It is possible to hear the sound of the waves of an ocean. A body is floating over the sea. Such a body is thrown back and forth... By the waves... However, not far from the sand. The sea was a little rough.
Many hours after the incident, the weather had changed completely. The weather was cloudy, cold and without sun, where a body is taken by the sea and the destination, until the sand. Minutes later, after the body is thrown in the sand, Ian wakes up. As he slowly regains consciousness, with his eyes closed, a great commotion of birds and sea water is heard. He was on the sand, lying with his clothes torn and wet. As he was, he opened his eyes right there. After seeing a cloudy sky with heavy gray clouds, you could see nothing but a deserted horizon, when looking to the side. A beach where there was nobody, except the young man himself. Luckily for you it could start raining at any time. Then Ian starts to turn his head and looks away. There was nothing but big rocks, strong waves crashing into it, followed later, herons walking on the sand and on some wooden benches between some sidewalks on the beach.
Lying down and breathing hard, he tries to get up. With every move he tried, he seemed to be pushing his body against a knife. It cut him inside, and his head was buzzing a lot.
Despite the dizziness, the place seemed to be an abandoned beach, with some dimly glowing lamps, others already paid for. Suddenly, a heron is slowly gliding down from its flight, while it watches it, following only with its eyes. And then, it lands on top of a lamp that was on. He keeps his gaze lingering on her, panting and breathing with his mouth open.
After that, go around the eyes or the sky, turning your head to the sky too. The young man, without saying a word, thinks about the feeling of how bad the pain and malaise is. The young man really looked terrible. And then he looks back at the lamp where the heron had landed. In this he saw, just below the lamp, that his sword was far away, which discouraged him even more to get up. It felt like a thousand broken bones inside his body, weighing heavily. A body carrying another body. With a lot of effort, he tries to get up. It is a sad feeling not to be able to just get up. He crawls across the sand and tries to support his arms in the sand, in order to get up. Ian stops for a moment, breathes and after gathering energy, manages to stand. For a moment he stops in his position and breathes continuously. Then he starts walking. It is already progress. He walked, walked a little more... He walked for six or seven very slow and crooked steps while seeing things in front of him in a blurred way. With great effort he walks towards the sword... And then I fell tired in the sand again. No more strength to lift.
In that sad scene, Ian falls and lies on the floor. Along with the sound of birds, which was still very loud and the sound of the rough sea hitting the rocks.
Minutes after resting, much to the addict's misfortune, Ian, many of his faction comrades had died - he assumed the same. For a moment, still breathless, he asked that if this had not possibly happened, they could have been arrested, which, in his opinion, tended to be a little worse, to have their freedom curtailed.
Accused of several crimes by the local police, while looking at the horizon over the sea, some policemen arrive at the young man exhausted and without strength, arresting him, condemned to spend a good time of his life in prison and to reflect on his contribution in the attack . Once again, life had played a trick on him.
Now, many months after the violent event on the ship, young Ian finally got his freedom. After a few days wandering the street, the young man met a wealthy farmer, who, namely, had enough rural property, in which he proposed a job in one of his fields, in exchange for housing and food.
Agreeing with the proposal, now, without the company of his former comrades in faction and criminal life, as the distance extended according to the many months he spent in prison, he did not want to spend his days with the practices of the old life, either in relation to crimes, or in relation to the old addiction.
As the days went by, he worked more and more tirelessly. Little by little I felt an existential emptiness, coupled with little remuneration.
Not meeting his expectations, he decided to take another path, but without stopping working. He had the idea of working alone as a trader, selling corn and coffee, taking the goods from the neighboring farmer as a source of distribution, in the field where he had worked. When doing business at a fair near the city, needing an employee, it happened that sometimes, some people wanted to participate and were excited by the idea, but soon after a few days, they quickly gave up the service, which included several discussions and disagreements between the young man and many people who applied to work.
Never having worked as a trader, to their disappointment, people still had the preference more to consume drugs, tobacco and anything that could alter their mind and take them out of that calamitous reality of that decadent society, yet, instead of coffee, corn and food more conventional, which reminded him a little of the time when Hidana was alive and dominated this market, in his own rise. He realized that his business was going really badly when he heard from a former employee who had just resigned that his business lacked creativity and that his products were out of demand and out of season. What after hearing so much, young man started to think that he really didn't have the skills to be a trader. Although some of its products were, with certain frequency, sought by some customers of ephemeral interest.
Over time, before spring comes, Ian gives up being a trader. No matter what he did, at what age or time in his life, everything always went wrong. Wax done came to think that he was with some kind of curse, when he returned home, unable to sell anything in another routine day of work and repetitive failure, having an outbreak crisis, in which, desperate, he started beating several times at a stranger's house. Some neighbors, as they turned on the lights, one by one, tried to see what those lonely screams and blows were all about on the street, but there was no one else there.
After getting out of sight, Ian went back to drinking compulsively, increasingly depressed, intoxicated, starting to argue with random people, being frequently expelled from different places. Developing, unfortunately, the chronic disease of alcoholism, his life started to get worse every day, like a snowball going down the mountain. Sake and smoke drove people away little by little, one by one. He gave up his job due to discouragement and no longer had the courage to fight for a dignified life. He ended up losing interest in any activity. He lived lonely, sad and plunged into a sea of boredom, and then, to avoid everyone, he isolated himself in his room.
Every room in his house was clean and tidy, with the exception of his bedroom. He was living like an animal and losing his mind inside that place, becoming more and more paranoid, he resembled a beggar and remained for several days without bathing, with dirty nails, bad smell and disheveled hair.
He was thought to be a genuine and complete useless, who came to life and would pass through it, unnoticed, absent, with a worthless life. The only time he felt the touch of happiness was when the effect of alcohol acted on his body. He left early in the morning to buy a drink without anyone seeing him, and then later returned to his room.
While the problem was getting worse, he went for days without having a single meal and early in the morning, at five in the morning, he was already drinking. Over time, as alcohol wasted his health, he began to hallucinate. I saw things and images in places where there was nothing. Things got even worse when he started fighting not to sleep, even though he was exhausted from sleep, as he always had nightmares every time he fell asleep and woke up at night with his bed completely sweaty, as if someone had thrown a bucket of water. in your bed. Sometimes I had shaking attacks when I woke up. When he felt that he would not be able to stop that scenario, even wishing to return to the old crimes, he began to ponder the fact that at some point he was going to die. Despite even considering the possibility of having contracted a disease and he was feeling more and more suicidal, without enough courage to end his life, he continued as he was.
While everything he had tried to do had gone wrong, from his bedroom window, he often watched the people pass by with whom he grew up. They walked the streets with their children, after starting families, and, in some way perceptible to Ian, many had found work. And for all that is known for their pity, these were always seen by the young man, at the top of his window, having resided constantly in his life the feeling that the world and time were passing and the young man felt himself getting back. There resided in his being a feeling of wronged in the face of life, which in turn, deemed unnecessary both the things that happened to him and his coming into the world. Feeling a deep hatred and remorse at the idea of not being able to do anything to change the world around him, and not even his current situation, he started cursing the gods uninterruptedly, with all sorts of bad words, in the deepest intimate of your being. At the same time, his stress continued to progressively, never lessened.
He began to think that the gods had abandoned him. I was no longer interested in life. The only thing that gave him a little joy was to drink alcohol and wait for the effect to tame his body and bloodstream. Nothing else, except that it pleased him. As he did not eat more and more, his throat closed and with great difficulty managed to drink a glass of water. It was rare to have a decent meal, her body started to change and she was in pain.
Finally, as the days were already very close to the New Year, the day came, in the evening, Ian finally left his room, although he never, in fact, knows what day of the week it was, because for him, the days they were all the same, he felt his soul turning into something dark and harmful, until the day he went crazy and became a person of an extremely violent nature. He was sure that what resided inside his being, surfaced, showing him who he really was: A cursed personification. His room had dirt, rubbish, a bad smell, a disgusting place. The floor was filled with cups, plastic bags and various packages. Vomiting and stains stained the walls. All the money he had and all his economy saved from his previous work as a trader, had finally ended his chronic abuse of sake and tobacco.
Seized by the misfortune of the moment, the young man got ready with a huge bag and went behind a store in the neighborhood, in the dead of night, thinking that there was no one there, due to the New Year festivity, and breaking the window, on the part of behind, entered the back. Inside the store the young man walked silently on tiptoe and tried not to bump into anything so as not to make noise. With the notion of space blurred, due to the damage of alcohol in his mind, he walked in a painful way to look for the shelf of drinks in the dark, although, at a certain moment, he saw a small gold coin I shone the moonlight of that night where he leaves hers lay on a counter. When he finally found her, he opened his purse and quickly stole all the drinks he could. Sneaking out of the store in the darkness of the night, at the height of his misfortune, where the streets were lit by countless candles, in order to avoid being caught, due to the immense and clear volume in his large bag, he left without a trace.
After hurriedly walking through the streets with his bag full of drinks and stolen things that New Year's night, he came across an alley. Then looking around at the street to see if anyone could see him, Ian then subtly entered the alley and came across the manhole cover so briefly. Deciding to hide in the sewers of the city with his bag, there he went in and closed the lid right behind him, thinking to himself, since he felt left at the mercy of fate and with his room a real rag, deciding to give himself up for good and to live inside that manhole, in the sewer, where rats and cockroaches would be their company, fearful creatures, rejected by society, fated to live in darkness, below others.
Walking through the sewer, the young man can see how spacious it was inside and enough to put his feet without stepping on the dirty waters. Rats occasionally ran back and forth, now and then. They seemed to have noticed the presence of a new subject within that atmospheric pit. The young man took a bottle of alcohol from the inside of his enormous bag, opened it fiercely and drank the liquid in a huge amount. When the taste finally touched his tongue, and an unbearable burning started to emerge from the inside of his throat to his mouth, he immediately searched, looking desperately around to find something that could take that terrible taste out of his mouth and kill that breath. He found a piece of spoiled fruit on a bag just in front of him. And running, stepping on the dirty and disgusting water, he took a hungry bite of the fruit; finally managing to cancel that horrible taste, replacing it with a sour taste.
That was how the young man decided to give himself up for good, inside the manholes of the city, alone, drinking until death to bestow him. Two hours later, he was happy, singing alone inside the city sewers, with a bottle of sake in hand, while some insects and mice passed him. As he sang alone, completely drunk and happy from the effects and cheapness of the drink, he heard, coming from the surface, fires exploding and the chatter of happy people greeting each other. A light came from the surface and illuminated him on top of a tall stone, in the spacious manholes of the city. And so it was that night. A new year had begun.
The next day, in the vast and vast fields of that city, the sun was sovereign, but its dominions did not reach that sewer. The sunrise below was just a legend. Complete darkness ruled the cold walls, and it was in this environment that the young man woke up. He felt the floor, as if looking for something, a little confused, taken by a malaise and with a blurred and sleepy vision, he came across a small man in front of him, who was watching him.
— Ah! Who are you?! — exclaimed the frightened young man.
— Me? Now, my name is Nia, "replied the mysterious little man as he held a gold coin in his hand.
— But do you live here? Into that sewer?
— Yes... Although I was born in a city far away from here called Fresquizo, I have lived here for a long time.
— Well... — said the young man still lying in his discomfort.
— And I set up this little cart to keep my books and records of all the conversations I hear from the people of this city through this sewer. It is a hobby that allows me and induces me to stay here for a long time that someone else would probably stay. And although a wagon doesn't go directly through a hole in a manhole like this, if you pass the items to build it, one by one, it can be inside.
— Conversations of the townspeople? How can you hear them around here?
— This sewer is connected and channeled through the ducts in all houses and establishments in the city.
The young man, still seated, had taken a beautiful look up and down at the small and mysterious man, implying that his appearance, besides being strange, was not pleasant. The little man wore clothes that were clearly worn.
Observing that the young man had looked at him in amazement, Nia gave a small laugh and invited him to have breakfast. At the same time that they ate the meal, they both started talking and as the conversation progressed, the young man explained a little about his story and how he ended up in the city sewers, where he intended to drink until he died .
Five days passed and now the young man started to drink a little less. Due to his new company, he now had someone to talk to, after a long time locked in his room. It was not known for sure, how old Nia was, but he was thin, moved nimbly like a snake and was short in stature. Sometimes his bones seemed to shift as he moved. But in fact, this did not happen. His face somehow resembled the face of a mouse. He had a natural ironic smile plastered on his face, as if he was teasing someone or things or the whole time. But in spite of everything, the question that had been left in the air outside: Why on earth would anyone live lonely in the city sewers? Although it was a very spacious underground place. Perhaps even more than a few narrow alleys in the city.
However, in the course of conversations that seemed interminable between the two, little Nia took the young man to see the city's sewers as they walked and talked about the ducts. It showed him how the pipes and some outlets of some manholes, as well as parts of plumbing and certain walls of the underground sewer that gave access to the houses and establishments of many residents of the city. Many of them even without the local resident knowing about these accesses. It was like a secret between the two of them. The young man was still carrying his bag of drinks while listening patiently to what the mysterious man had to say to him. He always seemed to be learning something. That was the feeling. Then, at last, the young man asked him a question.
— Nia, I would like to take the opportunity that I'm talking to someone. A few days ago I was spending a lot of time alone and would like to ask you a question.
— Well do it - replied Nia.
— I never had much education and I soon became a somewhat different pawn worker, if you know what I mean.
— Yes, I understand what you mean.
— I was always seen in the neighborhood where I lived as someone foolish, who only serves to work and of low importance where I lived. This has always been a problem in my life — stopping for a moment, the young man took a bottle of sake, took off the cap and started drinking - What do you think I should do?
— Why do you care about this? — Asked his new mysterious friend.
— People's judgment certainly bothers me.
Little Nia was silent for a few seconds.
— Doesn't it bother you?
— Well... I will tell you a story about a traumatic experience that occurred in my childhood in the Cathedral of this city which I witnessed.
This time, the mysterious Nia threw his gold coin high, much higher than usual, causing the young man to follow the coin's rise to see where it would fall. Carrying the thought of the scenario of history, Nia began his dissertation: There was a beggar who wandered the streets of the city. New to the place came from a place far away in order to find a decent place to stay. Finding no good and comfortable place, he passed in front of the city's Cathedral. He was impressed by how it had been designed and how beautiful it was. Is still. Its beauty could be seen from afar and distant roads, such its height. Then the beggar, finding no better place to stay, decided to enter the churchyard, which was a place before the entrance to the interior of the church itself.
Entering the courtyard, the beggar stood in a corner, placing a cardboard on the floor, put his bag and stayed there. His hope, initially, was that someone seeing that someone had stayed there would come to give him food or offer him any help. However, to his disappointment, this did not happen.
As the days and week passed, finally Sunday came, the day when everyone would go to church for the night. When the day and time arrived, many families began to appear in the courtyard, minutes before the beginning of the mass. A little shy and with some nervousness, the beggar was waiting for someone to come and offer him some food... Anything. What did not happen. After the Mass was over, a small flame of anticipation burst from his heart and he began to wait for someone to approach him. But to his disappointment, again, nothing happened.
At dawn that Sunday, the homeless man was thinking about what he would do that week. Over time, the caretaker and the church administrators, as well as the faithful, were already used to the presence of the resident of his house there in a part of the corner of the courtyard. His presence that once bothered them, a somewhat folkloric presence, now no longer bothered them. They had already gotten used to the situation. And so many days passed.
Once, when the janitor arrived early in the morning to work, it was so cold that he shivered and blew a cold breath through his mouth while chattering his teeth and trembling his lips. Upon entering the courtyard, he noticed that the beggar who slept on the cardboard on the patio floor did not move and was very quiet, lying tortuously on the floor. Finding it strange, the janitor approached the homeless to find out what had happened. As he got closer, he saw more and more that the beggar had his body hard and immobile on top of his cardboard plate.
The caretaker stopped in front of him and watched him for a few seconds. Troubled by what he was seeing the janitor said - Hey!
The beggar, however, did not answer him. Still unsatisfied, the janitor saw that the man had his mouth open and his eyes petrified, asked - Hey! Are you alright?!
However, again, the beggar had not answered him.
What had happened in the end is that the beggar had died. It is not known for certain whether the tragedy had occurred outside due to hunger, some illness or the very cold of that dawn. Although the Cathedral later filled around him, a child arrived with the bishop through the courtyards and saw numerous people and an ambulance around the body. That was a surprise for the local community. However, and that is where the story ends.
Finished telling the story, Nia and the young man passed through a duct crossing and turned to their right and continued walking
— With the habit that I always had to listen to people's conversations, once when I was tidying up one of the Cathedral's fruit stores, I heard from a conversation between two nuns that the beggar had been there for a long time and that at no time was anyone offered new clothes or a place to stay.
— This is intriguing! Exclaimed the young man.
— Although they evidently didn't care much for him or gave him anything to eat, at the time, it's always better not to rely merely on people's words. Don't even trust me, think for yourself. People's attitudes are also a form of communication. And many times greater than that of speech itself. So let's think about the following.
"Yes," said the young man, lighting a smoke.
— A religious who preaches a morality to be followed and if he himself does not correspond with his manual of faith and practice, it is undoubtedly a hypocritical attitude in its essence. So, after all, what is the use of a person preaching a better world if in practice he does not fit and does nothing to change?
"At least curious," replied the young man as they walked side by side.
— Then the question remains: Whether the faithful or the bishop is the subject who preaches in society all the moral of the truth and he himself does not follow it, with regard to: "Love your neighbor as yourself", as he or Can believers demand integrity from others and society? What credit does this man have for preaching that truth? But this is just an example. You can replace the characters with anyone else that makes up the society.
The young man was pacing his body a little because of the tiredness he was beginning to feel while looking at the floor and reflecting on what Nia said.
— This is where I once again found what I said earlier: The only things that move man are: Pleasure and Necessity. This means that even before the moral conduct that a person preaches and that is the maximum value of his life, according to himself, previously comes The Pleasure and The Necessity.
"Okay," replied the young man.
- So, why do you think any religious comes to preach such a speech?
— Well, honestly... Because suddenly the faithful think they are doing the right thing by participating in that religious current, isn't it?
— Interesting answer. But that is where the central point comes in. If a person thinks he is good, he can be very dangerous. Why then will she begin to justify all her actions as good. Including possible bad deeds, because after all, I'm good. So when I do something wrong, it's also good.
— I never stopped to think about this perspective.
— If it is impossible for a person to guarantee himself for the entire period of his life, as if he never made a mistake, who will tell society as a whole that at least eventually does not admit to being subject to errors and communicates being fully right, as if it were holder of the truth. Just like someone who thinks he is always doing what is right, this person is very dangerous.
The mysterious Nia and the young man reached the end of a duct where in its curve it gave access to a place not previously seen by the young man.
— Doesn't she have detours? Has she no will or temptation? Asked Nia.
— So, I would say that... The religious moral agenda of a faithful devotee no longer has anything to do with him or his pleasure. It has to do with something higher — asked the young man.
— Exactly. And then, when someone, whether a religious leader or not, ascends socially and is well regarded by people and this type of situation happens, where he preaches what is the full truth and morality and does another, based primarily on his interests and in your satisfactions, one thing must be considered, which is where your answer about people's judgments for their social positions comes from, as if it were a kind of obligation. That despite being charged for moral conduct, society is made up of men. And each man, in his inherent selfishness, lives his life according to his interests. While the human being is a complex machine with incredible chores, it is sometimes easy to read. However, the selfish person is one who only has concern or consideration for the things or people that will directly influence his happiness. For this reason, both the need for exhibitionism or the demonstration of social value are linked to the only two things that move man: Necessity and pleasure. That is, everything in your life and everything a person does is directly or indirectly linked to these two factors. However, despite the different social titles, a fast of twenty-four hours is enough for the man to see that he is not all that.
— Hunger... Something I hate. But I have felt for a long time what this is, "said Ian.
— So here is a reflection in relation to society judging people by their social position: Titles and status do not necessarily mean anything. Much more than titles and status, attitude matters more. It does not matter your social position or title, young man. A beggar's hunger is cured when he is given a plate of food and not when someone from a social position considered conceptually preaches his ideas of moral and correct and just society. Titles necessarily represent nothing in the face of attitudes. There is your answer on social bonds. So, don't worry about other people's judgment of you.
— How did you know about this story of the beggar who died in the courtyard of the city's Cathedral that cold dawn?
— I was the child with the bishop when we arrived at the dead beggar.
After what happened, they passed through the part of a duct in which they faced many other ducts. However, coincidentally that part was very beautiful in its ceiling and interior, as it was painted like the interior of a well-decorated cathedral. The young man, however, questioned himself if where they were was under the Cathedral mentioned by the mysterious Nia. However, the young man did not ask him about it.
Twenty days after the New Year passed through the city sewers, Ian was still talking to Nia about many issues he would like to understand. Both walked through the city through the ducts and sometimes stopped at some point to listen to the conversations that took place in the homes and establishments of the city's residents while eating in silence. It was then, when they stopped to eat in a part of the sewer where it gave directly to a part of the king's palace.
Luckily for the destination, Nia and the young man found some holes and small holes in which they could see a huge room where it was possible to see some people having their meal at a long table. At that time, a man who looked like a butler served a jar of orange juice to a man who, by the clothes he was wearing, appeared to have many possessions. After the servant distanced himself, he passed a little closer to the cracks and small holes in which the young man and Nia were in which they heard the man say — Idiot.
Both, those peeking, looked at each other at the same time as they chewed a piece of bread and after exchanging glances they soon returned to observe what was happening in that room. The young man struggled a little, leaning and trying to see through another small hole to get an angle in order to see the supposed butler leave that room. However, when Ian saw the man leave the room in his field of vision, due to the size of the hole he was lurking in, he asked.
- I think people tend to hate the king and his privileges. But he has high expectations for some of his actions.
The young man was silent for a while, while having his meal with the mysterious Nia. For a moment, a silence remained between them.
— See all these breads and fruits on the table. If that were a king's table, it would all come from taxing the population. And when the situation gets bad, they naturally tend to raise taxes even more. This is something interesting, but... So... So, what are taxes for? Asked the young man while they were still eating.
— Now, taxes are nothing more than the fragmented and fragmented collection of the work of each civilian, so that the State can organize and take care of that society in the best possible way.
"Then should the state take care of the citizens?" Asked the young man.
— In theory, at least, it should.
— And who occupies the space, the post of head of state?
Nia stopped, looked at the young man and said:
— Hmm... Certainly the King.
— And with what right does the king have to occupy the space of privilege?
— Certainly because of one of these categories: Divine, heredity... Clear a territory... Wars and bravery or popular acclaim.
— And how much space do you think he should use with this title that he has, for example?
— It doesn't really matter what position he received, actually. More important is what he will do with this position — replied Nia.
— As well? — He asked.
— What I mean is how much help and benefit the king provides for the people with this title that he won. True leaders never take up much space. It doesn't matter the chair. The attitude of whoever is sitting on it matters. The higher your position the more humility and simplicity for which, the less space you can occupy. Like inner work. The king must be the servant of the people and not be served by the people.
— So the true leader is the one that takes up less space? An organizer then an accumulator of assets and reputations?
— Yes, but about kings, I have something more to say.
— Okay... — He reflected, staring at a point while eating.
— If taxes bother you, you have to be aware of a fundamental fact. It may seem that relationships between people are immutably the way they are when it comes to who has power. But a considerable fact about power is that it is synonymous with a kind of dominance. In practice, some do and some do not. It is not the case for everyone, but normally, a person with a lot of power in their hands tends to commit silly and self-interested attitudes.
— Can a person with a lot of power in his hands be corrupted or act in a personally self-serving way? Asked the young man.
— One of the possible explanations is that the tendency to commit these types of attitudes is due to the fact that in this life, one of the priorities inherent to the human being is his own pleasure and well-being. For no one asks to come into the world to simply suffer, in its existence in its passage here. So it is concluded with this context that it can be dangerous, yes, to give a lot of power to a person, which includes giving to those without experience. So, if your question is about taxes, what I recommend is: You go from mediocre to wealthy, speaking that you think this system is unfair. Why unfair, by nature is the very nature of this system that you have mentioned. What will change your situation is to take the best you have, your beach and invest in it with hard work, so that you can reach your greatest potential.
After these words, the young man was deeply reflecting on the words that Nia had just spoken to him. And then, they continued to eat their meals in silence, looking together and listening to all the conversations given by the people of that great house.
Now, days later, it happened that the mysterious Nia and the young man were near a duct in which their exit led to an old wooden house, in another part of the sewers, where there were many debris outside, namely, a garden.
Gradually, Ian had his memory reminiscent of when his former faction, Cas, had certain conflicts with Hidana's faction. Hidana custom- ly used quotes and jargon that many people knew, as he was Hollen's best-known drug dealer as well as the most successful.
Nia's quotes, such as The Pleasure and The Necessity, among other subjects, Ian had previously had contact with, and everything they talked about, inside the sewers, little by little, Ian realized that he had already had contact with these subjects in another time.
With that, he began to question himself more about the mysterious man, Nia, and asking himself about the same, Ian constantly observed everything that Nia did and how, too, he moved.
He noticed, however, and first, that Nia always stood up. He never sat and never saw him sleep. Another detail noted by the young man is that everything he did, Nia seemed to repeat simultaneously, for example, when Ian chewed, the man started to chew too.
The young man finally ended up having a return of paranoid behavior in himself, and began to suspect whether that mysterious man who lived in the city's sewers was a kind of entity from beyond or something like that.
"Nia... I have a question for you," said Ian.
"Well, tell me," replied Nia.
— Who are you really? — Asked stumbling between words.
Nia remained facing the young man, staring at him with an indifferent face.
— And how do you know so much about these things? In fact, everything you said and talked about during the time I was here, I had heard about it a long time ago.
— You don't remember...
— What...? What do I not remember? You look like you were just repeating what I already knew.
— You have no memories of what you did when you were a child?
Ian looked at Nia, unable to respond, staggering, and his head faltering involuntarily.
— Search deep down, where all this frustration and doubts about living in society, religion, the state were born... Is the world good or bad or are people misusing it?
Drunk, the young man opened his eyes wide.
— When was the first time you were perplexed to see something? — Asked Nia approaching his face.
The progression of malaise, from eating little and drinking a lot for so many years, weakened his body. The young man saw the ground getting closer and closer, when he no longer had any reaction. He collided with the hard and dirty concrete of the sewers, weak, impotent, debilitated seeing a man of small stature watching him, before everything completely darkened.
During his sleep, Ian had a dream. On a rainy night, a crib had been placed at the door of the city's Church Cathedral. Inside the crib, there was a baby who was crying a lot. Some nuns who prayed inside picked it up quickly and immediately placed it near the pulpit, making a circle around the crib. There were many candles lit inside the Cathedral on that rainy night. The bishop, who was nearby, on hearing a child's cry, came running to find out what it was about. When approaching and seeing what that cry was about, he took off his glasses and came to look puzzled, at the child who was crying a lot; small and incapable.
The child had been abandoned by someone who no longer accepted him.
The bishop, however, took it for himself and created it. Over the years the child grew up, strong and dreamy, always at the bishop's side, seeing him as his real father. That vague image invaded his thoughts and the young man saw himself again, in that Cathedral. And as that notoriety of a child ran through the neighborhood, he took the news of a lost boy who had never met his parents, brought him, after so many years, everything that brought him into the present.
Ian saw his own body walking at night, under a deserted street, entering the horizon that lay in a fog. As his body disappeared as he entered the fog and crossed the horizon, he heard remotely light the crying voice of a child about to be born and someone saying it was a boy.
Hours after the young man passed out, amid the immensity of silence inside the city's sewers, the sound of a drip echoed. When one of those drops hit the ground harder, the young man finally opened his eyes. He looked around, and getting up slowly he realized that there was no one else there and he was alone. Again.
— Where did he go? — Asked the young man.
...
After a few days in the morning, in the garden where Ian and Nia were below, when passing through an old metal door, there is a long corridor where at the end there was a water fountain, in the which, was the entrance to several other paths and corridors of that immense garden that beautifully resembled a maze
The lock on the main gate was unlocked. The garden, in silence. The log cabin above the last conversation between Ian and Nia had its door wide open.
At the back of the garden, there was a water chamber with a huge aquarium of small fish that swam quickly like small rockets under the silence of the vastness of the place. Beside him, there was a vegetable garden along with an incredible garden in which he involuntarily awakened tenderness and empathy visually.
From the perspective of one of the garden huts, looking at the single huge window in the room, it was possible to see a person passing parallel to him while the sun was still eagerly rising on the horizon. In contrast to the light, half of his body lay in the shadows, making it impossible to see his face completely. After a long silence and after his reflection is finished, the subject decides to leave the place where he was.
He walked alone along the merchant street, the busiest place in the city, however, there was still a climate of calamity, a lot of need and a lot of poverty, which was noticeable.
In one part of the fair, a boy who helped a merchant in his street stall felt a presence coming and forming a shadow over him. When the boy looked up, he saw a white bird perched on a globe that was for sale. And right next to the globe, where the white bird was, was the young man, now dressed in a very different way, staring at a place.
While the young man, namely, Ian, covered part of the sun and cast a partial shadow for the boy, he remained in that scene for a while, as if he were admiring a beautiful painting.
In the vision of the young man, in the distance, he was watching intently with a serene gaze, at the same time that he contained seriousness in his gaze, a rickety old man, shirtless and dirty trying with shaking hands to take a glass of very smelling sake strong until your mouth, already in the morning. Rumpling his own pocket, he felt something cold there. As he took it out of his pocket, he didn't look at what it was. However, it was a gold coin.