The World Has More Than Two Faces, Just Like Humans
The rain tonight was completely unexpected, and Du Lang found himself utterly soaked after having walked for no more than a hundred meters since he departed from the building of
As he stood in the bus, he noticed that many others were standing in the same awkward pose as him; one arm extended from their chest to allow their clothes to release their collected water, and similarly, a leg raised to prevent water from pooling at their feet any more than completely drenching their socks and flooding their precious, prized shoes.
Anything but the shoes.
"I am definitely going to get a cold from this…"
A plastic bag grasped in his hand, Du Lang stepped from the public transit and walked towards the residential area where he lived. As he walked, he ultimately compromised all of his efforts by raising the folds of his suit to prevent water from dripping into the contents of the bag, for the rain simply seemed to have increased its rage in the span of a few dozen minutes.
"Angry just like an elder sister, is that it?"
Du Lang released a sardonic laugh as he entered his home and turned on the lights of the hallway. With clenched teeth and distorted brows, he carried the soggy shoes in his hands as he approached the drying room at the basement, wincing at each moment droplets of water shot towards the hardwood maple floor.
Once he had carefully slotted the shoes, socks, suit, and underwear into their appropriate positions on the rack, Du Lang scrunched his eyes in annoyance.
His suit had been ruined, his day at work had been ruined, and now he was to clean up after a trail of water that could inflict potential – no, guaranteed destruction onto any hardwood floor if left unattended for more than thirty seconds. Du Lang grumbled numerous times, but ultimately grabbed a nearby rag with ease and earnest haste.
Du Lang knew that he might complain and nag like an old, wizened hawker stationed in the slums of the city, but he retained his habits as a diligent and responsible human. It was how he graduated from Jingdou First University as the valedictorian of his class, and how he had obtained everything he possessed today.
"First clean, then shower, then cook. It's already eight in the evening – should I even be eating this late?"
Habits were important, and shaped every intricate detail relevant to a person. Du Lang clearly remembered the words of his late father that a persistent habit could both uplift and destroy him should it be maintained improperly, and didn't have any intention of breaking his faith…
…well, the ingredients stored in the refrigerator had to be consumed rather quickly as they were reaching their expiration date, and he had yet to go shopping for this week.
Not only that, he hadn't eaten for thirteen hours, and the customary intestinal pain that was tied so tightly to his family since the first ancestor was a pain to handle…
With the silent affirmation in his heart, Du Lang made his mind to shower and eat his fill before going to bed. It was a quick shower and a light meal, the first lasting half an hour of dedicated scrubbing, and the latter consisting of clear noodle and broth, several assorted vegetable dishes, and leftover beef from yesterday when he had cooked too much…
[This world is cursed.]
As he lay in his bed and rested against a comfortable pillow, the same set of words that occupied his mind for the latter portion of the day made its presence once more. Du Lang was scrolling through Weibo when they clapped against his ear, and couldn't help but respond haphazardly.
"Of course, the world is cursed. How could it not?"
[The strong devour the weak, and the weak are left to lament and perish. And yet, the fundamental aspects of the world are created, maintained, and improved by the toils of the weak, never the strong.]
"That's just the basic nature of competition and limited resources," Du Lang's lips curved into a thin sneer.
"Why would the strong step down from their pedestals to toil at the land? They are 'strong' because others are more than willing take the burden, and will not complain as their rights, property, and fundamental nature are stripped one by one."
[Why should the weak sacrifice? Why must they?]
The words that flickered in his mind were tempting for thought, and Du Long couldn't resist but to answer them wholeheartedly. His eyes flickered with a glazed sheen as though he were hypnotized, and his ears rang with the faint sunder of tolling church bells. The scenery of his bedroom with its plain wallpaper and soothing decoration faded into a swift darkness.
[In essence, the strong are no different from the weak. The same deficits and disadvantages imposed onto the weak are reflected equally across the strong. Why must there then exist distinct classifications?]
"Who knows? The distinction between the weak and the strong were established at the beginnings of civilization – the only change has been its particular manifestation, and what we name it as a society," Du Lang murmured.
"Perhaps the first 'strong' were those who were the first humans to pitch an idea to the remainder of the community, and the 'weak' were those who had nothing else to argue or disagree with. The pioneers in any advent possess a significant societal authority in that area, and can naturally impose rules as they see fit."
[And if the weak raise dissatisfaction?]
"Dissatisfaction?"
The hypnotic voice rang clearly within his mind, alluring him to sift through his memories upon subconscious will. Du Lang saw before him the brief and recent memories of university – the times where he had pored over the numerous books of the world's history and economics…
"They will never dare raise dissatisfaction," Du Lang declared with a dark expression.
"The weak of this world, since the ancients and now us in a modernized setting – which of them would dare raise dissatisfaction towards the strong? The strong created the system of society we are used to, and regardless of however we revolutionize and reform society, they will always transform into a new group of 'strong'. To raise dissatisfaction would require experience of a wholly different system, a society that offered a much more pleasant experience than the one we experience today – and who has ever had such experience?"
[To rebel against the established order is to be recognized by the order, the society as a terrorist. But the weak have desires as well, do they not?]
"So what if they have desires?" Du Lang abruptly revealed a knowing, discomforting smile.
"Those who can use themselves to sate the desires and lusts of the strong, will be granted the illusory taste of fulfilling their desires, and subsequently entrap themselves into the schemes of the strong. Those who cannot… will rot, as they always will."
[Repressed desires must break out at some point. To release those desires, the strong can act as they wish, whilst the weak must remain repressed against their will. The weak cannot act, thus will resort to curse.]
"What will cursing do? Make the strong display sudden acts of sympathy in fear?"
Du Lang's eyes crinkled with bemusement, and his voice was tinged with sarcasm and disbelief. He sank himself into the depths of the darkness, and immersed himself in the mysterious soothing voice.
[The weak are restrained in physical and rational form, the confines of knowledge. They cannot act, and can only curse to vent their repressed desires.]
The soothing voice gradually warped into a mechanical chorus, and scratched at the depths of Du Lang's ears. The words that were repeated into his mind abruptly adopted a sinister tone, the distinct desire for malice and harm weaved into the characters themselves.
[Curses are only words directed to releasing grief, resentment, suffering. Pleas that seek the slightest amount of reprieve, pleas unconstrained by the noose of decency and language.]
[Curse! I implore for you to recognize! Recognize the mutilation, the devouring by lust, those who seek to plunder!]
As the words streaming into his mind increased in pitch and frequency, Du Lang could faintly hear an ocean of screams tide over his body. From head to toe, he trembled at the cries and screams of pain, misery, and despair. He tried to respond as he had for the past moments, but found his body and thoughts immobile.
[Seek retribution! Those who dare violate the laws of nature, the laws of the world! I curse!]
[My unwarranted suffering, my unwarranted pain, my unfair despair! I seek retribution – the world must offer retribution!]
[Those who dare mutilate their own kind for pleasure and enjoyment, those who dare indulge in the suffering of others for gratification! I curse!]
The tide of screams gave way to roars of anger and hatred. Cold sweat erupted from Du Lang's pores, soaking his bedsheets and blanket with a foul, black liquid.
[Humans who wish to don the masks of angels and masks of demons! I curse!]
[I curse! I curse! I curse!]
[My resentment shall be your suffering. My suffering shall be your annihilation. My grievance, my pain, my repression, they shall become your obliteration! The world shall become the sword to deliver my judgement!]
Drowned in the cacophony of the rampant sounds and roars ringing in his ears, Du Lang never noticed his lips moving of their own accord, reciting all of the words that graced his ears. No sound emerged from the rapidly pursing and striking lips, but their inaudible words merged into the chorus of resentment.
"The original sin of humans is the concept of righteousness. Tool of the strong, yoke of the weak, the judgement of exploitation."
He didn't know what he said, nor did he realize the vicious intent integrated into the words released from his throat. The scream of voices abruptly vanished into the background as swiftly and mysterious as they had emerged, and Du Lang quickly sunk into the dark void behind him. His senses were completely muted as he submerged into the intoxicating experience of absolute darkness and nihility, causing him to miss the final whisper.
[Sibyl interface initialized. Human race, named Du Lang. Has accomplished minimal conditions. Assessing compatibility; results are most compatible with the Curse platform. Platform implanted, initializing reconfiguration process. Rejoice, Du Lang. Curses have more to offer than just words.]
The die had been cast…
The voice faded into the fluctuations of the void, and Du Lang's eyes snapped open. He lurched forwards into a partial sitting position, and rubbed his head with his hands.
"What a weird dream. Truly weird."