He doesn't understand any of what has happened.
He hasn't considered any of what has happened.
At first, he doesn't know any better. What he sees he takes in without further question or emotion, save marvel, perhaps.
At first, he has innocence like a child.
But like a child, he grows, and grows weary, and out of innocence and into manhood. Memories he cannot bring forward as real become familiar at one point in time.
Now he floats, the substance around him resembling absinthe in color. He tries to remember whether or not he has ever tasted absinthe, whether or not he liked it. He can't remember. He floats in liquid the color of absinthe, but for all he knows, it is.
His eyes always open to the same surroundings, and he gradually becomes aware of them and slightly bored of them, the way a fetus might bore itself with the rosy-orange glow filtering in through the soft wall his mother's belly forms.
Yes, his surroundings may be bustling and full, but he still finds them the singlemost boring surroundings of the planet –you would too, if you had been in your absinthe for so long. All of it boring.
Except, of course, for the books.
Tall, bound in leather, antique books, more recent plastic-coated science bibles, tin-ringed manuals, international almanacs, catalogues, essays, reports, anthologies! He feels a pang like he always does when he sees them, as if he had read them once before but forgotten. He longs to read them again.
Yes, he decides, lazily in a way. One day, I will begin to read. Never stop until I have taken in every bit of knowledge there is to be found in books.
His gaze shifts to the ones beside him. He knows he is older than they are, even while they have existed longer.
The people in white laboratory coats have always worked patiently with the three of them. Sometimes there is even a fourth.
The people in white laboratory coats know what is going on. They are the ones in charge. It bothers him that he is not.
He wonders about himself a lot. Ever since he can remember, he has had voices floating purposefully through his mind, informing him of things, asking him to inform them of things. He doesn't know any better.
Eyes drift shut.
a/n; umm, here's something small that could turn into something big. Don't ask who it is, you'll find out soon enough. Let me know honestly what you think. I don't know if I'm being original or not (after five years of playing this game, one would think I totally understood the mythology of it but noo), the next chapter will come as soon as I have the time, but for now, school and the Revealing still take priority..