[Four cables sometimes mean four knots of life. Believe me, it is not a terrible game, no game is more so than life itself. The moment you touch the claws of death, everything fades. To die, what a beautiful thing...]
It was years ago. I had the seal of a witch in my ear. As I imagined myself walking past the nebula trees that resembled bright green clusters with my helpless, cowardly, trembling legs, I would stop for just a single moment and think: Why did I exist in this huge world? As the pale mist of those same trees gave way to crimson meadows, I would seem to see a hut right at the end of the desolate, endless path. My feet were buried indifferently in the grass, the calm but terror-filled gaze of my helpless eyes plundered in the bloody fire.
As I approached the hut, I was asking, "Why?" "Why is all of this like this?" But my legs continued to carry me forward with the ruthlessness of a bad, obedient slave. The wind flowed around me like a cloud of mist—from my right, my left, my back, and my front.
When I reached the very front of the hut, the sky broke open; suddenly, it began to rain. I could feel the cold at the tip of my nose, hearing the dull beats of my heart struggling to give me life between my ribs. Before long, I stopped focusing on the water droplets dripping onto the roof of the hut. I wanted to knock on the door, but my fingers... They just wouldn't align to form a fist.
Footsteps approached the door at a moment I never expected. I froze as if an icy handcuff had been thrust into my heart. The door creaked, like a crying baby. Then, a red-haired woman at the door drew back. As her body shifted aside as if it occupied a vast part of my life, I had forgotten why I needed to enter this house. "My mother sent me," I murmured; "My mother—"
What cut me off was the door suddenly closing over me. "What is your name, child?"
I hesitated for a moment about answering her. The seconds I spent at the door had been enough to soak me. "Aysal."
"Well then, Aysal, what is it you want from me?" Her voice was filled with the cruelty of someone reaching into my internal organs and rearranging them.
"I... my mother sent me here," I replied.
The washing machine at the base of the wall caught my attention. Through the machine's circle, white laundry spinning inside could be seen in the dirty light of the hallway. A red basket had been tossed carelessly onto a pile of detergent boxes, lying on its side. "I want the laundry we sent last time," I said.
Her gaze lingered on my face for a few seconds. "Very well... Wait a moment."
She walked with quick steps; her pink high heels were still before my eyes.
As if shaking off a dream, pressing my hand to my temples to rid myself of that laundry room memory, I saw the crowd gathered around the bomb, talking loudly. I was at the device. No! This wasn't comforting; it terrified me. I approached them with tottering steps. As the crowd refused to let me through, I burned with the desire to see the thing hidden among them. I tried to rewind time but failed. My head was a mess. With clusters of question marks containing piles of strange images and sounds, I tapped someone on the shoulder and pulled them aside.
This... Of course. It was the silver scissors. To cut one of those cables.
The clothes in that laundry hut were still spinning in my head. I saw the wrinkles on Mert's face as he looked at the colored cables. He wasn't old, but there were traces of his beard slowly becoming prominent in the lines of his face. "It's very hard to understand where each of these cables goes. They're all tangled. It's like there are tight knots," he said. "Does anyone among you understand this?"
Though Mert looked around, making eye contact, no one made a sound.
I swallowed hard.
Hülya looked at me, one of her knees resting on the ground. "You've finally come to your senses..."
I didn't know if I had come to my senses, but the only thing I knew was that I could no longer trust my mind.
"Aysal," she nudged me with her voice.
"Yes..." I wasn't looking at her.
"Your voice is so lifeless," she murmured. Then an expression appeared on her face as if she pitied me. "Come on... Do you know the answer to this riddle? The device said 'four hundred' to you in front of everyone. Don't you remember?" Pausing, she licked her lips and took a small breath. "Do you know something?"
The trembling in her voice had caught my attention.
"It's all about him," I whispered. "From the very beginning..."
"What?" she said reflexively. Her eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
My eyelids drooped. I tried to remember that laundry room where my mother had sent me. A detail I needed to know must have been drifting in the dark waters of my memory. I remembered the fire burning in the red-haired woman's eyes. A child could never forget that fire. The pieces of my puzzle were scattered. It was as if the pieces had been forced together, but they actually had no place to separate.
"Do you—want to eat some food?" Hülya offered.
Mert leaned down further, looking toward the pile of colored cables connected to the bomb. He was practically taking an X-ray of the bomb with his eyes.
Shaking my head rapidly, I raised my hand toward Hülya in protest.
I felt the people here closing in on me like shadows. Then, stumbling, I moved to the edge of the wall further away.
I felt nauseous.
I watched the sounds, breaths, and movements pass by.
Suddenly, I thought of my tin can. Quickly finding the discarded tin can, I moved toward the tunnel. Just as I was about to lift the grate and go down, the cover of the grate slipped violently from my hand and slammed shut. I leaned down, tried to open the cover, but failed. My fingers had drunk the icy coldness of the metal. I didn't know if it was jammed or something. Everyone looked at me because of the sound. What now? My breath hitched in my throat. Would I not be able to go down?
I had questions to ask the old lamp-man. But like a joke, the grate had closed too.
Was the device controlling this?
That perfect death machine that controlled everything.
[Raise your hands! Surrender!]
The speakers practically screamed.
I couldn't make sense of what I heard.
Everyone had turned around, looking around. The voice repeated the words with emphasis.
[Raise your hands, surrender! A team will be sent for a body scan.]
I was speechless with shock.
The voice moved through my ears like water flowing from rusty pipes.
Was such a thing possible? Could someone from the outside really enter this place?
My stomach began to cramp. "Until now... I thought ghosts were watching us," I spoke in a low voice.
Whether anyone heard me or not, I had no idea.