I could feel the rubber collapse under my foot as I began my descent down the hill, pavement singeing the top molecules, unseen tiny wafts of smoke with each step, wind tearing my jacket away from me. The houses are all the same, lined down the sloping side street, autumn decay surrounding their corners, trees empty and bent, swirling towards the light ahead. Through resistance of air and sound, nearly solid, emitted from the perpetual middle yellow of the signal box ahead, I push forward, eyes infinitely closed behind the cross of my face, angular and pale, blindered to reality and facing nothing but the light ahead and the door behind, house identical to all the others but somehow my destination. As the slope decreases and the pavement evens, I approach the light, seeing individual bulbs deluminate in sequence, transferring to red as I stop, nondescript vehicles sliding in front of me, catching the wind and sound, pushing it into this new channel, dopplering as it flies down the street. As they silence builds the voices return, spiraling through impulses and drawing me towards the door of the house in front of me, tiny and gray, windows covered by black fabric from the inside, glass cracked and vibrating in sync with the calling voices of wind and matter. As I step into the lane, light transferring to green, I feel the wall of air and sound rubberbanding back to me, knocking me off my feet. I see the feel the pavement below as I fall, suspended and slowed by the wall of wind, stone beneath me becoming darker and twisting.
As I slam to the floor I hear the vibrating of wood panels, hot pavement having become the wooden floor of the house ahead, surrounding light decreased by the new settings lack of luminous ventilation, I rise to me feet, looking behind me to see that the door has been opened, foliage and grass of the outside now whipped to a frenzy by the outer din, sound somehow not reaching inside the house, silent for dust falling. I return my infinitely closed gaze to ahead of me, hallways of the house darkening further as the house extended before me. As I begin to walk forward, I find my footsteps to be replaced by static pulse, scratching the wood by my presence, feeling this ancient stand reject me. I feel the shimmer of a screen from around a corner, turning to find it sitting bright, wires coiled around it's neck and dark patterned cloth wrapped around it's base, source broadcasting from what could only be the house itself. Black and gray squares flash on and off on the screen, sliding into new sizes and shades, rearranging themselves like low resolution fish, seemingly unwarranted but necessary to what they seemed to convey. As I became more distracted from the message I cannot decipher, I realize there is a door beside me, cracked window before me bending what slight uncovered light forcing through from the fury outside onto it as I became more aware. I open the door to find a laundry room, the same cloth covering all the windows piled inside and out of both the washer and dryer, various darker stains varnishing some, silver reflective liquid still moist on others. The machines to my sides hummed with latent electricity, not functioning but still aware. There was another door ahead of me, from the previous view outside I believed it would lead me to the suburban forest behind the house.
I open the door, bright tan light blasting into my undialated mind as a view focuses from the shine. Before me is a large burned out warehouse, steel skeleton still standing square and ruinous, surrounded by its brothers, some more fleshed than others. In the center skeleton I see an amplifier, red light a tiny beacon in the midst of the rubble and steel, slight hum pushing the dust into a path before me. As I walk towards the bloody pinpoint the hum grows, pressing the blanking cross into my closed eyes, shapes in darkness layering above the view of the small dark box, red light shining strongest pulling me in. As I approach the amplifier, I feel a socket opening under my left elbow, skin hardening and rubber wire sliding from it, clinking in the dust as it collapses to my feet. I plug it into the humming altar before me, red light swirling to purple, the amplifiers face cracking and falling before me. I crouch down to examine it, smallish black cavern seeming to extend outwards into a room, bright latticed wallpaper covering some sort of lounge, mounted animals and expensive chairs, glass inlaid tables and tapestries ripped but ornate. I feel the hum from the amplifier change, reversing it's waves, pulling me into the cavern, cable sliding further from my arm, still attached as I fall into the extra-dimensional foyer. I tumble through the air slowly, landing crouched, hand to the floor. I tilt my cross before me, faced with three child sized beings, faces crossed et mine.
There are three teslas, two dressed in all white, hoodies and sneakers, fabric fringes adorning each piece, slightly shaking with the ambient sound of the rooms electricity, emitting from the ancient yet shining chandelier, black crosses across their faces. The third center tesla was their monochrome opposite, all staring at the floor, hoods hanging over their heads, slightly vibrating fringes vertical before them. They each wore headphones with various horns extending through them, plastic ears cracked as the horns had grown, their numbers inconsistent as their sizes, but all pointing to me, prepared to defend or commence. I felt the vibrations change as I saw puddles begin to form beneath them, black liquid matter coming assumed from their mouths, out of frame for my view. With each trail or drops connect to the growing puddles, sound bounced around me, shaking the still connected wire in my arm, socket beginning to grow around the extended cord, collapsing the metal within as it sharpens to a horn. The surrounding brightness envelops us, chandelier flaring light to every surface, the mounted animals disappearing into a great whiteness, black cable severed from my arm retracting upwards into whiteness, amplifier and steel skeletons phasing out of the reality these teslas had now enacted. The teslas raised their heads, black liquid dripping its final amounts into the three puddles, blackened green grass beginning to sprout from them, suddenly flooding the whiteness with a dark rolling plain. The sky begin to bleed into orange, gunmetal clouds apparating into existence above us. The grass flowing around us became audible, slow rolling drone arcing into feedback screams, the teslas slowly beginning to dance, stepping back and forth in time with the screams, speeding and slowing in time with the dark clouds movement. As the screams begin to stabilize into their own tone, the teslas begin moving towards me. The force of their approach pushes me up, rising a few inches above the ground. I raise my legs to stomp myself back down to the plain, my impact forcing the grass to create a new sound, a strong low pulse that knocks the dancers back, tumbling suspended slowly landing on their feet, shuddering as the static tones screech. The dance continues, oscillating back and forth at different speed, my attempt to stay grounded continually forcing the teslas away, not from fear but from participation. The tones around us begin to collide, creating one solid din, raising us all, black liquid now forcing itself from beneath my cross as well, pooling below me, grass shards growing from it rising taller than the plain. As I stomp into the tall grass, one of the white adorned teslas clenches it's cross and falls to its knees, fabric texture mutating to that of the black liquid, slowly melting into a gelatinous pile, grass beginning to sprout from the remains of the dancer. The other two dancers, unfazed by the apparent dissipation of their comrade continue swaying to the almost indiscernible screeches of the field, dark clouds beginning to move out of the skybox. Another stomp collapses the second bright dancer, center tesla speeding up with it's guiding screech, low drone decay sill rumbling underneath, the grass of the plain beginning to straighten and calm on the outskirts of our presence, whirling din forming into a column above us. I descend again, blasting the darkened dancer to pieces, cracked like glass but each shard flowing into the black liquid, splattering on the grass, dark red blades rising from the final puddles. The sky morphs back to pure white as I find myself alone on the darkened plain, cylindrical drone lifting me further into the sky as before, now concentrated only around me, red tufts of grass before me shrinking as I rise into the sky, clear and dampening. I try to stomp myself back down, but rather than stomping the ground I made contact with the edge of the drone cylinder, cracking it with a bright static scream, loud heavy pulse smashing into the walls of the column and shattering it, drone flowing out from it at incredible speeds, destroying the sky and ground it made contact with, erasing this field reality and dropping me into the silent darkness, blades of grass falling with me as the heaven of sky shrinks into the distance. As I fall, I hear another rising hum of electricity, feeling a different color of light below begin to catch me. Surrounded by this new yellow light my fall begins to slow, and I begin to feel suburbia's familiarity form around me, tall groomed trees rising around identical houses, empty roads littered with yellow stoplights, swaying slightly in the night air. I pass the tops of the trees, coming closer to the ground of this new place, resetting myself upright and feeling my feet contact a new pavement, cold in the night's radiance. As my weightless fall ceases, I turn to find myself staring at a blue light, contained within this realm of night's yellow.
I stand facing a laundromat, blue fluorescence floating out through the large glass walls. I take out a cigarette, the filter fusing with my crossed face, inhaling smoke, exhales escaping through pores up over my shoulders. The laundromat is far from silent, the hum of the different spiraling containers, waiting for activation so they can generate their own rumbles, the deafening whirr of the air conditioning, the static crawling of the television, muted but broadcasting image and remnant sound. As I walk towards the door my cigarette begins to accelerate to finish, cherry quickly sliding down the stalk of tobacco, ash flicking behind me narrowly dodging my hair. Static lightning jumps from the door frame of the laundromat, knocking my cigarette away as the glass doors swing open before me.
I walk to the center of the room, facing a wall filled with dozens of dryers, blank glass faces lined up in rows. They all sit silent, blue lights buzzing above them, the collective sound of electricity fading into the ambient sound of the contained air, final whoosh of sound escaping as the glass doors closed themselves. The lights flare with a screech, and a loud thump is emitted. I stare at the wall of glass faces, seeing the occasional arm slam into the face, as if some dark figure were inside it. The shadowy arms rose to drum and then fell back into the darkness within the dryers, lights occasionally screeching along with the drumming limbs song. The arms smashed into the glass so strongly I felt I needed to shield myself in case one broke, but no matter the force the doors did not break, neither did they swing open. As the drumming increased, I heard the glass walls of the laundromat begin to creak, the bending of panes, grinding into it's inset, dust whipping up outside, smashing the overhead lamp and extinguishing the orange light. I now stood in bright blue glow, shuddering wall of disembodied limbs hurling themselves towards me in furious time. The lights around the edge of the laundromat began to pop, one by one until there was only one lane of blue light, leading from myself to the middle of the shuddering wall. The drumming began to calm, strength unchanged but the arms one by one stopped participating, until there were only three, center drums hurling through the final verse of their percussive anomaly. They began to slow, until they finally stopped, blue light pulsing and screeching at their accomplishment. The center dryer opened, empty and vast, extending out into blackness. I approach it, crouching to get inside, looking into it and seeing below me a small white room, suspended in the impossible space within the dryer. The blue light pulses for a final time, exploding into a darkening shower of tiny silver shards, smashing the dyer door closed, tossing me down into the void.
As I approach the white room, ceiling-less and silent, my body slows down, bringing me to an almost full halt at the threshold of the rooms height. I feel myself moving slowly down towards the floor, blackness of the void disappearing from my sight, body floating slower and slower towards the floor. I feel a sound beginning to grow, swirling upwards, colliding with my stomach, impact much greater than the speed I perceived it. The impact causes me to expel the black liquid, splattering on the white wall of the room. More sounds spiral around me bashing me from all sides, black liquid spilling from me, littering the surgically clean walls and flood of the room, slowing descent now bringing me in contact with the floor. I feel the spiraled sounds return, pushing my body through the floor, human sized dent growing with each second. I try to raise myself, pushing up against the sounds, only managing to pull myself up a few inches, hands sliding around in the black liquid. The sounds begin to let go, releasing some of the pressure, turning around only to pummel me back down, one after another, attempting to push me through the floor, cold like concrete but pliable, black liquid running into the indent below me, small pools visible as I continue to try and upright myself. All at once the sounds cease, silence filling the room, once clean now littered with whatever the sound had beaten out of me, coagulated blood or something deeper. I rise to my knees, white cross on my face now half splattered with staining darkness. I can feel it running down my cheek, drop splashing in the puddle of liquid that had formed in the indent of myself. The sound from the drop began to build and oscillate, knocking my weakened self into the wall behind me. The sounds, called by this new instance, return in full force and I am slammed again to the floor, muscle and bone solidifying through the now flowing floor, feeling it thin as I am pressed further into it. I feel the gravity around me turn, the floor now above me, splitting open like paper, revealing a new field. The paper dissipates, and I rise above the grass.
I stare out over the field ahead of me, a lighter green than the previous, but sprawled beneath a dark red sky, clouds a purplish gray with rusted edges swirling slowly in the wind. The dark red sky shone down upon the seemingly endless plain, some higher mountains to the distance but also far downhill. I see before me the three teslas from before, each frozen in some sort of death pose, somewhat suspended in air but each still touching the ground, their own burial stakes. I press forward towards them, but they seem repelled, each repositioning further away as I approach them. Eventually they all make way, coming together behind me. I feel them fall to the ground slowly, abandoning their poses and coming to rest on the lighter green blades. As I make my way down the hill, I see in the distance a skeleton like those before constructing itself, the rate of which seemed to increase as I became nearer. The beams were colliding with one another silently, panels whooshing into place with the tiniest emittance, structure creating itself to be explored as my slow descent progressed. The wind of the plain and the force of the silence made walking feel submerged, my clothes slowly flapping behind me, tiny fabric clicks in the ambient air's seeming quiet. I could no longer feel the dancers, absorbed by the plain. My clothes settle, no only slowly waving, as I stand still in front of the now fully constructed building. Symmetrical window placement filters the red light into matching columns within the warehouse, creating a luminous aisle to guide me through, grating patterns sliding in and out of position, causing tiny black squares to flutter as moths in the red blocks. As I enter the large open bay, the metal door slides down behind me in a fury of chains and metal on metal friction, knocking me over to my knees. The red light columns begin to change to a bright tan, passing orange and slowly adding and removing greens. I walk forward into the warehouse, coming to a large dark chamber, the sides of which are filled with large machines, silent even to electrical hum, a graveyard of industry. There is a large metal gate ahead of me, through which I can see some kind of plants, a relief from familiar grass, as well as some kind of wood stacked in uneven piles. I press into the gate, the rusted metal giving way with a dusted screech, the sound bouncing behind me off the metal walls of the warehouse, ricocheting off some of the glass dials of the dead machines. There again are the teslas, each lying on the pallet stacks that litter this concrete courtyard, surrounded by rusty chain link fences and overgrown weed trunks. The black liquid is running from their faces, down the molded wood and into the center of the courtyard. As the liquid pools it begins to turn a dark red, small blades of grass beginning to sprout, but this time not stopping at just grass, an oily dripping arm began pushing its way out of the concrete and blood black liquid concoction. The arm slammed itself into the ground, hoisting the rest of it's body out from the now receding puddle, constructive source depleting as its summon grows before me. I am faced with a fourth tesla, all red, with not a cross on it's face but a straight rectangle, a vertical minus staring me down eyeless. I realize that this summon had been silent, as I feel the air around me beginning to move. The sound had been delayed, carrying with it a full wave of decay behind it, swirling towards me and whipping me into the metal wall behind me, the sound blasting the leaves from all the overgrowth in the courtyard, each ripped to shreds now coating the courtyard's walls, tiny wet plinks on the chainlink. As I slide down the metal wall, falling to my knees on an unpaved section of this garden of pallets and blood, the red dancer begins to move. It begins to dash, slowly but strongly, through the warehouse I had just passed, the air around it's path whipping out to the sides, forcing me back against the wall. I try to force through it, following the dancer through the now brightening warehouse as it crashes through the fallen metal door, blasting it away into the sky, a bent up sheet metal bird flying above us as I try to stay in the safety of the red tesla's draft. The blackened red sky had become brighter, the tan columns still reflecting the current environment, and now began to tint back to the purple of before, rusted clouds blackening further. The grass was all gone, there was only a new barren slope, falling away from the warehouse, as if the earth had collapsed before the red tesla. As I chase the dancer, it's footsteps begin cracking the earth, residual audio shock waves tearing apart the dirt and rock. I hold up my arms to shield my face, catching my foot on a sudden fracture in the ground below me and fall forward, grinding my black liquid covered cross into the dirt below, more solid than I expected. The red child stands far away, amidst this new gray desert.
I rise to my feet, feeling the red tesla in the distance, emitting solid waves whirling outwards through the flat gray dust, devils rising and spinning in intricate coiling patterns. The sound pushes me back, my footprint extending backwards as I try to stabilize myself, beginning to make my way towards the source of the physical din. The red dancer's arms are raised into the sky, fringed wings poised for liftoff, cables drooping from it's wrists, winding black wires connecting it to an amplifier, sunken into the whirling tundra, re-channeling the solid screams of the tesla, bashing me backwards as I make my approach. My steps are silent in the dusty walls of sound, oscillating glaciers slowly fighting my advancement, my feet digging further into the dirt, my progress quickly erased by the passing waves. The crashing blocks of tone begin destroying the tundra behind me, chunks of gray dirt collapsing into the bright white sky that surrounds us, my hands grasping at the earth in front of me, pulling me closer to the dancer, still so far. The sound crackles, sharp points of tone pressing into my back, ripping my jacket with sound produced bullet holes, shredding it to pieces, trailing cloth behind me, tiny fabric shards whipping into the swirling din and racing off into the white nothingness. I can see the minus on the tesla's face, twisted muscularly from beneath, mouth open and screaming out the torrential din intent on finally destroying me, wrist cables taught as it's arms raise further to the brightening sky. I rise to my feet, faced with the red dancer, much shorter than me but creating such a destructive force, swirling behind me, now standing in the eye of the tesla's storm. I raise my fist, bringing down with my own delayed sound force upon it's hood, hand breaking against it's iron construction, a being of sound permanently oscillating it's molecules at unseen speeds. Blackened blood drips from my hand as I fall back, nearing the audible hurricane's edge, trying not to be pulled back into what would surely be a ride into the abyss. I crawl past the red dancer, pulling at the wires that connect it to it's broadcasting tower, broken hand unhelpfully lubricating the cables, grabbing handfulls of the gray earth to add friction to my efforts. The first cable begins to slide out, cracking with a bright pink electrical arc, knocking me backwards and connecting with the dancer's right arm, severing it and tossing it into the torrent, dark red grass growing from the wound, blown strongly by the remaining wind. I cough up a puddle of the black liquid, sound beginning to break through my skin as I crawl again towards the second cable. As I tear at it, the connection begins to mutate, organically ripping away as if it had begun growing into it, silicone roots ripping out one by one. I press my foot against the control box, pulling with my remaining hand, red tesla standing straight almost unaware, missing arm now sporting tall red river grass, flowing wildly in the now crackling waves that pushed beyond it. With a final splitting pull, I wrench out the cable, much longer than the first, with silver vermicelli silicone roots, black liquid squirting from some of the broken. The silence is almost instantaneous, no lightning or disarming with this disconnect, just one sharp crackle, sending the dancer to it's knees. I stand in the now silent desert, earth around me no longer falling out of place. I hear a small thunk below me as the cable from my elbow has extended onto the gray dirt below me. I take the small black cable and connect it with one of the sockets in the splitter. As I writhe, sound bearing through my veins unsure in what form to escape into the connection, I am suddenly struck, back arching forward, feet slamming into the ground to stabilize myself, black liquid being thrown from my mouth, splattering clickily onto the dust now vibrating. I feel the sound pulling me up, now standing back turned to the tesla, motionless save for it's ever growing grassy arm. As my sound begins to stabilize, I see all the fields begin to collide with this tundra, different shades of grass and sky swirling into one another, hills growing and shrinking as the fields become one great plain, my sound calming as they transfer from random movement to stillness. I see a wall begin to rise in front of me, blocking the amplifier and muffling my sound, window cracking into existence, framing the hills and grass outside as the sky begins to darken. The wooden prison rises around me, populating itself with familiar room objects, a bed in front of me framed by the dark light from the window, posters on the walls I can't seem to recognize nor read, wires hanging from ceiling to floor. I turn around to find the source of a background hum, rising in the now closed off absence of my sound, a large screen displaying the conglomerate field that I had created. It looks calm, it's ambient silence a short intermission for my battered self.
Behind the screen at the end of the room, a wall has forgotten to construct, leaving a walkway out to a dark forest, lit by some unknown force from the ground up, sky too dark to be discernible but trunks of the dense forest glittering upwards. I leave the new silence of the room and walk into the woods, seeing in the distance a small white spot. Screeches bounce through the forest, redirected by the crosshatch of wood, solid pins for audible re-projection. The white dot seems to be getting closer but loses luminance as I push on. The screams don't appear to be targeting me like the previous, they just bounce from trunk to trunk through the patch of darkness I inhabit as I stray to move straight forward, the identical trees intent on losing me. I begin to make out the identity of the bright spot, another dancer, this time in a dress with long cable hairs falling from it's head, no horns like the rest, just small upright cables waving slightly in the dark forest. This dancer had a mouth, the source of the bouncing screams, previously covered by the crosses and the minus, now fully visible, blackened teeth on yellow gums. As I came to a clearing in the trees, the fifth tesla standing before me, arbitrarily screaming at no real pattern, I see a small shimmering lake between us, previously hidden by the dark. The dancer has no reflection in the pool, a lighter shade but still cousin to the black liquid, reflecting only the circle of trees around us, perfectly lining up to a grid in the mirroring pond. The banshee screams coming from the cable haired dancer shook the pond, ripples bouncing off the reflected tree trunks, blowing its cables and antennae backwards, mouth opening and closing slowly. I stood unthreatened in front of the pool, staring down into it, seeing my reflection, dirty black blood water covered face, torn shirt and disheveled everything else. I realized the tesla had been silent for some time, and rose to see it melt before me, cables and black liquid flowing into the pool, leaving only the white dress behind, slowly dimming. I follow it down, black liquid enveloping me by choice, though it had tried force so many times before now. The trees bend themselves backwards away from the pool as I fall, disappearing from my sight as I sink down into my newest dark.
For a moment there is nothing, silence and black. I feel gravity begin pulling me, my shoulder colliding with something solid, giving way and forcing me out through a small window in the black, rocketing me from the amplifier I entered through, tossing me out into the industrial yard, crooked skeletons behind me, testament to my progress having brought me back to the beginning. I rise, my one arm dead at my side, other clenching my face, black liquid pooling around me as I walk towards a solitary door standing in the distance of the yard, shirt and pants littered with sonic bullet holes. I see the bodies of the teslas begin to rise from the ground as I get closer, first the three dancers, then the red tesla right in front of me. I step over it to see the dressed tesla standing above the door, cabled hair now growing out down to the ground, a rubber and wire archway extending from the tesla's temples, pushing it silently upward into the sky, mouth opening slowly to let out growing tones. I reach the door, pushing offshoot cables out of my way, reaching for the doorknob with my remaining hand, opening it to find myself back in the house at the end of the street, tiny dim screen now no longer displaying quadrilateral fish but a snow of static, quietly oscillating back and forth. Natural blue light is flowing in from the window above it, outside of the house appearing to be calm now, no violent winds or speeding vehicles, just air flowing and some kind of bird in the distance, leaves settled and grass still as I walk through the house and reach the front porch. The blue light of day begins to fade, first to dim blue and then churning to orange sunset, holding on tone and clouds darkening for the night. As I stand on the porch, looking up into what I was to feel were real clouds, the real sky, the real world around me, I reached up with my dead arm and ran my hand through my hair, scuffing the top of my cross, now slightly crumpled from my time in the destructive sounds of the teslas. I reach into my pocket and find a pack of cigarettes, cardboard smashed into an apple core shape, one final cigarette clenched in the middle, cancerous spine of the pack. I raise it to my cross, small entrance again opening. I reach for my lighter and flick it, tiny scratching noise producing no residual forces, nothing swirling back around to smash me away from the reality I had come to, just a tiny scratch informing me my lighter may be dead. I flick it again and again, until finally the tiny flame appears. I inhale, lungs expanding, eyes undialating, the quiet crackle of my cigarette stapling this reality as now.