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The Patient

1.

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own. And then, the street appeared at the foot of my balcony. The rumor of ten thousand minuscule feet began to enter the apartment. I closed the door of my bedroom and jumped onto my bed because I knew what followed — the bugs entering below my door. A myriad of black bugs walked blindly, flooding the floor of my room.

I had to do something. I needed to wake up or get out of that place in my mind. “They are not real,” I repeated to myself with my eyes closed. “They are not real.” Then, I felt that sea of things start to climb my bed. I could feel the blanket in tension, for that swarm of bugs was crawling to the top of the bed.

“But they are not real,” I said to myself with my eyes shut. I needed to know that they were not real. I opened my eyes and looked again at the mirror. And I was not there! It was impossible! I had to see my reflection; I was in front of the mirror! Why wasn’t I there? Where was I?

The bugs started to crawl onto my dress, my floret white and red dress. I slapped their bodies as they crawled not only onto my bed but also onto the walls of my room — all black, all noise, all moving towards me. “THIS IS NOT REAL!!!”

Then, the infinite mouths of the black tiny bugs started to chew my flesh, and a towering black wave of bugs fell over me as I cried for help.

2.

A rhythmic beep started to enter my blackened consciousness. Before the light, there was sound. I felt the air in my lungs and started to inhale deeply, making each breath a bliss. I was in a soft place, with soft light, and I felt at peace.

Until the man spoke.

- Are you all right, kid?

I tried to open my eyes, and the bright light annoyed me. After a few seconds of trying to adapt to my own body, I was able to answer questions about myself. I checked my body sensations, looking for some sign of pain, and I didn’t feel anything relevant.

- Yeah. What happened? Where am I?

I noticed his hesitation and started to worry.

- My name is Arnold. I am a doctor, and you are in the emergency room of Metropolitan Hospital.

Any trace of sleepiness disappeared at that instant. I tried to get up, and then I felt the tightness of long plastic tubes with transparent liquid flowing in and out of my veins.

- Relax, you are okay. Your parents brought you here after you started screaming in your room.

- My… parents?

- Yes. They said this is not the first time that you have had this kind of problem.

- But…

- Yes?

I tried to remember. My memories began to flow and merge at the speed of light in my mind. There was a hotel with a neon sign just in front of my room, and it had an annoying buzz. The light was intense too, pink, flickering, and unstable rhythm. That was unpleasant… no, that was not the unpleasant that I felt. I was alone in the room but not in the hotel. There was someone else with me, someone who brought me? Or forced me to be there?

The number outside my room was 24.

Suddenly, the image changed, and I was in my bedroom. I knew that my family was nearby, probably in their own bedrooms. Because they were my family, weren’t they? I formed the image of a father, a mother, and a little sister, and I could recognize their faces, but my feelings didn’t match what I was supposed to have for them.

I formulated my next question with a pinch of fear.

- Are they here?

- Yes, they are just outside the door. Do you want me to call them?

Before he made a move towards the door, I grabbed his forearm. I took him by surprise, so I spoke as fast as I coherently could.

- What is happening to me?

- Do you remember anything before you fainted?

Yes, I do remember the bugs.

- No. No, I don’t remember anything.

The doctor looked at me with an unintelligible gaze.

- You know you are an adult, but I would like this information to be given to your parents.

- Please — I said as my grip over his arm got stronger and more desperate.

- Well… You had a psychotic break. Hallucinations, depersonalization, and your parents told me that you were screaming something about that you were someone else. And they told me that this situation is becoming more frequent.

- So?

- So, we need to do some tests, but to be honest with you, there are some probabilities that you have some kind of schizophrenia.

It took me a few seconds to take the punch.

- I am going crazy?

The man didn’t answer that. Instead, he asked me if I wanted my parents to come in.

They entered the room. I saw concern on their faces. I knew they were my parents.

But they were not.

3.

The room was dark. At certain moments, a flash of intense pink light showed me the walls and corners of the place. The walls were covered in darkened red velvet, and the distribution was very simple: the living room was in the center of the apartment, with the door to the bedroom and a private bathroom on one side, and a door to a small kitchen on the other side. The room’s window faced the street and a neon sign. I knew this place. I knew all about this room. And I knew that I was living in this room.

Outside the apartment’s door was a long and narrow corridor with many doors. Behind those doors were people, standing in the same position as I was. We were all looking at the door that led to the corridor, and we were all scared. But I was tired of being there, so I turned the knob and opened the door. Outside, the dim lights were exactly as I remembered, and the corridor had the same velvet wallpaper as the apartment, but in a dirty dark green color. There was no one in the corridor. I turned left and started to walk. At the end of the corridor, it turned left again, and just before I reached the corner, a rumble started to grow. At first, it was a very subtle noise, like the sound of tiny gears in motion, but when I reached the room in the corner, the sound had grown to the level of something very familiar to me.

Bugs. Countless numbers of bugs tearing the door from the inside. I was paralyzed as the sound grew louder and louder. I knew in my bones that this was the door I was looking for. I wanted to run away, but I also needed to open the door. That sound was making me crazy.

“Stop!” I said.

Then, the sound stopped. There was only silence in the corridor. I heard a click, and the door in front of me began to open. Inside, there was only darkness. I entered cautiously. When I was in the main room, a subtle illumination started to glimmer. Then I saw myself wearing a long black dress with a long tail. With each heartbeat, the man in front of me became clearer.

The Bug Man.

He was wearing an old-fashioned jacket and a top hat. Slender and tall, he stared at me.

“Let me out,” I said with a strange confidence.

“Out from where?” he replied with a profound voice.

“From here.”

“And where is here?”

And he smiled.

I didn’t know. This place was familiar and otherworldly at the same time. In a strange way, I was able to feel the whole construction.

“You don’t remember anything of this, of course. It’s the way we decided to be,” he said.

“We?” I asked.

“You, me, and the rest who live in this world,” he said, gesturing to the building. “I am the master, and this building is the host of a million faces. And you, young one, are one of those faces.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“You don’t remember anything, as you wanted to be. Here, in this place, are all the possibilities and combinations of personalities in the world. They are trapped in the collective mind. Some people choose to experiment only once in their life, but there are some people who are far more ambitious. You have one body but a lot of minds. Can you feel it?”

In the distance, I was able to feel the rhythmic pounding of a heart.

“You are lying. I know who I am…”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Of course! I can see myself in the mirror every day,” I replied.

“And do you recognize yourself?” he asked.

“Yes… sometimes…” I trailed off, falling into silence. Was I really sure of who I was? Wasn’t everyone sure of their own identity? If I wasn’t who I thought I was, then who was I?

The man spoke up. “Are you really sure that the reflection of your face in a mirror is your own? Are you sure that all the images that you see in pictures and reflective surfaces are truly representative of who you are? Do you realize that all that you know about how you see is based on what others say, not what you can truly see? Would you like to know how you really are?”

“How?” I asked.

“I can make you see yourself, but there’s a catch. Or, perhaps, it’s better to say there’s a cost you have to pay,” he warned.

“I will not pay it,” I declared.

“Then you can continue seeing yourself in the mirror, trying to convince yourself that you are really you, even if you know that there is something wrong with that. Do you know that there is something wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t believe you. What else is a mirror if not a tool to see what I am?” I retorted.

“Mirrors are doors, portals, the only thing that has always existed, as ancient sages have told everyone who was ready to listen since the beginning of time. All the personalities in this world are seeing you all the time through the mirrors, waiting for the chance to live a life in your mind, to take your body, to imprison you and be free. That’s what mirrors are for, a window of opportunity. You will know the change is coming when you don’t fully recognize yourself in the mirror,” he explained.

If the man had told the truth, who was I really? I knew I had to say no to the bug man, but a part of me wanted to know, as I felt that it was my destiny to see myself as he said. I nodded.

He took my fingertips and held them gently, then pushed me away from my body. It felt as if I was made of jelly, solid and liquid at the same time, transparent and floating. With care, he helped me turn around to see how I really looked. My shout couldn’t express what I felt.

My face had the faces of everyone in the building, merging and crawling over the surface of my abominable head, like a cavity at the end of my neck. A concave hollow in which flowed chaotically the faces of hundreds of people, smiling, screaming, getting angry, or sad. All those faces were muted because I didn’t want to make a sound. I was just in an utterly feel of horror.

And then, I felt the bug man’s voice whispering in my ear. “Like an Angel. My servant of entropy.”

Then I knew it. I was an angel. I was the messenger of God, and this building was the whole world. The bug man was one of the many forms of my Lord, the teacher who was necessary to shape the divine plan designed for humanity since the origin of the universe. The Architect. I needed to get out of that room, so I turned back and rushed through the door, crying as the cacophonic screams of hundreds of voices shouted at the same time. I fell to the ground, but managed to get up as fast as I could. Then I randomly chose a door on my left, took the knob, and entered.

There was a woman standing there, watching a TV show. I ran to her and pounced on her, and we both screamed at the same time, feeling the same horror, while I ate her face, chewed on it with a thousand mouths, and entered her.

4.

The peace of the psychiatric garden is priceless. Here, in the sun, I have the presence of the doctors, my husband, and kids, and my friends from the church; all of them give me an invaluable feeling of peace. I take a long breath, but I notice that something is missing inside me. There is a lack of something that I can’t identify. I explore all the corners of my memories and feelings, and suddenly I understand that there is a missing piece. Maybe some drugs are not working well after all.

Today I broke a mirror in the hall. I don’t remember anything, but my caretakers said that I took it and mashed it against the floor. I have a blurry memory of the sound of breaking glass and an image of a reflecting surface with a dozen lines emerging from the center to the edge of something.

My memory is getting worse every time. I’m scared. The doctors have told me that it’s one of the side effects of my illness, and I don’t want to lose my memories. At my age, it’s all I have left.

My husband, my dear husband, is coming. So handsome with his top hat.

- Are you ok?

- Yes, darling. I had a clumsy accident.

- Don’t worry. It’s all right.

- Stay with me, my love.

- I am always with you. In this world and all the worlds. You are my angel, remember?

- But I am so ill…

- Ill? You are not ill, sweetheart. You are perfect as you are.

He always makes me fall into his arms. I feel like a child with him. Sometimes I even ask myself if he is real. I don’t know, and to be honest, I don’t care.

The only thing I know is that in this moment, I feel at peace.

I’ll have time later to find out what I’m missing.

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