Daily Disposable Persona - Chapter 17

Published at 20th of September 2021 06:58:51 PM

Chapter 17

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Zong Yan felt like he was being torn from his body.

According to the materialist worldview that prevailed in modern times, human beings consisted of the outward skin of their bodies and a mind.

The other daily disposable persona cards owned by Zong Yan, to put it in simple terms, were nothing more than a brute-force change of skin. But this persona card was unique. It ripped out Zong Yan’s soul directly. And he had no idea where it was thrown.

Thousands of fragments poured in like a rising tide, frantically bombarding Zong Yan’s mind.

Human beings existed in three-dimensional space. According to the universal laws of space-time, organisms in lower dimensions were incapable of contacting higher-dimensional beings.

Just like a paper cutout person had no way of knowing about three-dimensional space without human intervention, a two-dimensional world couldn’t surpass two dimensions.

Albert Einstein once said: Time does not exist.

The reason human beings in three dimensions believed that time existed was a trick of memory. Memory was what gave them the concept of “time”.

Similarly, time in four-dimensional space could be plotted on an axis.

When creatures in four-dimensional space looked at humans, they could follow the timeline and freely view specific nodes along the axis of time.

According to this logic, creatures in four-dimensional space were also time travelers.

…

It was impossible for human thinking to conceive of higher-dimensional objects.

But now, this exact type of variable existed in three-dimensional space.

Through some uncontrollable and unknowable path, he’d transcended the three-dimensional world.

—Zong Yan’s journey wasn’t as simple as leaping across a dimension.

His destination was the end, the ultimate end, of the universe.

In the vast sea of stars, a mass of consciousness catapulted forward at an unknown velocity exceeding the speed of light by billions of trillions of times, hurtling forward for an instant far less than a second in duration, but it also could have been as many, many years as the evolution of the world.

Time had no meaning when crossing dimensions.

Finally, he arrived.

This was another realm outside the universe, the heart of time and space, the original place where everything was born.

There was a vast and majestic palace with unimaginable, dimly-lit halls. With the sky as its roof and the stars as the seats, the temple woven with light had no end as far as the eye could see.

Innumerable Outer Gods, exactly as Darwin had said in class, thunderous beings that were powerful beyond human imagination, had gathered here like the center of gravity, surrounding the most central temple in countless ranks.

In this place, their unnamable appendages grasped musical instruments and played them, day after day and year after year, to express their absolute allegiance to the Lord of the Universe.

And Zong Yan—

He was in agony.

Experiencing the dual suffering of simultaneous divinity and humanity.

Compared to the immeasurable comprehension of “Azathoth”, Zong Yan’s mind was a drop in the ocean, insignificant.

San value was the embodiment of Zong Yan’s mental power. The deduction for using a persona card was nothing less than the cost that must be paid for the presumption of transcending a human body.

And that was why, when he used this “Azathoth” persona card, his San value plunged to zero.

For the San value to hit zero was an appalling thing.

Even if it were successful, Zong Yan’s consciousness would be crushed to powder at the very moment when divine consciousness descended, leaving nothing behind.

How tiny were human beings before the gods? Like ants trying to shake a tree, there was no chance of success.

But this persona card was indeed successful. It was a split incarnation card, and it drew the attention of the Lord himself.

From beyond the universe, from above the dimensions, the sleeping Azathoth gazes back at you.

Zong Yan felt a million needles slowly, inexorably pierce his soul. The pain, the horrifying pain, couldn’t be compared to any physical sensation. Instead it was like someone took a small knife and piece by piece ripped him apart from within. It hurt so much he wanted to scream, but in this spiritual state he had no vocal organs, no means of vocalization, so he could only endure the monstrous coercion. In the final moment of extremity, he almost touched the threshold of collapse.

Just as Zong Yan’s consciousness was about to be crushed by the foremost of the Outer Gods, everything went still.

In an instant, all the pain at the spiritual level subsided.

From some unseen, supreme dimension, the psychic tentacles of a probe unfurled within his consciousness.

Clearly it wasn’t malicious, or Zong Yan’s soul would have been mercilessly strangled at the same moment.

In a daze, Zong Yan even gave rise to an extremely absurd idea.

He had a sense of something close to a return.

The huge green granite slab found in the tomb of Pharaoh Hermes in ancient Egypt was said to record thirteen aphorisms that granted insight into all of existence.

It was called the 《Emerald Tablet》, a text handed down to humanity from the gods of ancient Egypt. Later, it was translated by Newton who sought to refine the ultimate artefact of alchemy, the philosopher’s stone, one of the sources of all of Western mysticism.

Two of the aphorisms were as follows: As above, so below, and as below, so above; thus are the miracles of the One fulfilled.

All things were and arose from the One, and were birthed from the One through divergence.

And this in turn accorded perfectly with the 《I Ching》 of ancient China.

Although China and the West had different histories and cultures, they pursued the same goal by different paths.

Zong Yan had come to better understand these two statements made by Professor Newton in class after he went over all the records on Azathoth in the Necronomicon.

All that existed originated from Azathoth’s dream, an extension of a thought that emanated from Azathoth.

And now he was… he was gradually returning to this ocean of consciousness, just as everything returned to its origin, children returned to their parents, doves returned to their nests, and millions of torrents swept through his soul.

Everything came to an abrupt halt.

In the sea of stars, the Outer Gods were impelled one after another to stop their wild, endless dancing.

Even without the intention of looking at them, Zong Yan knew their proper names.

Tulzscha, Tru’nembra, Yomagn’tho, Aiueb Gnshal, Noth Yidick…

In addition to the Outer Gods who surrounded the palace of Azathoth, there were also servants created by the Outer Gods. Now they sensed the alteration of the God and bowed silently to demonstrate their submission.

All of this had existed for an unknown number of years. The Outer Gods could not be shackled by time, but this was the first occasion when they clearly felt the advent of the consciousness of their Lord, the Blind Idiot God.

He opened His eyes.

Perhaps at this moment it was appropriate to refer to Zong Yan as “He”.

For a moment the stars and starfire all seemed to be annihilated. Everything collapsed.

Zong Yan’s consciousness was violently yanked out of the immense palace, descending from eleven-dimensional space, followed by ten dimensions… seven dimensions… four dimensions… Finally, he returned to three dimensions, back to a London full of rain and fog, back to the outskirts of the Dreamlands, and back to the library of Miskatonic University.

No one would ever know that just now, in a flickering of time which human beings were unable to perceive, a soul from the three-dimensional world had experienced a miraculous journey.

In the ancient palace, everything returned to normal.

At the center of time and space, the thin monotonous whine of a sickening flute was heard again.

That sound was enough to drive any intelligent dimensional creature to insanity in an instant.

Everything was calm again, as if the accident had never occurred.

But even a moment was enough to attract a great deal of attention.

In the distant land of America, at a sumptuous cocktail party, a blond-haired, blue-eyed man halted in his tracks.

“What is it, Mr. Nicholas?” The female companion beside him stared raptly at the blond man’s perfect face. In a teasing voice she asked, “Aren’t you enjoying tonight’s party? Should I ask the musicians to play something else?”

She wasn’t the only one.

In fact, all the people present, both men and women, stared at Mr. Nicholas as if they were possessed. The black part of their pupils gradually spread out, dying the whole of their eyes black.

If anyone else witnessed this eerie scene, they could only scream in horror.

Unfortunately, no one present had this consciousness. Everyone’s brain was preoccupied with the thought of trying to please this Nicholas.

His was a face that surpassed human imagination. It wasn’t like the face of a mortal man, but more like a legendary “god”, the accretion of everything that was beautiful, the cause that gave rise to all praise.

“Don’t bother. Get lost.”

The blonde man smiled, but the smile didn’t even slightly touch his eyes.

Even if she was spoken to so rudely, the top celebrity in New York didn’t look unhappy. Instead she dropped to her knees in a panic. Her face went gray.

Even so, Mr. Nicholas didn’t give her another look.

He immediately left the opulent private ballroom.

Elsewhere, a dark-skinned doctor who was reviewing files in an office full of sophisticated instruments in Geneva suddenly put away the bright smile at the corner of his mouth.

“What’s the matter, Professor Dexter?” The assistant to his side noticed the doctor’s unnatural expression and asked with a sideways glance.

Dr. Dexter was known as the “sage of medicine”. At that moment, his facial expression was odd beyond compare.

It was like the crazy smile of a fanatic.

“You’ve finally emerged from Your eternal stupor…”

His voice was hoarse, like the whisper of a fiend.

At the next moment, as much as possible of this entire region of space was dragged into the consciousness of the gods.

The pale walls transformed into a mélange of flesh and bloody mucus, and the chandelier was wrapped around a severed large intestine, dripping and mingling with the mixture as it fell.

In the distance came the faint hissing of unknown beasts, as far away as outer space.

The assistant screamed and immediately fainted.

“Bah, human fear.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes indifferently, crossed through a gap in space and stepped directly into the universe beyond.

In a classroom somewhere at Miskatonic University, the Lord of Time and Space was turning the page of a book. He also frowned.

Again, again.

He was all-knowing and all-powerful. He knew all that could be known, and he never retracted the tendrils of his mind.

By definition, everything in this world should be under his control.

A variable. Twice in a row.

Once it was a tiny human being. The mighty Lord of Time and Space couldn’t detect within the body of that three-dimensional creature any trace of having mastered space-time.

This should not be. It certainly should not be. The gods, and only the gods, were not controlled by time or space.

Now, the great heavenly Progenitor had produced a tiny stream of consciousness within his palace at the far end of the cosmos.

Nothing, not even the slightest thing—for he, Yog-Sothoth, was near the presence of the Father God—should ever escape the grasp of his omniscience and omnipotence.

Nyarlathotep was fond of humans. He was more familiar with this insignificant species than Yog-Sothoth, but Yog-Sothoth was all-knowing and all-powerful. He was absolutely superior, like a king watching a play and manipulating every actor like a puppet.

It was inevitable that a god who knew everything was also born with an emotion similar to “impatience”.

The man with gray hair and golden eyes closed his book, and the shadow behind him suddenly widened and swallowed him up.

He returned to the universe and went to the door between.

—

Zong Yan’s soul was flung back.

After a brief but unforgettable interstellar journey, he returned to Earth.

When he woke again, his eyes saw nothing but white.

The black-haired boy stared blankly at the ceiling and suddenly rolled over. He got out of bed.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, what happened? How come you’re awake?!”

The doctors in the university medical clinic gathered around in amazement. “How are you feeling? We haven’t even started first aid.”

Just now someone had called the school medical office, saying the chief had fainted in the library. The school nurses had rolled the person on a stretcher directly to the emergency clinic.

They initially determined that the dizziness was caused by poor nutrition. They hadn’t expected the person to wake up just as they were about to hang glucose.

Zong Yan didn’t answer them. Now his mind was roaring, like a million echoing murmurs, and his consciousness was enveloped by the monotonous and nauseating sound of a flute.

His fingers trembled as he tied his shoelaces. Ignoring the doctors’ obstruction, he stumbled out of the school clinic.

The short-lived synchronization with the Lord of the Universe had left Zong Yan in a hazy, trance-like state.

Now he understood everything.

Human memory was fascinating. It was filtered and classified by the hippocampus. Short-term memories were forgotten, while long-term memories were permanently engraved in the temporal lobe of the brain.

With the current level of science on Earth, the concept of “memory” continued to be a matter of debate. Humans didn’t really have a grasp of the mechanics.

Just like the human understanding of time and space, their knowledge was limited to three dimensions.

For higher-dimensional beings, forging false memories and installing mental cues were laughably easy to do.

The black-haired boy ran wildly across the campus, swift as the wind, and rushed to the vice chancellor’s office.

“Is that the chief?”

Night had begun to fall and his face was a little blurry in the dark. A number of people saw someone rush over, then turned to look at each other in surprise.

Zong Yan had no time to worry about such things. He had a splitting headache and only one thought in his mind.

He’d found the spy at Miskatonic.

Their opponent couldn’t be a simple, ordinary extra-dimensional being. It had to be at minimum what Professor Darwin referred to as a “God” level existence.

Thud—

He didn’t even have time to knock but directly pushed open the door of the vice chancellor’s office.

“?”

A man in a nightgown and slippers stood in front of an alchemical stove.

Revered Daoist Xu Fu, draped in flowing black hair, also looked over.

“What’s wrong?”

The two school leaders saw at a glance his mental state was wrong.

Paracelsus took some smelling salts from inside the table and waved them under Zong Yan’s nose.

“Sir, I figured it out.” The black-haired boy’s clothes were messy and his shoelaces were twisted into knots, but his eyes were as bright as ever. “I found the agent lurking in the school.”

Xu Fu and Paracelsus looked at each other. Their faces were grim as could be.

The red-haired alchemist turned away for a second, then shoved a seal into Zong Yan’s hand.

“No need to tell us that person’s name. We all know such a being can manipulate the mind. I’m sure you’ve experienced it too.” Paracelsus patted Zong Yan on the shoulder and spoke earnestly, “This is my private seal. Go to the Academic Affairs Department and tell them directly. They’ll know what to do.”

This was another advantage of establishing the school in the Dreamlands. They could easily eliminate enemies.

If MU denied them entry, a student couldn’t pass through the Gate of Truth.

“As for us—”

The alchemist and Xu Fu looked at each other. The latter nodded and wove a hand seal in the air.

A fiery golden lotus bloomed from the fingertips of the Revered Daoist and slowly expanded. It absorbed the elixir fire under the alchemical stove and rushed out of the office in a blaze.

“The entire campus is now under martial law.”

He nodded at Zong Yan, stuffed a pill bottle in his hands, and motioned for Zong Yan to calm his unstable mental state. “The rest is up to you.”

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