One day on the bus...

The ceiling of the bus wasn’t just a ceiling. Not anymore. It was a gateway, a thin veil pulled back just enough to see the machine behind the curtain. I wasn’t prepared for it—no one could be. One moment, I was just sitting there, the hum of the bus a backdrop to my thoughts, and then…Then I saw it. Not with my eyes, not exactly, but with something deeper, something that trembled at the edge of understanding.

The ceiling wasn’t solid anymore, presenting itself as a grid of intersecting lines, a structure that hinted at an underlying complexity. As I observed it, the surface appeared to shift, revealing a network—something akin to code, a system of interconnections that suggested more than just physical materials. This perception occurred without warning and was accompanied by a series of rapid thoughts, each attempting to decode the patterns I was seeing. The experience was brief but intense, and just as quickly, it was too much.

The pieces didn’t fit together—they couldn’t. The more I tried to grasp it, the more it slipped through my fingers, leaving only the echoes of something vast and unknowable. I was left in the seat of a bus, but I wasn’t the same. I couldn’t be after what I had seen. The memory of the experience persists, though it resists clear categorization. It occupies a space in my mind that defies easy explanation.