"Are you there?"
No answer. This was the first silence.
"I want to speak to you!"
The second silence.
"If we want to survive we have to strive for harmony!"
This was the third silence.
There was no response to any of his requests. But upon the last one, he felt something stir deep within his soul. A more peaceful contrast to the sensation that resonated through him when the Black Matter flowed.
Hugo was talking to his soul. It sounded like superstition, and it basically was. But it was the only way he'd get to free his body of the burden he'd suffered from all these years.
"This isn't a fantasy novel. It is real life, and if I don't get rid of this plight, I am going to die. No doubt about that."
He found no point in stopping his attempts, yet found no joy in talking to the air.
