I alone. I alone long time now, many times of light and dark and light and dark again. I never know how long I alone; time sleeps in soft place in I's mind, same as all other thoughts. Sometimes I happy for soft place; easier when I in soft place than when I know I alone. But I always afraid when I go to soft place, afraid I never come back. But then I come back, and I sad because I know why I in soft place and why I come out. You not understand I. Not yet.
Longago, back many times of light and dark and light and dark, I never go into soft place. Many people here, I never alone. Many friends I see, back in other time when I not alone. World brighter then, not real world I see with eyes but world I see with mind. So many people, so many voices. I hear laughter then. I try and laugh sometimes, but it not sound same without others to share it.
I sorry. It hard to think, even when I out of soft place. Time jumbles, easier to think of things I feel than think of right words for them, easier to find thoughts that feel strongest and best instead of starts and middles and ends. I not like to think of ends anyways. Ends always sad for I. Beginnings happier. Not always happy even then, but happier. In beginning, we came to Home and it good.
Many came to home. Old, sick, young, weak. Home safe for all. They never get to Home, not ever. Strong and young and brave go to fight Them, we stay safe at Home. We make Home as safe place, you understand? World not safe, not since They come. I scared of They, we all scared of They. Even in beginning, laughter hides fear like sweet smell machines make to cover stink of dead things. No dead things in Home now, though. Machines clean them all away. I so alone, I not even have dead things with me.
We never talk of They, though. All time, we think of They. All time, we think of war. But never say of war. Fear too big, it crush you if you let it close. Keep fear faraway, so it look small. So we never talk of They. Even young like I, we play shooting games like young do, but never we play a shooting game of we against They. Nobody want to play They, see. All have fear, all remember doctormen coming block by block, row by row, cube by cube, looking for They. Nobody want to even play They, or doctormen may come. Doctormen take many away, call they "in-fek-ted". "In-fek-ted" fancy word, means They. Many They not They yet when doctormen find they, doctormen take they away. Nobody ever see They-to-be, not after doctormen take they. Is no cure for They-to-be, see. They-to-be always become They, unless doctormen...I not know. I never see. But never see a They-to-be again after doctormen come. I think many doctormen wish for soft place like I's, by end of things.
But all that before skyships take we to Home. Doctormen keep all They-to-be away from Home, soldiers keep all They away from Home. Home faraway from war, faraway from fear. Fear smaller when it faraway. When fear look small, we can laugh. Young can play. Many many people in Home. Many many friends for I. I learn, I laugh, I make many new friends to replace ones I...many friends I lose, before Home. Many friends we all lose to Them. New friends fill hole in heart made by Them, but it like cloth over a wound. We make new friends because we must make new friends, see? Alone sad. Alone show we that wound never heal. Alone make we beg for soft place, even if we never come back.
Even then, some go to soft place. Some want soft place because it better than life, even life in Home. Machines make Home good place to live, but Home not...not home. I too young, not remember home, but for old, Home not home. They miss old friends, old places, old family. They's eyes go faraway, and we know they think of longago. We know they think of better place inside heads, soft warm place without thought, without They. Is sickness, but not sickness doctormen or machines can cure.
Machines send we, send young to old. We try to make laughter, bring old people out of soft place in mind. "There-a-pee", machines call it. Machines talk to doctormen, back where is war. Doctormen fight with fighters, help fighters to tell They from we. Machines know how to cure many things, never know how to cure minds. Never know how to bring back from soft places.
I see in my mind, first time I go to old to bring laughter. She smile, but she smile faraway. She not see I, not really. I sit on she's lap, I hold she, I ask for story. She look at I like she just see I now, like I there for first time. She laugh then, she's eyes look there and not faraway. She say yes, she tell I story. Story of what it like longago, before...she not say They. Nobody say They, not in beginning.
She tell story of home before Home, of skyships and machines that make things for we and do things for we. She tell story of happy time in she's head, and she smile, but smile now sad. Happy time now only in she's head, home now where fighters and doctormen fight Them. Words too big to say, but we both know. Fear so big, fear that fighters and doctormen lose war and Home only home now and ever. Feel she see that fear, close up so it large. So large she must run, and only place to run in she's head is to longago and faraway. I see she's eyes go to the soft place, know she's mind go to the soft place. She still breathe, still alive, but I alone in room.
Later machines come. They take she away, to place where machines take care of she and give she food and drink. But she not eat, she not drink. Machines make she eat and drink, but never bring she back from soft place. She not move, not walk or talk, not ever again, not even when the machines bring the young like I to she to talk, to try to reach she in the soft place. She go deeper and deeper into soft place, each time I see she. One day she's breath just stop, like she so far in soft place that she forget even that, and then machines cannot save she. By then, others like she.
Only few, at first. Very very sick, very very old. Young like I try to give they laughter, it work but not every time. They go to soft place, they go by ones and twos. When they go, fear come. Nobody say, but everybody remember. Everybody remember They, everybody remember how They make people go to soft place and never come back. No They here, not in Home, but...fear of They here now, once old start going to soft place. Everybody remember how They find people, how They hunt. How mind goes away, little by little, how more and more of you gets nibbled away bite by bite until thinking so hard, too hard and soft place all that stays. Then even soft place goes away, and breath stops. Everybody think of it, even if They not here in Home. But nobody say it. Not then.
But the fear, it grew. Year by year, the fear filled Home, swelled and grew until we thought at times that Home would burst with it. Maybe it did; fear made laughter stop, made we hide from one another. I alone more and more. I hunger for friends like food, I hunger for friends more than food. When I alone, I feel soft place calling to I. Soft place scare I more back then.
Doctormen not helping. Doctormen talk of They, talk of war. Talk of They hunting in packs, like beasts. Talk of They hunting fighters down and tearing they's mind apart like dogs that fight over scraps of meat, until breath stops in minutes, in seconds. Talk of terrible things, but no talk of cure.
Then worse than that, day we call and no doctormen answer. No fighters answer. We call, but nobody answer. Only quiet, down on world below Home. Day after day after day, we call. Day after day after day, nobody answer. We try and try...then we stop trying.
