Morning was born into a world hidden beneath a gray sky. Time had become a reluctant cycle—even the holographic clocks moved as if burdened. Amid the artificial echoes bouncing off shadowless streets, Keren Tengritaghım dragged his steps. Like other students, he was heading to school—but he was not one of them. He was an echo of a lost age.
He stopped in front of the school building—concrete, moss-covered, weather-worn. A massive hologram governed by artificial intelligence blinked: "EDUCATION IS PRIMITIVE." No one questioned it anymore. But Keren was drowning in that sentence.
When he entered the classroom, some eyes turned toward him, others acted as if he didn't exist. His tall frame, broad build, sun-darkened skin, deep brown eyes, and center-parted medium-length hair drew attention easily. But attention, for him, was merely another form of ridicule. He sat at his desk and pulled out his books: Freud, Jung, Adler... Names unknown to this generation.
At lunch break, he was alone in the rear garden, listening to silence. But even silence didn't last long in this age.
"Hey Tengritaghım! Praying to your psychology god again?"
A laugh, then a shove... The rest was hazy. Someone yanked his hair, someone struck his shoulder. Before hitting the ground, he glanced at the sky—gray, always gray. Then, darkness.
When Keren opened his eyes, he was in a void devoid of stars. No ground, no sky… just nothingness. Suddenly, a blinding light surrounded him. From within it, a being emerged. It was not human. Its arms were thin, fingers only three per hand, reaching toward him. Its face was unseen; even with closed eyes, Keren couldn't escape the light.
He tried to speak but couldn't move his tongue. A voice echoed in his mind:
"I am your god."
The being wore a long, white robe woven of light. Keren instinctively raised his hand, spreading three fingers. The being touched them with its own limb, and in that instant, a surge of knowledge hit Keren's brain like lightning. No words—only images, feelings, intuition…
In the first vision, a pair of eyes watched him while he ate. They peeked from behind a book. In the second, silhouettes stood in the dark behind a window, watching. Always watching.
The being withdrew its hand. The voice returned:
"Humans now see themselves as flawless, superior beings. Over time, they forgot me, abandoned their belief and reverence. Flaws have become threats. Those who watch you will seek to erase you in the name of perfection. Only you can shatter this twisted order."
Keren opened his eyes again. The white light hanging from the ceiling had awakened him—not into reality, but into another nightmare. Metallic walls, quietly operating machines… No humans. Only a synthetic voice:
"Trauma analysis complete. Fracture detected in left temporal region. Right-side ribs bruised. Serum treatment ready. Payment required."
The holographic number glowing before his eyes was unreachable. His body still ached. But he would not pay.
"I don't want to purchase the treatment."
He stood. Dizzy, but steady. He thought of his grandfather. His traces were still in the system—risky, but there was no other way.
"Hey robot. I am Ayzire Tengritaghım. User code: 94651."
"Yes, I'm listening, sir."
"I want my clothes."
"Would you like them cleaned, sir?"
"No."
"Clothes are being prepared."
Creating even the smallest gap in the system was a battle. He studied the cameras' positions, then whispered:
"Delete my user data. Purpose of visit: routine check."
"Request confirmed."
As he retrieved his clothes, he thought of the luminous nightmare behind him. He didn't look back. Because he was afraid—not just of the system, but of something growing inside him.
Keren was no longer just a student. He worked at a café to make ends meet, but his past and knowledge set him apart. His grandfather Ayzire had been one of the greatest minds of his time. A love for books born in his grandfather's library had shaped Keren's thoughts. Freud's Interpretation of Dreams, Jung's Man and His Symbols... Each opened doors in his mind.
But this world no longer dreamed. Psychology was a fairy tale, thought a luxury, flaws a crime.
Yet Keren's dream was different. He was a prophecy cloaked in the decaying skin of reality. Silenced truths were returning as whispers. And deep within the system, something was disturbed by Keren's presence.
Keren was no longer just an outcast; he was the harbinger of collapse, rebirth, and the last to answer a forgotten god's call. Perhaps the god had gone silent—but now, it was Keren's turn to speak.