Clang—Splash.
Clang—Thud.
Mud clumps together, then crumbles and scatters, breaking apart as it falls, only to coalesce once more. The sound of this ongoing process conjures an image in the mind—a scene that might be mere fantasy, or perhaps something that’s actually unfolding right now.
The crumpled mud spreads outward with a squelching noise. It breaks into countless fragments of varying sizes, some small and others large, scattering in all directions. These fragments float in the air momentarily before falling to the ground, sticking to walls and then oozing down slowly. Perhaps what’s left behind at the start never truly settled but instead has been flowing all along, creating its own unique form as it bursts and spreads.
And these scattered fragments begin to move, twitching.
They move slowly, similar to a brown slug covered entirely in mud, twisting and wriggling. Yet unlike a slug, they leave no slimy trail as they gather together swiftly, their movements both eerie and relentless.
As the fragments come together, they form larger droplets, much like water droplets merging into one larger one. These enlarged forms continue to grow steadily, as if absorbing some unseen external energy. It’s a strange, almost rejuvenating process similar to plants drinking deeply from water and growing rapidly, sprouting new life almost before our very eyes.
Thus, the mud doll grows into the shape of a human.
But its human form is far too unstable.
It dares not challenge the works of the divine, unable to maintain its imitation of man for more than a fleeting moment before collapsing. Some parts melt away like chocolate left too long in the summer heat. Others lean precariously upon pillars that have grown too thin to support their mass, collapsing suddenly with a wet thud.
Once briefly resembling a human, the mud doll now lies flat, scattering its remains around it.
Yet despite this scattering, the yearning behind it does not change.
And so, the mud moves again, seeking to reunite into one cohesive form.
Dreaming of becoming human, it strives to mold itself into such a shape.
This is its anguish, its discipline, its ordeal.
Were a deity to witness this spectacle, it might marvel at the attempt and lend its power to transform the mud into a genuine human. How truly commendable is this endeavor—it would seem unjust not to call it human!
Nevertheless, perspective changes everything, as it is the nature of laws.
“How can mud possibly become human? Such a claim is contrary to civilization’s wisdom. We can only illuminate the truth through the light of civilization.”
Finally, Jinseong has arrived.
Through pitch-black darkness, through the maze of sharp shapes that seemed to threaten his life at every step, he at last reached the end. There, a humanoid figure stood, repeatedly rising and falling, its form grotesque beyond compare.
Its skin was a muddy brown, and its large eyes repeatedly shattered and reassembled. The face’s deep furrows resembled malice incarnate. Its bloated body appeared as if it had stolen every morsel of food from its neighbor, devouring it without restraint. Clearly, this was not an embodiment of virtue.
Allah once proclaimed that among creatures, there is something both foul and impure: a pig. Oh, how might consuming this foul beast endlessly lead to such a form as this?
Surely, its grotesque appearance suggests it is a corruption taking on the form of a human—a clear sign of an evil being and one of Iblis’s minions.
It must originate from an uncivilized place where heresies abound like grains of sand.
Indeed, it is a blighted, accursed being, one that must not exist in this world, an affront to the divine.
Let not his defiled blood be spilled here.
“Consider this: There exist seeds of life in this world, as Aristotle once stated. These seeds grow according to their environment, becoming all that we see around us. But are plants, animals, and humans truly equal? Do they all germinate and flourish from the same seed of life?”
Let not his defiled blood be spilled here.
“Ah, the seed of life is carried within the semen of man, much like how a farmer sows a seed, while the womb of a woman is the fertile field. To those who seek the truth, I ask: If we can conjure a human form from this seed through natural means, does it represent the path to truth?”
Let not his defiled blood be spilled here.
“Craft a flask and place the seed within. Through scientific method, process it. A proper environment will allow arms and legs to grow, heads to emerge, and humans to form. We call these beings ‘little humans’ since they can only flourish within the flask. It is our endeavor to make them survive and thrive outside.”
How can mud imitate a human?
The seed of life can create all life, but to become a human, it requires the womb of a woman or something that mimics her. Mud cannot create a human—it is simply a fact!
Therefore, as a member of civilization, I declare this creation is not truly human but merely an imitation.
“The disciple asked his master, ‘Where do such creatures come from?’ The master replied, ‘Have you ever seen fleas leap from dust?’ The disciple responded, ‘Indeed, I have observed fleas leaping from dust.’ ‘Therefore,’ the master taught, ‘fleas arise from dust—it is a natural process.’ ”
What, then, is mere imitation?
If motion is imparted to the body and it carries within it the seed of life, what is it truly?
I proclaim the answer: dust on the human form does not make it human; it is merely part of the environment. If the seed of life collides with the dust, what should then grow must naturally spring from the dust.
Dust collided with the seed of life; therefore, you are a flea.
Drip.
Splatter.
The mud doll begins to fall apart.
Tiny dust-like fragments cascade to the ground, repeatedly bouncing and jumping back up, behaving as if alive. They cling briefly to the mud doll as if mistaking it for flesh, only to be buried within it and meet their futile demise.
“Have you seen shrimp? Or the wriggling eel? They’re often found in clear water but appear more frequently in turbid mud. Observe carefully a mud-filled trough and watch as previously settled mud floats anew, revealing shrimp and eels. This is a natural occurrence.”
The moisture-soaked mud is akin to the churned-up sludge of a pit.
Thus, something begins to emerge from within the mud doll’s body.
These squirming beings, falling to the ground, begin flailing and wriggling like snakes, leaving behind trails of viscous fluids as they crawl upon the ground, tainting the mud doll with their foul stench.
“Have you seen rotten meat? Have you seen maggots wriggling, feeding on decaying flesh and growing plump on corpse remains? These creatures clean as they consume, though they are birthed from the tainted combination of decaying flesh and dirt.”
Thus, the mud doll begins to fall apart as maggots wriggle out of its broken form, feasting on it as if it were a sumptuous meal. They writhe tirelessly, filling the mud doll with the pale glow of their glistening bodies, much like a doll coated in a chalky white pigment.
From afar, it appears so indeed.
But whitewash cannot transform anything into a human.
Through civilized logic, this is the undeniable truth.
Splatter.
In the end, the imitation can no longer hold, and it collapses entirely.
So the mud doll breaks down into swarms of beetles, maggots, shrimp, and eels, leaving only its trace behind. All traces of its unholy ambition vanished; the creature has dissolved into tiny creatures.
It was indeed a natural occurrence.
But how could it simply vanish?
For the maggots who fed on its flesh, surely the meat and blood remain inside them.
If the mud doll contained poison, so too would the maggots. If it held the potential for medicine, the same would apply to these creatures.
Ah!
The maggots are now imbued with curses and misfortune.
“Vermin cannot carry the soul of man, hence they are mere objects. Thus, these creatures are akin to divine artifacts.”
And the maggots move in response to Jinseong’s gestures.
Whoever controls these wretched, ominous creatures?
Whoever commands these flies’ larvae?
*
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Above to below.
Light fixtures shatter one after another.
It descends from the hotel’s top floor, progressing rapidly to the lower levels.
“…Something is…”
Something is.
Coming.
“Descending.”
From above to below.
It approaches…
