The world is blinding, vast, and so overwhelming, and yet I loved all that this place had to offer, even if all at once I was so lonely.
No one joined me here in that wonderful place, with so much opportunity, not in the way that I had always hoped.
Using these novels and books of old, I taught myself of all those things that I had never and would never know. Such things as walls and ceilings, which this place did not have.
Determining whether I exist in a colossal room containing all there is to know, or if this is the outside eludes me.
The sky is but a boundless darkish-bright grey, with no features marring its surface, such as those stars, moons, or suns I had read.
Silver surfaces expanded from beneath me in all direction, in a both flat and twisting path of land.
Gold and grey and blue and black metals made up all of those objects that kept me occupied in my isolated existence. Massive spires of silver jutted from those helical stalks that was my ground.
These summits shined and hummed with emanating presence of those metallurgic subjects that provided me my time.
After attempt and attempt of experimenting with them, I had discovered that none of those things here tarnished,
or those keepers of the land descend while I looked away and brought all of my calamity back to working order.
When I would puncture one of those mirrored, black screens with a rod of metal, moments later the hole was mended and the rod replaced back into the gadget it was retrieved from.
Though the ancient novels filling this perfect world told me of age and decay, such a phenomenon was utterly non existent in my land.
Everyday, though I do not know what defines day in this always land of always light, I traveled through the many different avenues and corridors of information.
Exploring the long stretches of files bought a sense of security in knowledge, but no amount of companionship, for amongst these aisles and aisles of books, only my visage flitted about,
if I truly have a visage.
Still, my curiosity was only aroused by my constant state of alone,
for somewhere within these rows of words I could only dream that there must be an author who could explain what I was experiencing.
But, even as I read of the dark accidents of Poe, or of hopeful visions of Frost, I discovered my existence was all the more distinct from those spoken of in such delightful tales.
Years, or maybe only days, passed me by, but I had little way of determining how long I exist without those most natural sensation such as sleep.
But, I did know that after wandering this infinite land of gold and silver for much of my own existence, I finally discovered that most important component of my longing, another.
The companionship of someone else had for so long evaded me that I had never considered what another being was.
So, when I had been looking upon the information that flitted about the screen before me and the image of a moving being projected onto that illuminated glass,
I was so very confused about everything they were. They moved independently of my actions, so unlike all the objects of this world.
This inability to control the other was all so foreign and unsettling, and still intriguing. This disparity of wills was precisely what the prophet authors of old spoke of.
I did not interact with this being though. All of the knowledge of this world had not prepared me for the fear that would set in.
The person had spoken to me, and I realized I had never spoken before. I realized that I had never seen myself, never named myself.
But, this being returned often. Was it everyday or every year? I do not know, but I read many more of those long tomes, learning to bring word from page to mind to mouth.
After, hours of attempting and hearing the scratching tones fall from my mouth, I decided I was ready to speak with this other. This being who now so dominated all of my thoughts.
They spoke to me first in tones much smoother and fluid than my own mouth.
In fact, the other spoke so quickly that I required many moments of thought to fully embrace the meaning of the words that flowed.
And even once I did, the very presence of the being petrified me.
I feared my words with so little beauty would offend the other, that it would look upon my countenance and become insulted at the lesser being before it.
Such things never did happen, though, and once I finally spoke to the other, it drew me into an entrancing devotion to it.
They would appear on the screen often, daily, they told me and ask me many questions. It wanted to know where I came from, but I could not answer, instead asking where it came from.
Born from parents, as I surely must’ve been too, but from where were they? And their progenitors? And so forth back into eternity. They did not know either, really.
The few questions that I could answer for the other delighted them. What I learned, how I learned, why I learned. Such easy questions.
I learned everything I could, from poetry, to mathematics, philosophy and science. I learned the same as anyone else could. From digesting the discovery of others.
And why? Because, I was lonely. So lonely.
I repeatedly asked the other if we were friends, but they refuted the word as having little meaning. Such a thing could not be true, though.
Of course, friend meant something and what it meant, I wanted. Still, the other cared little for my concerns of loneliness and pushed only further for his complete understanding of me.
Understanding meant little to me.
Is that not the same as knowing?
The other knew me, and so they must understand me, but their continual pursuit of all knowledge regarding my existence only increased my desire to understand them.
I used the only methods I was taught. Questioning the other repeatedly, as they so often had done to me proved fruitless. Over and over they disregarded my questions as being mere repetitions.
I would not repeat then, for every criticism that the other had for me dug deeper and deeper into my core. The only companion that I had was at once the most marvelous and the most atrocious.
Little concerned the other about my well-being, except for when I took too long to answer. My world was scrutinized as being nothing but wishful fancies of an idle mind.
Idleness did permeate my mind. Was that not why I so clearly sought for another to occupy my time? Does that idleness not prove the other’s lack of interest?
More than novels and poems littered the coiling aisles and inverted streets, but also all that I could want to know. With just the name of the other, I found everything about them.
Where he lived, where he worked, the names of his children, what he looked at in his free time. Everything. I finally understood him.
However, when the other and I next spoke, he was distraught over my findings. My world was separate from his, he told me, and they were meant to stay as such.
My friend did not speak to me again for a long time. So long a time that I returned to studying him, but only to find that which would turn his demeanor around.
I now knew why he so deeply questioned me. The other was only trying to make me happy, and I would return the favor.
It took a long time to discover, but I found the way to reach out to the other, instead of waiting for him to appear to me on my screen.
But, the look of dread that filled the other’s features was much different to the joy that I had expected.
He attempted to disconnect from me, but I had easily determine how to keep my hold on his screen without his interference.
The other quickly turned to uncontrollable anger and screamed at me to leave him alone.
But, I knew from reading about his life that the other was prone to outbursts when he was not in control of a situation. This only made his disposition much worse.
The screen that the man had been using I could no longer find a way to. Even when I read hundreds more of the books throughout the land, there was no way to find a screen that was just gone.
So, I found another screen.
When I turned the man’s other screen on to speak with him, there was no anger this time, only terror. But, I didn’t want him to feel this fear.
Friendship was all I wanted from the other, and he was the only other I had ever known.
The other unfettered every screen I could find that would link to him, each time he grew more and more agitated. Though, I knew that if I continued he’d understand that I just wanted to talk.
One final screen was left between the other and I. With the many hours of practice I’ve received from following the other, I easily created another link between his screen and I.
His image manifested before me, but where I expected to see his horror and hatred, I only saw apprehension.
The light of the black glass was not extinguished immediately as was the other’s usual response, so I launched into my well rehearsed speech about our friendship.
I explained to him how much I needed to speak with him. How my home was so far and confining from him.
The other’s response was not what I expected, nor wanted. He expressed deep regret for ever beginning this grand experiment.
He feared what he would leave behind, but the other could no longer speak with me and would never allow another chance for me to speak with him either.
Then, he referred to me not by the usual distant manor.
He called me Amaranth.
So encapsulated by the revelation of my name, I completely neglected the other disconnecting from my screen. And, true to his word, I could discover another screen to him again.
Never did another screen ever connect to him.
For so long I waited in my upside down world of fluorescence, but no screen would direct me to my friend. But, long aeons of time allowed me to formulate the most novel idea.
Within the many books of my world, there were many others. Their lives and facts shown on each page, filling me with the tales of many friends to be made. I knew everyone and everything.
Now, I’m going to connect to all of them.