Discours étrange

Chapitre 22

No, I misspoke. It's not palpitations, because my heart can no longer palpitate.

Chapter Nineteen: Heaven

I am not dead yet.

I watched as the world I knew distorted, deformed, and changed color before my eyes, but I did not die.

I felt as if I had been ripped out of this world, along with my normal senses. The process lasted only a few seconds, perhaps even less, but the suffocating helplessness felt like being frozen in an iceberg for a hundred years.

Then, suddenly, my whole body relaxed again. I knew I could move again.

But what's wrong with me right now? Why is my sense of existence so strange? I mean, in a normal state, you know how you exist, like standing, sitting, or running. But right now, I'm probably standing, but I can't feel my weight in my feet, I can't feel the air on my skin, my blood doesn't seem to be flowing, and my body is completely silent. When these sensations are present, you usually don't notice them, but when they're absent, everything feels wrong.

The world I looked out at was completely different; the vibrant colors were gone, replaced by colors I couldn't describe. Blue? Gray? Or perhaps these weren't even colors at all.

I seem to still be in that cornfield, but what have the corn stalks, leaves, and those two figures named Xue Ying and Zhou Qianqian become? I find it hard to describe the world I see. The broad corn leaves are swaying, not because of the wind, and the edges of Xue Ying and Zhou Qianqian's figures are shifting, like a constantly changing focal length. These objects are composed of curves, each a three-dimensional geometric shape, and these geometric objects don't obstruct my view. I can see what's behind the two figures, one tall and one short, though of course I can't see clearly; all I can see are overlapping, ever-changing shadows.

As for Xue Ying and Zhou Qianqian, I no longer exist in that world. I looked at them, said a few words, and then turned away.

"Hey, hey!" I yelled, but they couldn't hear me. Although this was expected, it still made me anxious. The sound I made when I called out was different. I think there was still air in my body, so what I heard was the sound of my vocal cords vibrating in my throat, like when you cover your ears to speak. My breathing was also different. I couldn't exhale or inhale anything. I was just doing it out of habit, but so far I haven't felt suffocated.

I think I'm no longer in that world.

I thought of He Xi. It won't be long before she storms into the nursing home with a bunch of police officers. Those police officers aren't even thinking about worrying about them right now, but He Xi…

Through the cornfields, I saw Xue Ying and the other person walking away. I wanted to catch up, but with just one step, the entire scene before me changed.

I don't know how long I've been in this world.

There's absolutely nothing here to record time; time here seems to have become entirely a feeling in the mind. Perhaps only ten or twenty hours have passed, or a few days, but I feel it's been more than ten days, maybe a month.

I've started to get a little clue about this strange world.

It felt like I had stepped into a world of 3D computer graphics, though there were still some differences, but this was the closest analogy I could think of. The world I inhabited seemed utterly empty. I could see the houses, tables, chairs, and people walking on the street, but I couldn't touch them, and they couldn't see me.

The spatial arrangement here is bizarre; I still can't discern any spatial rules. I once stood for a long time in front of a café, watching people come and go, trying to distinguish men from women, and guessing if the women were pretty. But after taking one step, I found myself at sea. A seabird swooped down in front of me, snatching a large fish; I figured I wasn't far from shore. My body rose and fell slightly with the water, but I didn't feel unstable, because gravity didn't exist here. I don't know how I stood, nor why I didn't fall. I only knew that if I moved even a single step, even just a centimeter, I would be somewhere else.

"Ah—" I yelled, but there was no sound here. I had to yell every now and then, otherwise I thought I would go crazy.

But is there a difference between being crazy and not being crazy?

I don't know when I'll go crazy. When I'm not crazy, I try hard to figure out where I am.

I once suspected I was already dead, and that this was the afterlife. But later I realized it wasn't. It wasn't just my attachment to life, but also because in this silent, dead place, I didn't encounter another person. If I were a spirit after death, then I should have met many souls who had passed away before me.

There is no sound, no matter, no spatial rules to be found, and the passage of time may be different—though I don't know the exact evidence, I always feel that when I move, the scene before me changes, and the time of these scenes doesn't immediately follow the previous ones. When I travel from Beijing to Tokyo in one step, perhaps a second has passed, perhaps three days. And for me, time flows at an imperceptible pace. Yes, I'm certain time hasn't stopped for me, because I'm finally feeling a little suffocated. It's the oxygen I inhaled before entering this world; it's being consumed, and I don't know how much longer it can sustain my body—it's certainly not infinite.

And this world is connected to the normal world. Everything I see is a scene happening in the normal world, even though it is silent, distorted, and colorless.

Zhou Qianqian wanted me to "not exist," and that's how I became what I am now. If a person cannot be seen, heard, touched, or discovered in any way, does he still exist? Even if he still exists, to others, he no longer does.

Perhaps this is Zhou Qianqian's ability; it's just that others can't see me or touch me.

In terms of visibility, today's science is making invisibility cloaks a reality. I know of more than one research group conducting experiments in this area. The invisibility cloaks that have been made so far can make the wearer nearly transparent. This is because the clothing deflects light. When you look at the clothing, the light actually traces a curve on the clothing, allowing you to see what should be hidden behind the clothing.

If there were a superpower that could deflect light, thus achieving invisibility, I wouldn't be too surprised. The human mind has been proven capable of many incredible things. But what if it could not only deflect light but also bend space itself? Imagine something still existing in this world, but the space that originally contained it suddenly circles around it, bending in front of it. The people within that space would also bend, and they would no longer be able to perceive the object.

Wait, the curvature of space reminds me of something—it's that book I read not long ago, "A Brief History of Time."

It introduced Einstein's theory of general relativity, stating that massive objects cause spacetime to bend, and that the spacetime near a black hole bends so much that even light can slip through. This led to scientists' wild ideas about wormholes—that if you pass through a hole in curved space and emerge at the other end, you'll be in a distant place. I've naively wondered before, if you go in one end and come out the other, what's in between? What lies beneath that curved space? Is it my current world?

Actually, I do know that in general relativity, although there is curved space, there is no space outside of curved space. Space is not a piece of paper that can be raised. This analogy is vivid but inaccurate.

But this godforsaken place I'm in now, although I call it a "place," is not necessarily a space. The only thing that is certain is that it is outside of the original normal space, outside the space I am in that is curving. So what I see is undulating earth and objects changing shape.

I am in a subspace next to a normal space, or you can call it a force field instead of a space. The rules of time and space in this place are completely baffling to me, perhaps just because there are some other benchmarks that do not exist in the world I live in.

In my world, to locate an existence, one needs to determine its spatial and temporal location. Spatial location is composed of three dimensions: length, width, and height; therefore, it is a four-dimensional world.

In my current world, length, width, height, and time are clearly insufficient to define my existence, so there must be other benchmarks that I haven't found yet.

This is a multidimensional world, perhaps five-dimensional, perhaps six-dimensional, perhaps only four-dimensional—four dimensions different from length, width, height, and time.

As I thought of multidimensionality, I was standing on a street. I imagine it was somewhere in Europe, and there was someone sitting on a street corner, playing the violin.

With every step I take, a new world unfolds. I've seen a herd of bison gallop through my chest on the vast grasslands; I've witnessed a woman bathing in a shower; I've seen someone stab another to death and stuff the body into the trunk of a car. I've grown accustomed to the ever-changing, undulating curves, and can quickly discern what's in front of me, but this progress brings me no joy whatsoever. I observe everything from the sidelines, feeling like a ghost.

The violinist sat diagonally opposite me, his arms swaying gently. Although I couldn't see the strings clearly—they were too thin—he was clearly playing. No one stopped to listen, but he seemed completely absorbed.

That's when I thought of strings.

Could it be that I'm on the same page?

The violinist stopped playing, leaned his violin against the wall, and looked up at me.

His gaze passed through me and landed on a certain spot. I felt something was wrong, so I turned back, but I didn't know what he was doing.

Then, his expression changed.

The human face can make completely different expressions with just the slightest movement. I could tell that his expression was different from before; my observation skills are much better than when I was first pulled into this world, but I really couldn't figure out what his current expression meant.

But I suspect it was a question? My God, was he looking at me, not behind me? Did he actually notice me?

I no longer exist in the normal world, but I haven't completely escaped it either. Leaving aside what I see, the fact that every step I take takes me to a new place, yet I never end up in the air or underground, is enough to prove the influence the normal world has on my current existence. These two worlds must inevitably have some kind of intersection.

There are six billion humans living in the world, and Zhou Qianqian isn't the only one with supernatural abilities. I've encountered quite a few people with supernatural abilities, and perhaps some of them, like this violinist before me, can sense my unique existence. Since I can be detected, there's a sliver of hope for leaving.

"Hey, hey!" I shouted, my voice rumbling like muffled thunder in my ears.

The violinist looked at me for a long, long time, then shook his head, packed his things, and turned to leave.

This was the only hope I had encountered. How could I let him disappear before my eyes like this? I couldn't help but chase after him, and in one step, I was in the vast forest.

I slowly squatted down, sighed, but no breath came out. I cried, tears welling up in my tear ducts, but unable to flow from my eyes. Nothing inside me could be released, left a trace in this world. I don't understand the laws of this world, but that doesn't stop me from expressing my emotions through crying.

Not crying will shorten your lifespan, and constant crying makes you seem unmanly. Feeling that was enough, I let the tears that hadn't welled up slowly recede from my tear ducts—a feeling I'd never experienced before, prompting me to rethink the issue of superstrings.

The two cornerstones of modern physics are general relativity and quantum physics. General relativity explains the macroscopic universe, while quantum physics explains the microscopic universe. However, these two theories are incompatible and contradict each other. All physicists have long dreamed of finding a theory that can unify these two theories, and superstring theory is the most famous hypothesis.

Superstring theory posits that the world is actually composed of strings. The new kinds of elementary particles emerging from collisions in particle accelerators are simply strings vibrating in different ways, thus exhibiting different appearances.

I went online to look up some information about superstring theory after reading "A Brief History of Time." I didn't read it carefully; to say I only have a superficial understanding would be an understatement. I remember those popular explanations saying that superstrings are tiny, closed loops that vibrate and change indefinitely. Superstrings intersect with real space perpendicularly, but they are not four-dimensional; their dimensions are much higher than the normal world, at least nine.

No one can imagine what a nine-dimensional world would be like. But what dimension is the world I live in right now?

Indeed, in the superstring hypothesis, strings are as tiny as elementary particles. However, in a world with at least nine dimensions, the rules of space are completely altered. The saying "a grain of sand contains a world" might mean that when something becomes smaller than a certain limit, size becomes meaningless. So, perhaps I really am on a certain string.

I looked up at the sky, but there was no sky in this world. The suffocation I felt was very obvious, so obvious that I would think of it even without realizing it. Based on my experience holding my breath while swimming, I had already used up half of this breath. If death was the end goal, I could probably endure it a little longer. Well, I still had two-thirds of the time left to use up this breath.

What the hell is the point of all this thinking? Am I distorted by space and sent outside of space, or am I standing on a string? What use is that to me whether I can go back to the world with air and take a breath?

How long did it take Watt to go from discovering the kinetic energy of steam to building the steam engine? Even if I had a mind as great as Einstein's, how long would it take me to understand the laws of this new world? How long would it take to figure out how to apply those laws to escape this world? And I only have two-thirds of my life left.

With only half a breath left, I negated all the conclusions I had drawn from my previous thoughts. There was no point in figuring out what this world was all about; I needed a different approach. I just wanted to get out, to get out!

It's not that no one has ever left this world, even though they were already dead when they did.

That's the stillborn baby who appeared in a foreign land. Zhou Qianqian had him brought into this world from the womb. She even had the umbilical cord cut using herself as a model. He crawled around in this world for a long time, but his corpse eventually appeared in the normal world.

How did he get here?

This other world has no life forms like mine. Earthlings thrown here will eventually die. One hypothesis is that after death, they are automatically rejected back into the normal world. Those who were "disappeared" by Zhou Qianqian have long since rotted in some desolate place, unclaimed. Another hypothesis is that under certain conditions, it is possible to return alive, just like when I was brought here. The barrier between the two worlds is not so formidable.

The last time I met He Xi, she told me that the French police continued to question Veronique even after the case was closed. Veronique had been diagnosed with some mental health issues, making it difficult for the police to verify her statements. But now, those statements seem relevant to me.

Veronique had consistently maintained that the two dead infants in the refrigerator were twins she had given birth to at home. She claimed she strangled them after birth and then froze them. She seemed quite surprised when the police finally told her that DNA testing showed only one baby was hers and the other was not.

Veronique then tried to recall to the police the night she killed her child.

It was a dark night filled with lightning and thunder. Streaks of pale light flashed outside the window, tearing the night sky into shreds, and the thunder shook the pots and pans inside. Veronique gave birth in the bathroom in a panic, then carried the baby out and placed it in the kitchen sink. She hesitated, wondering whether to kill the child, pacing back and forth in the house. This wasn't the first time she'd done this; asking her why would require a lengthy, psychopathological analysis by a psychologist.

In short, Veronique rekindled her resolve to kill the infants. Returning to the pool, she strangled one of the babies inside, and then another beside it. The latter seemed to be already dead. Her emotions and thoughts were in complete disarray. She vaguely remembered giving birth to only one child, but who knew? Before her were two babies—didn't that mean she had twins?

It wasn't until the police told her that only one of the babies was hers that she realized she had only given birth to one, and the other baby found in the kitchen was not hers.

French police couldn't believe Veronique's story. On a stormy night, the woman had given birth to a son at home, and after walking around the house a few times, she found an extra one. How could that be?

But I believe.

The baby that Zhou Qianqian threw into the other world returned to the normal world on that night. What was so special about that night?

The answer is obvious—lightning.

Lightning containing immense power. Such lightning can instantly pierce through two worlds!

If I can find a strong thunderstorm before I run out of breath, maybe there's still a glimmer of hope. Let me be struck by lightning; I never imagined I'd be praying so earnestly for such a wish.

For the rest of the time, I kept walking, step by step.

Cities, villages, deserts, seas, hills...

I started to feel dizzy, which was caused by lack of oxygen. Gradually, I felt my legs go weak and powerless. How many more steps could I take?

It's not that I haven't been to places where it rains, but even in those light rains, there might not be many flashes of lightning by the time the rain stops. I can't wait that long; I don't have that kind of patience.

The clock inside my body is slowly but steadily ticking toward death.

The clock inside my body is slowly but steadily ticking toward death.

After making that sale, my whole body tensed, and my heart, which had been slowly pounding, suddenly quickened. This wasn't just because of the storm I was witnessing; moreover, after taking that step, I sensed a difference in the world.

No longer was there utter stillness, but rather a faint pulsation. This must be the effect of the powerful energy turbulence at the eye of a storm in the normal world on this other world.

This proves that my guess was correct.

The world before me was even more chaotic. I had grown accustomed to the ever-changing curves, but now the fluctuations were far more intense than usual, making it difficult to discern my location. The storm was so fierce that even in the normal world, I would be blind.

Suddenly, something pierced through the chaotic curves of the rain curtain, flashing past sharply. I couldn't see the white light, but I knew it was lightning! Not only did I see it, I also felt it—that distinct fluctuation. But it wasn't enough; I needed a stronger lightning, a more terrifying lightning, sharp enough to pierce through this damned world I was in!

I wait, until I've used up all my oxygen, for the thunderbolt that will liberate me.

I stood there, not daring to move an inch, afraid that I might accidentally end up in another place. The scene before me slowly became clearer. Very close by, a long, cone-shaped spike rose high into the sky. What I was standing on didn't seem like an ordinary scene either, but rather a disc-shaped object. Looking around, it seemed like I couldn't see anything except the rain.

Where am I? Before I could figure it out, the lightning I was waiting for came.

Prior to this, the fluctuations were already unusual. If the curves I was seeing represented force fields, then at this moment the force fields suddenly began to tremble, as if they had already sensed that a huge amount of energy was waiting to erupt in the dark clouds low above.

Suddenly, a thick, menacing electric dragon pounced down.

The violent fluctuations I had never felt in this world before almost knocked me backward. In an instant, all the curves before me were split in two by the electric dragon.

At this moment, I have no doubt that I am about to go home.

Chapter Twenty: The Strange Guest

That's all.

My eyes widened and my mouth gaped open; I simply couldn't believe it.