Clown Game
Chapter 105 - 105 (Non-main text - Going on shelves) Containment

Chapter 105: (Non-main text – Going on shelves) Containment Object Short Story: The Forgotten Man Chapter 105: (Non-main text – Going on shelves) Containment Object Short Story: The Forgotten Man (It’s going on the shelf… There are many emotions, but once spoken, they might change their flavor, since everyone’s state of mind is different. Therefore, I’ve decided to keep it to myself; remembering it sometimes isn’t too bad… As usual, here’s a little story, and I hope everyone likes my imagination.)

“A long, long time ago… ”

That’s how most stories start, isn’t it?

Exactly how long ago?

Several billion years ago?

Or several hundred billion?

Who knows?

In any case, suddenly, in the endless darkness, a point of light burst forth. Silence and emptiness instantly gained color.

Sparks of light began to spin ceaselessly. Stars scattered, spreading at an astonishing speed in far-flung directions.

And just like that, the universe was quietly born.

Who knows how much time passed.

Those countless trillion nebulae shone brilliantly, billions of remnants clustered together, massive and coiling into one planet after another.

Among them was an incredibly small azure world. That was where our life was nurtured.

Madness.

Fear.

Greed.

Courage.

Creation.

Wisdom.

Pursuit.

….

And so on

Humans have many treasures they believe transcend material, thinking themselves favored by the creator.

Little did they know, they were merely birds, their wings clipped, thrown into cages.

Work… Interaction… Survival… Reproduction… We put all our experiences between each other, repeating the same days, and after fulfilling the meaningless missions assigned by ourselves or others, contentedly waiting for death.

We never thought about those questions.

For instance… why do we exist?

Well, maybe some people have thought about it while eating, while intoxicated, during casual conversations; these irrelevant answers by the next morning’s light, would melt away, traceless.

But unbelievably, I knew the answer.

Our existence,

was due to a story!

…

…

A long, long time ago.

No, this isn’t another story, please be patient and listen to me to the end.

“Order Foundation”

This is a very mysterious organization.

Very few people know of its existence.

But I know.

Because… I was born there.

Oh, right.

“S-003”

That was my name.

But those few people in the Foundation preferred calling me by another name.

“God”

I really didn’t like this title, it made me sound like some kind of religious leader.

But they said I was very special, fully deserving of that title.

At that time… I thought they were all crazy.

…

…

I, like all boys of my age, ate, slept, studied. Occasionally, I would go out, stroll the streets, watch movies, but all under the Foundation’s surveillance.

So… I had no friends.

Except for her.

She was the nurse specifically responsible for looking after me.

I don’t know her real name… but that doesn’t matter, because I didn’t have a proper name either.

…

She was beautiful.

Sometimes when I looked at her, my face would turn red.

…

Today

Tomorrow

The day after tomorrow

I thought life would just go on like this.

…

That day I lay in bed, my body hooked up to strange machines, linked to some large machinery, as part of a monthly routine medical check-up.

I could feel needles piercing into my veins, it was somewhat painful, and beside me, a screen flashed, showing a spinning human model, emitting occasional “beeping” sounds.

She stood by my side.

Just like during every previous check-up, her hand rested on my shoulder.

“Hang in there, it’s almost over,” she said, smiling at me.

Then, I could hear the beeping of the heart rate monitor speeding up a lot.

“Beep”

“Beep”

“Beep”

…

…

…

Silence

…

I was stunned for a moment.

Because the sound had not continued.

Everything suddenly became quiet.

The air seemed thick, hardly breathable.

Everyone around me was motionless.

It was like someone had pressed the pause button on a movie, everything frozen in that instant.

Except for me.

At that moment, I had no idea what had happened. I was shocked silly.

It took a long time before I realized.

Time… had stopped.

…

…

…

…

I didn’t know why only I remained lucid, perhaps I had been endowed with some special ability, perhaps I had stepped outside of time, perhaps I was not bound by anything, perhaps… I was a god.

What followed was an unbearably long span of time. Since the door to the outside world at the Foundation required a passcode, I could only wander the hallways, gazing at the undecorated walls, feeling utterly alone and helpless. Gradually, I began to shout aimlessly, I became angry, I smashed everything smashable, and I rolled frantically on the ground, like a frog that had been skinned and thrown into saltwater.

But none of this helped. Everything was bound like puppets, even the sound lost its vitality, unable to travel far before being swallowed by the thick air.

I began to experience a different kind of fear.

A fear that transcended everything.

This fear was difficult to describe in words, and I knew if even time had forgotten me, then my fear would be endless.

This thought raged within me until the moment I almost went mad.

Afterward, I went mad.

Perhaps it was madness, all I know is something in my brain cracked open, and a power began to erode me.

A voice was saying, touch everything you want to change.

At that moment, I seemed to understand something.

If I believed I was a god… then I might

actually be a god.

So, I did just that, and the moment my fingers touched that closed door, it disintegrated into dust.

I arrived at the surface.

Of course, it was also utterly silent here.

Next, I began to walk.

I touched the frozen stream beside me, and it began to flow.

I touched the wild grass on the ground, and it quivered.

I understood a lot.

I walked on barren land. Looking at the sunlight that filled the ground, I waved my arms, and the wind and sand roared to life.

In this frozen time, I touched every leaf, glided over every grain of sand, I summoned frost, rain, and snow, stirred mountains and rivers, watched clouds move, and saw flowers bloom. I shouted, and my voice began to carry. I squeezed the soil, and life began to sprout. I closed my eyes, and thoughts crossed the endless void, nebulae twinkled, and all things returned to the beginning.

Just like that

I restored the world to its original state.

In the endless time that followed, I did nothing, every nook of mountains and seas, every corner of the earth bore my footprints, yet my fear remained unabated.

It was loneliness.

In the end, I returned to the Foundation.

Back to the room where it all started.

I lay back on that bed, watching her.

She might have been the most beautiful woman, but she could only remain as she was then, forever.

She was smiling.

I cried.

Because… I could not touch thoughts.

I had given the entire world new life, but I was still lonely… I went mad, then lucid, then mad again, and then lucid once more.

Years ago, billions of years later, past and future lost their meaning, I sat alone watching the sunset, watching it turn blood red, the temperature on the earth rose to hundreds of degrees, the oceans evaporated, turning into a burnt land, the world became a hell, and I was charred to the bone. After an indeterminable amount of time, the sun extinguished, and there was only darkness and cold on the earth. The air had long since evaporated, and I was frozen under the glaciers.

After hundreds of thousands of millions of billions of years, the universe entered the dark era, the Big Rip started, even protons were decaying, the universe had returned to its origin, there was nothing left, I floated alone in infinite space, the entire universe, just me. Or rather, I was the whole universe. Here, the concepts of time and space had lost their meaning. So I moved thousands of miles in an instant, a glance spanned thousands of years.

I wanted to do something, but there was nothing, I moved aimlessly in one direction, if there still was a direction.

…

After who knows how long, a point of light appeared before me, my dormant mind finally stirred, perhaps that was the edge of the universe.

Maybe.

It was a screen of light, covered in dense text, and the content, all about this world.

At that moment, I understood, this world was just a story.

This flower, this grass, every person, the whole world, was all just a story.

And this story was dead… utterly lifeless.

I became furious, my loneliness, helplessness, heartbreak, regret, helplessness, madness over countless eons all turned into rage, charging towards the screen of light, it shattered at my touch, opening a rift between story and reality.

…

…

In a dim room, a computer screen was emitting a blinding light.

The table was cluttered with leftovers that hadn’t been cleaned up for a long time, and the ashtray was piled high with cigarette butts.

A man in his twenties was seated at the table, somewhat overweight, with very messy hair. His hands were ceaselessly striking the keyboard, with each letter appearing on the screen.

Yet there was not a hint of life in his eyes.

When he saw the sudden appearance of me, he showed no emotion, perhaps surprised, but that already decayed mind didn’t feel like reacting.

The moment I saw him, my anger vanished, and inexplicably, I even felt a pang of heartache.

Perhaps he was also a lonely person.

“Your novel…is dead!” I said.

His fingers, which had been tapping the keyboard, paused for a moment before resuming their clicking.

His face was expressionless.

But he was crying, tears running down his remarkably calm face.

…

“I know…” he said, his voice echoing in his throat.

“Why?” I asked, looking into his empty eyes.

“A book needs readers. A book without readers naturally dies,”

he answered mildly.

At that moment, I realized I had asked a question whose answer I should have already known.

…

…

A book is a world.

A world cannot be sustained by one person alone.

It needs an author, like him,

It needs a story, like mine,

but most importantly

…

it needs readers, like you.

I’m not good at speaking.

But simple words are not necessarily less powerful than a flood of eloquence.

Everyone has a story, and no one wants their story to die.

Every world needs readers.

So…subscribe…become a reader.

For the morning sun, for the sweet cakes, for the laughter and cheer, for all the things you can think of.

Or…for the one you love.

Subscribe

…

Thank you

…

…

(I intended to write a more complicated plot and break off a chapter to lure some subscriptions, but I didn’t. I’ve been writing this novel for almost two months without specifically operating it, so I guess I’m not a good novelist. So, I’ll just try to be a storyteller. If it earns me some money, that would be even better.

Oh, by the way, Xiaoxiao is about to be promoted to C-level; D-level tasks are too minor, written timidly, but C-level tasks might be more interesting.

After all that talk, it really boils down to three words.

Of course, not “hehehe” but

“Subscribe”)