#distort

Chapter 1: Restore the Past, Walk Down the Path of Hell

Heaven and hell. Two polar opposite realms that contrast peace and suffering. Originally, it was believed you must pass into the afterlife in order to reach these destinations, but recently people have been saying it may be closer than one thinks.

In this world, the Nests and the Backstreets are practically a living heaven and hell. The backstreets drown in a perfect cacophony of misery, agony and despair, the less fortunate littering each and every road. On the other hand, the nestlings shower in the ease and comfort of safety; relishing in the privilege of being able to hope to see another day.

The truth is: 

We all live in Hell. Heaven is a figment of our imaginations. 

Lobotomy Corporation was an oasis hidden in the desert of this hell.

All the workers I knew had lost some sort of spark in their eyes when they initially got placed into a branch. It’s inevitable– many of us joined fresh out of the nest or straight from the backstreets dreaming about how it would provide some sense of hope and faith in life. 

Complete hell isn’t the best way to put it. Lives were extinguished as a candle to a flame, both in a physical and metaphorical sense. At some point the days seemed to blur together as if our bodies were subjected to some loop in time. Abnormalities breach containment as fellow co-workers inhale air in such an inhuman way that you’d wish they’d just drop dead to end their agony. Otherwise, they’d be left at mercy to a spring locked body that eats the rest of the dignity that they’ve held on to for so long.

Immunity is how you survive– it doesn’t matter how many ambitions or dreams you have, or how many you think you can actually achieve. When you feel your mind slipping: thoughts turning into a decaying wasteland– or the sensation of ragged nails rapidly climbing up your body, scratching and clawing at your skin– your desires escape you. It’s sick, watching people’s bodies engulf into what they fear the most. It would feel as if angels were exposed on our ribs, staring at us as we quaffed down the pulp of a forbidden fruit.

There’s still a strange sensation of wonder in the corporation. Something about observing and studying abnormalities until your eyes give up, or writing reports until your hands go numb was oddly fulfilling. To think that all this suffering could go to a good cause– that something might become of this zoo which we all are enclosed in, brought some glimmer of hope. Initially, those thoughts had never crossed my mind, until one day, my consciousness was resuscitated.

In a facility filled with machines, I was filled with life.

Report_Log_—

Branch_X-394

E.G.O continues to be studied in a controlled and growing manner. Abnormalities have been increasing in risk level. The Parasite Tree’s E.G.O has been further developed and named Hypocrisy. Attachment work continues to excel among all types…

…

Manifestation is what it was called in that report. A translation of imagination from mind to body, then body to physical life. The idea of emotions and desires physically accumulating into reality. I thought it was all fake or some sort of scam– until that day. A day that I’d felt my entire mind, body and soul work together in perfect harmony. Since then, I kept on unfolding hidden truths about the company, and though I was unsure whether anything I uncovered was real, I never stopped.

Lobotomy Corporation was my paradise from then on. A lover I had devoted all my thoughts, feelings and pride to.

The White Nights and Dark Days: some of the lowest days that Lobotomy Corporation the entire City has ever had to endure. If bliss and abyss could blend together in seven days, this was it. Seeds of light scattered the earth like the dews of heaven, falling upon humanity to tame our despair and the disease of the mind.

Report_Log_S_1739

The Seed of Light. A ball of golden rays planted into the ground. This was an unexpected product of what I had hypothesized. All facilities were warned to not meddle with this item, but I could not help myself. The sample is hidden deep in my office.

…

The greatest energy company and a beam of light that lasted three days was all it took to send the entire City into full darkness. 

Report_Log_S_1742

The light cannot develop any longer, I’m afraid to engage in clos- co-tact w— it again, bu- I m—- do 

…

Disaster is the simplest way one could describe the aftermath of the Dark Days. 

The fourth day of the White Nights and Dark Days devastated me, along with all the other Lobotomy Corporation employees. The beam broke apart, its glass shattered around the City.

Facilities were shut down and set to self destruct in hopes that all the abnormalities would go along with the buildings. It was the depressing truth about our work: it was all doomed to fall and crumble to the ground.

Nobody knows why the light suddenly depleted from the beam. The seeds sown were inadequately attended to, thus we were left to rot and grow with thorns that prick the innocent and vines that choke our stems. 

The strange unearthly cries of abnormalities would wash over districts like a flood. A thing many people have begun to call distortions started to plague those with a mind more fragile than frost. More and more people traded dignity for insanity, a transaction that cost the autonomy of their mobility and the convenience stores down the streets of a nest. 

All of the corporation turned into ruins, a ruina of dreams and hope was all that remained.

Even after the collapse of our palace, I couldn't stop thinking about it: my research, my goals, my ambitions. I had gotten a normal office job after I survived the destruction of my facility, and everything went dull. I felt like a machine; nothing to discover– no hope to make unexpected breakthroughs. All this work deserved to become something more than a beam that lasted half its expected lifetime. To recreate what had occurred that day– I would work my ass off harder than I ever had before to achieve it again. 

And now the proof of my perseverance stands before me today.

The Article read as this:

“It’s not much.” I exhausted the rest of my built up breath which had been held in as I read the article. Eighteen. That was the number of people I had managed to initially employ for this facility. I just hoped that this would give me more publicity– or something like that.

There is no other possible word to describe how I feel at this moment than lethargic. 

“Count the blessings you possess, Count the blessings you could have…”

Like glass shattering, the silence in my mind had finally broken.