18 LETTERS FROM BEYOND

18 LETTERS FROM BEYOND
A trillion of trillions of years later …

This letter created in me a vain desire to know this another universe, it(he,she) was not floating in the distances of the Ouranos that it(he) was empty, had to be in some another place of the last planet. I decided that it(he,she) would leave the exploration of the deserts, which had been my only(unique) occupation until this day, and would travel up to this dreamed one "transmundo", to achieve it it(he,she) had to continue cheating the Mekhanes and to survive, later it(he,she) would leave me to kill for the Thecnetos. To achieve it first he(she) would study the letter; he(she) would dedicate her next days. She(it) delivered me soon rare(strange) and new emotions. It(he,she) would examine calmly and to except the customs of a humanity of whom I was foreign, of that we all - paradoxically - were foreign. This life had to be full of darkness and of worry(restlessness)!
I turned it to reading trying to understand something more, but he(she) was not finding anything clear of his(her,your) author: L, not of his(her,your) addressee M. It(he) was very disturbing it of the language. I know that only the machines have a common language that flows for all sides and epochs and that the human being does not have anything similar. I know that the language that each one invents in loneliness is an atavism. A coarse act I reflect that he(she) neither reports it(he,she) cannot also link to a community, provided that already there is no community, not anything to communicate. Because of it, I should not understand the letter not even by half(?half). It was extremely strange! Until it is not a question of a communication between(among) human remote beings, but between(among) machines or between(among) the Emissary and the Thecnetos. I reread the letter and noticed that this was impossible. But, on the other hand, any investigation(research) never departs from the doubts, from the certainties. The incomprehension is not a reason to desist, but rather to start walking. I was encouraging this way, until an emptiness similar to a fear was assaulting me. On having studied the letter and having postponed my death would it(he,she) be disobeying the Theos del Thecnetos? Or more seriously: was it possible to disobey the Thecnetos if this one really was a Theos?

Do not be... The words were neither those of the solitary one nor those of a machine that, since he(she) supposed, were the only(unique) inhabitants of this "only(unique)" world. And the rarest thing(most strange thing), I noticed a tenuous sensation of familiarity in them. A species(kind) of intimate communication between(among) me and these two prominent figures, not of content, but of another type, and this was the most serious thing.
If only it had been a letter! In a few days he(she) would have forgotten her, since I have forgotten to my short age already so many things.
What a lot of cities of rare(strange) geometry I have crossed and forgotten! For what a lot of strange gardens, of stone and sand I have strolled around! What a lot of statues of giants I found! The melancholy, different ferreous some, his(her,your) bodies like corpses of stone I have visited, have admired and now already they have be disuelto, already they have gone away. They are not. I forgot them.
Of all the problems that me there caused the letter, the worst it was this fleeting feeling of familiarity; because of it my emotion of finding it had been an ingenuous recklessness.

The first delivery had got excited in a series that would destroy me and of the one that very soon might not flee.