I suddenly had an inspiration, I wrote hard, I seemed to have forgotten what I had written before, and a voice reminded me that this was the key turning point, that in a certain chapter, there was a hint that made my scalp tingle, and I used this pen to describe what I could guess, what I could imagine, what I could understand, what I knew and saw, what I could not see but could feel, materialized and realistic, full of consciousness and symbolism. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 info Then, I no longer remember when I started writing and how I got the pen and paper.

I have been riding, hurting, falling, and dying in my adventures, but whenever I want to, I can always find paper and pen to record my thoughts in this apocalyptic fantasy. I am not depicting me, but I am also me, the former me was born out of the former me, and the present me was born from another me that still exists. We are one, but separate, and in the end, we are connected only by the meaning of the name "Takakawa", and this is the closest relationship in our cognition.

I looked up at the window again, looking across the window, in what looked like a black-and-white movie, Dr. Nguyen Le was like a ghost that existed only in the past, her silhouette deformed bit by bit with the flow of time, if it did happen, perhaps too slowly and naturally to give the illusion that she had not changed, but I was still able to contrast the vivid past impressions in my mind and notice her changes.

How much time has it been since I've spoken to her? It's not that I have different opinions and thoughts about her in my heart, or that I don't think she is her anymore. She was indeed Dr. Nguyen Lê, I knew her, and my heart was full of thoughts and emotions for her, but a strong intuition made me remain silent until she spoke. I could feel her peering at me from the room through the window, observing me, but I couldn't be sure that she was staring at me at this moment.

Everything in the repeater is very strange, I have seen things that are too strange, everything is like an illusion, but in the illusion it is implied to be real, they are so so integrated that I can't tell where the illusion is and where is the reality, but my intuition must give me a warning, and I am accustomed to this strange weird, weird, mysterious, dangerous, frightening, desperate, chaotic everything.

She was still staring at me, staring at me who wasn't here. I realized once again from what the diary was already in, from the voice that sounded in my head, from the intuition that swept across the sky like a swallow, that she was dead.

Standing in front of me is not a living person, nor a dead person, perhaps, it is just an illusion, a residue left in the apocalyptic illusion from the reality of the hospital - yes, Dr. Nguyen Li has been infected by the "virus" in the reality of the hospital and has become a patient with doomsday syndrome and died, and the residue she left in the apocalyptic fantasy has been preserved because of the Las Vegas repeater, no, more precisely, this phantom in front of me is the real winner in the battle for the Las Vegas repeater.

And I, on the other hand, am nothing more than a host and agent welcomed by this apparition.

The Las Vegas repeater moved in a certain direction under my conscious inclination, but it was not me who drove it, but Dr. Nguyen Le drove it for me. As soon as I thought about this, I couldn't help but feel a faint pain in my heart. Because I would like to believe that even if Dr. Nguyen Li died, he would still be helping me in the form of such a hallucinatory illusion.

I don't know if my plan is right or wrong, I just hope it will bring you a happy ending, but it's not uncommon for reality to mismatch hopes. It is precisely because I am not 100% sure that I am 100% right, so I want another me and Dorothy to carry out another plan, even if in my mind, my own is 90% right, and Dorothy is not even 10% right.

My heart is swinging, but I'm not going to compromise. I don't want to entrust the final outcome to fate, but I have a deep sense of how fate can move us to a predetermined trajectory from probability. In the face of that terrible future possibility, I need to keep telling myself to "believe in myself" so that I don't go completely crazy.

I kept observing myself and comparing myself. The existence of another Takakawa, recorded in the diary, his thoughts and choices, is the best reference. From this reference, I am more aware than ever of the malignant changes in my mind, spirit, psychology, and so on.

However, I am also well aware that when I fall in love with her or her, it is irreparable.

My mind roared like a wild horse, like a flood that had collapsed in a river, on the clear and indistinct perceptions and vague feelings. And in the room on the other side of the window under my gaze, the image of Dr. Nguyen Li has become more and more distorted and strange, she is now only in human form, and if I hadn't been watching her changes, I am afraid that I would not have been able to recognize her at the first sight of such a distorted form.

The more intense these changes from myself, from the external objects I have observed, the more I will feel a tension from my soul. It tightens and tightens, as if it is about to be touched.

It was in this increasingly tense feeling that I could feel that the Las Vegas repeater was rapidly approaching that point full of attraction - to say that it was full of attraction is not a compliment, specifically, I could feel a trap-like malice and a kind of pin-prickly threat, and it was precisely because of this feeling that I could be sure that it must be a very critical place in the situation I was facing, and this attraction was in such a "critical" cognition.

Gradually, I couldn't help but listen. In my head, there was a melody rising, from tiny like an insect chirping to a clear audible. "Takakawa" is deep in my body, deep in my soul, and that one is singing. It's like singing the praises of the wonderful performances of the characters in the play, and it is like admiring the wonderfulness of the plot - in its observations, it admires the scene, it can't wait to see the next development, and I can't resist.

I gradually lost myself in the sound, and I felt that it was so frightening, so frightening, so beautiful.

Then, at some point, I vaguely heard the bell ringing.

At this moment, I knew one thing more strongly than ever: this is the bell of the New Year, and the year 1999 is coming!

I looked at the other wall, where there seemed to be a clock, but when I looked at it, there was nothing there, just a clean and tidy wall. But the auditory hallucinatory bell still rang in my ears, as if it were coming from that direction, from that wall.

Before the bell rings, what era is this apocalyptic fantasy? What year? What time? I don't remember. Perhaps because of this, the feeling triggered by the realization that "1999 has arrived" is so powerful and profound, just like the whole world I know, whether it is the apocalyptic illusion or the reality of the hospital, only at this time, invariably arrived at an accurate time.

Before this moment, all time is "false", and only this moment of time is real and true, and it is the starting point of timekeeping.

I felt something again, and I hurried to write it down with a pen and paper:

――

A figure like "Takakawa" walks between the buildings of the hospital. The moonlight has been buried by the clouds in the sky, as if it would rain at any moment, and the moisture in the air can be clearly felt by sniffing it. The figures could not mingle in the dim light and heavy shadows, could not determine the exact number, they were like ghosts, like monsters, walking in such a form at this time that there were no people and many inhuman things hidden, as if they had come to their home turf. If anyone notices these figures and feels their movements, they must be terrified in their hearts - the figures themselves are not terrifying, but, just as people are afraid of the silent and dark night for no reason, they must feel overwhelmed by the movement of such a night.

It was as if they were fighting, hiding, but they could not see their opponents - occasionally shadows flashed, and they seemed to be wounded, as if they had gone mad, and the shadows printed on the walls became distorted, full of pain, and then turned into some kind of image that was not human. Faintly, a creepy voice came out, like a monster roaring.

No one knew what the figures were doing, or what they were fighting with - but they were by no means the most grotesque of the strange things that had happened on this island in the hospital's reality. From the past to the present, the researchers in the hospital have been trying to find the "virus", but now, with the passage of time and all the progress has been blocked one by one, they have all fallen into a desperate and isolated state with this island hospital.

Even Dr. Ander couldn't tell the details of all this change. The bad turn doesn't all come out all at once, but like a boiled frog in warm water, when you realize it, the struggle becomes very difficult. In this silent night, when standing by the window and feeling everything outside, the vague and increasingly anxious sense of tension and crisis made people believe that they were in an absolutely dangerous situation.

Because of fear, no one would go out at this time, and such a frightening night has been going on for about a week.

During the week, frustrating news poured in, first of which had high hopes for Dr. Nguyen Le fell ill and died, and then of a number of researchers who had achieved important results. The activity of the "virus" during this period is far greater than that of any other period of time, not only in this hospital, but also through the support of the outside world on the island, the spread of the "virus" around the world, as well as the large-scale emergence and deterioration of patients with doomsday syndrome.

To a certain extent, although the hospital is still at the forefront of research into the "virus", the "hospital" itself is in danger of being abandoned beyond the scope of its own repair and orderly operation, which means that the island could be designated as a "hard-hit area" at any time and forcibly decontaminated with a nuclear bomb.

Trying to escape from an island is not an easy task. Dr. Ender knew better than anyone here that the hospital had been ordered to be closed a month earlier, and at the beginning, supplies were brought in by ship, but after a shipment of up to a million copies of LCL arrived, supplies became intermittent and the intervals were repeatedly extended. The living materials stored in the island hospital are enough for the people here to do nothing and continue to live for a year, but this cannot change the situation that neither the workers nor the patients on the island can leave the hospital and return to the normal world.

All of them are imprisoned on this island in disguise in the midst of their worsening lesions. According to the latest secret statistics, there are fewer than 30 people, including Dr. Ender himself, who have not been infected by the "virus" or have not developed any lesions for the time being. The number of "thirty people", including patients, researchers, service personnel and security personnel, is simply not enough to keep the hospital running in an orderly manner, and it is necessary to turn a blind eye to those infected with doomsday syndrome. It is not possible to say that they are aware of their disguise, nor to inquire about the progress of their research - the researchers themselves know very well what a terrible condition the apocalyptic syndrome is, and if they cannot produce results, they will not only be able to save others, but also themselves. They need to bear the consequences themselves, so it is not impossible to say that they do not work hard at work.

However, there was no result.

No matter how hard you try, no matter how much you try, no matter how well you cooperate, if you don't get results, you can't even save yourself - this is not good news for all the patients in the hospital. When these researchers went berserk, many of them committed suicide because they couldn't bear the cruel fact because of mental pressure. In contrast, Dr. Nguyen Li's use of himself as an experiment before his death and left behind valuable research materials is undoubtedly a positive model. It's not that people who try to implicate others are not uncommon, but they are all dealt with quickly, but that doesn't change the malicious fact that the hospital is suffering: how many normal people are there in the hospital today? If you walk out of the door and meet a person, the other party is likely to be infected.

The ghostly figures that move in the night are just behind a huge, twisted curtain, which can be considered a typical silhouette. Dr. Ander knew very well that it was by no means "Takakawa", and it was definitely more than "Takakawa". A terrifying, desperate, unknowable thing is looming over everyone. (To be continued.) )