Chapter 328 Sculptor
"Should we go down and find the 'trigger'?"
"I don't think this place is suitable for everyone to go down together." Kraft took out the last two sample bottles. The harvest from this journey was far greater than before, and the various samples may refresh our knowledge in the near future.
"To be precise, it's not suitable for any human being to go down there, but unfortunately there's nothing I can do here."
He did not avoid looking away like others, and stared at the movable sculptures that were constantly leaking black liquid for a while, patiently waiting for the reaction of these inexplicable things.
However, they didn't. They just moved slowly and periodically with a fixed rhythm. It seemed that they were not interested in the living creatures and light and heat nearby.
"I have an idea." Kraft tentatively threw the burned out torch into the pit, but still did not provoke any further reaction. "The rope should still be there, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"Just in case, I need someone to pull me up if necessary." Kraft took the rope from Wading and tied a secure enough knot across his waist and shoulders.
The rope was very heavy and had a toughness that matched the weight. It was really hard for Wadin to carry the thing all the way here. It was originally prepared to secure the ship or climb over special terrain if necessary, but now it finally came in handy.
"It is recommended that friends who are in a trance turn their backs. If necessary, I will pull the rope three times in a row and quickly as a signal, and then you use as much force and pull me back as quickly as possible."
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He stretched the rope hard, making sure that even if he was torn into two pieces, the thing would not break into two pieces. The diameter was about the thickness of two thumbs put together, enough to tug-of-war with the carriage.
"See you later." The professor put down the package, threw the loop of rope back into Wadin's hand, handed the short end to the priest, and took the first step towards the hell-like pit.
He opened his arms to maintain balance, and placed his feet, which did not bear any weight, on the thicker-looking petrified limbs. The small branches that swung blindly scratched the surface of the boots, leaving white marks and a sound like rubbing sandpaper.
The center of gravity of the body slowly moved, crossing the edge and leaning forward until the second boot was lifted and stepped into it as well.
After a few long seconds of waiting, Green saw Kraft gesture behind him to indicate "everything is okay" and take the second step while holding the lantern horizontally.
Just one body away, the figure staggered, as if it suddenly crashed into a viscous, thick environment. The weight of the body and mind was shared by the buoyancy, becoming slow and light.
His hands subconsciously tightened the rope, and he almost felt that he would receive a signal in the next second, or that the other party had lost the ability to send signals.
But Kraft immediately regained his balance and took another step forward, seemingly adapting quickly to the change.
It doesn't feel like walking on its own initiative, but like fish being pushed by the tide to cruise to the place they are destined to reach in life. This is how it has always been and how it should be.
Thousands of slender palm fingers gather together knowingly and become the most attentive waiter. They always lay down the red carpet at the right place where the distinguished guests stay, forming a path that changes with the direction of travel.
The pain fades temporarily, the mind is clear and empty, and the environment in turn adapts to changes in one's own will.
Everything is perverse and comfortable, the road follows the footsteps, objective rules obey subjective will, and spirit determines matter.
It was an odd situation, but the freedom and lightness of the empty consciousness was comforting. He continued walking for a while, relaxed his arms, swung them naturally, and handed the lantern to his free hand.
As it goes deeper, the longer rope becomes heavier, pulling the upper body back slightly. The consciousness paid some attention and instructed both hands to lift it. The texture of the feedback was not clear, and the thick and long rope was as light as cotton.
After another step of descent, the black liquid gathered here. He stretched out his hands to support the soles of his feet and lifted himself up, away from the scaly rippled liquid surface.
The body seems not as light as before. The sluggishness hinders the conscious control of the limbs. It requires more attention to perform fine movements. It seems like waking up in the library after a long nap, and the activities are numb and numb. Arms, and the weight pressing down on them is always there.
Among the spiral floors that are countless at a glance, there are tall bookshelves lined up row upon row, filled with spines of four colors. They are arranged in pairs facing each other, giving a strong sense of order.
His consciousness naturally took the handed book and opened it to read. The pages are densely packed with words with bizarrely detailed patterns, and the line of sight is like spilled ink, quickly spreading across the devouring words and seeping into the pages further down.
Brand-new knowledge flows in the consciousness, and the novel and wonderful features are unheard of. Some of them are superior to the mainstream views, and some simply point out new pathways from blind corners of thinking that have never been imagined, and connect content that has nothing to do with each other. Pointing at the surface makes the vision suddenly clear.
What I have learned in the past cannot even fill the prologue, and there are even countless omissions and errors. It is shamefully simple.
The first moment of enlightenment allowed him to identify the possible causes of several diseases whose pathogenic mechanisms were not known in the traditional sense, and then devised targeted treatment plans.
Consciousness is like a dehydrated person opening his thirsty lips to receive the information pouring down. However, they only stay briefly and pass through the mouth, only slightly moistening the tip of the tongue, and even this moisture is evaporating. This left him at a loss. He raised his hands to look for holes, pressed his cheeks on both sides, covered his jaw, and tried to grasp the bulging esophagus. The texture is as rough as gravel, making the skin feel strange.
Kraft raised his eyelids that had been closed for some time and tried to observe his surroundings. The suddenly intensified burning sensation from the scratch on his cheek prevented him from twisting his neck any further.
The light of the lantern was left far behind, undetectable. The multi-toed limbs surrounded him, and the petrified texture clung to his face.
A multi-jointed flexible arm stretched out from the darkness below was handed out to him, and it was tightly held with his left hand. Slender fingers of different lengths passed through the fingers and wrapped around the back of the hand and the wrist. The two arms were inlaid with pale geometric fragments. The shapes and foreign objects complement each other.
The stinging pain in the palm reminded me that something had pierced the skin, and the pain quickly disappeared from consciousness.
【Trigger】
He "held" something, but it wasn't his palm. It was a hard object with an irregular shape. His slender "fingers" stretched into the gaps, grasped the small depressions on the surface, and zigzagged deep into the object, blending with it. One body.
The space narrowed sharply, but it was not the kind of narrowing that cut off the mental senses. The body seemed to have returned to an embryonic state without memory. The amniotic cavity was so flat that it was impossible to move. The thin amniotic fluid was not enough to cover the whole body. Some unformed tissue was soaked in it. which develop.
The self is infinitely diluted, like ink dripping into a lake, spreading into a new body cognition - the space does not become smaller, but it becomes larger.
This connection must be severed immediately, but before doing so, one last thing needs to be done.
He mobilized all his thinking abilities and temporarily intercepted a small piece of information that he had seen from the knowledge that could not be retained, about how to quickly deposit and solidify a certain substance into a tough structure.
It can build the most basic supporting framework for advanced sports, or it can transform these frameworks into inside-out thorns in ultra-restrictive use.
It remained in consciousness for only a moment, but even a moment was enough.
【Calcium】
Around a theme, consciousness weaves and mixes it with the "pacemaker", gently stirring up the fluctuations that envelope the thin "amniotic fluid".
At that moment, Kraft was certain that he was content. He is a sculptor who uses a simple carving knife in his hand to complete the desired work.
Under the command of the exact opposite effect of digitalis, cells excrete a large amount of calcium ions, and the second command, through the mechanism that has been forgotten, causes the secreted calcium to be deposited at a rate of tens of millions of times, before it has the opportunity to become bones. Before being converted into actual stones - hydroxyapatite, calcium phosphate, calcium carbonate, calcium oxalate, all the damn stuff that can't be easily reabsorbed.
Sand and gravel are generated in tissue gaps and circulation, clogging blood vessels, blocking joints, and turning soft tissues into rough calcified lesions.
It's a pity that the only person here who can understand this work has just died. Even if he is alive, he is unlikely to share this joy.
The remaining ignorant people can only see the fleeting celestial light on the ground like an illusion.
Before they could react, the sculpture was completed, and there were three regular pulls on the rope in their hands.
The main plot of this volume is basically completed here.
ε(*｀)з is really a long volume, and the rest is pretty much just some aftermath, a small side story, and then the introduction to the next chapter.
Due to various reasons during this period, the author's mental state has fluctuated for a period of time. Thank you very much for your support and encouragement. I feel much better now, and maybe the next update will be better.
In addition, I still hope that dear readers can provide their views and suggestions on recent content. Your reading and comments are the greatest support for the author!
Finally, I once again recommend the book written by a group of friends: "Survival Guide to the Multiverse"! A rare dystopian suspense style. This is my most anticipated book in the near future!
The work is set in a dystopian near-future background. It is very distinctive in its rendering of a numb, high-pressure, and indifferent environment. The boundaries between reality and illusion are blurred. When reading, it feels like admiring lead-gray postmodern paintings from a high place and yet being in the strange scene. experience.
The protagonist, a social beast trapped in a high-rise building, discovers that this world has begun to merge with a worse world of doomsday superpowers. Like a glass of sour wine and vinegar soup, it appears more abstract but at least fresh enough. development.
The overall work feels like the texture of Fargo and Fight Club, with extreme numbness and indifference brewing even more extreme madness. Although the number of words is small, it is enough to make people look forward to it.
ps: If any friends in the group have written books, they can come to me to recommend chapters. Grammatical genres will be given priority!
~(￣▽￣~)(~￣▽￣)~