SEVENTY-SIX
For the third time, I was going to use the eye of Psion.
When I gave in to the questioning thoughts echoing in my head I mentally prepared myself for the burden that came with using the psychic amulet.
But still, no amount of anticipation or mental preparedness was enough to keep me from feeling the full brunt of the eye of Psion.
Immediately I looked into Hassan's eye I got sucked into one of his memories. It only took one gaze to witness more than a thousand seconds of his memories.
The few moments that it took for our gazes to be made and broken nearly sent me to the ground. My head felt like it was swelling and throbbing so intensely that it seemed like it might burst... But that didn't happen...
As terrible as it was, it was not as bad as my experience with the Loucura virus. However, there was something unusual about this time using the eye of Psion that I hadn't noticed the previous two times.
"What is it?"Hassan asked as he paused, waiting for me to speak.
Even Sky was eagerly waiting to hear what I had to say. However, my mind was still unstable after the amount of information I had gotten from Hassan's past.
The most frustrating part of the experience was that I didn't discover what I was searching for.
Using the eye of Psion was like diving into the ocean's waves and hoping to find a needle; incredibly challenging and uncertain.
When Hassan asked if I was okay, my brain was processing information so rapidly that I couldn't comprehend what he was saying until many moments later.
The memory that the eye of Psion brought me into was completely unrelated to the questions I had in mind.
As I peered into the depths of Hassan's eyes, I could glimpse just one small part of his extensive collection of memories.
It felt like I was both experiencing it and observing it at the same time.
I could see things from both his perspective and a third-person view simultaneously. The third-person point of view gazed at every inch of space that was being shown.
Hassan was in a colorful room that had a scarce amount of furniture in it. The room was filled with various toys, such as Lego pieces, puzzle parts, stuffed animals, and small bean bags scattered around randomly.
The colors of the room were bright as if it was intended to evoke happiness. It didn't seem like something made for adults ( the toys gave this fact away ), it seemed like it was made for children.
And it indeed was...
The Hassan I was looking at bore no semblance to the one I knew... If I wasn't in the mind of the adult Hassan I wouldn't have recognized that it was him...
The Hassan I was observing appeared significantly younger, with a chubby body, and his eyes weren't as vacant and hollow as they were in his adult self.
In short, the Hassan I witnessed seemed much happier; he smiled more and giggled so often that it made me question if that child was truly him.
He wasn't alone in the colorful room. There was someone else with him. There was a young girl of the same height as him in the room.
She was jumping around and shouting random words that didn't appear to have any meaning. Observing them, I could estimate that they were both around 3 years old.
The girl was dressed in adorable black overalls, and her hair was styled into two ponytails.
Her hair was perhaps the curliest I had ever seen.
Although she appeared less plump than Hassan and seemed frail, as if she might be ill, her energetic movements suggested that she might be healthier than her appearance indicated.
"Haiyan!" While she screamed, she lifted her tiny leg into the air and thrust it forward as if trying to kick at the air.
Little Hassan was right beside her, copying her every move and sound. They both seemed quite clumsy as they attempted random fighting moves, but it was clear they were having a lot of fun.
They definitely were, because every time they landed a kick on the floor, Hassan would burst into laughter at their antics, while the other girl just got right back up to continue her playful moves.
'What resilience! ' I thought as I watched the girl enthusiastically send her amateur kicks flying into the air.
"Easy there, both of you," a mature and refined voice echoed through the room, clearly coming from an older person.
"Mum!" Hassan exclaimed with excitement, rushing up to a young woman who seemed to be in her twenties.
She had doe-like eyes that matched her pointed nose and high cheekbones. It seemed like I was looking at a more feminine version of Hassan.
Actually, I can't even say that; Hassan's beauty was overshadowed by his mother's. He seemed like a watered-down clone of her.
His mother didn't appear entirely feminine either. If she wasn't wearing a dress and her long hair trailing down to her shoulders, I might not have been able to tell that she was a woman.
She had a mysterious aura that added to her attractiveness. While I watched her, my heart began to beat faster.
It almost seemed like she was looking at me, which made me anxious, but I couldn't help but be captivated by her beauty.
Her height was so impressive that I initially thought she might be wearing heels. She was certainly tall, and even in the loose dress that didn't emphasize her features, you could tell that she had a slender build.
"Hassan, it's time to go," she called out to him. The little boy had chubby cheeks and looked nothing like his mother. His eyes were round, and his face had a heart shape that ended in the cutest jaw. He was the most adorable child.
"What about Eni?" he asked as he went to take the little girl's hand.
She had long stopped her playful kicks and was now facing Hassan's mother with a mix of fear, awe, and respect in her expression.
"Good evening, Hassan's mum," the little girl's words were clear and well-enunciated, in contrast to Hassan's, who still seemed to be learning how to pronounce some phrases.
Hassan's mother's lips formed the most genuinely cheerful smile. A moment ago, her expression had been as plain as that of a model on a runway, but now her smile illuminated her face with a vivid liveliness.
"How are you doing?" She bent down to pick up the little girl, who seemed thrilled and giggled as she was lifted up and down in mid-air.
After gently setting the girl on the floor, her face returned to a blank and indifferent expression. It appeared that Older Hassan had inherited more than just looks from his mother.
"Your parents will come to pick you up soon," she said and then paused for a moment before turning to walk toward the door.
A middle-aged woman just arrived for the first time, from outside the playroom. It appeared she was responsible for taking care of the numerous children that were supposed to be there.
It seemed like the place was a daycare. However, I couldn't obtain that information from the memory, as young Hassan had no understanding of the place's purpose.
'Eniola,' I thought. It appeared that Hassan's mother had a name similar to his friend Eni. She was called Eni, but what were the odds that they had the same names?
"Bye, Eni" Hassan turned and waved, as if he was reluctant to leave her, waving at her with each passing moment.
However, Eni wasn't as expressive as Hassan. She simply watched them as they walked away, her eyes devoid of any emotions that suggested she would miss him.
The middle-aged woman rushed behind Hassan's mum with two tiny bags in her hand. She followed Hassan and his mum past a corridor that led outside to a wider space that was empty and had one car parked in it.
The middle-aged woman hurried after Hassan's mother with two small bags in her hand. She followed them down a corridor that led to an open area outside, which was mostly empty except for a single parked car.
As they neared the door of the normal black car someone appeared from the car, from the other side of the car, and helped Hassan into the back seat of the car.
She was wearing a white shirt, black trousers, and black loafers. She didn't resemble Hassan or his mother, so I couldn't discern if they were related or not.
"How are you doing, troublemaker?" she asked, her soft voice echoing through the air.
She had a gentle way of speaking that was soothing to the ear. Her voice was high-pitched, almost like that of a child.
After she ensured Hassan was comfortable in the small chair fixed to the back seat, she turned to Hassan's mother and bowed to her before taking her seat on the passenger side, next to the driver.