039. Transmigration, 6

(Gamya)

My body is turning in a post-apocalyptic wasteland inside. Cells become more neutral as the fights shift to another level of reality below them gradually.

As if things of myself and armies had shrunk even further. I've mostly dove deeper my focus to a scale of operations that appears infinitely wider, because it is at a lower scale.

The fairies were little monsters of self-assembled chimeras, of thousands of smaller particles each.

Like army corps would be made of people.

So I dove with all my own tools to move my own biological options and weaponry, reaching this more essential level of the battlefield that has wasted my immunity and humanity.

Cells being the main unit to conquer in organisms, they are turned around and reprogrammed or reshaped by diseases. That used to be, before and above this perspective.

Now as I fell so low down in perspective, they are like planets to me, hollow planets rolling between each other we are fighting over for control.

Gravity doesn't mean anything in this liquid world. Perspective have shifted still. There's no up and down in this bubbly essence of things. My awareness is mostly focused on these lower scales materially, that are like immense spaces and battlefields inside my own body.

Parts of my remaining intelligence is scattering between the strategical level of things, and now this tactical side where I want to better understand and face my enemy.

And for the occasional moments when I look back and above, up to the surface I've long lost already, I see how much my body will never be saved or salvaged.

Although a kind of metabolic equilibrium seems to be settling again thanks to my work deep down, it's one where I'm now likely a mess and a brain dead vegetable at best. There will be no salvation from above, I shouldn't dream.

It's lost anyway up there and it makes me suffer to think about it.

It's hopeless above, and there's clearly no hope either in these deeper turmoils below.

Nonetheless I return within, and dive again.

The last sensations of flesh are of veins carrying petrols from all the decay faring between the cells and proteins. Everything has mostly slowed down as an aftermath of the fierce resistance I've showed them below.

I cannot win this maybe, but perhaps I've brought my unavoidable loss and domination to an odd state of stalemate at these lower levels.

The cells are weak however, struggling to multiply now that the environment is so openly hostile, and don't really obey nor follow me nor the enemies anymore.

Most things here continue to be in a greyish apathy and chaotic free for all. Cells previously from my body don't care anymore.

My own body at this level of reality and time in the disease doesn't care nor answers to me any longer.

My forceful tactics abused tools of control making even the autonomous system weaker and weary.

But on the other hand, the sheer destruction I've caused also reduced the natural desires of most carcinogenic cells to break free. They may mutate but don't attempt to become independent cancers anymore.

It's a weird peace from lassitude prevailing. My body has grown very weird in this exhaustion and slumber.

But I dive deeper, where the war lingers at much lower scales continuously along the fringes.

I keep my focus on these battlefields that are between molecular and atomic streams.

Above me, rivers of decay coursed through my veins with more dead elements than living cells. Here we see the breaking of the amino-acids and lipids in simulacrums of explosions and contagions like falling stars in the dark skies.

And more importantly, I interact with the finally reached true fundamental level of existence of the noxious fairies.

Countless particles that are otherwise invisible but tweak electricity or gravity along their way.

It's very abstract at this level of things. However now I see how these countless elements that are not atoms but do interact as such, eventually aggregate and combine together.

Eventually they fuse and ignite something bigger. It would be a fascinating process to study and observe, if it wasn't killing me at much higher scales. But it's probably similar to seeing life appear.

When these exotic cells activate a coalesced process, they start radiating differently their interferences, less randomly. They statistically become what I call fairies.

They're self-organised aggregates of immaterial elements that became reactive and able to interact with real elements on longer terms. They mechanically interact more easily with cells and chromosomes afterward where chemical reactions are repetitive. Not that they attack it directly, but they tend to accumulate through the helixes apparently.

But the more they come, the bigger their spread and influence through the cells.

Until they start behaving oddly maybe.

I've lost track but I better know where to strike and how to alter their organisation then.

I brought down smaller compounds from my immune system along with me.

My white cells now release their proteases to break these interactions between fairies and other cells.

It generally ends poorly for the affected cells. But gradually I learn and adjust more efficient and selective tools. It's a whole world of learning and adapting, with what's left of my human insight and understanding.

Tools more than weaponry, because now at this level, it feels less as military tactics with cells eating each other, and it looks more like selective chemistry. Without the right interfaces, the fairies gathering biological material cannot really interact with anything. And when the windows are shut, it's easier to plan around their surroundings.

We find the right catalysts to affect and reorganise the fairies' interactions, when the interactions are possible. In their early stages I can notice them slightly, but they're like ghosts without real interaction with anything.

But when they're ripe, then we can break the odd agglomerates apart before it merges badly with a cell's organelle.

They keep coming endlessly, because they and their germs come from the air outside. So the struggle is endless.

But gradually, I learn from these things I cannot name.

I integrate the few I was able to turn around in my array of molecular tools.

Ideally I would need to assimilate and convert for me and my biology all of these things, current and future.

Realistically, I'm gradually eroding my resources from above at these depths, since it's a wasteland above anything else we're fighting over.

I'm stuck in there and nothing will heal at the wider scale. I may not lose all, but I definitely won't win.

And when my fluctuating awareness rises enough, I feel more panic and distress from that state of things.

My body is dead. My life is now akin to a ghost still stuck inside its shell.

I want to scream.

I would give anything to escape this dreadful fate. But I can't... The road above is hopeless and there is no other road along the depths. I'm stuck in this jail until the world that is my flesh finally ends.

I glare painfully above, and turn around, to continue to dig deeper through the ground of my jail.

In pain, in despair, in continuous struggling against this bubbling reality that keeps harassing what's left of me.

I hope they're well... I'm counting on Dad.

And for all the little time I have left, I keep losing myself deeper in my personal and isolated hell.

Digging... Fighting...

Digging hopelessly until the end...

~