It is as if you have fallen into the deepest ocean. No matter how hard you struggle and how hoarse you become, your voice can only echo in the dark waves. No one can hear your existence. You fall like this, until the time when even your memory no longer exists.
Lorenzo slowly opened his eyes and saw a quiet street in front of him. People in decent dresses were holding hands, smiling and enjoying the tranquility under the moonlight.
There are poets singing and playing music on the streets, telling long-forgotten stories.
Feeling very tired, Lorenzo turned his head. He was wearing a white robe with a silver cross on his chest. People around him looked at him with respect.
"You'll catch a cold if you sleep here."
A voice sounded, and a white-haired man sat down beside him, his face showing the vicissitudes of middle-aged people. Like Lorenzo, he was wearing a cassock, but his was a bright red one, and he was a man blessed by the divine.
Passersby on the roadside looked at him with reverence, bowed their heads slightly, and whispered prayers.
"Dean Lawrence?"
Looking at this familiar old friend, Lorenzo felt a strange emotion for a moment, as if he didn't expect to see him again after so many years.
"Wait... is this Florence?"
He suddenly realized the difference in the situation and stood up with his head covered. Lorenzo looked around. Although his memory of this place was already vague, he still found a sense of familiarity from the numerous buildings.
It was there, the place where he was born. He had clearly left here, but after an unknown period of time, Lorenzo returned to the original place.
"You seem to have had a long dream, one that almost made you forget yourself."
Archbishop Lawrence seemed to see Lorenzo's confusion. He was a servant of God and the leader of the Demon Hunting Cult. He pointed out Lorenzo's confusion at a glance.
"You mean... a dream?"
Lorenzo savored the word, still seeming a little bit unbelieving.
"Yes, you are someone who has received the [Baptism of God's Blessing]. You must have gained something from that sacred baptism. Just like I said at that time, those memories that do not belong to you will always follow you. Some will be beneficial to you, while others will interfere with your judgment."
Lawrence always has a faint smile on his face, and he always gives people a feeling of being bathed in spring breeze. Even without the red robe that symbolizes his identity, you will think he is a sage at the first sight of him.
"I have also had dreams that made it almost impossible for me to distinguish between reality and fantasy. I am as confused as you, but time will give the answer, no matter how difficult the problem is."
"Like that damn 42?"
Listening to Pastor Lawrence's inspirational words, Lorenzo recalled the story written in the image carrier called movie deep in his memory.
The ultimate of everything in the world is 42, a number that seems meaningful and meaningless. In short, Lorenzo can't figure it out, so he can only understand this memory as an absurd story.
He didn't know whether other favored ones also had this kind of nonsense, but at least Lorenzo relied entirely on his broken memories to learn about the existence of the universe.
"42? You mean the memory that belongs to you alone?"