I don’t know why, but a part of me believed her; however a big part of me still did not trust her. I thought about it for awhile and finally decided I would go. I needed answers and that might be the only way to get them.The ceremony tonight was the only one over the whole weekend where clothing was actually required. Everyone was required to wear their ritual robe that was awarded to them as various levels were reached. I had packed mine as it had been on the list of items we were told to bring. I hung it out to let any wrinkles smooth out and sat back down in my chair. I drifted off to sleep, then awoke with a start. It was already dark, so it had to be sometime after eight. I looked around and there was no one in sight; no noise; no campfires; no light other than a full moon. I threw on the robe and hurried over to the tent. As I neared the tent, I could see everyone was standing around in a large circle and it was eerily quiet. I assumed the ritual had begun, so I figured I would. I also remembered hallucinating in the bathroom. Truth be told, I had only achieved sufficient composure to hope it had been a hallucination. I lowered myself to the floor, pressing my cheek against cold, clammy concrete, and waited for my legs’ excruciating resurrection. I probably should have screamed. That might have been appropriate somehow, but I did not. I think I was afraid. I knew the sound would echo through the cavernous station and tunnels, and I did not want to hear even my own voice speaking to me, paralyzed as I was. I felt safer alone. I wondered why a light had been left on in the empty, obviously closed, station. I suppose it was for my benefit, for safety. There is something inside us that we do not understand, some part of the human animal that makes us what—not who—we are. It is the seat of fear. The homunculus is afraid of the dark. We need to leave a light on in every space we have been in case we ever return. There are dark nights, dark rooms, pitch black voids.
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