The cognitive dissonance.This was actually the first thing that came to my mind as soon as I realized myself.What is the dissonance? Well, for starters, the fact is that a one-year-old child should not know these words. And, probably, I shouldn't be sarcasm in my thoughts either. Well, in principle, these thoughts shouldn't exist at one year old.But okay, the questions are philosophical, we can think about it one of these days, but there's nothing to do anyway. You lie down, look at the same surroundings, eat and defecate. Life, of course, is great.The only thing that saves me is the fact that I am a child and all my strength apparently goes into super-heavy, in quotes, loads on the brain, so I am awake for two hours a day, and the rest of the time I sleep, taking a break from the absurdity that is going on.I also consider the fact that I am quite clearly aware of myself and even think quite rationally to be absurd. I would probably call my surroundings something, but a child's brain is a child's brain, I don't know how I can think normally, but somehow remembering the environment is already beyond my strength. Absolutely nothing sticks in my head. Maybe, of course, if I spent less energy on my mental comments and more on trying to consider something or remember a speech, it would be better, but I will say that as it is, so it is. During my waking hours, I'm not going to do nothing but listen to what they say to me or stick it into the wall, remembering exactly where I'm lying and thinking.But I have a lot of time for my thoughts. Who am I? Where I am? Why me? What am I? Okay, to the last question I kind of know the answer, I'm human. I have no idea about everything else.God and his name, although what "God" is, I can't find a single memory in my head, but at least I should know some vague features of myself? It's just that words and their combinations pop up, and I'm not sure, I'm not speaking out loud, maybe these are simple mental images that seem to me like meaningful speech. But then, again, mental images emerge.Which should not happen to a child who is not yet aware of his surroundings, again. I'm pretty sure of this. But this does not change the situation.I really want to know at least something about myself. And about myself as a child, for whom it's time to sleep again, and about myself about who I was. And I'm sure that I was someone. I can't somehow argue for this, even for myself. But purely for understanding, the "well, obviously" argument in my head sounds like a good one. But even that is not the case. Just a firm belief that I used to be someone. That was it and that was it.And damn interesting by whom.What have I done to deserve... what is this? Second life? Of course, who knows how things will turn out, maybe it will be a punishment, but for now it looks like it's more like a reward. Someone please let it be like this.
* * *
Three years have passed. And I now understand why Einstein did not speak until he was four years old. Why the hell is it necessary?Before I was four years old, I just began to little by little remember my surroundings and become aware of images. First of all, I thought that I was born somewhere in Asia. I don't know what it is, but this name came to mind on its own, when I saw low tables without chairs, tea ceremonies, chopsticks and other attributes. Although the building in which I... well, let it be, I exist, does not give off so much of this taste of Asia. Some kind of mixture of different cultures. The truth is, I don't remember which ones. Moreover, here and there iron pipes and various, it seems, steam installations were visible, which directly refers to some kind of steampunk. Although, given their small number, it is more likely to be the birth of steampunk.Some word - "steampunk", the associative connection suggests that it is about steam, pipes, copper colors and so on, but where I know this word and how I learned it, for the life of me, I can't remember.It's about the same thing with language: gibberish is absolutely incomprehensible, absolutely unlike anything else. But either I'm so smart, or the child's brain absorbs new information, but associations immediately began to be established and I slowly remember the names of different objects. I think it's not far from normal communication there.I finally saw my dad at three years old. Most likely not for the first time, given that before I simply did not remember the environment. A high-cheeked, gloomy face, some kind of traditional clothes and coal-black hair that has already become standard, surprisingly long and styled in some kind of hairstyle. He looked at me as if I were some kind of furniture, nodded at something, chatted a little with me, and went on about his business. Aristocracy, at least this word seems to pop into my head, just at the sight of this man.And it turns out I have an older brother. He is only a couple of years older, three years, most likely, and he follows his father almost like a tail. And he's trying to make a similar face and has zero interest in me. Well, he looks exactly like Draco Malfoy, taking into account local realities. I wish I knew who it is...Once again a whole delegation trooped into my humble abode. A bunch of black-haired, pale and high-cheeked individuals, very similar to each other, came straight to me.Among them, of course, there was a father and brother, but they somehow stood aloof and seemed to be waiting for something. What, it became clear a second later: a man very similar to his father stepped forward, except that his clothes were more fanciful. His children and his wife remained standing behind him, apparently? Maybe. In general, they asked me to stand somewhere, put candles around me, stood there, waited, and examined me from different angles. We waited some more. And they let me go home. Only after that, both father and brother, tried not to look in my direction at all, and if they did, it was like I was looking at shit.Well, of course, I'm exaggerating slightly, but this ritual means something, and I seem to have failed it. And now for older male relatives, I am nobody and there is almost nothing to call me. Apparently, he did not behave as a son of an aristocrat should, or something like that. Well, what did they expect from a five-year-old toddler who has no one to do except as a servant? No, well, I would understand if from birth they read me etiquette there, or some kind of books, in general, something that is usually done with the children of aristocrats... although I'm not sure about this. What I can say for sure is that I have never been an aristocrat and have never seen them live, so I can't guess how everything works there or should work. But I am sure of one thing: this test of theirs is crap. And no, I'm not at all angry that, being clearly older than my age, I didn't understand anything and failed something that a four-year-old should pass. Maybe just a little.Well, or they were testing something that did not depend on me and rather should have worked on its own "about me", roughly speaking, and it didn't work. Which, to be honest, is more like the truth. The real question then is: what did they expect by placing several strange candles around me?But the most significant event that happened to me was the first word that I uttered when the nannies took me to the local garden.Well, yes, nannies. No, maybe, of course, I have several mothers, harems and all that, but there is a distinct feeling that my mother is a pretty black-haired... well, not a girl anymore, but you can't call her a woman either. In general, my mother is a black-haired, well-dressed, pretty girl of about twenty who periodically flashes before my eyes and spends very little time with me, clearly not fully understanding what to do with me. Although I seem to be the second child... I had to gain experience.And so I made the logical conclusion that the older, less well-dressed women around me were nannies. At which I uttered my first word.In the garden near the house where I was walking, I was finally able to look at the house from the side, carefully averting my gaze from the huge castle nearby. In general, if the inside architecture was solid and rather in the European style, despite the presence in places of shoji - doors consisting of thick transparent paper, which is attached to the door frame and looks like a checkered sheet. These very typically Asian rooms with shoji, as I understood it, were rather a tribute to some traditions and a kind of reception area for guests. Basically, thank whoever, the large rooms were still separated from each other by ordinary, understandable doors.So, if you can still somehow endure it inside, then outside it is pure Asia with a massive red tile roof and all sorts of metal curls in the corners. Although, of course, the pipes that flash here and there are still out of style. Moreover, apparently, these same pipes were not splattered on top of the building, but were completely planned during construction. Which really makes you think. The house is old, which means the steam devices are not the newest either.And what does it mean? Firstly, you should stay away from pipes. Scars, of course, adorn a man, but somehow I can manage without them. Secondly, progress has stagnated a bit, apparently. As I already mentioned, we are aristocrats, which means we are far from a poor family, so advanced technologies are clearly available to us. But there are none. There are only installations included with the house. And this means that not only were such systems already tested and put into use by the time the house was built, but wouldn't a family install untested and dangerous steam appliances in their home? Quite a few years have passed since then.Hmm, the stalled birth of Asian-style steampunk. For some reason, in my head there are thoughts about the imperfection and low efficiency of such systems, and even some thoughts about improvement appear, although I have not even seen the "heart" of these installations. It's just a pity that all this is so vague and not clear, that it's easier to remember a dream from two days ago in detail than to catch something that sometimes flies through your head.But that's not what made me speak out loud. Far from it.Above the entrance to the house hung either a flag or a banner. With such a clear emblem. Three different flames depicted in black ink on a red background.And after several minutes of sticking into this flag, I said the only thing that came to my mind:- Fucked up!The nannies around began to chirp, of course, the child made some sounds, although they didn't understand them, but he made them! They somehow started running around me, lisping, asking me to repeat.And I? What about me?And I'm in Avatar, damn it.