ethereal wings

Chapter 24 Chapter 11

Then... I felt as if I was slightly awake after sleeping for a while, and there was a kind of warm light baking my eyelids faintly.So I opened my eyes.

I saw the beige ceiling, where an ancient chandelier bathed in the sun quietly...I felt the soft bed around me, the pillows and quilts that smelled of sunshine...I didn't feel warm, but I felt very comfortable .The body is no longer in pain, but I can't feel my own existence.Like a cloud of gas, floating there quietly.

I heard the ticking of the clock, the knocking of the wood... other than that, it was so peaceful.Deep tranquility.I turned my head with difficulty and looked at the room.This is not my room, nor is it anywhere I can remember ever touching, but this is the room of people in my time and there.There are sunny windows, simple bookcases and elegant books, and a desk...

I saw a black shadow in front of that table.It was a man in his forties, with black shawl and long curly hair.As if sensing my gaze, he turned around and looked at me.A pair of deep and kind black eyes, faintly under the bangs; two mustaches... He is so familiar, but I can't remember who he is.The memory seems to have left my body, and even I feel that my body no longer exists.

He was sitting so close to me that the book in his hand I was sure was a biography.He smiled at me, but I could only lie there powerlessly.

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Two pairs of black eyes stared at each other, and the only sound in the room was the beating of the clock.

In an instant, all the fear of last night dissipated, replaced by endless regret. "I originally thought that our reunion would be much later than this, Mr. Pascal." Descartes gently lifted Pascal's skinny hand that was outside the quilt, and held it in his hand.

Pascal watched him silently.The morning sun fell from the window, illuminating his lax and tired eyes.Memories are quietly returning to his mind.The black pupils gradually became clear, and he asked in a hoarse voice, "Is that Mr. René Descartes...?"

"Yes."

"But...but—but didn't you die 12 years ago...or in 1650?!!!"

A wave of panic seized Pascal, and he struggled to get up from the bed.Suddenly, he fell silent.He first put his hand on his heart, and then anxiously put his hand on the wrist of the other hand.Finally he put his hand to his nose.Nothing happened.

Descartes smiled sadly. "We met again because...you also died on August 1662, 8."

Pascal was motionless, like an old statue in an abandoned cemetery.After a long silence, he looked at his pale and cold hands and murmured, "So... are we in heaven?"

"No."

"Is that in hell?"

"No. We're just here."

"Where is 'here'?"

The fear of the eternal silence of infinite space hits in an instant.Human beings, such a short life is immersed in the eternity of the past and the future... Life comes unexpectedly, and leaves without saying goodbye...

Descartes handed the biography in his hand to the bewildered Pascal. "It is now 1762... and here is your biography."

Pascal took the book and turned to the end. "...died of abdominal cramps caused by stomach cancer. In addition to years of insomnia and indigestion, he also suffered from lung disease, stroke, stomach cancer, and brain lesions."

"You 'walked' for 100 years before you got here." Descartes stroked Pascal's thin long hair, and tried his best to say in a more acceptable tone, "This is the United Association of Individualized Individuals of the Common Memoirs of Human Beings." The specific space of life. The dead who live in the hearts of the living are not dead. If their brilliance is enough to be remembered by every human being in the future, then the memories of countless generations are intertwined like a network, for them The lost figure once again outlines a full image, allowing their wandering souls to rest, allowing them to walk on this land again. We are one of them, Mr. Pascal... Forever abandoning the identity of human beings, with memoirs In the form of materialized individuals, we come here to dedicate our last strength to the descendants who came to ask for it, and to suffer the last pain here... This is who we are from now on."

Confused and melancholy, the two looked at each other.Obviously, these chosen ones will never have the chance to reunite with their deceased family members in the other world.A moment later, Pascal buried his head in his hands and wept bitterly.

☆, desert