There is nothing. Her awareness is hazy and somehow surreal; she knows that she is experiencing
something, but she can't begin to put words to it. There is something resonating inside of her, somewhere, but she feels numb to herself. She can't feel it, she can't process it, it simply
is. It exists, for whatever it's worth.
Suddenly, her sphere of consciousness expands in a way she can't ever recall it doing. (How long is
ever here? She doesn't know that, either.) Everything seems to shift. She becomes aware of herself--her
self--moving through the fog. She can differentiate, now and only vaguely, between herself and the rest of the absolute nothingness.
She wanders aimlessly through the flat, empty landscape, until she comes upon a structure looming large before her. She doesn't know its purpose, but she can, somehow, make sense of the question inscribed upon it.
Who are you? It is a difficult question to answer when you have only just become aware that you are a
you, let alone that you are a you to be.
Amati. It is the very first thing she is aware of ever thinking, and while she doesn't know how or what or why she is an Amati, she does notice that the door opens as if it had only been waiting for that single moment, that first thought.
She shuffles forward into a room filled with pedestals and columns and statues that she can't identify. There are others here like her, indistinct figures that seem just as lost as she does. What catches her attention more than their presence is the bright spots emanating from each of them. A multitude of colored lights glowing in the grey-white haze. She can't even fathom it.
Fortunately, she doesn't have to. The statues in the room begin to exude a commanding presence. They are making noises that she doesn't understand, but despite that, she feels drawn towards them. As she approaches the statue, a second thought, clumsier than the first, begins to form, fuzzy at first but becoming clearer with each step until it is sharp and undeniable.
Why?Even as she starts to become more of a
what, becoming more distinct by inches, the question lingers. She is aware, now, of the steps she takes in the room. There is something ticklish brushing against the back of her neck and a slight weight at her back. She wants to know what it is, she wants to
see, but more importantly, she wants to know why. Why is she here? Why now? She looks around, seeking answers and seeing only a way out that all of the other glowing hearts seem to be exiting from.
Well, she thinks as she joins them,
why not?
