Darkness.
It wasn't just the absence of light; it felt like a heavy blanket, thick and suffocating. Adam drifted within it, a mind without sensation, a thought without form. How long had he been like this? Seconds? Years? Centuries? Time had dissolved into meaninglessness.
He remembered the slow fading, the world slipping away as his body lay still, a prisoner in his own skin. Was this the end? Was this the eternal nothingness they called death?
Or perhaps some strange, empty corner of the afterlife? He had no way to know. There was nothing to touch, nothing to see, nothing to hear but the silent hum of emptiness itself.
Then, something changed. A flicker, a ripple in the void. It wasn't external; it was him.
His body moved.
With a sharp gasp that tore through the silence, Adam scrambled, pushing himself up. Air filled his lungs – real air! He felt it rush in, cold and clean. He was on his feet, unsteady but standing. His hands shot up before his face, shaking uncontrollably.
He stared at them, turning them over and over. Fingers, palms, knuckles. His hands. He could see the lines on his palms, the shape of his fingernails. He flexed his fingers, watching them curl and uncurl. They obeyed. They obeyed!
A wave of raw, overwhelming shock washed over him, so potent it almost buckled his knees. He ran his trembling hands down his arms, across his chest, over his stomach, down his legs.
Skin. Muscle. Bone. He could feel the texture of his own skin, the solidness of his body beneath. He pinched his arm, hard. Pain flared, sharp and real.
He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't imagining this. After years trapped in the cage of paralysis, unable to command even a blink, he was whole. He was… alive? The question hung in the air, heavy with disbelief and a fragile, burgeoning hope.
But as the initial shock began to recede, replaced by a dizzying awareness, something felt distinctly wrong.
He was completely, utterly naked.
He looked down. His feet weren't standing on solid ground, exactly. A shallow layer of water covered the surface beneath him, barely deep enough to reach his ankles, perhaps 8 to 10 centimeters.
It was cold, disturbingly cold, and the sensation prickling against his bare skin grounded him, making the impossible situation feel terrifyingly real.
He splashed a foot slightly, sending ripples outward into the darkness.
He looked around, trying to pierce the gloom. It was useless. Beyond a small circle around him, maybe two meters across, there was nothing. Just an endless, featureless void of pitch black. It swallowed the light, swallowed sound, swallowed everything. The water beneath his feet shimmered faintly, reflecting… nothing.
"Where… am I?" The words scraped out of his throat, rough and unfamiliar. He hadn't used his voice in so long.
The sound of it startled him. His own voice. He touched his throat, feeling the vibrations there. Tears, hot and sudden, welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.
He hadn't cried in years, not because he hadn't felt sorrow, but because even the muscles needed for tears had failed him. Now, they flowed freely. I can speak? I can move? I can feel? The simple reality of it was shattering.
The paralysis had been a living death. Trapped inside a body that wouldn't respond, his mind had been his only escape, and even that had grown weary over the endless, silent years. Now… this. Freedom. Raw, unexpected, terrifying freedom.
He threw his arms wide, tilting his head back towards the unseen ceiling of this endless space. A laugh, choked with tears and disbelief, burst from him. He didn't care if anything heard him. He needed to let it out.
"I'M FINALLY FREE!" he shouted, pouring every ounce of pent-up frustration, despair, and sudden, explosive joy into the cry.
His voice echoed, bouncing off unseen barriers in the distance before fading slowly, absorbed back into the oppressive silence. No answer came. No sign of another presence, no indication that his cry had reached anything or anyone. The vast emptiness remained unchanged, indifferent.
The initial euphoria began to drain away, replaced by a creeping unease. The joy of freedom was real, but freedom where? He took a cautious step forward, the cold water swirling around his ankles.
The darkness held firm, the small circle of visibility moving with him, but revealing nothing new. It felt like walking inside a tiny bubble of awareness surrounded by an infinite ocean of night.
He could see the dark, smooth floor beneath the water within his immediate vicinity, but beyond that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
"Where the hell am I?" he muttered again, the hoarseness lessening slightly as he used his voice more.
He scanned the impenetrable darkness, searching for any shape, any light, any clue. There was none. A chilling thought wormed its way into his mind. He had been dying, hadn't he? Or perhaps he had died.
"Is this hell?" he whispered, the word tasting like ash. A place of eternal darkness and cold water? It seemed plausible.
"Or… is it heaven?" That seemed less likely. Heaven wasn't supposed to be empty and terrifying. Unless this was some kind of waiting room? A transition?
He needed answers. He needed contact.
"HELLO?!" he yelled, his voice louder this time, straining against the silence. "IS ANYONE THERE?!"
Only the echo answered, mocking him with its fading repetition before silence reclaimed the space.
Frustration began to bubble up, hot and fierce, chasing away the fear for a moment. This was ridiculous! Free from his paralyzed body only to be trapped in an empty void? He cupped his hands around his mouth, drawing in a deep breath.
"CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?!" he screamed, putting all his strength into the sound, hoping to shatter the silence, to force a response from whatever this place was.
Still, nothing. The silence felt heavier now, more deliberate. It wasn't just empty; it felt like it was actively refusing to answer.
A wave of hopelessness washed over him, extinguishing the fire of his frustration. What was the point? Shouting into oblivion? He was alone. Utterly, completely alone.
He clenched his fists, his knuckles white, and looked up, searching for a sky, stars, anything. But the void stretched above him just as it did on all sides – a seamless, pitch-black emptiness. There was no up or down, no direction, just… nothing.
The strength left his legs. He sank to his knees in the cold water, the splash loud in the silence. Exhaustion, not just physical but deep and soul-weary, settled over him. He rested his forehead on his clenched fists. What now? Was he supposed to just wait here forever? In the dark? In the cold?
A single, weary thought formed, spoken more as a sigh of despair than a request. "At least… give me some light."
The instant the words left his lips, the darkness above him ruptured.
A burst of brilliant, golden light erupted, warm and intense.
Adam flinched back, shielding his eyes with his arm. When he slowly lowered it, blinking against the unexpected brightness, he saw it.
A small sphere, no bigger than his fist, pulsed with a soft, steady light, hovering gently just above his head like a personal, miniature sun. It wasn't harsh or blinding, but warm, radiant, bathing the area around him in a gentle glow.
His eyes widened in stunned disbelief. The oppressive darkness hadn't vanished, but it had been pushed back, retreating significantly further than his previous two-meter limit. He could now see maybe ten or fifteen meters in every direction.
The floor was revealed clearly – a perfectly smooth, black, obsidian-like surface, seamless and reflective, covered by that thin, shimmering layer of clear water. The light danced on the ripples his movement created.
He slowly, cautiously, got back to his feet. His heart hammered against his ribs. His mind raced, trying to connect the dots. He'd been hopeless, frustrated, alone in the dark. He had mumbled a wish for light, and instantly, light had appeared.
Did… did this light appear because I asked for it? The thought was staggering. He looked up at the glowing orb, hovering silently above him. It pulsed gently, casting his naked shadow long and stark on the watery floor.
A whirlwind of confusion and a spark of intense curiosity ignited within him. If his words, even a whispered plea born of desperation, could conjure light from absolute darkness… what else? What else could he command in this strange, empty place?
A sudden, almost mischievous thought struck him, cutting through the fear. If this place responded to his needs, or at least his words…
"If this place follows my words… then…"
He turned his gaze from the watery floor back up to the glowing sphere. He felt foolish, but the evidence was floating right there. He took a breath, steadier this time, more deliberate.
"Okay," he said, addressing the light, or the void, or whatever might be listening. "If you can give me light, then at least give me some clothes! It's cold."
The moment he finished speaking, the air around him seemed to shimmer, and fabric materialized, settling onto his skin.
He looked down.
It was a hospital gown. Thin, pale blue, tied loosely at the back. The same standard-issue gown he had worn for countless days, weeks, years, lying helpless in that bed. The symbol of his imprisonment.
Adam stared at it, a deep frown creasing his forehead. He ran his fingers over the worn, familiar cotton. A surge of revulsion went through him. "What the hell?" he muttered, disappointment sharp and bitter. "Not this… I don't want this! Give me proper clothes. Something decent."
Instantly, the hospital gown vanished as quickly as it had appeared. In its place, new clothes settled onto his frame.
He looked down again, his breath catching in his throat.
A crisp white button-down shirt. A dark blue blazer with a familiar crest embroidered on the pocket. Neatly pressed grey trousers. Polished black shoes, somehow perfectly dry despite the water.
It was his old high school uniform. The one he'd worn during happier times, years before the accident that had stolen his mobility. He hadn't thought about these clothes in ages, yet here they were, perfectly recreated.
These are clothes from my memory…
The realization sent a strange thrill, mixed with a healthy dose of fear, coursing through him. This place didn't just respond to his words; it seemed to access his thoughts, his memories. It gave him light when he needed it, clothes when he asked – even specific clothes linked to his past.
If this place responded to him, obeyed him… then who, or what, was in control? Was it him? Was he somehow shaping this reality? Or was something else listening, granting his requests like some bizarre genie?
He needed answers more than ever. The fear was still there, a cold knot in his stomach, but the mystery was too compelling. He threw his arms wide again, not in joy this time, but in challenge.
"WHO ARE YOU?!" he shouted, his voice ringing out in the illuminated space, stronger now. "SHOW YOURSELF!"
Silence. The golden orb continued its gentle pulsing. The water rippled softly around his ankles. Nothing else changed.
Adam clenched his teeth, frustration returning. Fine. If it wouldn't show itself…
"At least tell me where I am! WHAT IS THIS PLACE?!"
The air directly in front of him shimmered again, like heat haze on a summer road. The light bent strangely.
Then, a rectangle of translucent blue light materialized out of thin air, hovering at eye level. It glowed softly, and strange, intricate symbols swirled across its surface before rapidly rearranging themselves, morphing into clear, readable text:
"I was created by the will of the Master."
Adam instinctively took a step back, his eyes locked on the glowing blue window. His mind struggled to make sense of it. "Master?" Who was the Master? Was it the entity controlling this place? Was it God? Or… something else?
Before he could even fully form the questions, the text dissolved. The symbols vanished. In their place, a simple face appeared on the blue screen. It was minimalist, almost like an emoji – two simple circles for eyes and a straight line for a mouth. It seemed to stare directly at him, conveying no emotion he could recognize.
Then, it spoke. The voice wasn't human. It was calm, synthesized, yet perfectly clear, seeming to emanate directly from the blue window itself.
"You created me, Master. Because you needed me."
Adam's breath hitched. His eyes darted from the simple face on the screen to the glowing orb above, then around at the empty, watery void. Me? I created this… interface? This place? Master?
His powers… had created this?
He didn't have any powers. He was just… Adam. A guy who had been paralyzed, who had maybe died, and who was now standing inexplicably whole in the middle of nowhere, talking to a blue screen with a face.
He had absolutely no idea what any of this meant. The confusion was overwhelming, a thick fog in his mind. But beneath the confusion, beneath the lingering fear, a single, undeniable certainty began to form.
This strange awakening, this impossible freedom, this responsive void… this was only the beginning.