You are walking down a lonely, endlessly straight road. It is deep, moonless night. Either side of the road is bordered by thick, dark, impenetrable forest. So thick, dark, and impenetrable indeed the forest is, that the edge of the road is equivalent to the end of the world when your sphere of influence is concerned. There is no shortcut. No detour. No other way. Your free will is eliminated in its essence. There are no possibilities for you to choose from. There is only one absolute necessity. You have to walk down the lonely road.
You have no idea where the road leads to—of course you don’t. Nor can you fathom whether it leads someplace or not. Your intuition suggests it doesn’t, but perpetually walking down the same straight road doesn’t feel too scary a prospect. You could keep striding for a period of time longer than any time and still be content about it.
A huge, black, sinister wild dog appears, standing close behind you. You don’t turn back to look at him and he doesn’t make any sound. But you know he is there, behind you. You know he is surveying you quietly through the fog, a fierce grin on his ugly face and saliva trickling down his protruding, sharp, deformed canines. His presence doesn’t bother you. Just a dog, you think, walking ahead at a stable pace.
The dog never makes a step, yet is always standing behind you, wicked grin unchanged. Let him be, you think, let him attack if he dares… You’ve always trusted your ability to fight—and beat the shit out of—any bad-natured dog you may confront, no matter how huge and black.
But then he attacks in astonishing fashion! No howl, no warning. He doesn’t run. He doesn’t even make a step. No sound, no movement… as if an intervening segment of time was snipped off the time, or the dog jumped out to and in again from some other set of dimensions… the first thing you know: his canines are halfway through your calf muscle. You didn’t have a chance to react. That wasn’t fair.
You are furious. Now he’s gonna pay for it. You are justified to destroy him. You fight back relentlessly. You vent all your rage onto him. But having overstretched your stamina to heroic levels, delivering him a savage outburst of blows, you realize it’s in vain. Your fists only fly through him like through air. Though he looks perfectly real—he’s not transparent or hologram-like or anything—he is not composed of some sort of substance you are accustomed to interacting with.
But it’s a bit different the other way around. Well, you don’t feel pain or any sensation of contact whatsoever. But his grip holds you back. You are immobilized. And your calf is turned into a blood-gushing rasped bone wrapped with bands of sliced flesh. His substance does definitely interact with yours.
You completely lose it. How can you not give the sneaky mutt a good whacking? You throw yourself into a frantic effort. But it’s pointless. He remains as ghost-like as ever. You can only see him. And there is no way you know of to restrain him with your gaze.
His attack gets fiercer. Before you know it, he’s left your calf ripped apart and his massive jaws are now clenching your arm. Without something as an instance intervening, he’s moved on to your throat. In a sequence of comic-strips-like maneuvering, he’s getting over your whole body. Without even moving his jaws, he gradually munches you down piece by piece. Your whole body is soon going to dissolve into mere organic molecules and waste somewhere deep inside his bowels. To watch is the only thing you can do. You are engulfed in desperation. Not that it hurts; nor that it affects your consciousness and self-awareness—your mind—anyhow… but you need the body to keep walking down the lonely road.
