The road gradually disappeared.

  At first it grew narrower and less distinct. Then the stones beneath his feet dissolved into dry grass and gray dust. After some time the young man realized he had been walking without any road at all.

  The sky above the pin remained heavy and low. Vast clouds drifted slowly along the horizon like massive sbs of stone suspended in the air by an invisible force.

  The wind came in bursts.

  Sometimes it lifted long streams of dust and brittle grass. Sometimes it died completely, leaving behind a strange, viscous silence.

  The young man walked calmly.

  He did not know the exact direction.

  But that no longer mattered.

  Ever since he had left the Forge of the World, a strange sensation had appeared within him. It was like the quiet tension a craftsman feels when he enters his workshop and immediately senses that somewhere nearby a mechanism has broken.

  The world around him seemed like a vast system. Sometimes the system functioned properly. Sometimes it malfunctioned.

  And when that happened—there was work to do.

  He did not think of it as fate or destiny. Those words sounded too grand and foreign. To him everything seemed much simpler.

  Something breaks.

  Someone has to fix it.

  He simply happened to be the one who knew how.

  The wind rose again.

  Dry grass rustled around his legs.

  He stopped.

  Souls were beginning to appear on the pin.

  They sat on stones or stood among the grass like motionless figures of gray wax. Their faces were calm and empty. Their eyes stared into nothing.

  This was how most inhabitants of Limbo looked.

  They felt nothing.

  They remembered nothing.

  They simply waited.

  For a very long time.

  The young man walked slowly among them.

  He was used to these figures.

  But today something felt wrong.

  At first he did not understand what.

  Then he noticed.

  One of the souls looked at him.

  It was a very small movement.

  But it happened.

  A head turned.

  Empty eyes met his gaze for a brief moment.

  Then everything went still again.

  He stopped.

  That was not supposed to happen.

  Souls in Limbo were not meant to notice the world around them.

  They were not meant to react.

  The young man continued walking.

  After a while he heard a sound.

  A whisper.

  Very quiet.

  At first he thought it was the wind passing through the grass.

  But then he realized—

  It was a voice.

  Someone was speaking.

  He looked around.

  Several souls sat on nearby stones.

  Their lips moved slightly.

  But the words could not be understood.

  A feeling of unease rose in him.

  This had never happened before.

  Memory.

  Emotion.

  Whispers.

  All of it meant only one thing.

  The system was malfunctioning.

  And the malfunction was spreading.

  He quickened his pace.

  The pin gradually changed.

  Strange shapes began to appear in the distance.

  At first they looked like several stone hills.

  But as he drew closer the shapes became clearer.

  They were buildings.

  The young man stopped.

  Before him stood a vilge.

  But it looked strange.

  Very strange.

  The houses did not resemble one another.

  One looked like an old school.

  Another resembled a hospital ward.

  A third was part of a ruined apartment block.

  A fourth looked like a children’s pyground.

  All these pces stood side by side.

  Sometimes they even overpped.

  The walls of one house passed through the walls of another.

  Windows opened into empty air.

  Roofs overpped each other.

  It looked like a dream.

  But a broken dream.

  The young man slowly entered the vilge.

  The air here was heavier.

  The silence had grown tense.

  He saw souls.

  Many of them.

  They wandered among the houses.

  Some sat on benches.

  Some stood at windows.

  And almost all of them were crying.

  Quietly.

  Without sound.

  Tears ran down their faces.

  That was wrong.

  Souls were not meant to feel.

  But here everything was different.

  The young man walked slowly along the street.

  Then he noticed another strange thing.

  The houses were changing.

  One house transformed into another.

  A brick wall suddenly became white hospital tile.

  A school bckboard appeared in the middle of a kitchen.

  A swing hung directly in a corridor.

  Memories were blending together.

  Different lives intertwined.

  He understood.

  Someone was collecting memories.

  And assembling them together.

  At the center of the vilge stood a figure.

  She sat on the stone base of an old well.

  It was a woman.

  Her clothing resembled the uniform of the clerks.

  But she had changed.

  Her body had grown thin and almost transparent.

  Her skin was covered with a network of dark cracks.

  Her eyes glowed with soft silver light.

  The air around her trembled slowly.

  Memories drifted around her like a flock of birds.

  Voices.

  Laughter.

  Screams.

  Weeping.

  Fragments of other people’s lives.

  She was gathering them.

  Slowly.

  Carefully.

  Absorbing them into herself.

  The young man felt cold.

  Now everything was clear.

  The clerks had begun stealing memories.

  They were drawing them out of souls.

  Building their own worlds from them.

  But something dangerous was happening.

  When a memory left a soul, the soul began to feel.

  Pain.

  Fear.

  Longing.

  And then Limbo itself began to fall apart.

  The woman lifted her head.

  She had noticed him.

  For a moment they simply stared at one another.

  Then she smiled.

  Her voice was quiet and tired.

  “Another one.”

  The young man slowly drew the rod.

  The dark metal fshed in the dim light.

  He swung his hand.

  A bde of stars fred into existence.

  The woman ughed softly.

  Memories began to stir around her.

  The houses began to rearrange themselves.

  The street changed.

  Now a long school corridor stood before him.

  Doors smmed.

  Children’s voices echoed.

  The young man stepped forward.

  The corridor suddenly became a hospital ward.

  White walls.

  The smell of medicine.

  Somewhere nearby a child cried.

  He understood.

  She was using memories as weapons.

  Illusions tried to throw him off course.

  But the young man kept walking.

  Calmly.

  Confidently.

  He did not try to destroy the images.

  He simply passed through them.

  When he drew closer, the woman jumped to her feet.

  Memories spun faster.

  The street changed again.

  Now dozens of houses surrounded him.

  They moved.

  They folded into a byrinth.

  The young man quickened his pace.

  The bde of stars shimmered softly.

  Memories began attacking.

  Shadows of people emerged from the walls.

  Hands reached from windows.

  Voices screamed into his ears.

  But the young man did not stop.

  He walked straight ahead.

  Toward the center.

  The woman screamed.

  The byrinth began colpsing.

  Houses fell.

  Walls cracked.

  But he was already close.

  One motion.

  The star-bde traced a short arc.

  The woman froze.

  Surprise appeared on her face.

  Then her body slowly crumbled into silver dust.

  Memories burst free.

  They rose into the sky.

  Thousands of images fred above the vilge.

  People.

  Houses.

  Roads.

  The young man watched in silence.

  Then he understood something terrible.

  The released memories did not disappear.

  They returned to the souls.

  Across the pin voices began to rise.

  Souls lifted their heads.

  Some began to cry.

  Some screamed.

  Some remembered.

  The young man felt cold.

  The malfunctions were spreading.

  Much faster now.

  And then he heard a sound.

  Quiet.

  Familiar.

  The hum of a mechanism.

  The elevator.

  He turned.

  But no clerk stood nearby.

  A stone column stood alone.

  The elevator doors slowly opened.

  The young man watched them for a moment.

  Then he stepped inside.

  The doors closed.

  The elevator began to move.

  And across the pin the voices of awakening souls continued to rise.