[gloriousgoner]

4.

There are very few days in The City where we are not allowed out of our residence buildings. And very few reasons as well. When the Vultures give a warning call it is for one of two reasons. The first being there are intruders in The City and it is a danger to leave the safety of our apartments. The second being the weather. Dema requires all its citizens to work in most conditions, snow, rain, fog, all except for what The Bishops call the unnatural light. It is overcast practically every day in Dema but for perhaps a total of fifteen days in a cycle, the unnatural light will come out and flick it’s disgraceful gaze upon The City. I’ve never seen the light, only the shadows that it casts and the memories of its rays on occasion. We are taught that to be touched by the unnatural light is worthy of being Smeared, so I have only been afraid of it.

The Bishop warned us that raiders will break into The City to take people and force them into the light. They say these Bandits have harvested the unnatural light and carry it on sticks. They say the unnatural light is will burn you, in contrast to the cool comfort of the Neon’s glow.

Today I am unsure for which reason the alarm was sounded for us to close our shutters and lock them tightly and to make sure we didn’t look out. Days like these are spent in silence. We don’t go to work, we go to meals in a small dining hall in our buildings at scheduled times. “A day for reflection.” is what The Bishops always called it. We are supposed to pour over our Vialism codes and mantras and study them. But I am writing again instead.

The City is unnervingly quiet on days like these. I almost wish I could finally rest and let my mind settle into the quiet. I know that won’t happen. My mind has been increasingly conflicted remembering Nills sharp gaze. On one hand I fight against turning myself into him but on the other I fear what he would do to me if he found out. Nills is cruel and strict. He finds enjoyment in punishing those who defy him. Those are few and far between, but I’ll never forget the day he caught a resident sneaking out of their building. All that remained the next moon was the blood streaked in the street, bloody drag marks that lead into one of the doors the people of Dema aren’t allowed in. There are strange noises coming from those doors. Nills takes to the color red.

Writing is my only solace. It is cathartic to get my thoughts out of my head and onto paper. I know I cannot be the only one awake in Dema. The man smeared at last Worship was. My curiosity grows each day, even with the threat of being smeared looming over me if anyone were to find out, I cannot help but notice everything in Dema in great detail. My mind has been so starved for thought for so long it catches onto every small instance that peaks my interest.

Yesterday I was assigned to the kitchen to prepare food for meal times. The people of Dema get different jobs every week. I’ve been assigned to kitchen before but I had never experience the sense of wonderment in creating something with my bare hands before now. We were preparing simple morning meals, and I could barely keep the smile off of my face from the joy of taking pride in making something from nothing. I don’t remember ever feeling joy. I’m not sure how I know what that emotion is. But I do know it is dangerous. You don’t smile in Dema. Emotion is not needed. All we need is Vialism. I must be very careful not to let my newfound emotions show. I need to keep them to myself and nurture them. I will stand quietly and continue to watch and learn.

‘till the bitter end.

-Goner

[gloriousgoner]

3.

Worship was especially daunting. It is one thing to hide your thoughts while doing daily tasks, the Bishops aren’t around very often to watch their people do their work, but in Worship the Bishops face you directly. All Nine stare into you one by one. I could hardly contain my shaking in fear as I processed to the pews with the other residents of The City. It is only in Worship that we ever get to see the Nine in the same place. They are a great force to behold.

I kept my eyes firmly on my clasped hands as we knelt before the Bishops as they entered the pulpit one by one. They honored the Statue Of The Glorified by genuflecting before it, and matched it’s pose, their hands held above their heads, fingers nearly touching. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears as they turned to us and surrounded the Neon Light on the alter. They expected us to watch in reverence as they fashioned the last Vial to finish the Neon Gravestone. One of us in the congregation today would be receiving that Gravestone and it was to be taken with the highest honor. I could only dread that it would be me.

I made the mistake of looking up for just a moment to look at the rest of the people in the pews, their rapt attention on the Gravestone, as if they were entranced by it. I looked to the alter, mimicking the people. The Bishops couldn’t know I was awake and thinking, they couldn’t know the fear and doubt that had planted its seed inside my mind and slowly begun to grow. As I looked up to the Apse I made eye contact with my Bishop. Nills. I was struck. I couldn’t move. His gaze only passed over mine for only a moment but it’s effect was lasting. I felt tied to the pew. Paralyzed with absolute and utter fear.

Cold.

He knew. He must know. Nobody looks a Bishop in the eyes. It was an accident. I would never dare to to even look at the bottom corner of his robe let alone his eyes. I still had very little control over my thoughts now that they were free and I was terrified that I hadn’t thought twice about looking up at him without fear. I didn’t chance another look. I let my eyes defocus and fixate on the Neon like I had been taught to do my entire time in The City. However long it had been. I tried to will my mind to turn off so I could sit and dissociate and not draw any attention to myself. I found it was impossible to do so when the worry of being called upon by the Nine was looming over me.

The Bishops began to announce the names of those who will be glorified this Worship.

Those who are Glorified are never seen again.

Several members from my daily work tasks were called to kneel at the alter. Only one will be given the Gravestone. The people are referred to by their resident number. My blood runs cold at the realization that it is to dehumanize us. Where do these thoughts come from? How do I know this and why did I suddenly start thinking this way? Was it because I’ve finally seen to many people I recognize disappear from our living quarters or from the places we work in? There was a lump in my throat I couldn’t will away, at the thought of my number being called by Nills. Beckoning me to an earlier grave. I felt as thought I was choking. The last number was called. It wasn’t mine. My guilt was so immense at my relief that my stomach lurches.

I watched as the Nine paced back and forth between those who will be Glorified. Reisdro stopped in front of a man who was trembling and whimpering so badly it echoed throughout the Worship hall. I watched in horror as Reisdro smeared him and grabbed his throat, lifting the man and throwing him to his knees in front of the Gravestone. The man was sobbing now. He was begging. The Bishops anger was provoked. How dare this man not accept his gift from the Bishops, how dare he show anything other than undying gratitude for the Bishops grace?

It pained me to know that it was because this man was awake too. He knew that to be Glorified meant never coming back. To be Glorified was an honor. Every person in Dema should work towards Glorification. It is a great shame to be bestowed with a Gravestone before the persons passing. It meant the Bishops had recognized that your sins against Vialism were so great that you were being sent to be silenced. The fact that the man was rejecting the gift of the Gravestone was the very reason he got it. The Glorified gracefully accepted their name and would lead the Smeared man through the streets of The City. The people would all watch as he was forced to carry his gift, his Gravestone to the final place. A final shame before he passes on. Then the Glorified would disappear. I never thought about it before my awakening, but where do they go? Are they apprentices under the Bishops living in the Towers? Do they become watchers? Or do they go to meet the same fate as the Smeared man but take their gift in praise instead of with shame?

Though he was smeared and gifted he would still be honored as Glorified. The ways of Dema were strange to me now looking at it from a conscious perspective. We filed out of the Worship hall to watch the man walk to his place of Silence. The other Glorified with him. He was screaming from unseen agony as struggled to carry his Gravestone through the cobblestone streets. The Bishops let him. The City itself was loud and his cries of terror were drowned out as soon as he rounded a corner into the next district over and I could no longer see him.

I lay awake a long time after we were sent to rest tonight. I couldn’t stop hearing the mans screams ringing in my ears. It split my head in two with the pain of remembering him.

I hope that writing this down will get it out of my own head. I know that I should be more scared that the Watchers will find this journal and turn me in to the Bishops but I hide it well. It was risky but I managed to steal a needle from my daily work and used old strips of string from my worn clothing to sew an extra pocket into the layers of my regulated coat. We are only allowed to wear it in the frost months. The Watchers pillage apartments frequently looking for contraband but I am confident they will never find it. I will lay my head down tonight knowing rest will never find me either. Every-time I close my eyes I see Nills staring right at me. His eyes are red. I’m too terrified to dream.

I hope that I will be able to further understand my purpose for being awake the longer I stay conscious. Seeing the man today has reaffirmed my will to stay alive. And to remember to keep my thoughts hidden.

‘till the bitter end.

-Goner

[gloriousgoner]

2.

There is deep and wrought pain that comes with being alive. With each passing moon that I am awake, the fear and dread only settles deeper in me. I’m terrified The Bishops will be able to sense my consciousness and send me to the towers to be silenced.

The City itself is deafeningly loud. The never ending cacophony of sounds seem to come from the walls themselves. From forbidden places the people of Dema are prohibited from seeing. From the tower of worship. From the people’s feet marching to their required duties every day. And most unnervingly, coming from underneath the harsh cement roads. I had never noticed how loud it was before I woke up, but now my mind is pulled in every which direction, my brain aches from it. I miss the muffled dull senses of being asleep.

Time stands still in The City. I think it has only been a fortnight since I was unknowingly jarred into reality, induced by something beyond my knowledge , for now. I used to find comfort in the way life is here. In the little things. But with each passing moon my understanding of why things are done here gets flipped on its head. My devoutness has wavered.

The curtains in our apartments are sheer, I used to think it was because the Bishops wanted us to be able to look out and pray under their guide before rest each night. To kneel before them and have the luxury of looking up at them from where they reside at the top of their respective towers. Now I believe that it is because they want to be able to see us at all times. The vials in our apartments never go out. They can see clearly right into our rooms in the night because of them. The vials shed light on our sins. So we must be confronted with them. So we cannot ignore them. We are always being watched. There is no privacy or security or individuality. Paranoia keeps the prisoner from disobeying.

I pray that I will go back to sleep and find that my being awake was just a test of faith, but at the same time, I find that my curiosity is freeing. I still feel the guilt of my doubt in The Bishops and Vialism. I still feel the urge to confess to the high Bishop that I have been awake. I think he already knows. He’s waiting. I must continue on my days here as i’ve been conditioned to do so. It is as if my sanity and my life is on the line. But I will also be patient. I will also be watching. I will sit quietly and go through the motions here while I try to understand my purpose for being alive. My purpose of being here. Why this place is as it is. If there is one.

‘till the bitter end. -Goner

[gloriousgoner]

1.

I woke up tonight. And I am Afraid. It’s paralyzing. I don’t know what happened but it seemed as if I was suddenly conscious and aware of the world around me. I don’t remember anything significant snapping me into reality, and that frightens me, to think that there isn’t a reason for me being here. It frightens me more to think I wasn’t scared of not existing before I woke up.

I feel like an imposter in a body that isn’t my own. There’s no sense of individuality left for me to remember. I do not even remember the name of this Vessel. I do not know who I am, but I know what I am. Instilled in me from the Bishops sermons every passing moon. A Goner.

Have I lived my whole life here? How long have I been in The City? How long have I mindlessly worshipped the Great Light of the Vials, and knelt before the false benevolence of the Bishops? Was I taken here out of my own volition? Did I walk willingly into the cold hands of Vialism? The guilt of unknowing is all consuming.

I feel sick, a deep twisting, lurching feeling in my gut that I cannot place. Everything feels slightly off centered, which is impossible for a place like The City. Everything here is perfectly placed, clean and concise. Reliable. But with my new found awareness of myself and of The City around me, comes the nagging uncertainty that there is something terribly wrong. With me? With The City? The Bishops?

I don’t know what to do. And I am terrified the Bishops are going to find out that I’ve been thinking for myself. How am I going to carry on everyday, and pretend I’m still theirs?

What scares me the most is I don’t know whether I’d rather continue being awake or be back in the comfort of Dema’s dreamless sleep.

‘till the bitter end. -Goner