Beyond The Looking Glass - Words of the Unseen - Chapter 166
𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻
Beyond The Looking Glass is the second book in the Unseen series, a story that came to me from the other side. A story where I thought I was just the narrator until I heard the Words of the Unseen.
This second story goes beyond time and place and mixes the long ago with the here and now. Because history keeps repeating, until we learn and do something about it.
Beyond The Looking Glass - Words of the Unseen - Chapter 166
The corporations built cages of data and light, prisons of dopamine and distraction. These people, my people, break into those cages, not with brute force, but with resonance.
They weave counter-algorithms that sing. A boy in the corner taps his fingers against a tabletop, syncing pulses of code to rhythm, to heartbeats.
A woman closes her eyes as she feeds words into an interface, her voice bending the stream of information into human cadence again. It’s not hacking in the way I’ve seen before, it’s closer to ritual, closer to song.
On the far wall, I see faces. Hundreds of them. Some frozen in mid-scroll, others caught mid-laugh, mid-argument, mid-nothingness.
Each one is a person still locked inside the system’s grip.
Martia lifts her hand, and the glow around the machines intensifies. Lines of code unravel across the projections, peeling back like veils.
For a heartbeat, the faces look up, blinking as though they’ve seen something, someone, outside the loop.
And then it happens.
A figure staggers in at the opposite side of the building, trembling, a visor hanging from his hand. His eyes are raw, wild, terrified, but alive.
I do not understand what is happening, but as I was supposed to be gone, I do not ask.
Martia’s people catch him gently, wrapping him in blankets, pressing water into his hands. His voice cracks as he says only one thing: “It was quiet… I heard myself again.”
From where I stand, hidden in the shadow, it looks like they’ve pulled a soul from the fire.
The bunker is no ordinary refuge.
It’s a forge, a sanctuary, a hospital for minds.
Every hour, they drag someone back from the machine’s grip, every hour they stitch the torn edges of humanity with code turned inside-out, with rhythm and compassion sharpened into weapons.
And always Martia seems to be at the center, steady as the axis of it all.
Watching her, I realize: this is not rebellion.
This is salvation, one person at a time, rescued from the quietest, deepest enslavement the world has ever known.
But one thing eats away at me: Is this enough? In the shadows I see, in the darkness I ponder, will this do?
I fade out. The walls hide what I just witnessed.
She fights the architecture using the same tools, but she resists by consciously creating her own rituals and limits, by treating technology as support, not a master.
She is the exception.
I am really fading away; everything becomes a blur, a big black blurry ball. Screams, I can only hear screams.
They come like waves through the void: screams, arguments, the rasp of throats torn open by rage.
No laughter carries to me, no lullabies, no harmony, only the sound of unrest.
Humanity is crying, but not in a way that seeks comfort. Crying, like people who forgot what silence feels like, screaming to keep from hearing the emptiness beneath.
Their noise has weight. It pushes, distorts, and rattles the fabric that holds their planet in balance with all others.
And what happens when an entire species forgets the sound of stillness?
The universe itself begins to ache. Their cries are not locked inside their world. They bleed outward. They shake the cosmic song.
And I whisper:
Stop, pause, listen to yourselves. Find the silence. Remember who you are.
"Stop, remember who you are." I don´t whisper those words anymore, but I keep hearing them.
Over and over, and louder and louder.
"Martin, Stop, remember who you are!" Bella screams.
My eyes are locked in hers, "What´s wrong, Sweetie?"
I see tears welling up in her eyes.
"I thought," she sniffs, "you were shaking, you did not wake up, you..." She pauses.
"I thought you were not able to find your way back. That you lost the silver chord, or something. This was planned to be a training experience; you should have felt like hoovering above the bed or something."
With a finger, I wipe the tear from her cheek, "Yes, I guess something went wrong. I did not Hoover at all above the bed. But I do think we will have grandchildren."
I tell her all I remember, but my eyes are getting so tired, and my mind so clouded. Clueless about what time it is, I fall asleep.
When I wake, I have a high fever.
My head hurts, it takes me time to even realize that I am in my own bed, my stomach turns... I so do not feel like myself.
I feel this extreme feeling of malaise, that nothing is right. I don´t want anything, I can not do anything, and Bella, who looks at her cutest, asking me what she can do for me, gets a brusque "Nothing."
All I want now is to be left alone, to feel like myself again.
Next Chapter Coming in Two Days
Post Related To Closing Book One and Opening Book Two
The Closure A Personal Story With A Soundtrack:
Personal Story With A Soundtrack - A New Adventure - Part 1
Personal Story With A Soundtrack - A New Adventure - Part 2
The Closure - Greatest Hits For A Never-Ending Story:
Greatest Hits From My Book "Beyond Doubt: Whispers of the Unseen"
The Closure - Alice in ArtWorkLand:
ALICE In AI ArtWorkLand - A Crazy Man´s Revelations