In the beginning, there was sound.

It feels as if there was nothing before the sound, as if everything started with the sound which fills your mind. It’s not what you’d call a pleasant sound, and even less harmonious or mellow. Noise would be a more appropriate word for it, and even this is a euphemism. You’d like it to stop, you want to make it stop and return back to nothingness, but the void has been disturbed irreversibly by the founding sound. Now there is something beyond you, something you can’t ignore no matter how hard you try.

If there’s a sound, there must be a source, you think. Find the culprit. If you can listen, perhaps you can also see. You look, and you see only darkness, endless shades of pure black. Perhaps you’re a mere ear? Or maybe a living mist who feels the vibrations of sound? Put your theory to test. If you have a body, you should be able to move it.

It’s not willing, but it moves. It’s weak and slow to respond, but it’s a body – your body. Maybe it was the sound which created your body. Even if it wasn’t, without the sound you’d never knew you had one. You try to move it again, take it step by step... that’s a finger... another finger... a foot... an elbow... a neck...

As you move your neck, you begin to see. It’s dark indeed, but not pitch dark. You make out shapes... that’s a chair... that’s a table... how do you even know the difference between a chair and a table, you wonder. Perhaps the knowledge was given to you by the birth of the sound?

The omnipresent sound... after moving your neck it has changed slightly. It’s coming from a particular point somewhere to your left. You turn your body with a groan and you extend your hand towards the source. You grab something; it feels like a small plastic box. You bring it in front of you and you stare at the alarm clock, its infernal sound more annoying than ever.

You vaguely remember now that it’s time to rise and face a new day – it could well be your last day, or your first day, but you’re supposed to rise nonetheless. But why? You can’t recall, a sense of an unknown duty contradicting your yearning for oblivion.

Decide to get up.
Try to turn off the alarm.
Throw the alarm clock as far as possible.