The machine god "Mature"
The machine god "Mature"
Explaining where I am must be complex for primitive minds, but well I will try to simplify it at least. I am in a small room, sitting at my desk, while my fingers move quickly towards the letters that my mind orders on the typewriter ... So it seems easy to explain, but in reality it is more complicated if I say what it really is. For example, if you put the typewriter as a mass of magic that I must give shape to create the worlds, while manipulating the weak mortal minds, so that they adapt to the role of my work. I was very ambitious, I wanted a work that far exceeds mediocre works, which are easy to surpass, which are promoted and express their fame easily by those false readers, who believe themselves to be readers by reading poorly made erotic books with recycled plots until exhaustion ... Anyway, the human mind can be interesting if you see it that way. I begin to create my world with care ..., << But what I write?>>. My thoughts were swirling in my mind when at one point a grand finale idea occurred to me <
—Hello, hello, hello—his voice was irritating to my ears, but it wasn't irritating because it was deep and unpleasant to listen to. It was because the person who transmitted it from his lips was where more lies than truths came out—Hello yibhyiutub—that name is almost as unpleasant, to me, as the person who mentions it—. Your daddy Hastur told me that you were playing with your dollhouse, and I came to see how it's developing.
She was a girl with long white hair, her eyes showed the universe lowered in them, two black eyes intersect each other and form a sphere is denoted in her pupils. A very innocent dress was worn by her, with a ribbon behind her, made in the shape of a heart.
—Nyarlathotep... What are you doing here? You just come to bother me... And I told you not to call me by that name—I turn to see the girl, who was jumping until she got in front of me, where she arched and approached my face.
—Oh, don't be so mean. I have come in all good faith to help you make your garden. And maybe participate in it–he did a somersault until he fell on that desk, where the girl was paying attention–... Hahaha, incredible, incredible!–her gaze went to me–, you are very evil, did you know?...–my sight showed the displeasure that being produced in me when I looked at it.
—I have a slight idea—he lifted me from my desk—. If you're going to help, please stand next to me.
The girl did another somersault and landed right next to me. I sat back down and said in a serious voice.
–Now I will begin the story... Do not use your abilities as an outer god to interfere in my story. Remember it is "realistic fiction" not science fiction–I emphasize the word "realistic fiction" to avoid the interruption of that girl, who was playing with her hair.
"God forbid I should butt into someone else's garden, and certainly not without an invitation," he says with irony in his voice.
–... Yes–I look at her, with obvious distrust–, I believe you.
The world on that typewriter begins to come to life, colors appear through the walls, decorations and the color of the clothes, everything taking on a cold, gloomy and smelly environment of alcohol, drugs and women or men of the bad life "prostitution". That black boy "Cristian" was playing sexually with one of his clients. He had to keep his disgust to himself, since it was a serious offense to show disgust in those underground brothels, where the workers who enter do not see the sunlight for a long time, even some who die without seeing the sun. Like Cristian. He played with his penis, until a discharge of semen entered the inside of his throat, and they forced him to drink <
–Go away bitch... I've already unloaded– the fat man speaks to her in a distracted manner.
—... Yes–he said, as he stood up and left the room.
That place was a connection of underground tunnels, like a sect, where the evils of the world were and were worshipped...
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–Me, me, me! Let them adore me, dear yib– the girl interrupted me, I looked at her.
–... Ok, just don't bother... And shut up.
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They worshiped the god of the challenging case, with human sacrifices, among other things typical of the annoying god. During all this time, Christian was in his room, drowning his head in his pillow while crying. The boy was already tired of not being able to see the sunlight, he was tired of not being able to see the outside world, and that every day he is locked up in that prison. So he had a night of pleasure with one of the guards who watch the exit, in exchange for going out. Maybe you will wonder that only one night is "insufficient", but in reality it is not, since sex with the boy was extremely expensive, being a professional in his work. The clock was handled until it reached the indicated time and that young man left through the ornate metal door. He looked to the left and right, but thank God he did not see anyone ... Even though he met the god they prayed to, possibly if there was someone.
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"You offend me, I'm not that evil," the girl played with the tips of her hair.
–Ha, lie to me more.
–I never lie.
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He ran around the corner quickly, he had to pass several places until he reached the aforementioned place. He desperately crossed each corner of that place, which before seemed too small and now was too narrow and long for his liking. Everything could continue as a story of overcoming where that boy left and freed himself from his imprisonment. If it weren't because he observed, at a certain moment of his run, how the corpse of one of his coworkers was devoured by a grotesque creature that savored the flesh of its victim's head, while sexually abusing him.
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–And the realism here is...?–the girl, with her look of disbelief, looked me up and down.
–Being a writer means innovating... Nyarlathotep.
–Of course... You didn't have any idea how to make a realistic story, did you?–I didn't answer that, because I knew it was true.
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I only looked away for a few seconds. And Cristian, was already being sexually abused by the creature, who was now heading for his head. But a bomb, coming from heaven, and given by the police of that world, who was tired of the evil of the sect. It hit the underground connection, causing a collapse, which caused the creature to be scared by the sound and flee. Such a simple ending is too boring. The young man now desecrated by the creature, ran away still longing for his freedom, and apart from that an abuse was something normal for him. And as he turned the corner the walls and everything disappeared, making that in a blink of his eyes, he was now in a place, where the sky was his ceiling, floor and walls. And different clocks above and below were shown moving their hands in unison. While an angel, who had the shape of a floating eye with wings watched the pathetic prostitute, who felt totally confused.
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–I told you not to get involved! –I was more annoyed by his act than by the creativity he showed on stage. <
–Hahaha, don't worry. I left an exit in one of the clocks that is out of balance with the others... But you should hurry or that angel will consume you–the two of us, powerless before the creature, began to observe the scene that was being observed.
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The boy was running away from that deformed being that seemed to claim its own existence and life, which was insignificant before him. The clocks moved in unison, but the only one that was not there was the exit, which showed a strong red color. The boy jumped towards that clock, where the exit was reflected in its perfectly made glass. He jumped and fell back into the underground, but he was no longer so far from the exit, there was only a little more. Shots sounded all over the place, along with screams of beasts that devoured the law officers, who had rushed in. The boy kept running and the spiral-shaped stairs appeared in his vision, at the end of that square corridor that extended behind him. He ran and began to move along the swirling staircase, to realize that those walls showed eyes that seemed to be made of jewels, precious stones and identification cards. They moved in the direction of that boy who kept running until he came out of that exit that showed the rays of the sun. He came out, saw a golden cornfield above his visitor, the sun's rays bothered him, and a shot pierced his chest, dying while he begged and thought.
<
End.
"... You are wicked," said the girl, while she looked at me with a certain feigned fear, since compared to what she was doing, what I was doing seemed like child's play.
–... You have inspired me, Nyarlathotep. I think I have a little more experience as a creator of worlds now– I watch my creation dissolve into the air, a false creation, in a false world.
What was not false were the pleas of that dark-skinned young man called "Cristian." He thought he would be happy when his life was being contracted by an external god.
–For having improvised, it turned out very well.