Shadows or Illusions? (1)

After carefully closing the door of his dimly lit room, Wang Xiao returned to his computer, the glow from the monitor casting an ethereal light on his determined face.

He began aimlessly browsing through a plethora of random websites, aimlessly seeking distractions until he stumbled upon an intriguing topic - 'The omniscient paradox'.

With deep breath, he immersed himself in the realm of technological and psychological complexities.

Meanwhile, within the confines of a virtual machine, one of his meticulously crafted Metasploit scripts executed flawlessly.

Operating on a parallel system, it silently ran its course, seamlessly navigating through digital barriers.

Whilst engrossed in his intellectual expedition, time appeared to lapse into an abyss.

Eventually, Wang Xiao reluctantly brought his virtual activities to a halt, accompanied by a heavy sigh. "Why is this storage full again?.... Is it time for a upgrade?" he murmured, his voice tinged with frustration. He furrowed his brow, gently rubbing his temples in contemplation.

A mere few days prior, he had triumphantly upgraded his RAM, anticipating unparalleled performance. Yet, now he found himself confounded by the mysteriously overflowing storage.

Fortunately, he had managed to stash away some money, salvaged from the ill-gotten gains he had stolen.

Unfazed, he set his sights on conquering the neglected book that had been eating dust on his desk for far too long.

As the clock struck 3:00 am, a jolt of realization coursed through him: tomorrow, there was a crucial test at school, and he hadn't even bothered to acquaint himself with the chapter titles.

"Fuck," Wang Xiao muttered, the weight of his weariness settling upon his drooping eyelids.

The continuosly ticking of the clock cascaded over him, flooding his senses, as he let out a defeated sigh and sought solace beneath his cozy quilt.

Skipping the test might have been his default plan under normal circumstances, but the burden of today's lie to his mother forced him into an inescapable trap, leaving him feeling utterly helpless.

The prospect of the consequences that awaited him—stripped of his privileges, should he earn subpar marks—did not register in his fatigued mind.

As the quilt cocooned his weary body, the room enveloped itself in a shroud of silence. Yet, from the depths of that silence, a dissonant symphony of voices emerged, as if conjured from the ether.

'If you sleep, who will face the test?' The first voice, subtle yet assertive, slithered into his thoughts.

'Are you truly willing to surrender to slumber?' A second voice, draped in doubt, whispered like a breeze through the darkness.

'Gone will be your privileges,' chimed a third, its words dripping with consequence.

'And your plummeting scores, can you live with that?' A fourth voice interjected, casting doubt on his intentions.

Wang Xiao's brows furrowed in annoyance, a silent plea for their intrusion to cease. 'Shut up, all of you! Let me sleep!' he muttered inwardly, his body twisting in a futile attempt to find solace in slumber.

The voices remained persistent, a relentless chorus echoing through the chambers of his mind. "Hey, don't turn a blind eye to us!"

"Will you truly let this happen?"

"Are you already slipping into sleep, Wang Xiao?"

"Is that truly your desire?"

"Is this really what you want?"

"Will you mirror the failures of others?"

"Where's the distinction between them and you?"

"Is this how you shoulder accountability?"

"You are capable of so much more."

"Rouse yourself!"

"Hey, awaken already!"

"Open your eyes!"

"Get up!"

"Awake!"

"Awake!"

"Awake!"

The cacophony continued to swell, a tempest within his thoughts that grew overwhelming. He sought refuge, hands covering his ears in a desperate attempt to quell the insistent voices, but their persistence rendered his efforts futile.

"Fuck off, all of you! I'm awake already!" In a surge of frustration, Wang Xiao kicked the quilt aside and jolted upright, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

His disheveled hair bore witness to his tumultuous internal struggle, as if he had traversed the depths of a nightmare.

The room, once a sanctuary, now felt tainted by the lingering remnants of the surreal mental exchange.

The echoes of those phantom voices lingered, fading into the recesses of his consciousness, leaving him breathless and disoriented.

After remaining seated in a frustrated daze for half a minute, Wang Xiao's agitation finally drove him to his feet.

He marched to the room's light switch, flooding the space with illumination, and his bleary eyes fell upon the clock, its illuminated digits declaring the time as 3:15 am.

A weary sigh escaped his lips as he compelled his fatigued body towards the bathroom. With a twist of the doorknob, he was met by the glaring brilliance of the bathroom's fluorescent lights, a stark contrast to the dimly lit room he had just left behind.

As the tap's handle yielded to his touch, water surged forth with a gentle "swoosh," cascading into the basin below.

Droplets erupted in all directions, some playfully rebounding off the slick tiles to strike his foot, leaving behind a scattering of dampness.

Summoning a reserve of resolve, he sucked in a deep breath and boldly submerged his head beneath the running stream of cold water.

The shock of the cold caused his breath to hitch, and he remained steadfast, water enveloping his face and hair, an icy grip on his senses.

His breath halted, time seeming to stretch as the seconds ticked by.

One by one, they passed.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Thirty.

His body, reacting to the chill, began to tremble, the shivers dancing across his skin like a symphony of discomfort.

With sheer willpower, he managed to suppress the most intense tremors, determined to persevere.

And then, like a sudden release, he emerged from the watery embrace, gasping for air, the moisture dripping from his hair and running down his skin.

Deep, deliberate breaths filled his lungs as he fought to regain his equilibrium, a battle between the biting cold and the warmth of his own body.

The water, having completed its refreshing dance upon his brow, now embarked on a slow descent, trickling down his forehead, along his hairline, and meandering through his damp locks. His clothes clung slightly, having absorbed the errant droplets that had ventured beyond the basin.

The bathroom's harsh light, the chill of the water, and the feeling of dampness on his skin wove together an unique experience.

Disregarding the dampness that clung to his clothes, Wang Xiao shrugged off the wet garments and cast them aside with a casual, dismissive toss.

With the bathroom door securely shut behind him, he positioned himself in front of a sprawling mirror that dominated one wall.

The mirror's surface reflected back at him his current state - wet hair plastered to his face, his eyes reddened and shimmering, water tracing a path down his exposed chest.

As his gaze wandered over his reflection, he took note of his well-maintained physique, a testament to his twelve years of existence.

However, his attention was soon drawn to something far more astonishing.

In the mirror's depths, not just one pair of eyes met his gaze, but a multitude.

A cascade of eyes, too numerous to count, stared back at him.

There were simply too many!

So many, that he can't count!

And it wasn't just eyes!

It were figures!

Figures of a person!

Not shadows, but real persons.

All of them, exactly resembling the current Wang Xiao, in appearance.

They weren't real, but Wang Xiao could see them!

He didn't know how to explain it in words.

But each of them was different; some mocked him, some scolded him, while others praised him for his achievements on rare occasions.

They were all different, with the same red eyes as him.

He knew it was his mind that was creating all of this.

They weren't real, but his mind had created these images.

Initially, Wang Xiao engaged in the same self-motivating inner dialogue as anyone else. The whispers of encouragement were like a gentle breeze, nudging him forward.

However, curiosity got the better of him one day.

He dared to imagine a version of himself—one that would taunt and mock him.

The notion was unconventional, but it held an appeal, an unorthodox wellspring of motivation.

And to his astonishment, it worked.

This unexpected discovery marked the genesis of a unique technique.

Wang Xiao began to employ it more frequently, delving into this mental realm where reflections of himself took on various personas.

What had once begun as a simple motivational tool quickly expanded its scope.

It wasn't merely about motivation anymore.

Each reflection brought with it an alternate viewpoint, offering fresh perspectives and novel solutions to his challenges.

These apparitions evolved into tangible embodiments of the myriad voices that resided within his mind.

Initially, Wang Xiao retained conscious control over this process.

He orchestrated when these reflections emerged and the roles they played.

But as time unfolded its wings, he let go of the reins of his conscious mind, allowing his subconscious to control this mysterious creation.

Years passed, and gradually, he arrived at a juncture where these entities danced under the command of his subconscious alone.

In this intricate dance of thoughts and imagination, Wang Xiao had become a master conductor.

He was, in essence, a pioneer—the first individual to traverse the uncharted territory of the mind in such a profound manner.

In doing so, he may well have carved a path that no one had trodden before in the realm of human psychology and mind.