So, this library had a lot of books.
From comics to spiritual topics, to cookbooks, to pro-governnt and pro-military texts, to fictional works that presented an overall positive outlook on wars and fighting, to fantasy thrillers where the main character had to fight monsters.
It was clearly a specially selected collection, and the overall tone was even more obvious.
They had, however, also a bunch of anatomy books about the body and brain—featuring every body part you can think of, including the pineal gland. Additionally, this whole afternoon was apparently ant to laze around in the library, giving enough ti to do research.
The pineal gland was reportedly a small gland inside the brain that produces hormones regulating the sleep-wake cycle.
So far, so good.
I could imagine the whole ’third eye’ concept having sothing to do with people taking the real use this small body part has to a taphorical level; what regulates when you are asleep or awake can truly ’awaken’ you as well, allowing you to perceive otherworldly things.
It was also seen as the place where the soul resides; when activated, several books claid you could enhance your imagination, improve your overall ntal health, or gain access to profound wisdom.
Everything sounded quite sketchy, and if I encountered these ideas without any context, I would dismiss them as esoteric crap and walk away.
But who knows? I clearly saw and felt the giant gain ’awareness’ after his fall—after his tumor pressed against his pineal gland.
Often, people say there must be so elent of truth in these dubious concepts since they have persisted for hundreds of years with many believing in them; however, I can’t shake off the overall cringe while reading this stuff.
Then I found a book that was really interesting.
There, a doctor claid that the pineal gland was responsible for producing DMT, or dithyltryptamine.
I had never heard of that.
Apparently, DMT is a powerful psychedelic drug said to be produced by the body during birth and death—allegedly, it accounts for out-of-body experiences.
DMT can also be found in plants, such as the bark of the Mimosa tenuiflora tree.
And what does it do?
I beca sowhat excited when I discovered it: besides the typical hallucinations and distortion of reality that such drugs brought on the human body, it intensifies each of your senses, increases the connectivity of your brain, and alters brain functions.
More importantly, there were studies where that doctor injected DMT into volunteer participants, studying its effects, and many of these individuals reported experiencing bizarre visions, communicating with non-human beings, and visiting alternative dinsions and realities.
I shut the book and leaned against the shelf behind .
"Holy shit." I whispered.
This was just one of those books lying around, not so secret scripture.
I know that there were also studies on how the brain reacted to LSD and such, so it is nothing new; though it seed that in this case, what everyone dismissed as the participants having experienced a strange trip was, in reality, just the truth.
I can’t believe that the ’answer’ was so easily obtained in a book about a doctor injecting people with psychodelic drugs during an experint.
Now we have a little giant with a tumor in the area near the pineal gland. He falls, the tumor swells, and presses against the pineal gland. Let’s say, sohow, this led to an overwhelming distribution of DMT, altering his brain and making him aware.
How about the first Henrietta? Did she, in an attempt to find Giant Kenny again after his departure, experint with DMT or sothing that added more awareness? But instead of being able to follow him, she ended up with nothing but the ability to contact one of her counterparts?
Then these counterparts gained awareness and contacted more of each other. Sowhere along the line ca an additional warning that said, ’Don’t ever tamper with the glue,’ or was this the ssage the first Henrietta had given all along?
I was interrupted by Henry coming to my side; I hadn’t seen that fellow since we entered.
"What’s up?" Henry asked, giving an intense once-over. Was he worried or sothing?
I patted the floor beside .
"Sit down."
He complied, looking at the books all around . I took the first one, searched for the page, and stuffed it into his hands.
Henry looked curious and started to read whatever I gave him, and I didn’t hold back, though I only let him read the relevant things.
When I handed him the last article about the studies and the effects of DMT, Henry gazed at , finally understanding where I was coming from.
"I know soone. There was a guy who could close and open portals without ripping them apart, just doing it cautiously, and then closing them in the sa manner. He could do so because he saw fine lines everywhere and just peeled them open," I whispered to him before pausing and noticing that Henry had his head tilted, just staring at without asking any questions.
I breathed a sigh of relief; I wouldn’t want to go into more details and reveal the fact that the giant was my counterpart.
"As a child, he fell down. Since that fall, he could see these fine lines; overall, his whole perception changed. He knew more than others just by instinct. His senses had intensified as well. Anyway, after the fall, he ca into the hospital, where they found a tumor. A tumor that swelled from the fall and pressed against... wanna guess?"
"His pineal gland." Henry looked into the distance, nodding slowly.
"I told the psychologist. Maybe it helps them figure out how to close the portals." I pressed my lips together, waiting for Henry’s reaction.
Was it okay to have told her? Had I made a mistake?
I sohow craved his approval because there was no one else who could give it to since he was my only real ally.
Henry’s blue eyes found mine, and he reached for my cheek, stroking my lips with his thumb until I relaxed them again as he broke into a smile.
"Yes, you did good. Tell them what you are comfortable with; if sothing goes wrong, we’ll run away."
I nodded, relief again washing over . It’s unreal how much the burden lessens if you have soone to confide in.
Maybe I should tell him everything, but the thought of him hating is still too much for to bear.
Henry pulled closer to him, and I leaned in until my head sohow landed on his lap while he stroked my hair.
Usually, it is I who pets the dog, but this doesn’t feel half bad.
Henry opened the book again and read through it anew while never stopping his caress.
"All along, this was docunted and experinted with."
"Unbelievable that you have found this...." he mumbled.
Listening to quiet praises, I closed my eyes and smiled internally whenever Henry clumsily turned a page with one hand, his other hand never letting go of , not even for a second.
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