Birthed Expanse I

When you're sitting at the next textbook, formulas often happen to show what is probably the most important thing to stop paying attention to, fatigue, and you forget to analyze even the passing of time, yes there. Formulas - they part. Turning the sheet over after a certain period of time. By inertia, habit or education, stuffing it with any organism will require rest.

Of course! Once the memory runs out, constant flow of information won't work for a long time. The brain itself will switch to something more understandable, and a simple or simply beautiful example will follow. A midge flies in a library near a green lamp. A person immersed in their work would have no effect, wiping relaxation from anything that seems alert. A group of small dots will surely pay attention to it. But, as dots are not people, the little thing remains unnoticed, and as if competing with every other midge, flies around a hot lamp with a surprising energy. One of these quiet bits of prey in turn makes an exciting turn, with the purpose of alluring others, but again flies away. Having felt the warmth of the light source, there is no reason to stay. But the cruel light beckons to it. The light is insidious. Each time he beckons, his inaccessibility only provokes more unintelligent insects. Making sure they are not in danger, midges fly closer and closer. It's enjoyable... Adrenaline, excitement, they likely find it fun. But whatever the concept, something makes one fly closer to the lamp.

Not thinking about the formulas at all, the azure hand flips to the next page in the book.

They fly closer. This is fraught, however. Go. Yes! Go! They don't see what may happen next. The time comes and one midge crashes. Finally, it's immediately scorched. With all its speed, its body is pulverized by the heated glass. The dead body's abdomen and wing fall on the velvet cover. And the game starts anew. It is lost in the many bodies lost before.

The moths fly off again from the lamp and circle around it indecisively. Forgetting about the death of one midge, again, one makes a small turn in the direction of the light, assuming it will be kind.

Why can't you warn them? Where are you? Or, wasn't there a drawing? Another page turned. Do you understand their squeak? If only...

The small unimportant dots are again close to mourning, a full display of stupidity. Their relatives will soon vanish.

With a rustle of the carpet, the door opened. Squeaking briefly, a girl entered and strictly asked "What are you doing, Ho?" Her gray eyes complemented her gray suit and the glasses neatly placed on her nose. She loomed menacingly over a teenager lounging at his chair, with only one framed picture and a book in front of him. The loafer in him would be disguised had he not been looking dreamily at a lamp lit on a table.

"Have you figured out the nature of gravity?" She raised her voice to repeat his name. "Ho!"

Through the fog, the boy thoughtfully murmured "Mother... I haven't..." involuntarily pausing before the response. The boy meant to relay his thoughts, but was cut off. "I'll check it," the girl sighed as she straightened her blue hair. "Sit and learn! We can talk about it over dinner."

With pride, she closed the door. The rustling again and the soft click. The annoyed steps were still heard outside. The body of another midge disappeared into the green velvet lampshade on the table. Again, silence followed.

The familiar clock played its pounding melody to signify dinner was served. The sound was unpleasant. The teenager turned and found he had been asleep at his desk. The dense book on the chair was covered with a warm blanket, wrapped around him. He had turned the lamp off for dusk to settle in. As he got up and reluctantly shook off his blanket, the book, entitled "Theory of Gravity", fell onto the floor and a cool breeze shook the thick curtains. He stomped toward the exit of the library.

Shuffling from the cold, he yawned as he entered the dining room. "Good evening," he said, and pushed back a carved chair with a soft purple seat to sit down at the table. Opposite him, was his mother, sitting at the other side of the table.

Her answer was unrelated. "Ho, why did you come barefoot instead of in slippers?" Straightening the rag napkin, she asked this immediately, the greeting glazing over her lap.

The boy took a fork and replied guiltily, "Well, you know, they feel weird..." before picking at some salad.

The girl sent a smug retort, saying "This is just an excuse to wear socks," placing a small, juicy piece of steak into her mouth just afterwards.

"For what it is, I also don't understand the need to dress up," said Ho's father, sitting on the right hand side beside his wife. "It's just dinner." Dressed in a light brown jacket and a white shirt with a starched collar, he also carefully sent a little salad into his mouth.

"You're a scientist, you're meant to be from a decent society," said the girl before cutting it off. "So what did you learn about gravity?"

The hardest part of the day for Ho began as he awaited this question. It always felt as if it was interrogation under the guise of bonding over dinner. What surprised the boy most of all was the ability with which his mother, completely unaware of the topic, would ask tricky questions.

The teenager tried to dodge the question. "Mom...after you looked, I fell asleep..." he replied.

The girl's look grew even more stern. "What do you have to say? I asked you to check if he was studying," she said to her husband.

Meeting his wife's cold gaze, he cut her rant off. "You know, dear... well, he slept so sweetly that waking him would be sacrilege."

Sweeping a napkin across her lips, she rose and said, "Well, if you say so. Good night. I'm going to sleep."

Not waiting, he straightened the folds on his evening suit, and as soon as her steps subsided upstairs, Ho got up. He blurted out a question he had meant to ask before.

"And how did you manage to fall in love with such a dumbass?"

Judging by the father's stern voice, he was unhappy with this statement. "Calm down." However, he seemed to completely agree after the girl left, the opinion of his son ringing true.

The boy did not remove his calm stature. "But she only spends your money?" He picked up a large portion of salad on the fork and sent it into his mouth.

"She does, but it's for good reason," remarked his father. "She spends it on the expected, and she's engaged in your education."

"If that's what you call forcing me to read huge treatises and torturing me," the boy said before consuming a large piece of meat. "None of the theories in these books are proven."

His father nodded. "I'll talk to her."

Each of them had a little bit of hope, for sure. "Please," the teenager replied, but it wouldn't lead to anything but a scandal. Surely the father would not even try to object to his lover. They'll shout at him, but he knew that his father was already unhappy with his decision. They'll shout at him because of his worries about himself once more tonight. But leaving Ho forever with this woman would be destiny if they got a divorce now...

Ho sat in an old armchair at the table absent-mindedly as he recalled the unpleasant feeling of the open window. The same moment when he saw the spider drag the butterfly. At the time, his stomach instantly turned, languishing in the bank for a long time. He was ashamed to recall such a fatal mistake. All he could remember was the color blue.

The boy certainly found it warm and quiet. Just like a year before, it was summer. He could finally be left alone in his contentedness. His parents had fallen asleep. The ridiculous rules of the house were lifted. He was staying alone without hiding, thinking of how he would avoid them. There was nothing better than a quiet night filled with the dying chatter of sleepy insects.

Ho picked up his legs and buried his nose in his knees. Why? What happened? Why did father forget his real mother and decide to marry her? Forcing him to learn...the most indifferent, cold mother he believed could exist. Why did father condone his mother's teachings when an adult does not need her advice in life? She was the devil of the house.

The boy gravitated to the top drawer of the table. Sighing indifferently, he pulled out a full pile of empty notebooks, lightly striking the far end of the now empty wooden box. As he did this, he revealed a secret space. He pulled off the plywood bottom, recalling his father telling him that one day he would need a place where he could revert to his youth, and Ho suspected that his father would never even look into it. With a grin he pulled out a thick book, repeating his father's words to himself. The second volume of his favorite science fiction writer's texts: "Birthed Expanse".

It's possible that maybe everything stated there wasn't related to reality. Only a mix of an interesting plot and various calculations, but for some reason the boy really didn't think so... It echoed the real state of things too well. He liked to read about the incredible possibilities the real world might have. Something was stated in the book about teleporting using space's curvature. This was something that subtly clung to the strings of his heart.

A slow but clear whistle was heard on the stairs. Footsteps followed the sound. Monima, his stepmother, grew into view. You couldn't confuse her whistle for another woman's. The teenager analyzed the cover, opening the book, but not caring about how accurate the text was, quickly had to put it back where he found it. He casually thrust the piles of notebooks into a drawer, assuming a thoughtfully-fallen look in a hurry, and then quickly closed it, posing to ensure his stepmother wasn't suspicious.

The door of the room creaked open.

"Sleep fast, Ho!" said a sleepy but firm-voiced Monima. "Tomorrow is an important day!"

"Are you hosting a party again?" the secretly hopeful Ho said exhaustedly, certain that it was so.

"Yes," the stepmother answered. "So try not to face the dirt! Get some rest!"

The teenager stubbornly and tediously muttered, "Yeah, yeah, already going." He restrained his joy.

"Have a good night," the dazed but alert girl nodded.

The door was still unfortunately open. The boy answered, "Good night," when suddenly the girl stopped and shot a piercing look at her stepson.

After this the door of the room slammed shut, as Ho added, "Mom..." The boy received no response, and knew he could exhale quietly.

He smiled at his thoughts. "Tomorrow will definitely be a good day," he said, sitting comfortably under a soft and light summer blanket.

---

The air seemed viscous, making it harder and harder to breathe. The cough did not help as it slowly drained and filled the lungs. Like jelly, it felt smooth. The teenager didn't even hear his own cough. He got out of bed as per usual and looked around his room. He didn't feel his own body. Outside the window of his crimson room was a red glow filling the landscape. More like the moon, the sun was baking hot, and as if dripping with ink, seemed dark in contrast to the sky, not even close to its usual color. He could calmly look at the sun, but Ho grew less calm each time he moved, as something pulled down on his limbs. What is it? He clearly heard the sound of metal rubbing against wood. He turned around and only then noticed that around his feet were massive chains. The boy barely raised his azure feet and hands. They seemed purple in the red light of the strange sun, and his shackles had a stamp clearly minted on them in the form of a figure eight, like infinity on its side...

Ho heard a human murmur and his voice returned. Everything stopped abruptly. He finally woke up from the trance, morning birds overflowing outside. He found himself looking at his right wrist curiously. He looked out into the street - a light breeze swept his crimson hair. Someone was standing outside. Everything was fine.

Ho climbed onto the street in his pajamas and happily ran, for how long had he not run on the grass! The grass felt like a wholly new texture.

Immediately, a stern and spoiled voice yelled "Ho! Get dressed and go have breakfast!" which ruined his mood.

Why did he even have to dress at home, as if a wedding reception was taking place, and what is "good form"? Who came up with these mighty rules? How do you follow them? He was but the son of a simple scientist, who happened to have guests over, but he remained suffering a little more. He couldn't understand it. A short speech to arouse false admiration as they come in for dinner. No study! Freedom, freedom until the end of the day! Yet faces would show nothing!

The stepmother's voice rang, "It seems you're in a very good mood today." Today is an important day for focusing, the teenager thought as he returned to reality.

"I only just woke up!" the boy said, still not quite moving away from fantasies, and asked "Why do you say that?"

"They'll take you to study if you show yourself well enough," she answered. "They have a prestigious university specializing in astrology."

"There you can show everyone who's boss," said his father. "You're certainly capable of getting in!"

He was used to having no normal study. The end of perpetual cramming! Finally! Hurray! Oh, how he will show them. The gray-eyed devil's harassment would plague him no longer. It wasn't worth it to study in this prison!

It's lunch time. A noisy company was talking and laughing and Ho felt voltage. He sat at a round table on the veranda. There was something he had to prove. His blood throbbed in his temples. His mind was a blank canvas. A quick glance at the room. Inhale. Exhale. The books among many other things were already folded into bags, with volumes of "Birthed Expanse" lying in a bag smuggled between a tracksuit and some formal attire. As it was the first time he'd need hygiene accessories, he almost forgot to grab them - he placed them in a relatively large envelope with money. He had to take care of them upon arrival. Someone lent him the money. There would likely be unforeseen expenses - a large amount. But his father was sure that his son would break into the best of the best, high among the elite.

Inhale. Exhale.

The father called in Momina, in an affectionate manner as he always did at such events. Ho had a brisk stride to his steps, jumping off his bed and savoring his gentle sleep, putting on his favorite outfit today. He stepped onto the veranda. Inhale. And exhale. It's necessary to calm down. It'll go well!

"He's really so smart," the stepmother's voice came from a distance. "I'm just happy that he studies on his own." He stopped on the veranda.

An unfamiliar man's voice carried a false surprise and said in a high tone, "You, yes?" Treasure! It absolutely is a treasure to be noticed by someone with such likely high status!

Some of Momina's friends giggled. "You haven't heard his reasoning yet."

"I have to say, I want to hear!" the second man answered just as falsely. "What is true is true, and it's enough to leave me envious."

"I am curious," said the man with the high voice. "If even you're jealous, it must be good!" It was surprising that a young boy would leave a junior researcher jealous of his ability to solve problems of spatial distortion.

Ho yanked the door open with a treacherous but quiet creak.

His stepmother affectionately called him over. "Son, son, come in." His father was silent sometimes in these gatherings. You'd never know he was there if he wasn't pointed out by his wife. It's odd how an extra cup of tea becomes empty over time...

Nothing that complicated was necessary. Inhale. Exhale. Just show what you're capable of. Right! Show off your knowledge.

The befuddled boy came to his senses only when a man with a terribly long face and black, exaggerated antennae solemnly clapped to him.

"Bravo," he said in a high voice. "You really suit me, young man. Gentlemen, do you mind if we go with him right now? Is everything ready for you?"

The boy answered "Yes" with zeal.

Momina nodded, saying "I don't mind," but no one paid attention to her.

His father said for the first time, "But how?" Nobody had plans for where he'd go. A garden, part of this house, he was just a decoration. Father came up and hugged Ho tightly. He looked at the ground with a sullen look. "In there. And come back to me," he said softly. "Take care of yourself better. Stay in your childhood."

The father looked at the surprised teenager. "What?" he said, with a look as if he had not said anything. His incomprehensible eyes betrayed his short parting words.

The boy sat in a comfortable leather seat a quarter of an hour later, and now saw trees flicker outside the open window, the black car speeding down the road. He was heading to his bright future. How nice! Again, they neared the setting sun.

Again, the red sun blushed. Ho looked up at the sky again. The young Ho did not know, but something had happened. With might and force, from the edges of his soul, panic began to creep. Taking over his mind, the world around him met his soul, and rods began to spring from the ground. The open window allowed dark shadows to leak into the car, now and again giving way to a red light in the sky. A lattice was formed from these malleable shadows.

Ho couldn't bring himself to speak. The window had been deleted. And now everyone has gone into the dark. He stopped noticing movement. In the red light now approaching, nothing else moved. He was not in the car. It flooded around him. The walls surrounding Ho had long been visible, but he only just noticed that it was a cell, bars and a desk in front of him. Bed. Mirror. Washbasin. Wall covered in rust and filth.

"Let me out," the clingy teenager shouted in the voice of a broken man, as the room felt like it began to fall into a void. No one was coming. The bars of the grill kept him from leaving. Deep breath. His hands no longer felt the cold of metal. Darkness again. The eyelids opened under the mask revealed empty eyes, flitting about in a panic...

---

When you're sitting at the next textbook, formulas often show what is the main part of them. Perhaps, you're no longer able to perceive them, a vile piece of thought that slips through, moreover, being the horrific realization of a fleeting memory, a vision, that you are reading all of these lines for the second time. You're instantly distracted by it, yes there! Such a thought will make you feel bad. Allowing your hands to smoothly turn pages, you forget about the boring text.

Of course, any scientist will tell you that working without end won't work for a long time. The brain needs time for rest, awareness and possibly other things. And it will find its own methods of assimilation and consolidation of new information. It is sure to be distracted, contrary to your desires. It will find something. A beautiful or interesting example of distraction follows. Restlessly alarmed by a bright light, a spider approaches a green lamp on the table. Cobweb possibly still incomplete, it runs along the recently woven threads, forcing itself into the exasperating heat of the lamp. Frantically it weaves a web to the victorious end.

The teenager, staring at the little arachnid and immersed in its movements, turned the page sharply enough this time. He thought about the slightly agitated strings and how the air made the cobweb tremble. This made the owner dissatisfied with rubbing, pulling and tearing, scuttling to repair the damaged areas.

Though its web is too close to the red-hot glass of a scalding lamp.

The library door creaked briefly and feet rustled along the carpet.

A girl in a fitted jacket and blue trousers strictly asked, "What are you doing, Ho?" The boy looked around and could hardly keep himself in check. He wanted to scream and scold whatever was standing there, so demanding of him. His emotions were growing more rebellious. The second wife of his father had entered - he knew her well. But his emotions were dull. His stepmother's presence caused a needle to pierce the heart and, with aching pain, prompted the boy to action.

"Ho!" She raised her voice. "Have you figured out the nature of gravity?"

"No..." the stepson started, distracted by unpleasant thoughts. He wanted to call her "mother", but the needle stuck even deeper, stopping him from doing so.

"And why's that?" the girl sighed, straightening her blue hair. "Sit and learn. Did I not tell you about the names?"

"I should call you 'mom'..." the teenager barely managed to say.

"I'll teach. All of it," the stepmother nodded slightly with a frown. "Do as I say, and I'll check it out at dinner."

She quickly closed the door - there was a rustling again and a faint click. Just who came up with these formulas? He looked at the book... But the boy's brain, again, tried to read the page. The silence reigned, but he had already refused to perceive what was in the writing. Where's that spider?

A stream of air tore past Ho as he slammed the book down and looked to the lamp. The cobweb was instantly carried straight to the light source. The enslaved white threads browned and stuck to the heated glass. The twitching body fell on a velvet green surface under the lamp. Ho had some vain kind of disgust for the spider, in this moment, defenseless and trying to roll over. It listlessly jerked its paws, and the boy had come to a conclusion. A creature so seemingly helpless should not live. The azure hand reached for the table hesitantly. He didn't know why, but he crushed it with his thumb. Ho instantly took the spider's life, and settled into his chair, tightening his legs, closing his eyes and putting the boring book on his lap comfortably. But his sleep was uncomfortable and unpleasant, rolling on his side to find relief, though the boy felt a faint warmth of some sort of plaid blanket he'd happily forgotten in a dream.

The melodious sound of a clock sliced his pleasure short. True, its sickly tune playing in the corridor very brazenly and implicitly made Ho awake. The teenager discovered through his barely open eyelids that a light summer breeze swayed the dusk-drenched trees outside his window. Dinner time, he thought as he closed his heavy curtains. Ho reluctantly rubbed his sleepy eyes and threw up his hands, plunging into the cold air of the outside world. Wishing for warmth, he crouched by the exit. Wandering, he entered the dining room with a brief yawn.

"Good evening," he said, but something inside turned over again at the sight of his stepmother. Inwardly resentment and unbridled malice overwhelmed his soul, and he himself was not sure how much longer he could wait. He remained calm. His strange feelings were mostly restrained.

Her response was unrelated. "Ho, why did you come barefoot instead of in slippers?" As he was expecting something like that, he shrugged it off. Yes. He opened his mouth to ask Momina for a greeting, but it would be like a jammed record. She seemed like she had said this for the thousandth time. Sitting down, the boy muttered through his teeth "They feel weird..." before pulling in the chair with lilac upholstery and picking up a fork.

"This is just an excuse to wear socks," the stepmother strictly sent as another observation, eating a small, juicy piece of meat.

"For what it's worth, I also don't understand the need to dress up," his father Hwan said in defense of his son, sitting on his right hand side next to his wife. "It's just dinner." His wife rolled her eyes.

"You're a scientist from a decent society." She had decided to cut him off and turn away so she didn't have to hear any more arguments. "What did you learn about the nature of gravity?" she asked her stepson.

This was an immensely anticipated question to Ho. He had already made a template answer which he used multiple times.

Still trying to stay on her good side, the boy said "I fell asleep after you looked in..." overcoming the temptation to answer sharply.

"Mom," she reminded reproachfully of the conversion, and then turned her head to her husband. "Hwan, how do you understand this? I asked you to check if he was studying."

Her inquiring cold gaze intimidated him. "Darling... you know, well, he slept so sweetly that waking him up would be sacrilege."

"Well, if you say so," Momina got up from the table and swept a napkin across her lips. "Good night. I'm going to bed," she said and made for the exit.

Rather annoyingly, she went out, not even waiting for an answer, and Ho could not wait until her steps subsided upstairs. A door slammed, and many of his feelings stewing together inside took on a new form, which he still had to restrain. He asked a coarse question he'd been meaning to ask.

"And how did you only manage to marry such a stupid creature?"

Perhaps father agreed at heart, but he strictly scolded him. "Calm down! Eat up and leave," he said, unable to forgive such an expression. "I feel you're very nervous. Sleep would help you."

However, the rebellious boy thought that the conversation could have continued, and felt a strong deja vu effect. This time it had not continued. Had it happened before? It caused his brain to puzzledly reflect on the day for a moment, but it probably didn't happen that the deja vu phenomenon really copied the situation. The boy did not know he had tested it several times in just a couple of hours. He rightly believed this happens for a reason.

Ho looked around as he sadly seated himself in a worn down chair at his desk. An open wide window opposite him let him vanish into thought. The objects around him only further contributed to this.

Where from? Where does such hatred for Momina come from? Ho hadn't been able to remember what was happening so recently. But he knew there was a riddle. It certainly existed there. At least, until yesterday. It made him so sure, the stepmother did nothing wrong with him. But of course she did! But is she really that bad in the long run? He had to study, but why is it even now that the vile feeling of someone chewing on his heart with frigid alcohol, forcing him to involuntarily compress himself, yanks at his muscles?

Gradually fading, he is like a butterfly caught in a cramped jar. After all, speaking of the bank. Limited to only one person. In this little world, it would seem that just recently he was sitting in this very spot, deprived, but then he fell asleep, looking at a caught butterfly. The butterfly giving out and becoming weak, losing most all of its energy. It's hard not to feel cold at the memory... Brrr... The spider immediately fired its defenseless body away, bringing a new significance when he recently compared himself to this beautiful insect.

Suddenly a traitorous coma approached the head. All this is filled with nothing but knowledge and emotions. A spinning imagination created by the brain, or someone's illusion? Reality? In an attempt to drown out the insidious thoughts around him, Ho grabbed his head. He pulled himself with a beautiful, crimson yet aching motion, and hit his forehead with a heartbreaking scream, but it didn't help. Only his hair had ruffled. With all his might, he slammed himself on the countertop again. Now only a bruise ached on his forehead. The pain stopped. It changed. The boy looked around, rubbing the bruised area. He knew it was fixable. "We have to cancel tomorrow's meeting. It will end badly," he whispered to himself, waiting for Momina to come in.

The door of the room creaked open.

"What are these screams in the middle of the night, dear Ho? Get some sleep," strictly said the stepmother, standing in a light nightie. "Tomorrow is an important day! Be fast."

Ho said something unprecedented. "Mom, cancel the reception," he replied, staring with confidence and determination into the blank pupils of his stepmother.

The boy saw how Momina reacted for the first time. "What?" She apparently did not expect such adult behavior from but a teenager.

The boy repeated without hesitation, "Mom, cancel the reception. I have to learn."

The stepmother muttered guiltily. "But that's why I can't..." she said, still not pulling her distracted self together.

"Cancel," Ho shook his head. "I'm not interested in universities."

But the girl was even more confused. "Where are you... Don't argue with your mother!" she said as she returned to her usual state. "Sleep! Everything has already been decided!"

Scaring herself with the loud slam of the door, she turned and left the room, hoping to retreat to her own good dreams.

What he hoped would happen didn't. "Tomorrow will definitely be a terrible day," Ho said. Looking for comfort, he tossed and turned in his bed, anxiously attempting to sleep.

Red sky, glow and thick air. Again there is a terrible sign. Ho woke up. Shackles and heavy chains - a quick glance at the hands revealed a figure eight. All over again. Ho slowly looked around, lacking any desire to move. Bad signs, he thought. Of course. Time passed as the curtains flickered faintly in the wind. The window revealed gloom outside. The boy didn't move or even think, still laying down. Inexorably, thoughts arose in his head, about a large variety of topics.

Having lost track of time, the unbearable scarlet world grew familiar, but it was at that moment that everything disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. Time to get up. The boy slowly walked out of his room, presenting himself in front of the bathroom mirror. He thought, to his reflection's emerald eyes, it was time to leave. His reflection seemed envious for a while, but he found his expression changing. Ho closed his eyes and touched the mirror, hoping to exit what he felt was a dream. But nothing happened. His fingers felt the chill of glass. His hand didn't go through. He pressed his whole palm to the mirror, uncertainly opening his eyes. From the looking glass behind the mirror, he looked sadly at his adult equivalent, standing in a black cloak with golden epaulettes, while his emerald eyes hadn't changed at all. He was strongly built.

Why can't he get to Neur? What was it? The vision went away. Ho blinked.

"Get up," the stern voice of his stepmother came to his ears. "Ho! Dress yourself and go have breakfast! Don't make me say it again!"

Having clothed himself already, it was unnecessary to repeat twice. The stepmother shook her head meekly at the table. "Don't dishonor me today." He needed a way out of this place. Ho took a seat. The first thing he needed to come up with was another way to get out. But for someone to change their dream so suddenly would be unbelievable. The boy felt that this task was more difficult than it seemed. Reasonably, he got up and left the table. Ho hadn't touched the food, but declared "I ate."

Accusing him, the stepmother clearly wanted to stop him, but Hwan's hand squeezed hers in an appropriately caring manner, tight around her wrist.

"He must be worried," the man said under his breath. "Leave him."

Already, further conversation refrained from reaching the boy's ears - but how he agreed with his father. He wanted to escape mentally to his room. His excitement only grew, as by all means, he knew he must find a way out of this situation and find something different. This eternally recurring nightmare was growing more frightening.

His desk was sticky as molten rubber. It used to be used for decorating ceramics - not anymore. There was nothing for Ho to do. He wiped his hand along the nasty surface. He, out of boredom, began to read a book from a secret box, turning it in his hands. But he didn't see a coherent text displaying itself when he opened it. When he awoke, he ceased to be a pitiful part of this world. Only strips of printing ink. Awful. Now he can't see such trifles as text.

Ho still grinned as he slammed the book shut. There were theories he had plucked from it. He recalled its approximate content. It was fantastic, though it had little to do with real research. Although it was written just over a century ago, the government had placed a law banning pseudoscientific literature. It carried nothing that initially signified it as fiction, but the book was ultimately designed for entertainment.

In the meantime, the reception was approaching. Guests came to sit, not immediately seeming to have fun but still laughing to each other. The veranda had a pleasant atmosphere. The main goal of the event was casual.

It's time to start the show. The boy's gentle voice started, "My name is Ho." He could not help but feel scorn as he decisively stepped onto the veranda. However, now he had devised a plan. He looked at his stepmother and her guest. Confidently, he began to speak to the audience.

"It is true that modern science denies space as a supreme being. Let's start with this."

"Two deities existed, giving birth to two sons, space and time" - already with these words a man thinly frowned. "We study the nature of the world, Spatium, subject to the second."

"Go to the point, if you don't mind," his stepmother sharply encouraged.

"In a certain place, according to all kinds of beliefs, it is true that at a certain moment in which an excess of the matter of space accumulates, incarnations of God in this world materialize. They take the form of a child."

A sudden interruption came from the girl he'd had a chance at loving, as well as Momina. "Enough of this farce! I can't see what happened to you," said the girl, a junior researcher who had solved the problems of spatial distortion. "You refuted this and proudly proved the most complicated problems last time we met, don't you want to study somewhere prestigious? You're blessed with a unique mind."

"You have no right to make me," blurted out the honest boy. "I don't want to! Send me there without my desire, and I'll do nothing for you."

"I'm ready to bring this to a close," she said to the auditor. "Mr. Zorn, don't mind it. I vouch for the mental abilities of this boy. My position is that he should come with us."

Her gentle hand on the guest, Momina said "We will fix the formalities."

Zorn angrily pulled his hand from his pocket and spoke. "Half an hour to the camp! I don't want to stay here anymore." Irritated, he went to the car.

The stepmother muttered under her breath, "They'll teach you how to act there."

His father was the only one who understood Ho here. "Don't worry, you'll be alright," his father whispered affectionately into his ear as he hugged him. "Go get advice if you come to a dead end. You'll have more attempts in the future. In childhood."

Why does the father recite these words? But for sure. This time, despite how it seems, he had to ask himself. Is this environment a dream? Then came the collapse...

The hopelessness of the world swayed like rocky waves. The captain woke up with nothing around him...

---

The boy grumbled, "How annoying it is to be in a child's body," annoyed, sitting on a sofa in his father's office, dangling his feet.

How many times has he heard the invitation? And finally, when, at this second, he succeeded, he didn't know what to say. He had tried to get here so many times, and after Ho accomplished the expected meeting, he simply could not articulate himself, which oppressed and upset him enough.

Hwan said with tenderness, "It's good that you came to visit me. An adult in a child's body looks so strange, you know."

Ho's eyes immediately darted downwards, and he grunted coldly "Is it so noticeable?" Why is he arranging this cheap meeting in the first place, he mentally inquired to himself. Why is it so difficult to ask him a question? This performance seemed unnecessary. The subject was easy to discuss.

"Little talk. Irritability. Afraid to look me in the face. Cast downward, yes. For some reason you absorb yourself in your thoughts," Hwan reasoned aloud, before explaining, "But you don't share them with me." He leaned back in his chair and turned it slightly towards the window. "Maybe you want to, but you wait for me to stop speaking."

Never raising his emerald eyes, Ho brought his feet to a standstill and nodded to his father.

"So how can I help my only and unsure son?"

Ho sneaked a clever glance at Hwan. "But don't you know? You yourself invited me here."

The interlocutor raised his eyebrows a bit in curiosity. "When?" However, his smile already lit up. "Am I from another dream? In the future?"

The boy jumped off the couch. "I guess," he said before taking a spontaneous look around the room and approaching the bookcase. Illegible spines, again, and he opened it. He expected to be interested in the content, but it was all lines resembling text.

Watching with interest, his father grunted "Then it is understandable, but you understand that I cannot remember any of your actions. At least while you perceive it as being in the future."

"But you remembered... you... can't remember other dreams?" Ho slammed the book shut and violently patted it in agitation. "I don't understand what you're trying to say!"

"These dreams are something special," Hwan said as he leaned on the countertop. "It's like a time travel. You perceive this version of me in this dream - the previous version in another. That old self therefore remembers perfectly all the events that took place in variations of this dream. Do you understand?"

The boy replied, "You remembered this conversation, you mean?" as he took a book and walked back to the sofa.

"Your dreams are not a complete sequence," Hwan shook his head. "No, events are added in the same chronology as they happen in time."

The boy thought he understood the answer. "That is..." It seemed so unnatural and implausible that confidence in their conclusions did not increase by a single crumb.

"That's right," the father nodded, as if he had read his thoughts. "If you perceive me as the future version of the Hwan you met earlier, I'll 'remember' the whole situation."

But it didn't matter how hard the boy tried, for he closed his eyes and tried to imagine. Even as he told himself that an older version of his father was sitting in front of him, this fact did not fit into his head.

"Tell me if it, unfortunately, doesn't come out," his father smiled. "Sometimes our perception of the world is so subjective that we aren't able to abandon it."

Sighing, the boy briefly told his father a disturbing story. Hwan confidently nodded, but did it so often that it seemed he did not listen at all.

"There is only one outcome, no matter how many times I try," Ho said. "It never matters what I do." He noted his main point of telling this story. "I cannot interrupt the cycle, no matter when, no matter what..."

His father sighed after this. "I'm afraid my advice will disappoint you, as it hardly depends if there is a way out," he spoke carefully. "You need nothing there. Unlike a mirror, your actions are not reflective of time. I've tried to help you... but I believe you must successfully escape from your past, not change it. However, I don't approve of the methods of your God."

The boy asked, "In terms of?"

"You lose clarity, trying to forget your pain, running away from the past, then replacing it as you please," Hwan explained. "It's as easy as shelling clams when you have no goal you're striving toward, and you're only benefiting someone else by creating a false past."

---

Even if this were a new occurrence, the formulas have long been memorized. Thus, it makes no sense to look into a book with illegible text. So Ho was in no hurry, knowing full well what awaited him in the future, and he closed the textbook and put it away.

The azure-skinned teenager looked thoughtfully at the spot where the lamp usually stood. No, it stood there now, but this phenomenon was frequent, although far from constant. There was no sound outside for the first time in hundreds of times. The lamp was red. Ho looked over this at first, but noticed it after a few minutes. Can this mean success this time? He glanced around. He wouldn't even remember how many times he rejoiced at the new sign upon awakening.

The boy turned with a start. Hard footsteps were heard outside the door. Among the books lining the shelves around it, short black lines decorated them, gluing his eyes to their spines. Poorly formulated definitions popped up in the pages. It was all formulas and short stories, and he found it funny that the brain tries to write the contents of the book itself, almost always doing so before realizing it was impossible to reproduce from the subconscious, itself akin to returning from a dream.

The door creaked open briefly and a rustle of the carpet came to his ears.

Quietly but strictly, the girl who entered the library asked "Ho! Doing something?"

The stepson perfectly played himself as a student, saying "Yes, mom" in response.

The stepmother left and whistled away, praising him with a "Well done". Ho was able to understand so many of his attempts would only lead to one result. However, performing the right actions presented him the most pleasant way of living this day. He could calmly look for a way out in well-planned moments, avoiding serious and intense conversations.

Closing the book with determination, Ho laid it right under the lamp. The unpleasant memories it woke within him weren't something he wanted to tolerate. Less importantly, the red light annoyed him. The light's associations were recalled by him, and he extinguished it quickly.

The teenager walked through the library. Silence. He looked outside the window, simply waiting now, and only waiting. Romance slowly darkened. He wouldn't leave the library, at least not until dinner came. He waited to talk to his father, as he had the feeling it would be enjoyable. Nevertheless, he wandered the room, formulating further questions. He conducted a study of his own dream, though this was an experiment he did last time. Ho walked over to one of the shelves and, with satisfaction, pulled out a book he couldn't read. Nevertheless, he was content, grabbing a few from the top shelf. He now had some free time to help himself in the future. For example, in his hands lied a complete plan of the house and the adjacent courtyard, which he painstakingly compiled after long and hard studies of every corner in this ever-recurring nightmare.

Also, several books were quite full and beautifully complete. Refreshing their contents in real life, pulls it to the surface of memory and some books are even unbelievably clear. Convenient. Subconscious reload. But Ho had already forgotten, as it seemed, the details within, but his incredible mental abilities remained. The contents of the books stayed unchanged.

Ho pulled out another book to answer his question about a bolder experiment. He chose the first volume of Birthed Expanse from the trilogy of his beloved author and refreshed its contents with a brief reread. The other day, he read all of it in his free time. The boy opened the book. Trying not to breathe, almost carefully, he looked over the author's style and found a great start. "Based on schizophrenia." It seemed impossible that none of the text was distorted in any way, shape or form. Ho found pleasure in the midst of a nightmare that tormented him. He simply sat, trying not to think about the implications. He didn't know what they were. The open window illuminated the floor with the light of the setting sun pouring over the pages of the book and letting him indulge in reading. Isn't this the main evidence of the interchangeability of dreams and nightmares?

The door creaked again. Someone entered the library. Ho did not even jerk, quietly turning the pages. But no matter how hard he tried, he noticed the person kept walking. He could not stop following the steps of the guest. A quiet rustle spoke of the fact that someone was standing between the shelves. Whoever it was couldn't resist the library's wonders, yet couldn't hold a book in his hand.

But from behind the closet, leather shoes and, in fact, their owner manifested.

"You haven't caught a cold, have you?" joked Hwan. "Sitting on the floor?"

His father slowly closed the book. The boy answered easily, "Nope," as his father sank down beside him and borrowed the bundle of pages.

"Are you not studying?" he spoke. "Birthed expanse?"

"I have no reason to learn what I learned so long ago."

"Yes, yes," Hwan shook his head.

Father and son sat shoulder to shoulder and looked at the library plunging into twilight. They both thought about one thing. But both did not want to talk about it.

"I'm sorry," the man suddenly broke the silence.

The son asked quickly, "For what?"

Hwan softly whispered, "This is my fault...what then happened to you."

The teenager grinned, filled with joy. "Pa, I stopped blaming you for a while. But I'm surprised you know." His joy was inherent only in an adult smile. He disguised his pain, remembering his conversation with his father.

"When you began to distinguish each sleep loop from each other, then I began to remember previous dreams," his father answered just as lightly.

The boy inquired, "And Momina?" raising his emerald eyes.

"Later," Hwan stood up shaking himself. "Really, this only concerns me, and you trust me. All of it."

Afterwards, Ho opened the book again and father left the library. He smiled, waiting for the clock to strike. He went into reading, but if a good book is also dearly beloved, time for it flies unnoticed, so you can rightly assume that the few sweet hours beforehand weren't there. So Ho heard the call in the corridor for dinner, at that very moment when the exciting story had just swallowed him headfirst.

The boy put the book down, wondering, can anything be done with this? There was no need to worry where he put it, so he left it and calmly left the library. The stepmother looks into the reading room at the most inopportune times - at least when her stepson is in it.

The teenager slowly adjusted his hair on the way to the dining room, although he went into his own room and put on his slippers and clothes. He then solemnly appeared at the table.

Carefully, Ho briefly informed his mother, "Was busy, mom - sorry for being so late." He put a napkin on the chair and moved it back. This behavior of the stepson every time they proceeded to dinner was puzzling. Since her mood had never been spoiled, the stepmother still smiled sweetly.

Hwan knew more than anyone and smiled thanks to it, sitting on her left hand side. He even knew how many times Ho had gone through this unsuccessfully. Calm and rather family-like conversation ensued. Surprisingly, they began to talk, pushing dinner a little as the comely Momina officially began. "Ho, listen. Try to listen to me and not interrupt me."

Like an inveterate nobleman, the teenager distinctly, but quietly, said "Of course," pleased with the respect with which he was addressed.

"Your dad and I decided that it will be a hard day tomorrow. Your knowledge is already sufficient to meet the prestige of the best university in astrological studies. You, for sure, already know IUIU - if you don't, now you do."

"Some of us call it the triangle - you know, it's a slang name," Hwan snickered. "The official one sounds quite ugly, so it's understandable."

Momina continued with a menacing look towards her husband, "Nevertheless, this is the most advanced place on the planet for studying reality in general and particularly space. Do you know the transcript?"

The full name of this place, Ho did not even know, but still, he nodded. He was put in the shackles of mental exploitation and completely physical slavery by this university.

"The Metropolitan Generally Approved University for the Study of the Issues of Space, Movements and Travels," holding back the grimace unnecessary here, he answered.

"That's right," Momina nodded. "Tomorrow one of my girlfriends and the first year's selection committee are coming to us. You're gonna hit it out of the park, so your father and I really ask you to display your successes. It's likely that one single performance in our courtyard will smear your face with dirt. You can go there whenever you want, as you know, of course. Isn't that a dream? Completely free of charge, studying among the elites?"

Almost impeccably playing amazement and delight, "A dream," he murmured dreamily, then again took on a noble appearance. His face was darkened as his eyes looked only at Hwan. The image of his face clued him into his feelings, the knowledge that it's probably hard to live this way, under a shadow of guilt. He brought his son under the guillotine of life with his own hands.

"Good night, everybody," Momina said getting up and heading for the exit. "Well, Ho, try to sleep."

At the same time, the boy got up from the table behind her and walked back to his room. He had brought a laid out plan of the house here before dinner. Ho could not understand where there could be an exit as he looked at the map, It seemed that he had been trying for eternity to get out. All this eternity was treacherously imprinted in black pencil lines of the drawing.

The door opened and Hwan looked into the room.

"Not for long," he whispered with a smile and entered. "She said to send you to sleep."

"Usually she came," the boy smugly smiled, not taking his eyes off the drawing.

"And yet," Hwan said, patting his son through his crimson hair, "you may be mistaken that you searched everything here. Sleep and you'll be refreshed for tomorrow. It is unlikely that your dream is limited to only this place."

"Limited," the boy sighed sadly. "But you're right. Now I'm not in the mood for this dream, I'll give up and check everything in the second round. I've been trying to just enjoy some triumph in front of a member of the committee."

"Maybe it'd be for the best," his father winked. "Sometimes things are easier when you aren't looking for them at all."

The boy did not notice how his father went out - when he was alone again in the room, he distracted himself from the drawing.

Ho grinned to himself. "Bullshit, would it really be best if you're not looking?" he asked nobody, and covered himself with a silky blanket.

To get up? This question worried Ho for the umpteenth time. Once the boy fell into a terrible sign of waking up on this fateful day, the air grew horribly viscous, breathing was almost not permitted in the red world. It was unknown where this dream came from. Including the shackles, everything was difficult here. It became unbearable. Chained to the surface with huge chains around his arms and legs, he rolled in his bed. The teenager turned on his side and made an idle effort to look around, already falling asleep again in such a familiar environment. He remained motionless awaiting the end of this unrealistic part. He was sleepy and lazy, until now as he thought to himself, are these parts of a nightmare? He was lost in a nightmare. Despite the severity of the shackles, Ho instantly sat up on the bed, locked on the events in his mind, but that's what eluded his gaze the whole time! He, ridiculously enough, did not notice the boring surreal world, squeezing itself into childhood memories.

Although Ho seemed to now be in an urgent need to hurry up, he sank to the floor in revelation. Seeming lilac in the red light, he looked at his bare feet, time passing indifferently. Heavy chains slid to the floor and the boy went to the window. The red moon-like sun still hung in the sky, and a clatter followed his steps. He decided that there was nothing to look for in the illuminated courtyard. The boy climbed onto his desk and wanted to jump out of the house, stretching for some minutes, but his chains wouldn't let him exit. He had previously entered the clearing, but it seemed as if it deliberately interfered with his actions now. The chains pulled his arms inward, but he didn't consider this fact an invincible obstacle. Since it is he who is its master, the dream is subject to his thoughts...

Trying in vain to move the strained chains, they emitted a creak. Several links simultaneously let out a crack. Ho didn't resist. The boy freed himself from imprisonment, bursting free now, Infinity on its side.

The teenager looked at the shackles. As Ho smiled, he stepped onto the grass. The stigma meant nothing. He cut his large bare feet, but he didn't mind. As plastic as silk, but sharp as blades, the light grass let drops of blood spray upon it as the teenager moved on, but as soon as he looked up, everything seemed exactly the same. A small mound stood before him. He realized with relief and joy that he could climb it easily, and making the hike, he found something that didn't fit into his past, no, it was something new. It wasn't even his own nightmare.

A huge lake stretched to the horizon, beyond the hill, surface like a mirror, and the teenager keeled over before collapsing onto the smooth ground. He pressed on the resistant surface. Feels like air. Viscous, watery. Something changed within him and Ho completely threw his whole body into this mirror, rising up, capturing bubbles of air, gripping to the shore, submerged in the lake. Suddenly, these bubbles rushed right onto the boy's face, revealing themselves to be glass balls. The gravity of the water disappeared, bubbles shattering into very sharp fragments. Watching the surface, Ho stood on an asteroid, the viscosity of the air slowly fading. The red horizon line expanded slowly...

In any case, it was quite possibly dawn here. Is the sunset from his dream a sunrise? He climbed out to his synapse. Finally, everything was left behind. He saw an old picture in a once brilliant golden frame. A running boy, back to the camera, with azure skin in a T-shirt with a happy family flaunted within - a mother, a father in a captain's suit and shorts, and a general atmosphere that was... actually not so happy, as the woman was in a business suit and seemed quite stern. Ho still felt the remoteness as he got out of an endless stay in the past, and the man felt sadness overtake him, realizing you can't go back there. He knew the significance of these memories. The gruff man in the captain's outfit ran his fingers through the fingers of the boy. From there, it turned into a mirror. The surface quickly smoothed out, as the mother put her hand to an invisible barrier, a small copy of her looking back at him. Their eyes met. He tried to pass through it.

He stepped away from the mirror as his mother was replaced by his father. The man thought, "You can do it," and on the back of his black cloak were dark gray crescents. There were bits of capillaries. An angular, scarlet eye was drawn on a pair of white gloves that peeped out of his back pocket, nothing visible in the others. The same scarlet eye symbol was between the crescents on his back.

On his feet were heavy boots with gold plaques of a familiar shape.

The Eye flew up with a grin. "I see you've finally gotten out."

Ho turned his emerald eyes to the mysterious guardian. "As you can see," he said as he looked around the Synapse.

"So many things! I've been waiting! So much to show!" recited an exact copy of a man dressed in a shirt with a lace starched collar and trousers, who seemed to be a scientist, luring the small asteroid his direction.

Ho watched while the Eye flew with him through the Synapse, surprised as small stones lined up in a ladder connecting Neur and the newly discovered Nightmare. But the asteroid stopped. They descended onto a small platform, in the middle of which a book lay on a large boulder, above which a small dagger soared.

"Use it wisely," informed the Eye. "This dagger is His gift to you for loyalty, and in the writings, you will see that it can cut anything like butter. His power will make these weapons become more for you, over time, of course. You'll find a description in one of the books. It's strange for a captain to walk unprotected, very strange, right?"

Ho asked with malice, "Does this thing have its own name?"

"You may call it anything but the Forge," the Eye maintained. "Unfortunately, it doesn't have one. I won't lie to you."

With some mockery, Ho spoke. "Are there any caveats?" He figured there would be a catch.

"This is the only place in the synapse where it can be reached, but we must go," the eye nodded. "With short meditations, we'll be allowed to leave."

The meditation ceremonies were familiar, as he had experienced them in previous dreams. They went down to Neur. A page lied on the ground.

"Have something to tell?" They lied down on the couch in the gazebo. "Axon is needed to speak. Have a rest," said the Eye. Before leaving, the scientist answered with a nervous laugh, "I've had enough rest, so let's chat. I'll be in soon."
"Good luck in the ministry," the messenger squinted. "Whatever you say," replied the boy.

He only walked away from the gazebo. He was prepared to wake up with a clear awareness of freedom, and he was getting impatient. This all seemed like a fixated nightmare.