Ashes of the Deep

Outside the window, the endless fog rolled so thick that it seemed as if the whole world had disappeared on the other side of the fog, and only the chaotic light of the sky penetrated the fog and shone into the room, keeping a half-yellow and half-bright light in this quiet room. In the slightly messy bachelor's apartment, Zhou Ming was sitting at his desk, the clutter on the table was rudely pushed aside, and the haggard man was writing angrily: "On the 7th day, the situation has not changed, the situation has not changed, the situation has not changed, the situation has not changed, the situation has not changed......". "On the seventh day, the situation did not change in the slightest, and a thick fog enveloped everything outside the window, which was blocked by an unknown force...... The entire room seems to be "projected" into some kind of anomalous space by something...... "There was no way to communicate with the outside world, no electricity or water, but the lights were on and the computer was on, even though I had unplugged it..... Plug" As if there was a sudden sound of wind outside the window, Brant, who was immersed in writing in a diary, raised his head suddenly, and the light in his haggard eyes lit up slightly. However, in the next second, he realized that it was just his own hallucination, and there was still nothing outside the window except the lingering pale mist, and the solid, dead world was coldly enveloping his little snail home. His gaze swept over the windowsill to see the wrenches and hammers that had been discarded haphazardly—traces of the past few days when he had tried to leave the room, but now the hard, rough tools were just lying there silently, as if mocking his predicament. After a few seconds, Brant's expression regained his composure, one by one. With this unusual calmness, he lowered his head again and continued to write: I was trapped, completely ignorant, and in the last few days I even tried to tear down the roof, walls, and floors, but with all my strength, I couldn't leave any marks on the walls, and the room became like ..... The room becomes like a box "cast" in space, and there is no way out..... This is even more wrong. Brandt paused again, slowly examining the handwriting he had just left behind, and then flipped through his diary somewhat absentmindedly, looking at what he had left behind these days—depressing words, pointless rambling and irritating scribbles, and sneer jokes he wrote when he tried to force his mind to relax. He didn't know what the point of writing all this was, he didn't know who he was going to show this nonsense to in the future, and in fact, he wasn't even used to keeping a diary - as a middle school teacher with rather limited free time, he didn't have much energy to spend on it. But now, whether you like it or not, he has a lot of free time. When he woke up, he was trapped in his room. Outside the window was a thick fog that wouldn't dissipate, so thick that you couldn't even see anything but the fog, and the whole world seemed to have lost its alternation of day and night, filling the room in a constant dim light twenty-four hours a day. The windows are locked, the water and electricity are cut off, there is no cell phone signal, and no matter how loud the noise you make in the room, you can't elicit any help from the outside world. It's like a dystopian nightmare, where everything goes against the laws of nature, but Brandt has tried everything to make sure of one thing: there are no hallucinations or dreams here, just a world that is no longer normal and a temporarily normal self. I was trapped, completely ignorant, and in the last few days I even tried to tear down the roof, walls, and floors, but with all my strength, I couldn't leave any marks on the walls, and the room became like ..... The room becomes like a box "cast" in space, and there is no way out..... This is even more wrong. Brandt paused again, slowly examining the handwriting he had just left behind, and then flipped through his diary somewhat absentmindedly, looking at what he had left behind these days—depressing words, pointless rambling and irritating scribbles, and sneer jokes he wrote when he tried to force his mind to relax. He didn't know what the point of writing all this was, he didn't know who he was going to show this nonsense to in the future, and in fact, he wasn't even used to keeping a diary - as a middle school teacher with rather limited free time, he didn't have much energy to spend on it. But now, whether you like it or not, he has a lot of free time. When he woke up, he was trapped in his room. Outside the window is a thick fog that won't dissipate, so thick that you can't even see anything except the fog, the whole world seems to have lost its day and night cycle, twenty-four hours a day, the room is filled with a constant dim light, the windows are locked, the water and electricity are cut off, there is no cell phone signal, no matter how much commotion you make in the room, you can't get any help from the outside world. It's like a dystopian nightmare, where everything goes against the laws of nature, but Brandt has tried everything to make sure of one thing: there are no hallucinations or dreams here, just a world that is no longer normal and a temporarily normal self. Eight hours later, Brant opened his eyes. Outside the window, there was still a chaotic fog, and the light of day and night carried an oppressive haze. Ignoring the situation outside the window, Brant took out the food from what little reserve he had, ate one-eighth of it, and walked to the dressing mirror in the corner of the room. He stared at the mirror like this for a few minutes, and then whispered to himself, as if to speak to the person in the mirror, "Your name is Zhou, at least here, your name is Zhou, always remember this." The man in the mirror still had a messy head of hair that looked rather messy and unremarkable, but Brant still stared at himself in the mirror with a lethal intensity, as if to imprint this look in his mind permanently. It wasn't until then that he turned away. He stared at the mirror for a few minutes, then whispered to himself, as if to say to the person in the mirror, "Your name is Brandt, at least on this side of the world, your name is Brandt, and you should always remember that." Coming to the familiar door, Brant took a deep breath and put his hand on the doorknob. Other than his clothes, he hadn't brought anything extra with him, neither food nor defense gear, a lesson learned from his previous "explorations" - there was no way he could bring anything through the door other than himself. Brant turned the handle and pushed open the door, and a grayish-black mist that rose and fell like a curtain appeared in front of him, and in the rising and falling mist he seemed to hear the sound of the waves coming into his ears. Stepping through the layer of fog, the slightly fishy and salty sea breeze greeted him, the illusory sound of the waves in his ears became real, and a slight rocking sensation came from under his feet, Zhou Ming opened his eyes after a short period of dizziness, and in front of his eyes was a wide and empty wooden deck, the towering masts that stood under the dark and cloudy skies, as well as the slightly undulating sea surface outside the ship's head where he couldn't see any boundaries at all. Brant lowered his head, and what he saw was a body that was a bit stronger than he remembered, a captain's uniform that appeared to be exquisitely crafted and costly, but in a style that was completely unfamiliar, a pair of bony palms, and a classically beautiful black grafted pistol in his hand. Yes, even "itself" was a question mark.