Beyond The Looking Glass - Words of the Unseen - Chapter 165

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𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻

Beyond The Looking Glass is the second book in the Unseen series, a story that came to me from the other side. A story where I thought I was just the narrator until I heard the Words of the Unseen.

This second story goes beyond time and place and mixes the long ago with the here and now. Because history keeps repeating, until we learn and do something about it.

Click Back Button to Start At The Beginning

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Beyond The Looking Glass - Words of the Unseen - Chapter 165

Dear Reader, it soon will be time to say goodbye.

Your company has been so very special, you showed me a mirror even when I was not looking.

What did I show you? Was I able to show you anything at all?

The truth is, I will admit. I had no clue where we were going when we started this journey.

Now that it is all coming to an end, at least temporarily, I know what is next. I finally know what the hell I am doing here, but how about you, Dear Reader?

Then I get distracted, not by screens, not by noise.

Well, yes, by noise, but not mechanical noise. I hear a different humming, a human humming.

I am drawn to a place far from the boy.
The gates, they are still the same gates.

"Welcome on Avalon"

I follow the humming sound, or rather, I am drawn to it rapidly, but along the way, I do catch a glimpse here and there of my surroundings, but I lack time to process.

The sun rising, filtered through wide glass windows that open to a sweep of hills. I see the origin of the sound she stretches into her body, her muscles alive and grateful for the rest, her mind clear just as her humming.

The air smells faintly of herbs, and she is taking it all in, not by visor, just through breathing, slowly, deliberately, feeling her chest rise and fall.

Her morning is quiet, but not empty. She gets up and tends to her plants, their colors vivid, textures grounding. She drinks water slowly, tasting it, noticing its coolness.

I enter her, and notice how her mind is not at war with itself, not starved for novelty. Somehow, she has built a rhythm that keeps her rooted.

When we step into the village square, she is known. Children run past her and wave; neighbors pause to greet her. Conversation flows without urgency, faces are present, eyes are steady.

There is music, not recorded, but played, as someone strums a guitar in the corner of the square. The pace of life is slower, but it hums with connection.

Work, in the traditional sense, no longer exists, but I feel a sense of purpose. Part of it is in how we help newcomers navigate the shift from overstimulated dependence to quiet autonomy.

We listen. We teach them how to cook, how to plant seeds, how to withstand the silence that can feel unbearable at first.

She has been raised knowing that silence is not emptiness, it is space for the self to emerge.

Part of me knows her as this beautiful, bodyless soul, free from any human wounds. She moves through the world with the weightless ease of someone who has remembered where she comes from, a place of wholeness, of belonging that doesn’t need proof.

Where the boy always felt in a rush, she lingers.
Her presence is not loud, but a quiet steadiness that pulls chaos into order without force.

I sense her freedom, that freedom is not the absence of responsibility; it is the deep alignment with her own essence.

She reminds me that not all battles are meant to be fought, not all hungers must be fed, not all silences are empty.

There is more; there is something she has not shown me yet. She has a thriving daily life in the post-work, post-overload society.

It´s almost like she knows I am here, here within her.

"I do know you are here, Merlin of Avalon. You told me you would visit me one day, and you told me what I could show you."

Stunned, I nearly let go of the body.

"Sorry ehh.." I stammer.

"Martia, I am your granddaughter, or will be in your time. You told me I could show you my life in Avalon, but not reveal anything of the future, other than what I just showed you."

I nod. That was a lesson I had learned a long time ago, even though I had received some out-of-time hints back then, due to a talkative entity.

"So I suggest you look away now...."
She smiles secretively, as if I should know something I do not.

"Thank you, I will," I say, still dumbstruck.

Martia turns away from me. She walks toward a big bunker-like building. She is still humming, and that humming makes me follow her; it´s like an unseen thread leading me behind her as a puppy on a string.

The place doesn´t look like much at first glance, but when I slip closer, pressed into shadow, I see movement.

A glow behind a steel door, faint at first, then pulsing — not the cold, sterile blue of corporate screens, but something warmer, alive.

Inside, Martia stands at the center. She is unmistakable: calm, still, while everything around her hums like a storm.

Her people cluster around banks of old machines hacked into impossible configurations: dismantled VR rigs, rewired servers, jury-rigged projectors feeding streams of code into what looks like smoke.

I can not suppress a smile. They’re fighting fire with fire.

Big tech against, against what? A more humane tech?

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Next Chapter Coming in Two Days

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Click Back Button to Start with Book One

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Post Related To Closing Book One and Opening Book Two

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The Closure A Personal Story With A Soundtrack:
Personal Story With A Soundtrack - A New Adventure - Part 1
Personal Story With A Soundtrack - A New Adventure - Part 2

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The Closure - Greatest Hits For A Never-Ending Story:
Greatest Hits From My Book "Beyond Doubt: Whispers of the Unseen"

The Closure - Alice in ArtWorkLand:
ALICE In AI ArtWorkLand - A Crazy Man´s Revelations

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