During the five years after his mother's death…
David started asking bigger questions than his consciousness…
Whatever his conclusion was, he wasn't satisfied with the answer…
And on top of that, every answer sparked a new question…
The space of questions he carried could never be contained; whatever he did to measure it, it kept expanding…
So David had to start over...…
He always told the same story to everyone—over and over and over again.
The story of how his mother stayed up late cleaning the house, expecting guests in the morning… only for those guests to arrive not to visit her, but to pay their respects after her death.
David had many friends, but even in the middle of their laughter and noise, he often felt detached—like they didn't truly understand him. Sometimes he even felt above them, a moment of superiority that lasted only a second… and right after it, a heavy feeling of inferiority crushed him.
In just a few seconds he could go from feeling higher than everyone to feeling smaller than all of them.
He had friends, yes—but only one was a true friend: Isaac.
His other friends he called "entertainment friends." Whenever they were bored or restless, they all gathered at a small caoor (poor-Caffè) to talk, play cards, and laugh. But Isaac was different. Isaac stayed for more than the entertainment.
Wait—I forgot something. Let's go back a little.
After his mother died, David had no one left. So he started working. And because the villagers were tightly connected, they helped him however they could.
He worked three jobs: delivery boy, carrier, and helper in a restaurant, where he eventually learned to cook from the chef.
The villagers wanted to support him, so they would send him errands or ask him to carry anything—just so they could pay him—since he refused to accept charity.
His life became so busy. The work forced him to meet countless people, and soon everyone knew him. Even though he didn't like socializing at first, it became a routine he had no choice but to follow. A day without interacting with people was hell… because then his own thoughts got too loud.
He still kept his hobby of traveling outside the village. Some days he skipped eating just so he could take a trip to the city and come back.
He became famous around the bus and truck stations. The regular commuters who worked outside the village all recognized him.
And naturally, people wondered about his life.
So he told them.
Many, many times.
So many that even he lost count.
One day, on one of his trips, the minibus driver invited him to a café—to meet new people, to see the city instead of just going station to station.
That was when he met the strangest people he had ever seen..... He even thought they must be the chosen from God to carry his massage.... Before that
He froze when he saw their devices. Every single one of them had a strange glowing object in their hands. And on the wall, there was an even stranger device—showing a moving person with a voice coming out of it.
Without thinking, David whispered,
"Is that… a messenger of God?"
There were six of them sitting around a table they used for everything: tossing cards, playing board games, chess, or resting their drinks.
When David and the driver walked in, four were seated, tapping on those devices—what he believed were divine artifacts.
So when he asked if it was a messenger of God, they burst into laughter.
"Good joke, man," one said.
David looked at the devices in their hands.
"What did God say today?" he asked seriously.
They stared, confused.
He pointed at the phones.
One of them whispered to the driver,
"Didn't he overcome the Door effect?"
David frowned.
"What door?"
The driver answered, "You should have overcome it by now. Everyone from your village who leaves it eventually becomes a Truth-Seer."
Another added, "You villagers are the only ones who can't see the truth about the world. Even if they do Many go back home because they can't handle being alone.... They stay with their families, praying that one day they will wake up... To see the world"
David understood none of this.
They asked about him, and he told them everything—his work, his habits, the hobby of traveling… and then the usual story of his mother cleaning for guests who would only come after her death.
The four laughed again. Normally David would be furious, but this time he wanted to know why.
One of them opened his "divine artifact," scrolling through it as if searching for something difficult to find. He made that frustrated searching noise people make, then turned the screen toward David.
"I thought the Door had affected you," he said.
"Turns out… you're one of us."
David saw the glowing device pointed toward him. He almost turned his head away, believing he wasn't worthy of seeing the words of God.
But curiosity pressed the gas pedal—and never touched the brake.
On the screen was the same story he had told everyone for years. Word for word.
To him, this story wasn't just a mere story..... No..... It became bigger than that..... It became the reason of living.... And..... At some point it started to define his existence.....
"How did God know my story?" he whispered.
One of them laughed softly.
"That's not God. It's just a normal person. See the post? It asks: 'What moment gave you chills?' And someone commented your answer."
David didn't understand "post" or "comment."
But he understood this wasn't the voice of God—just a human.
He wanted to argue, to prove these four were wrong… but how could he?
To him, these devices were God's messengers..... And the people who hold them must be worthy enough to....or pure enough to carry his massage...
...
If they lied, his entire belief collapsed.
But if they were telling the truth… then his beliefs still collapsed.
Either way, everything he believed in was breaking.
The knockout wasn't what devastated him—it was the way they acted afterward.
Why were they talking? Laughing? Smiling at every move he made, like he was some kind of joke they all understood but he didn't?
In the background, he heard someone casually ask,
"Hey, what's today's date?"
A moment later, David turned his head toward them and said, slowly,
"You… what is wrong with the doors? And why are you saying that? Aren't we in 1786…?"
The room froze.
One of the men stood up, cleared his throat, and said,
"Excuse me. David… come with me."
He introduced himself as Henry, but David barely cared. The others' names didn't matter. None of this made sense anyway.
Henry led him through winding streets until they reached a small house.
He opened the door, stepped aside, and motioned for David to enter.
Inside, shelves filled with strange, shiny discs—CDs—lined the walls.
Henry explained how they worked, each word sounding like a language David wasn't meant to understand. Then, without another sentence, Henry stepped out of the house… and left David alone with the impossible.
The CDs weren't in any order—just scattered everywhere. There were historical films, movies, series, anime, documentaries, wrestling… everything.
He began with the historical ones, then moved on to documentaries. He wanted to close the gap from 1786 to at least the year 2000.
Before boredom could stop him, he had already learned about the Industrial Revolution, the French Revolution, the Russian Revolution, the fall of the Soviet Union, and especially the Berlin Wall.
And he noticed something—every revolution followed the same pattern: depression, bloodshed, destruction… name any terrible thing, it was there. But after that came events just as unpleasant. He began to believe rebellion was never the answer.
He felt he had learned enough from the CDs labeled "Revolution." Then he found another stack, this time labeled "War."
The War of the Roses, the Hundred Years' War… the names caught his attention, but after watching them, he thought they were meaningless wars—fought for no reason, ending for no reason.
Then he started watching World War I. At first he was amazed—tanks, guns—but that amazement quickly turned into fear. These things actually existed. And when he learned more than twenty million people died, he froze.
David: "What… all that destruction just because someone died? …Oh, there's a second part to the war."
World War II. A completely different beast. What shocked him most was the explosion—the atomic bomb. He exhaled slowly, shaken.
After watching a decent amount of history and documentaries, a lot of time passed. David didn't know how much. Only then did he realize he was in a stranger's house.
He finally got up to leave and noticed a note on the table near the door. Henry had left it, saying he was gone for something urgent. Everything David needed was in the fridge. Beside the note was a prepared meal. Henry wrote that David should feel at home—and that once he finished "unlocking the new world," they would talk.
Time went on as David tried to comprehend human history. Every now and then, someone would knock on the door and leave a bag. When he opened it, it was always food. He didn't understand who the delivery guy was, or how he knew when David was hungry.
He kept all those questions for Henry.
And so, another period of time passed.