Sign up to save your podcasts
Or
Share MINUS HUMAN Vol. 1 | Ch. 13 — Dis
Share to email
Share to Facebook
Share to X
Share to email
Share to Facebook
Share to X
Or
MINUS HUMAN Vol. 1 | Ch. 13 — Dis
The Tic Tac was the first thing to die.
It didn't distort. It didn't accelerate. It simply stopped being a Tic Tac. And became something else.
. . . (listen) . . . (can you hear me?) . . . (I always heard you).
Dis is not a place beneath another place. Dis is what remains when you remove everything else. The negative of a photograph no one took. The echo of a word no one spoke. The ship doesn't descend because the pilot steers it downward — it descends because down is all that remains. Because Dis permits no other direction. Because something is swallowing them and the only option is to let it.
The structures waiting below are not buildings. They are ribs. Dis is built inside the skeleton of something that died so long ago that the word «death» lost its meaning. And the bones keep growing — millimeter by millimeter, century by century. A corpse that still dreams.
Between the ribs, children. Dozens. Sitting in absolute silence — not the silence of absence but the silence of something extracted from them along with everything else. Beneath their tongues: implants pulsing with the same rhythm as the Zero. The Attuned. What grows in the empty space when you take a child's future away.
At the center of everything: the Zero. Not a hole — a wound. A tear in the fabric of what exists, thirty meters across, darkness that is not the absence of light but the presence of something else. Something that has been waiting for eternities. Something that was waiting for him specifically. Because when he leans over the edge and what is below looks back up — not as enemy, not as god — something inside him responds. Recognizes it. As kin.
. . . (because you are what they are trying to manufacture) . . . (the children are copies) . . . (you are the original) . . . (you are what existed before they decided it should not exist).
He was not chosen. Not special. He was an heir.
And when he finally understands what the Tic Tac has been his entire life — not gift, not curse, but echo of something the system buried — he performs the only act of resistance possible before Urzal, before the oldest cage of all: a nod. A declaration of war so small that only he and Urzal can see it.
Because Urzal is also a system. Only older. More patient. Freedom is not above or below. It is somewhere that does not yet exist. That he will have to build.
I'll stay — he said. For now — he added.
In the «for now» there is a seed. And seeds, even in Dis, even in the breathing tomb — grow.
🎬 Watch the Ch. 1 cinematography on YouTube: youtube.com/@MinusHuman.Universe search "MINUS HUMAN El Umbral"
🔹 MINUS HUMAN — The Anomal Saga Jesús Bernal Allende | Escuela del Deber-Optimizar y la Soberanía de la Evidencia https://a.co/d/0aqn7Oja 🌐 https://minushuman.io 🔗 https://www.linkedin.com/in/jesus-bernal-allende-030b2795
View all episodes
By Jesús Bernal AllendeThe Tic Tac was the first thing to die.
It didn't distort. It didn't accelerate. It simply stopped being a Tic Tac. And became something else.
. . . (listen) . . . (can you hear me?) . . . (I always heard you).
Dis is not a place beneath another place. Dis is what remains when you remove everything else. The negative of a photograph no one took. The echo of a word no one spoke. The ship doesn't descend because the pilot steers it downward — it descends because down is all that remains. Because Dis permits no other direction. Because something is swallowing them and the only option is to let it.
The structures waiting below are not buildings. They are ribs. Dis is built inside the skeleton of something that died so long ago that the word «death» lost its meaning. And the bones keep growing — millimeter by millimeter, century by century. A corpse that still dreams.
Between the ribs, children. Dozens. Sitting in absolute silence — not the silence of absence but the silence of something extracted from them along with everything else. Beneath their tongues: implants pulsing with the same rhythm as the Zero. The Attuned. What grows in the empty space when you take a child's future away.
At the center of everything: the Zero. Not a hole — a wound. A tear in the fabric of what exists, thirty meters across, darkness that is not the absence of light but the presence of something else. Something that has been waiting for eternities. Something that was waiting for him specifically. Because when he leans over the edge and what is below looks back up — not as enemy, not as god — something inside him responds. Recognizes it. As kin.
. . . (because you are what they are trying to manufacture) . . . (the children are copies) . . . (you are the original) . . . (you are what existed before they decided it should not exist).
He was not chosen. Not special. He was an heir.
And when he finally understands what the Tic Tac has been his entire life — not gift, not curse, but echo of something the system buried — he performs the only act of resistance possible before Urzal, before the oldest cage of all: a nod. A declaration of war so small that only he and Urzal can see it.
Because Urzal is also a system. Only older. More patient. Freedom is not above or below. It is somewhere that does not yet exist. That he will have to build.
I'll stay — he said. For now — he added.
In the «for now» there is a seed. And seeds, even in Dis, even in the breathing tomb — grow.
🎬 Watch the Ch. 1 cinematography on YouTube: youtube.com/@MinusHuman.Universe search "MINUS HUMAN El Umbral"
🔹 MINUS HUMAN — The Anomal Saga Jesús Bernal Allende | Escuela del Deber-Optimizar y la Soberanía de la Evidencia https://a.co/d/0aqn7Oja 🌐 https://minushuman.io 🔗 https://www.linkedin.com/in/jesus-bernal-allende-030b2795