The fire of hope has begun to burn brightly within him.
Yet, that alone is not enough to reassure him.
After all, he understands perfectly how terrible it is to be locked up in this place. Helpless, waiting for a change that may never come. So, he knows he must take action immediately.
If he doesn’t, he will break.
He doesn’t want to relapse.
He doesn’t want to be dominated by his emotions again, for although these brought the color missing from his achromatic life, having no control over them, he can’t enjoy them.
For this reason, to avoid it, he forced himself to think.
How will he be able to endure? What should he do next?
But… it is hard.
Unsurprisingly, few ways are available to him, as the lack of experience severely limits his imagination.
However, despite that inconvenience, he was able to come up with a plan that would allow him to stand the test of time.
Nothing unique or innovative, he just thought of something we have all done at one time or another.
He decided that he would sleep until it was time for his escape.
Unfortunately, that is easier said than done because, in the mind of the little one, sleeping is not a necessity, let alone a pleasure. It is only an inconvenient action that prevents him from living to the fullest.
So, of course, he has no control over his arrival. But he understands that fatigue sets in after he puts effort into something.
And therein lies his plan.
Without thinking much about it, he immediately went into action.
Extending his sense beyond the norm, he acted expecting his idea to work.
And it did…
. . . . .
The seemingly unlimited cycles of repetition came back into his life. Those that passed fiercely in a voracious attempt to eat up the time he has left in this place.
He wakes up, strives, and sleeps.
A tedious act that pretends to be a window into the past. A past where the little one acted in the same way but with entirely different objectives.
And yet, the results are similar to each other.
The little one’s actions brought surprises, for just as before, he now continues to grow. A constant growth that allowed his unique sense to be perfected little by little.
He no longer needs to extend his whole being uncontrollably to feel his surroundings. It is now enough for him to imitate the elongated extension that connects his neighbor to the walls of this place.
Like a finger or a tentacle, he can sense detail by detail about the surrounding things.
Such a change is undoubtedly positive, but that is where the good news ends.
Thanks to his enhanced sense, or perhaps his more refined mind, allowed him to notice that the changes in his neighbor had stopped.
He was surprised; he was frightened.
After realizing this, he could not continue with his actions. Filled with worry, he focused on his neighbor for as long as possible, forgetting his previous aim.
Fortunately, the problem did not escalate beyond a momentary scare. After a few cycles had passed, he understood what was happening.
His neighbor’s growth did not stop. The problem is that his sleep cycles are shorter than he thought.
For that reason, a short time has passed since he began his hard work.
With that discovered, the crux of the matter became finding a new method to endure the wait, as their previous plan had proven ineffective.
Thinks, thinks, remembers, thinks, thinks…
To achieve his goal, the little one started to analyze his memory in detail, from the tiniest parts to the moments when the direction of his life changed.
He did all that in search of inspiration.
But in the end, this became more fun than he expected.
. . . . .
On earth, a famous phrase resonates in the hearts of those who know it, one that the old have shared with the young while wishing that they may find in it the meaning of happiness and wisdom.
Remember is to live again.
A set of words with almost poetic meaning. One that was created thanks to the diverse experiences of the author, generating in them a solid raison d’être.
So much so that even this little being, who is an entity that has never left the four walls that enclose him, has managed, in a certain way, to stage the meaning of such a phrase.
In this isolated place, he, who, for lack of reason, had never stopped to remember his past, has now done so.
Moreover, as always, he who strives in everything he does is giving his all at this moment to project his mind back to those times he has already lived.
Towards those tragic moments when his emotions controlled everything about him, cycles when it was difficult even for him to perceive himself as an individual.
But, unlike before, he can do it now.
While he remembers, emotions, eroded by time and experiences, submissively present themselves to him.
And as he witnesses this, a subtle sensation well up in him.
The little one became obsessed.
That’s normal. After all, how could he withstand the temptation to live a second time?
Since, thanks to his excellent memory, that’s what he felt…
He enjoyed it, every moment, every instant.
He was happy.
Unfortunately, his still young life prevented him from remaining like this forever, for, as time went by, every emotion and every sensation was reviewed in detail.
The fun is over, and it is the emptiness that replaces it.
Uncomfortable, distressed, and bewildered, the little one did not know what to do.
After tasting such sweet nectar, returning to monotony seemed impossible, unacceptable, and unbearable.
Anxiety, anger, fear, sadness, and hopelessness, those that until now lay dormant, were awakened.
He was desperate to quench the emptiness that consumed his life before it was too late. However, he, more than anyone else, knows that such a thing would be impossible to find in this place.
But he would not give up like that. Not without a fight. Not without at least trying.
So, with his iron will, he decided that if he could not find what he wanted in the surrounding things, he would seek it within himself.
And although such a thing seems impossible to anyone’s eyes, the little boy, in a desperate act, charged headlong, trying over and over, until…
. . . . .
Sounds and images.
Something ordinary, something that all humans and even most animals on earth are familiar with.
Since even if you are born lacking the capacity to perceive them, at least you know that such a thing exists for others.
But in the hypothetical case where there is someone who does not possess such knowledge and yet suddenly has to face it. The surprise generated by that would be too stimulating.
And no, I’m not talking about newborns. Their situation is slightly different…
The little one is someone who is unaware of the existence of a colorful world beyond him, for even black, which seems so normal to us, only represents the lack of light, and since he does not have eyes, he can’t perceive it.
Emptiness, absolute nothingness, that’s all he knew.
Thus, a simple and crude flash was enough to overwhelm him.
After witnessing that, shocked beyond what is expressible by mere words, the little one abruptly stopped his actions, and in a desperate attempt to find the cause of such an occurrence, he began to scan his surroundings madly.
A futile action, as the source of such light came from a deep corner inside him.
In the end, all he managed to do was fall asleep almost instantly.
The adaptability of this little being is undoubtedly impressive. He did not take long to accept and understand the origin of such an event.
With great calm, he has decided to treat it as if it were just one of those changes he has grown accustomed to ignoring.
That way of thinking allowed the fear he felt earlier to become a curiosity. An overflowing curiosity as if he had returned to the time when he was born.
Then, without hesitation, he plunged into the depths of his mind in search of that which interests him so much, but when he found it, unlike before, strange things of different shapes, forms, appearances, quantities, and sizes appeared in him.
He did not know what he was witnessing, so, no doubt, if he possessed a body, he would be trembling like a leaf shaking in the storm.
The nerves were great, but the will was even more so.
As time passed, he grew accustomed to them, and in the same way as before, he enjoyed such memories.
However, some things bothered him about them.
The sound was the damned irritating thing that he began to hate.
Squeaking, mumbling, shouting, screaming, banging, and all sorts of sounds the little one doesn’t understand.
Such an experience would be like taking a newborn baby to a cinema full of shouting and booing.
. . . . .
The novelties in his life had just begun, for when the discomfort became bearable, a new kind of memory appeared in his mind.
The unmistakable brush of the wind against the skin; the warm embrace of clothes; the amusing tickle generated by the hair falling down the forehead and neck; the unfailing pleasure given by the foods.
Touch and taste came to claim their place in the life of the little one.
Surprise and fear… that didn’t happen this time.
Although, yes, he was surprised, it was nothing compared to when these strange memories first came to him.
After all, there is a slight similarity between their ordinary way of perceiving their environment and what happens in their memory.
But although he accepted such novelties with relative ease, as before, there was one more thing he hated.
He found it extremely uncomfortable that the prison holding him in this life, in his memories, was attached directly to his body.
Yes… his body…
The realization came to him.
As he complained about the uncomfortable feeling, he realized. The self in his memories possessed a body.
Of course, he doesn’t quite understand what it entails, but what he knows is that possessing a body allows him to perform actions that are impossible for him to do here.
He partially understands what it is to see, hear, and feel.
Therefore, he was saddened.
Throughout his short life, the little one has always considered himself unique, different, and better than everything else. He thought that only he could think or remember.
And although that sounds pitiful, such thinking is the ground on which he built his life.
His belief was so strong that he had never considered the thing beside him as a companion or an equal. To the little one, it is nothing more than an object similar to the surrounding walls, but unlike them, it will allow him to leave.
There are no emotions of affection or appreciation involved.
However, now the little being understood that the self in his memories is only one among countless others.
He was identical to those strange things that roamed the vast world.
He is not unique, which means there are many like him, many beings who think, feel, and remember, but who, unlike him, are free.
They who can move at will.
They who can feel everything around them without having to fall asleep moments later.
They who can enjoy the beautiful views that surround them.
The little one broke down.
. . . . .
With his belief now brutally destroyed, the little one again went into depression.
After all, he now understands that he owns nothing.
Nothing at all.
He also felt it before, but having such certainty hurts him.
He suffers from the realization that he has lost everything he once had. Everything that would make him so happy now.
Fortunately, this time he did not need someone or something to motivate him to act.
Growing up gave him the ability to move. The motivation to act to overcome this. The desire to find a solution on his own, without having to depend on someone else.
He has already experienced what it is like to fall and get up. He has already done it on several occasions. This time is no different.
He will move, he will try, he will think, and he will strive for what he wants.
And the place that will allow him to find it is his inner world, which he does not yet fully understand.
. . . . .
Countless cycles have passed since then.
During that time, the last sense was also remembered.
The sense of smell.
However, the little being ignored its arrival almost entirely.
Almost, for he could not help but be disgusted by the unpleasant smells that came to his mind. So much so that he now considers the sense of smell as the worst thing he has remembered.
Much worse than hearing, from which it has already learned where most sounds come.
. . . . .
The long-awaited end is near, and this little being knows it.
He has already noticed that the thing next to him is about to reach its limit. He is now sure that it can get him out of here.
But as if this were competition, with the will not to give up, the little being gave his all in a last-ditch effort.
And as fate would have it, he got an incredible result, even if it wasn’t what he wanted.
Something much more valuable. Something much more abstract.
That last piece he needed for his conscience to overcome the chaos in his thinking and find the perfect order.
The little one…no, that man remembered his name.