I'd heard about the Chaos Effect, but I didn't think I was the butterfly.

The last time I ran out of that damn place and breathed the air outside that container, I really thought I had succeeded. I'm so cute. Of course it doesn't mean I'm really cute.

Ignorant larvae are eager to emerge from the cocoon, which for me is where I work and live. Now I'm out, only to be in a cocooned, bigger and more intriguing cage.

I used to be a researcher, a natural researcher. The superposition of each person has defined him. I couldn't believe they agreed when I announced my resignation at the institute, but I was just trying to get away with it, and while I let my guard down, the net to catch the butterflies had already been sewn. That day I ran unscrupulously, my clothes like puffed sails, dragging me into the abyss, and the beast in human skin grinded its teeth and sucked blood, waiting for the thread of reason that had strangled me to break, and I fell into the mud, the bottom of the quicksand of society.

I went to another city, where it was beautiful and depraved, like thorns, pierced other people's bodies, stained myself with blood, and became a rose that everyone loved. I love the good smell of time, the grinding disc of the hands grinds time into grains of sand, spread it in the hourglass, and gives off the charming smell of requiem perfume.

Being a watchmaker in this day and age is one of the most obsolete things. They thought I was crazy when they knew I quit. I think so, but someone has to be the first to do it. While they were pointing at me, the Chaos Butterfly had spread its weak wings widely, intent on delivering a fatal blow to the world.

My damn imagination and amazing dexterous hands have created a lot of useless myths. Strange colors, colorful conjectures, there is the madness of Van Gogh or Gauguin, all the clocks and watches are constantly turning wildly, and at a certain time, they will ring together like a timer, like colorful magic or witchcraft. Time doesn't pass, it's us who passes.

I like to be with myself, but when two lonely things are in one place, loneliness becomes sour. I'll wait until time gets bored and it will leave.

I was in the shadow of the hour and minute hands, thinking of nothing, until the hour and minute hands cut me to pieces like scissors, to cut through the texture of others. I was incomplete, so I borrowed so many fragments of time in a vain attempt to put together a complete version of myself as I imagined, but these times did not belong to me in the first place. So I became someone else's life, and what I was thinking might not be what I really thought, and I wasn't sure if what I was expressing was what I was expressing. I was cobbled together by someone else, so I can't die, and if I die, it's equivalent to me killing a lot of people, or I'm being killed by a lot of people. Everything in the universe has a purpose, and I have to live until I achieve it.

I thought my life would go on like this until the moment when all the clocks stopped turning at the same time.

But I'm still so cute.

Whether I like it or not, the waves will always come.

My adoptives' favorite things to do when I was a kid were watching the sea and drinking. He took me out for the first time and I saw what the sea was. The churning waves, the carefree seagulls don't know where to fly. They all knew what was going on, the revolver that fired five shots, and a very different note.

The bathroom mirror was shattered by me, and I was divided into pieces, pieced together into a mess, like a chaotic fragment of time. There was a bullet hole in the upper left, and I remember pointing to my heart in the mirror with Browning, and swearing that I would collapse myself if I drank again. This muzzle shows that I mean it. When I left the mirror reflection area, the wound was there. I remembered that phrase when I submerged my face in the pool. But I quickly put it behind me. Man is like water, water flows out of the limbs in all directions, and the droplets of water from the limbs flow out of the fingertips. We will dissolve something, we will also get impurities, and when I am no longer pure, I will distill myself and leave a clean part to live again. The purest water is often poisonous. The virus is so simple that it can't make it hurt physically or break it mentally, it just wants to live and let many complex creatures die. In this way, doctors are also killing, killing people who want to kill others and live themselves. Ever since I found out I was dirtier than germs, I haven't done anything like this again.

I didn't eat breakfast after washing, it was a real annoyance. I went to JR774 and helped him see the experiment. He was a biologist, an amphibian, and he preferred to spend time with them rather than with friends. I'll admit he was good at raising animals - before he turned everything into a weird and gloomy experiment. Sometimes he also helps me observe the wave function and support experiments that I don't even know what they are. Some people say he has a crush on me, maybe, but no one likes a crazy person, does they?

Outside the door, I was a little apprehensive, and once I asked him, "Is your experiment dissecting or breeding mutated animals?" He replied quickly, dissecting the mutant animals I had cultivated. His subject is extremely conspiratorial, experimenting with highly toxic chemicals.

"Amphibians are the most susceptible after environmental pollution, and they have a more complex structure." I remember that in the dark green water of the aquarium on all sides, the frogs with many legs were swollen, like wet wood that had absorbed water, floating lifelessly in the middle of the foam, the skin was constantly peeling off, and the droplets were shaking in the water, and the stiff eyes of the big fish several meters long were staring at me. I knocked on the door.

"Come in, the door is unlocked." His magnetic voice is nice, with a German finish to it.

His territory was turquoise, unlike the gray sea I had been to, nor the clear weather of that day.

This institute is the last refuge for people who are not good at articulating.

JR774 is a lot like me. We will not shed tears because of sympathy, if you don't want to sprinkle salt on the wound, remember that there is salt in the tears, and the tears of sympathy of others hurt more when they are sprinkled in the wound, I only have pity and understanding for everything, very little forgiveness and mercy, when I recognize my own status, I will understand that everything is meaningless, and in the end all tomorrow will become yesterday, everything we produce will only remain on the surface of the black hole, and become another completely different thing in the real vacuum, and even know that everything is meaningless and meaningless.

A lot of young scientists come here to make a difference, but I'm an exception.

I don't want to contribute anything to the world, what makes me want to work hard is only selfishness and curiosity, and the benefit to others is completely a by-product, and the same is true for others to help you, only to achieve your own goals and never think about what other people are like.

Notes:

"If we can feel the pain, why do we reject it?" I asked, "We never say no when happiness comes." "When happiness is saturated, you have to refuse, like Hugo said, the sponge has enough water, and if you put it in the sea, you won't suck it again," "But what about the sea? There's always something new dissolving in it, and the pain doesn't feel the same. "There is a limit to the pain in you, unless, like a battery, it is filled with pain and then exhausted." "If the pain is too much for me to bear, I will make up a bigger pain and make it seem insignificant. The battery will not be empty, even a vacuum will have vacuum energy. "We appreciate happiness more." "A low-level hobby." "Pain is just an aggregate of pleasure, limited in size but too much energy, which makes it difficult for people to endure for a while." "No," I retorted to the teacher, "they are allotropes. ”