Crayota - LetterPile - Writing and Literature
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Crayota

Darius is a former high school literary and feature writer with a Bachelor of Science degree in Information and Communications Technology.

Asleep

A certain point of time in the future where the scientific groups and religious sectors of the world merged and opened up new possibilities for innovation and discoveries the world hasn't seen before.

The hallmark of their hard work is proof of the existence of souls. Yes, you read that right — the existence of the soul in every human being. Although to where it goes when the person dies and to where it comes from in the first place are still the biggest questions both groups want to attain.

Yet, these people have made tremendous efforts in establishing a new era of scientific and religious renaissance and building the new fundamentals of study and research. One of their most remarkable and innovative product is down to the size of a pea — the CrayotA Chip, manufactured by a single company, CrayotA Inc.

CrayotA Inc., Leading Your Soul for the Best Tomorrow

This chip serves as the sledgehammer that smashed all barriers and borders; all feuds and disputes between the religious sector and scientific field of the world, thus uniting them in the progress of greater technological and spiritual advance. The common people don't really know how these professionals and "cardinals" did it or how they make it done in factories or warehouses located on places unsearchable by the majority, but some point of time a few years ago, they discovered that they could store these souls in portable and well-secured devices and later on the lead to the creation of GreenView, a supercomputer generated augmented reality world where these souls can live out their lives again without fear of aging, pain, or death. Since its development, families could either choose to go or not to go to GreenView when one of their members die of accidents, diseases, old age, or other causes.

Though, it didn't all easily happen in just snap of a finger. Just imagine the length of years for humans to finally accept it's existence, usage, and discovery. A bunch of authentic and legitimate experts from both worlds, science and religion, were all skeptic and questionated about the its whole principles. There also have been plenty of moral and ethical issues that arose regarding the new technology and activists have surged and protested through the past years for its discontinuation. But its creations and operations were not completely hindered, nevertheless, it helped millions of people to have a place they could call "heaven on Earth."

"Yes, Mr. Davidson... is that correct?"

Spoken by a woman, seemingly overdressed as one of the company's receptionist, casually shifting her glasses that keeps on falling off her nose bridge.

"We have your papers of the applications right here and the staff have already evaluated them."

She flips one, two, three pages and scans the whole rest of the body of the paper. The man, who's waiting for his replies, looked around and sees more other people waiting in line and communicating with the other receptionists. More different stories coming from different backgrounds, he thought.

"Ah! Here it is; here are the 'important' papers and summaries, the payment briefings and details, the terms and agreements, the waivers... basically all of the contracts that you need to fill out with their corresponding private information."

She handed them one-by-one, each paper has a different color and different size and each paper stack thicker than the last.

"All of this?"

science-fiction-black-mirror-the-chip

Mr. Davidson said, staring at a his humungous stack of paper held by both of his hands with a grim, almost discomforted look on his face.

"Yes. All of it."

The receptionist said in a straightforward, stoic manner. Mr. Davidson looked at her and wore an awkward smile before walking away slowly, awkwardly into a sofa by the side of the building. He sat and placed his who-knows-how-much-pieces-of-paper pile above a small, rounded, mahogany table. He looked to his side, outside where a view of buzzing and busy cars and people roam the city streets. He needs to do the "thing", plus a bunch of surprise paperwork, he thought, and later on filled out the papers without leaving a single blank, not missing a single box, with the best and true information he could provide.

"Please expect the delivery of your item within a month or two and for the last bit of processing requirements, please provide us your primary contact details and we'll message you about your package's updates and status."

Awake

The receptionist said. She smiled at him casually, this time, which was pretty odd for him. Though, he did provide every bit of his contact details while thinking "within a month or two" over and over in his head. This continued for weeks while anticipating for his delivery. He felt unnerving excitement of seeing other delivered boxes in front of his doorsteps made him sweat coldly in the early morning while, at the same time, felt tremendous doubts because of the continuous overthinking that has kept him anxious at night. But throughout his day, he had the feeling of the tiniest joy and hope, a hope for something he could fully "grasp" and can expect. The seemingly endless cycle of contemplation gradually disappeared until as if he's living his every day like another normal, working, boring day. Until one fateful night, while finally arriving at his home, he finally saw the package that has been delivered in front of his doorstep

"CrayotA Inc.," it says in the front of the packaging. The box was almost human in size, but surprisingly light to carry. He brought it inside, placed in the living room, and sat in front of it, staring, until finally deciding to get it over with.

Ripping out the sides, taking off the thick lines of sticky tape, and finally pulling off its multi-layered bubble wrap protection, it unraveled the package inside. It's a human-like mannequin complete with all the features and details a human could have, entirely colored in shiny, glimmering silver, standing upright a few centimeters below Mr. Davidson. It's the right height, he thought. He looked through the package and found a smaller box, containing an instructions manual, product detail catalog, and a small chip inside a small plastic packaging. It's the CrayotA Chip, and the chip, if he's not mistaken, contains the soul of a very special someone. He reads the instructions manual through and through while taking long, deep breaths, with interchanging looks between the chip placed beside his cup of wine and the book held by his right hand. After two long hours of facepalms, hair fixing, and walking around in circles, Mr. Davidson has finally decided.

He grabbed the chip by his pointy and thumb fingers, slowly and safely carried it, placed it by the side of the mannequin-like head, and he watched as it slowly descends inside like being swallowed in a pool of quicksand.

He took three steps back, his eyes fixated on the figure, and within seconds — the figure, "magically", transformed into a beautiful woman. Mr. Davidson began falling in his knees; his eyes watering, hands were cold and shaking, but his face says he's never been happiest than before or felt the happiest again in a very long time.

"Sarah?"

He whispered; the woman walked closer to him, slowly. She cupped her hand across the left side of his cheek while Mr. Davidson held her hand tightly in place, fell on his knees and seemingly noticing drops of tears pouring from his eyes,

"Hello, Mark. It's great to see you again."

To be Continued...

© 2019 Darius Razzle Paciente