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Description
SO I GOT THIS CONCEPT HEAR ME OUT-

"A sterile room separated from me by a wall of glass. Tubes, wires, sensors, screens. A table similar to an operating one.

The silence that makes my ears ring.

The girl was not older than ten years old. I didn't know whether to be happy about it or not. She still has about four more years of such existence before she would be disposed of and replaced with a new baby, which would become new Pneuma. Everything that the previous one stored would be transferred to it, and it would grow in such conditions until puberty. And then the cycle would resume again.

The child would be blinded, deprived of hearing, voice, sense of smell, taste, the ability to feel pain and temperature, and almost completely - of tactile sensations. He or she would be deprived of everything that can form a personal experience, opinion and memories. The fate of Pneuma is to be the guardian of the mental. The keeper of knowledge, memories, feelings and emotions of others. The body of Pneuma is a vessel for consciousness. The consciousness of the Pneuma is a vessel for the experience of others.

If we needed a simple database - we would design and create some kind of machine, which we already did. But Pneuma... Pneuma combined the living, the human and the mechanical. She experienced thousands of other people's lives at the same time, floating in memories and emotions. She had thousands of personalities and was deprived of any at the same time. A myriad of other people's thoughts and reflections raced through her mind. Like a puzzle, her mind was fragmented into countless parts, where each part was a unique experience of others, and these parts, when combined, formed a picture of the past and present. A picture from the point of view of humanity, where facts and logic were intertwined with the irrational and sensual. Pneuma is a chronicle of emotions.

I stared at the girl, unable to look away. I was terrified and delighted, I was completely numb and seemed to even stop breathing.

Her chest rose and fell slowly, rhythmically, and this was perhaps the only thing that distinguished her from the corpse. Thin, extremely pale, with long, very long white thin hair. And she was all wrapped up in tubes and wires that kept her alive and transmitted information from one source to another.

The silence was heavy and deafening.

I felt my father's hand on my shoulder and twitched, finally coming out of my stupor. The table under Pneuma also trembled slightly and began to lean forward. The restraining mechanisms on her wrists released them and slowly transformed into handrails, which the girl gently clasped, opening her empty, white irises surrounded by dark scleras.

I will never forget their look.

Not a single muscle moved on her face, remaining motionless as an empty mask, but her eyes seemed to contain the whole world. I do not know how to describe it.

There was everything in Pneuma and there was nothing.

She took a few steps, holding onto the handrails that extended from the floor in front of her, and stopped in front of the glass that separated us. Right in front of me. I was afraid. And I didn't even know what of exactly.

I don't know why, but instinctively I pressed my palm against the glass. Pneuma did the same. My fingers covered her small, child palm, but I still felt much smaller than this creature.

She slowly began to move her lips.

And I repeated.

She didn't have a voice, but for some reason I understood everything, and I whispered this mantra. We looked into each other's eyes. And somehow I knew that she saw and knew me, even though she was blind.

"We were born of one breath," I whispered together with Pneuma. "One word."

Breath... It was in the same rhythm as hers. And even the heartbeat, apparently, too.

And then I closed my eyes and, as it seems to me, ceased to exist."

inspired by TOOL - Pneuma

Description
SO I GOT THIS CONCEPT HEAR ME OUT-

"A sterile room separated from me by a wall of glass. Tubes, wires, sensors, screens. A table similar to an operating one.

The silence that makes my ears ring.

The girl was not older than ten years old. I didn't know whether to be happy about it or not. She still has about four more years of such existence before she would be disposed of and replaced with a new baby, which would become new Pneuma. Everything that the previous one stored would be transferred to it, and it would grow in such conditions until puberty. And then the cycle would resume again.

The child would be blinded, deprived of hearing, voice, sense of smell, taste, the ability to feel pain and temperature, and almost completely - of tactile sensations. He or she would be deprived of everything that can form a personal experience, opinion and memories. The fate of Pneuma is to be the guardian of the mental. The keeper of knowledge, memories, feelings and emotions of others. The body of Pneuma is a vessel for consciousness. The consciousness of the Pneuma is a vessel for the experience of others.

If we needed a simple database - we would design and create some kind of machine, which we already did. But Pneuma... Pneuma combined the living, the human and the mechanical. She experienced thousands of other people's lives at the same time, floating in memories and emotions. She had thousands of personalities and was deprived of any at the same time. A myriad of other people's thoughts and reflections raced through her mind. Like a puzzle, her mind was fragmented into countless parts, where each part was a unique experience of others, and these parts, when combined, formed a picture of the past and present. A picture from the point of view of humanity, where facts and logic were intertwined with the irrational and sensual. Pneuma is a chronicle of emotions.

I stared at the girl, unable to look away. I was terrified and delighted, I was completely numb and seemed to even stop breathing.

Her chest rose and fell slowly, rhythmically, and this was perhaps the only thing that distinguished her from the corpse. Thin, extremely pale, with long, very long white thin hair. And she was all wrapped up in tubes and wires that kept her alive and transmitted information from one source to another.

The silence was heavy and deafening.

I felt my father's hand on my shoulder and twitched, finally coming out of my stupor. The table under Pneuma also trembled slightly and began to lean forward. The restraining mechanisms on her wrists released them and slowly transformed into handrails, which the girl gently clasped, opening her empty, white irises surrounded by dark scleras.

I will never forget their look.

Not a single muscle moved on her face, remaining motionless as an empty mask, but her eyes seemed to contain the whole world. I do not know how to describe it.

There was everything in Pneuma and there was nothing.

She took a few steps, holding onto the handrails that extended from the floor in front of her, and stopped in front of the glass that separated us. Right in front of me. I was afraid. And I didn't even know what of exactly.

I don't know why, but instinctively I pressed my palm against the glass. Pneuma did the same. My fingers covered her small, child palm, but I still felt much smaller than this creature.

She slowly began to move her lips.

And I repeated.

She didn't have a voice, but for some reason I understood everything, and I whispered this mantra. We looked into each other's eyes. And somehow I knew that she saw and knew me, even though she was blind.

"We were born of one breath," I whispered together with Pneuma. "One word."

Breath... It was in the same rhythm as hers. And even the heartbeat, apparently, too.

And then I closed my eyes and, as it seems to me, ceased to exist."

inspired by TOOL - Pneuma