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Chapter 4 - Chapter 4: Noumenal Beings

A long hallway stretched into the distance, its lightning dull, its air stagnant, and the beeping monitors disorienting. Tall men in white coats rushed in and out of the many rooms like worker bees, pointing at X-rays as people wept and begged for solutions. Two hands, one large and strong, the other small and frail, squeezed firmly together as they reached their designated room. In came a man in a lab coat, coughing profusely and taking eyedrops. He introduced himself as Dr. So-and-so. The large hand let go of the frail one as the doctor rolled towards them. With an exhausted expression, he shone a light at the frail individual's eyes and said, "Let's see how it's progressing." 

"K-Klaus?" the frail individual called out, looking away from the light.

"It's okay, Zoi, let the physician do his job. You'll feel better."

"Fascinating…" the doctor said, examining a young Zoi. "It… stopped its progression."

"What does this mean?" asked Klaus.

"I do not know… wait here, I have to call someone."

The doctor exited the room, the paper on the examination bed crunched as Zoi curled into a ball, his eyes running with tears. Klaus comforted his baby brother, placing the boy's head in his lap, stroking his black hair.

"Am I supposed to be dead…?" Zoi spoke into his brother's lap, his voice muffled.

"Wha—no… why would you say that?"

Klaus turned him over, looking down at his bright eyes, their green hue in stark contrast with his pale skin. A visage of duality abundant with life, yet trapped in a frame of pensive detachment. As his guardian, Klaus could not help but wonder if he was to blame for such disharmony of the self.

"Come, here," he carried the boy over to a mirror in the corner, "see your eyes?"

Zoi nodded without a word.

"They're mom's eyes."

"Really?" The child wiped at his tears, his mood brightening.

"Yeah, really," Klaus smiled. "Whenever you feel down, just look into the mirror; she's always with you."

Zoi rubbed beneath his eyes before looking up at Klaus, "Where are your momz eyes? She's with you, too."

"Mm-mm… not anymore. We fought, and I couldn't apologize."

"N-No!" Zoi pushed at him. "You have to! Teacher told us Eros answers all prayers, Mom will hear you."

Klaus gave him a half-hearted smile, "Tell you what…when you're older, and ready to see her grave, we'll go together. She's sure to forgive me when she sees how big and strong you'll have become."

"Promise? We'll go together!?"

"I promise—"

With a deep gasp, Zoi sprang from a pool of luminescent water; the hospital vanished along with Klaus. He was naked and shivering, falling onto his back as the room banged with heavy machinery. Behind him, the mass of glowing water called out in a myriad of different tones. Joy, frustration, sadness, and grief; the pool spoke to him, compelling the recently awakened boy to stick his hand back inside.

"Yo, a deathling, no way…" a voice echoed from behind. Zoi's hand retracted from the pool.

"D-Death…?"

"Whoa, whoa, take your time," the man urged, throwing a blanket around the boy. "Yo, hit the lights!"

The shadows scurried to the corners of the chamber, revealing some form of factory. Rusted automatons carried spheres of varying colors and dropped them into the pool that Zoi emerged from. The worker had an odd appearance, one that convinced him he was still dreaming; that the hospital must have transitioned from a pleasant memory into this mechanical nightmare.

"Pale and frail, but seemingly in one piece. Though your bright eyes kinda creep me out," said the worker, his two sets of eyes blinking in unison.

"I'm dreaming…" Zoi grabbed his face. "I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming—"

"Hey-hey-hey, calm down, you were dreamin'. That big pool behind ya with the grinder overhead is the Purgatory Mass. It recycles anything thrown inside. You should be nothin' but a blob of ego matter, but here you are."

"Ego… matter?"

"I mean, I've heard stories of deathlings sometimes waking up mid-dismantle, but to ACTUALLY see it… Ahem, G.A.:6-5!!!"

His call shook the room. The double doors pushed open as what could only be described as a floating infant with tiny wings flew to them. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be another automaton.

"YoU-YoU c-cALLeD, P-PM," the metal infant spoke. The voice was awash in static.

"Get this kid to Lea'natas, asap. Just tell 'em he was a straggler or sumthin. I don't need any more paperwork."

"A-AfFrMaTiVe." 

The small droid pushed against Zoi's back, its cold steel merging with his flesh, forming a pair of metallic wings and covering his nude form. He could feel his feet rising off the ground.

"W-W-WAIT—!"

"Don't worry, he'll getcha to where ya need to go. I got work to do… OPEN IT UP!"

The ceiling split in two as Zoi was carried toward the sky. It resembled a messy canvas, mostly green, but with splashes of various hues throughout. Was this day or night? It was impossible to tell. As he emerged from the maw of the factory, an unknown city rose to greet him. Where the tapestry above was a haven of colors, the Gothic cityscape was a black hole where shadows thrived; the street lamps felt like mere suggestions. This void pulled at him, just like the Purgatory Mass; if not for the wings, it would have succeeded.

"Where… am I?" he whispered from hundreds of feet in the air.

"A-AsseSS-ing quEry…" the wings spoke, startling him. "...You c-cUrrenTly reside i-in the processing ci-ty o-oF First Dominia. Colloquially re-re-re-ferred to as 'Day One. '"

"It's not Cloud City…Where are you taking me?"

 The wings played a recording of the factory worker's voice. "Orders issued: Get this kid to Lea'natas, asap."

The outline of a large structure loomed high above. The wings increased altitude and speed; the shift in inertia peeled his face back. The shape of the tower refined as they reached the top, dropping onto the windy balcony; the infant separated from him and returned to its neutral state. 

"Apologies, the breeze can be quite aggressive up here."

Nervous, he turned to the unfamiliar voice, prepared to jump from the balcony should the situation call for it. But as he laid eyes on the individual, he was suddenly enraptured by a warm presence. They were tall, taller than he had ever known, with golden locks of hair that sailed elegantly in the wind, composing the harsh breeze into a gentle draft. And their eyes were not of this world; the iridescent glow was like god rays, ushering Zoi into their arms upon first glance. The boy was embarrassed, but the individual reciprocated the gesture, smiling lovingly, "You must forgive me, my appearance can be deceiving."

"Am I dead…" Zoi pulled away from them. "Are… Are you Eros?"

"Hm… am I Eros?" the immaculate individual pondered. "I suppose I was at one point." 

"So I am…" Zoi looked at his hands. "...dead?"

"You're a deathling. Not dead or alive, but in a constant state of approaching nonexistence."

"So, I'm going to die?"

"That part is entirely up to you. Come on inside. We'll have some dreamtea, and I'll explain what I can."

Hundreds of candles adorned the room, a sweet aroma wafting from melted wax. Bookshelves held the ceiling, where a mural of a shifting figure danced with humanity. The keys of a piano provided rhythm with each step, calming Zoi's turbulent state. Automatons brought refreshments, a brightly colored tea. He was understandably hesitant to take a sip, but his throat was so dry he had no choice but to take a leap of faith. It was surprisingly pleasant, evoking memories of childhood nostalgia, warm, tender moments with family, and the blissful silence of elderly life. That one sip contained a lifetime of experiences that were not his own.

"What is this…?" Zoi asked, stirring the concoction with his spoon.

"It's tea blended with cathexis."

"Cathexis…I know that, but why?"

"It's a fundamental element, psychic energy. All beings possess the capacity to utilize it, though a heightened awareness is required to grasp it. Deeply ingrained within us are repressed elements that reside in the unconscious. And these elements are only capable of becoming conscious through some form of stimulus, be it external or internal. Like how heat triggers the innate fear of fire in most living things. Since your reawakening, you've been exposed to higher levels of cathexis, restoring your inherent understanding of it."

 The introduction of preexisting knowledge was a surreal sensation. The more Zoi thought, the more he remembered. The metal infants that float about the space, he remembered them too, flying around Cloud City, carrying orbs of light. The extraordinary was suddenly ordinary. Like one's shadow, none can recall their first time noticing it, yet accept that it has always been there, mimicking their every move.

"Here, take my hand in yours," the immaculate requested.

After a few short moments, Zoi felt a rush of energy. 

"You're… Lea'natas…Solcaden. Dominus of the First Circle."

"And you're Zoi Rinel, pleased to make your acquaintance."

"But the stained glass, and all the illustrations, you look just like Eros."

Lea'natas looked up at the mural on the ceiling, "We are, all of us, mere captives of the current order." 

Zoi squeezed the cup of warm tea, his rippling expression looking back at him. He was stunned by his calm demeanor. This was death, but not quite dead, so what comes next? Mika, Aliceria, Klaus, Cloud City. Were all these things forever lost, and was he doomed to wander eternally alone? As he gazed deeper into the tea, these thoughts played on loop in an attempt to evoke a cathartic reaction, but not a single tear fell. Can spirits not cry?

Lea'natas finished their tea and opened the doors to the exit. Light rushed across the room, parting the shadows, extending its reach to Zoi. With a reassuring smile, Lea'natas called to him, "Come, I'll take you to see Mika."

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