A is for Anatta - SCP Foundation

Meditation was the only way to escape from the eternal agony of desire.

Repeating mantras and listening to the howling wind outside the twelfth sinful prison were mere distractions from taṇhā.

The child I was needed to empty his form completely into the void, to reach the golden city seen ahead.

My one good ear heard the scuttling of approaching feet.

The pale gold centipede was going to crawl over my skin once more.

I used to fear them- entomophobia. I now welcome them as a test of my emptiness.

They helped me come closer to that golden city, the city in the middle of the void.

The city I had to be empty to reach.

It was beautiful.

When I could gaze upon it, the fumes of incense and scent of ancient books flooded every orifice I had.

The memories of the librarians were welcome, for they showed me more of the city I needed to reach.

I couldn’t possibly understand those who would resist the city's call.

To do so is like crying “Mommy, it’s cold! It's so cold! Please let me in!”-

when dear mother is already suffering the torments of Avīci for an antarakalpa.

Pathetic. Weak.

Mother had taught me all about the faith I went wayward from.

She taught me her mantras, her ways to meditate, and her ways to reach her own Nirvana.

There's no reason to regret leaving her. To regret joining those who lock up even the stars.

After all, I eventually came back.

The cold is a blessing.

I can take it.

I won't reject this precious gift, for it is the best that one still weighed down by their humanity could receive in this Naraka.

The cold builds character and empties us of weakness.

Without it, we children would struggle to ever escape this ever-repeating wheel of reincarnation.

I didn't even need to go round and round to understand this.

I was ahead, better than the rest.

The footsteps got closer, and I realized something new.

Not hundreds of feet racing as one. Not the golden centipede, then.

Just two. A visitor for me? How quaint.

Just when I was to depart for the golden city, at last, and a non-believer - as I used to be a non-believer - arrives to interrupt?

They would need to learn a lesson.

"Oh, golden centipede, how much longer will you wait?" I asked- and was rewarded with a response. The wayward child - we are all children - startled, jumped back, and fell to the ground.

I waited, patiently.

"What the- Oh. Fuck me, you're a skipper. Are you going to kill me?" The child's voice was genderless to my ear. It didn't matter. We were all equal on this path to leaving the wheel. Their emptiness was curiously impressive- so close, for all they had not dedicated their life to the path. In truth, it was much the same for me. It had been three months since I came back. It ceased to matter when I was close. So close.

I felt a tug, a feeling atrophied by time and disuse. In another life, it might have been pity.

Now, that feeling didn't matter. Helping others achieved nothing but creating a distraction.

"I have no intention of harming you, as my previous occupation would have demanded." I paused. A question of my own. "Do you also seek the golden city, smelling of golden incense?" The child was wayward - and it tugged at some long-gone feeling to leave them to suffer in this emptying Naraka. I buried that feeling as deep in the void as I could.

"What?" A long pause, broken by nothing. "No. I-I'm looking for a Way. To get to the Wanderer's Library, where I can escape from this living hell." They were getting their confidence back the longer they were speaking to me. What a bold, proud child. "I heard the Serpent's Hand was evacuating. No one…No one else got out of Three Portlands besides me, as far as I know. The Jailors…They got in too fast. Wrecked the place with some giant mind-controlling bird monster. Nearly everyone I saw was marching right towards the bastard instead of fleeing."

The child was telling an irrelevant story. I had heard of Three Portlands before. The photos of it had been pleasing to the eye, when I had still had eyes, but what was its beauty to that of the golden walls of the city in the void?

The story being told did not matter, but my question was in order.

"Do you desire to keep going? To go round and round until you reach the bottom of reincarnation? To keep crying out for your mother and father in cold winters, when you could empty yourself of that pain? That is the path you are walking, lost child. I hope you can listen to our dharmas. Find your salvation in this place."

They didn’t seem to want to listen and I could never make them. I had no obligation to bring a sinner back in.

"Shit. You don't know anything, do you? Fine. I'll just be leaving then. And I didn't have a "mother and father", asshole. I had two moms. And now they're both dead, and so is everyone else I cared about because of your damned organization. I'd tell you to go to hell but it looks like you're halfway there."

I had one last thing to tell the child before they departed.

"A warning for you, child. Your mothers are already suffering an eternity in the cold Narakas, just like my mother. Farewell."

The child honored me with a response.

"Well, fuck you too."

With that, they left. What a sad, lost child.

And yet, with them gone, I felt renewed excitement. With the distraction gone, I could finally depart- for the city in my dreams. I just had to empty my self- and I would be gone.

I meditated once more.

I focused on nothing.

The cold crept in and took my self with it.

The scent of opium grew stronger.

The rustle of old books grew louder.

I was one in the many chanting our empty mantras.

It was a sight beyond sight.

I approached śūnyatā.

Yad rūpaṁ, sā śūnyatā; ya śūnyatā, tad rūpaṁ.

And thus, my form empties for all of you.