& so 1 million centuries did konrad rajendra dwell in the depths o’ lost losers, those who could not achieve ’nough to make it to the next round o’ existence. here was a cavern where the only sensations left to its prisoners was the smell o’ ash, the taste o’ plain bitterness on one’s always-thirsting tongue, the sight o’ eternal dimness, the sound o’ droning, & the feeling o’ strained numbness. one could not e’en bring oneself to tears, the relentlessly-dripping stalactites seeming to have monopolized this emotion.
despite knowing that he was not the only one to be sent here, no matter where he wandered thru the murk that seemed to stretch as far as the universe, he saw, heard, & smelled no one else & felt an invisible force — or perhaps ’twas a lack o’ force — keep him from shouting out or making any noise @ all, which was ironic, as he still recalled acridly that ’twas a force he also knew nothing o’ that possessed him to accede to a crime he did not commit. that was the force that had sent him here.