[ WP ] You open a door and see a creature incomprehensible to the mortal mind . This is how your brain interprets what you saw so it does n't break :

I ca n't express to you all enough how little I understood what I actually saw. Because I saw a lot of things. I saw what it wanted me to see: how it's been jumping from person to person frantically. I had n't thought much of the panic that had started out of the blue downtown, but I guess some sort of sentient brain virus will do that to you. I saw the completely fucked way it's able to see through things, through *people*. And I do n't just mean physically, I mean that in every sense of the word. 
 
 I saw the life of a mother and her children, from her birth, to her pregnancy, raising the twins, dying, it was all there, and that was just when I made sense of the gory mess that was apparently what she looked like from the inside out. I could see and hear the thoughts of everyone near her during the blinding fast forward through her life. And then it took me through the phone in my hand. 
 
 As if human brain were n't dizzying enough to path through when I did n't even know how mine fully worked, digital communications tech was like being thrown onto an assembly line. Whatever constituted our consciousness was packaged, shunted, unpackaged, and repackaged until we found a camera, on a car dashboard. It was the crash that killed the mother. 
 
 Here's where my brain starts to give up. Because all I can think of between then and my last contact with... *it*, is paralyzing fear and the faces of those kids. And grinding. The sound of metal collapsing in on itself, and pain. Piercing unbearable pressure that took the air out of my lungs. Then: 
 
 *Crack. * Nothing but numbness and blindness. 
 
 And sobbing. A child's, maybe two. 
 
 I can see again. But it's not my vision, not unless this little trip has taught me how to look at myself without a mirror. *Back to bed. Aspirin. Right now. * But as soon as I think it, I remember how to drive to the hospital the mother was taken to... but I've never even HEARD of this hospital. I take a breath, and think about how I'm going to phrase this. Apparently the point made it across before the words made it to my tongue, because a warm sensation crept over me, like i was being hugged. 
 
 I sigh, and move toward my car, typing in an unfamiliar phone number. And I ask the nurse on the other end about the children.
