24 MAN WITHOUT FACE

24 MAN WITHOUT FACE

A trillion of trillions of years later …

Out of the dream the shade had been the Emissary, in effect, and had another letter in my chest(breast). The paper(role) was yellowish and old, but the ink in the letters was new. Another letter come from the transmundo. Once again these two persons after these two letters:
M.:
In a few minutes you will come,
I wait for you impatiently...
I think how many things must be fulfilled still(yet) in the world before you come,
Though only they are a few minutes.
I sit(feel) his(her,your) vastness in this frozen banking.
Fearful as if the past could change, I enumerate
These coincidences and randoms on that our meeting depended.
I notice that these requirements are not ended there, that it(he,she) needed more.
For example, all your infancy and the precise history of our thousands of forbears in order that this night it happens
As it happens.
I wait for you,
I sweeten the second ones thinking about you.
Now I know that all the past and his(her,your) digest of details and details have needed.
Not only our past, but that of the entire cosmos,
The whole world has collaborated in order that you exist.
The whole universe has been precise
In order that you avenge this night and go on with me these hours to my side.
Already I see you,
I am opposite to a too singular fact.
Already I see you coming for the bridge and I understand on having seen the beauty of your eyes
That the sweetness of these hours to your side
It(He,She) him(her) might not have cost less to the universe.
L.
After reading, I continued attending the clearest reality, the well-known existence of the silent planet, the massive slept statue, the letter, and in her(it) the mystery come from this transmudo of dreams, one to prompt which it(he,she) would come. With the disdain that has the tide in leaving useless things, the random would bring to me this foreign and miraculous correspondence. I, a silent and lost point in the vastness, might for this mistake investigate in the soul of a remote man. Yes, known, maybe minuscule, but royal(real).
I will be like a solitary diver immersed in the depths of a dark being and without face, crossing the most secret and sensitive kernels of a particular personality. Certainly, I must add that I itself ignore my face; leagues and leagues of desert and there is no an alone mirror that says to me how I am, or if perhaps I have face, since I do not know if I have forms or if only I am a part(report) of the wind that crosses this world that the Thecnetos arranges and governs Mas what imports this! I am in intimate contact with me itself, sit(feel) whom I am, and now I explore the intimacy of another being. A part of he(it) now me belongs(concerns), or in something now we are one. What matters that we are ghosts without body, thoughts without form or location! I was looking in L, with more depth and certainty that to the inert(passive) things at that I look every day and that they never reveal his(her,your) close friend to be, though I know, they it have. In this already I am also a minuscule reflection(reflex) of the Thecnetos, which is, nobody ignores it, a cognitive excellent entity.
I started moving away from these ruins fulfilled(filled) with slept giants and from his(her,your) consciences without content, since it is what is a thing, a being conciente you are welcome. The powder of my steps was joining the powder that always was strolling I calm, and that was turning for the roundness of the planet. But a worry(restlessness) was going being woven in me.
A morbid arrogance was going off in me: probably one day might reach another cosmos where they were living(inhabiting) M and L. might I alter his(her,your) existence? They were altering already mine, it(he,she) tries the communication between(among) our two universes.
But my tricks to survive and my doubts on the Thecnetos did not happen(pass) unnoticed. In the deep of the planet they were starting moving and when guardian travelled up to me a Theknos and his(her,your) mission was to stop(detain) my thoughts and to stop(detain) my mind.
His(Her,Your) arrival was nearby.
In front of me an absorbed landscape of ruins in yes same simply existed; they were so vast as indifferent of what my poor heart was feeling.
And to this heart already it was not enough to him(her) only to investigate the semantic sense of the letters; it(he,she) needed to rub his(her,your) owners with a finger at least, not only to handle them theoretically. It(he,she) wanted to alter at least microscopically his(her,your) destinations(destinies).
I remembered that a minuscule change in some minimal detail of the world modifies the whole future and his(her,your) effect, for trivially that looks like, it(he,she) saturates the whole world, all the future. Every thing that moves in the universe moves quite and perhaps it(he,she) modifies also the past.
Thinking this way, I was stopping to fall(to fall due) a papelito or was pushing a piedrecilla and was flooding an upset happiness to suppose the tenuous effects that this could provoke in the distant M and L. So many loneliness and ignorance had in my youth that I delivered myself to this game of knowledge and manipulation in his(her,your) more minimal dose. These ridiculous exercises(fiscal years) at the time were enough to me, though only nearly time.
It seemed to be false that the man could be in this game a microscopic sham of the Thecnetos, but actually(indeed) the knowledge is a game of strange nature. Only for attainable being to all we do not notice the rarety of the phenomenon conciente.

I understood(included) that across the letters little it(he,she) was advancing. It(he,she) had to cost(suit) me of the Emissary who was bringing them to have another approach and probably to obtain the final route. If it was an Emissary, the Thecnetos also will send dispositions(regulations) to those cloudy(nebulous) M and L across him(it). The steps of the Emissary probably would tread on the dreamed soil of the transmundo where they were living, something of his(her,your) architecture of happiness they would(still) stay in him(it), when it(he,she) was returning to this dead world.
To follow(continue) it might allow that I should come to the transmundo! I who only had born to die, then would live.

But this being is very shy. My initial exaltation was vanishing rapidly in disappointment, the difficulties were turning(becoming) the highest walls. But the desire to live was assaulting me and was bitting me, while it(he,she) was looking at the bottomless distance of the evenings. Do not be why I supposed so many things of those mistaken letters.

The letters! Here the following one:

M.:
This night I am so in love,
So unjustly in love.
But the night is so good
That is generously loaded with stars.
What bad(wrong) luck to be inspired love this way.
Today I trust in the wicked city
And I know that it(he,she) does not import how much run for the empty architecture of the night.
I will not get lost.
The most sweet notes are born and fall down as flowers
While his(her,your) forms conspire to give him to be and beauty
To me upset feeling.
A deep but indolent beauty,
Since(As,Like) you, sometimes.
I am so sensitive, so too conscious of every note, of every pause
Of this delicate music
That is constructed and advances as a surge, as a wind fit.
But more sweets that these jumps of the melody
They are these brief seconds
In that I believe that you love me.
It is good to be like that,
So(As) unjust and precariously in love,
Because I know that you reserve
A place and a few hours for me.
And this way your look, your lukewarm hands, they will yield him a bit of his(her,your) beauty
To this night,
To the stars,
To the music
That I breathe and that I dream.
This night so infinitely far from you.
With longing, L.

On having understood the Emissary I will understand the messages - my thought was whispering - and maybe there is ended the infinity and the muteness of this planet. It(he,she) imports for me now neither the frozen wind that always faces either my way, or the useless landscapes, always indifferent and inert(passive), nor the oldness that from my birth was advancing in my meats. It is not important this world-weariness that is to live and to expect to return to be for insensitive powder, world-weariness of the answers not to know, not if these are the questions, it(he,she) was not mattering; now, at least in my hope, the transmundo, existed.
My curiosity turned soon into obsession and later into a bountiful fantasy. It(he,she) was waiting eagerly(impatiently) for the letters to be a spy, an escudriñador, an imitation of the Thecnetos or of the Emissary, to be an elucubrador, to be something different from the usual thing, which was to be nobody, to stop not being brief.

This way it(he,she) was occupying my days planning complex plans, and in the nights it(he,she) was dreaming them realized. One of these nights was dreamed by me that it(he,she) was killing the Emissary and that it(he,she) was opening his(her,your) body. It(he,she) was now in this dream a species(kind) of insect or of made object of organic pieces, joined by artificial conjunctures. I was astonishing that an angel of the Thecnetos was such a monstrous being. I examined the organs of the Emissary, and in his(her,your) interior I found letters and diverse appliances, still not said words, the chronogram of visits, and a plane to come up to the Thecnetos and also up to the trasmundo. Between(among) the entrails a code was also to speak with the molecule germinal.
Already often it(he,she) had come to the same conclusion: the Emissary was the hinge between(among) the world and I, between(among) the world and the Thecnetos. How to understand the letters or any thing without understanding the Emissary?
To the awakening I took the (hallucinated) decision to kill it and then to crumble his(her,your) body to study it. This way entendería the architecture of the Emissary, or, that of an appliance of communication between(among) the Thecnetos and the men. A bridge between(among) this last remote planet and that distant universe where M were living and L. And it was like to dissect a shade to be able to know how he is really the being who was projecting it. To understand it was needing to understand these two things and was a guarantee to do it.
But it(he,she) did not know that the languages of the body are more complex and vast than that they use the Thecnetos to do a spaceship. Only to understand how he(she) was breathing the Emissary would last centuries. But this way, anyhow, there was arising the vague project to capture it or of following(continuing) it.

In the nights there was very much silence, sometimes it(he,she) heard a noise as(like) of stones that were falling some on others. They were the slow but tenacious movements of small automatons travelling in the darkness, his(her,your) form was like that of a medium book of very heavy metal. Short appendices of variable number were surrounding them. His(her,your) noise frustrated me repeatedly. I ignore of what it(he,she) forms(trains) they serve to the Thecnetos.