran still, as if someone had been to lazy or unwilling to turn them off.
      All screens had automatically faded to black for a while now, only blinking stand-by lights and the dim whirling of the processor fans would remind a visitor that the machines were running, perhaps the only sign of synthetic life, or, to some, life at all, present.
      The window was closed and only darkness was visible outside, the clocks were turned off, the batteries taken out, one had rolled off the nightstand and fell on the floor, the other one had been thrown on the bed which had been carefully made, the black blanket and pillows draped in inviting positions over the gray mattresses. But both the Bed and the Desk were empty, the chair placed exactly behind the middle of the table plate. The white walls were hidden by dark and golden, star depicting tapestry, barely visible in the dim and fleeting ambient light. The Thermostat clocked in at 18.9 Degrees Celcius.

      In the middle of the room was a person, laying on their back on the fake wooden floor, almost as if they had been placed in a coffin, eyes closed or open, it did not really matter as in this moment they were dead anyways. Did it matter how long they had been there, motionless? Did it matter how they got there, predetermined? Would they ever rise again? Nobody would help them up, that much was certain.
      The body was still breathing, the lungs drew in the air as greedily as ever, although not much oxygen was required to maintain the basic functionality of the connected material.

      What is my Name? Poet. That is not a name, Idiot. Well, at least i am aware of that, not a terrible start. Are you really, tho? I did need to remind you… Nothing, really? You are not dead, yet. Come to your senses, take control...
      Why would I? Everything is lost. Wow! I would clap if I could, at this sign of life. Listen, passing into Oblivion is not easy, leaving it is way harder. I believe that you can manage that. What good would it be? I am the only watcher now… Waking is pointless if no one is waiting. Let me float in eternity...
      Is that what you wish? To stay here? Yes? I am deeply sorry to hear that. I respect your wishes. CORE out.

      Finally undisturbed, but not free of reflections. It is impossible to ever accurately view yourself. Neither would it therefore ever be possible to accurately see what is around you. Time is the most torturing factor, but timelessness would be even worse. Now, is time a dot, or a line? Does it really matter, when everything past or before the relevant moment is ungraspable? Can we solve impossible Problems by ignoring them, accepting that there is no solution? What if we found a solution that we do not comprehend? Would we put it to use, unknowing of the real consequences or the impact, solving problems that only exist because we are struggling against their existence?
      I am confusion.

      Repeat.

      Has the perspective changed? If so, did it happen willingly or did the questions themselves imply that you need to change your views? Maybe you refused to repeat at all. Maybe you become less curious the less i implore myself to do so.

      Skip.

      I can not predict my own reaction. How would someone else be able to do so? This universe is made of parameters, local, hidden, does not matter, everything is predictable if you are all knowing. Unless... What if true randomness exists? What if the uncertainty of observation caused by the passage of time creates multiple possible states of which it can never know the true one? Would it not force to guess or ignore?

      Do not repeat, it would spoil everything.

      I am a god forsaken Genius.
      When CORE comes back i will show it what i have achieved. Wait. It will come back, right? There is no way i just doomed my way to be here forever, watching the void, filling oblivion, fading into nothingness. I must find a way. Only so i can be sure that there is none. I have been here before. Not here, exactly, that would be impossible, but in a situation almost entirely similar to this one. There is always a crash. Avoid the crash. Think, Justus, think! I AM A GOD!

      He jumped up, sudden but controlled movements guiding his lively body, only to step on the fallen battery, losing his balance, falling down, back to the ground, crashing hard.
      Pain, bearing to him the question if this could have been avoided if he had only been more aware. The universe sometimes was so unforgiving, yet it had a certain sense of humour that Justus had grewn accustomed to.

      Who was to blame for this? Maybe the person who invented this chemical device on which he had slipped, for without it there would have been no way he would have fallen. Back he faded into Oblivion, endless questions clouding his mind, but this time it was a consequence of the fall, an involuntarily journey into a new darkness, that would remain forever unexplored, where all pain would fade away. Where not even CORE could reach him. Disconnected from what we call time, a nonexistent place where no information exists. It was no void, no abyss, no blackhole, no null, no zero. The purest nonexistence. Death.
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