Infinit?
Es Llenç Infinit
Calyx jeia estirat damunt una gran tela, amb una mà deixada descuidadament sobre un esbós de carbó difuminat. Es seu pit s’alçava i baixava lentament, en harmonia amb s’estrany pols d’aquell món.
Vivix estava dret davant ell, amb es braços creuats i una expressió plena de frustració.
“Mira aquest lloc!” exclamà, amb sa veu ressonant per tota sa immensitat. “És un desastre, Calyx! Ets literalment sa persona més desordenada que he conegut mai.”
“Mmm,” va murmurar Calyx, obrint només un ull. “De res.”
Vivix aixecà es braços al cel. “No te don ses gràcies! Te dic que ho arreglis!”
Calyx es va girar una mica, acomodant-se amb un somriure mandrós. “Ets tan bo arreglant coses, Viv. Me’n refii de tu. Diverteix-te.” I, amb això, va tornar a tancar es ulls, ja gairebé somiant.
Vivix va quedar amb sa boca oberta. “Oh, venga ja! Vas a—” Es va aturar a mitja frase, quan es suaus roncs de Calyx començaren a omplir s’aire.
“Idò bé,” va dir Vivix, mirant s’artista adormit. “Idò! Ho faré jo tot sol.”
Vivix es posà mans a s’obra. Començà perseguint un esbós d’un aucell que es tirava constantment dins un bassiot de pintura. Xisclava indignat mentre Vivix l’agafava i li cosia amb cura ses ales esquinçades amb fils trets d’una tela propera.
“Estigues quiet,” va grunyir Vivix mentre s’aucell, ara restaurat, s’asseia damunt una branca que abans només era una taca marró irregular.
Després passà a una escultura que s’ensorrava: un arbre de marbre amb es tronc esquerdat i inestable. Usant traços de pinzell descartats i línies oblidades, va construir un sistema d’arrels per estabilitzar-lo. Poc a poc, Vivix començà a imposar ordre dins es caos.
Passaren hores, o potser dies—es temps no tenia gaire significat dins es Llenç Infinit. Lentament, aquell regne començà a transformar-se. Es colors es tornaven vius, ses formes harmonioses. Es caos de Calyx es convertia en un paisatge de somni d’una bellesa estranya.
Finalment, Vivix s’aturà, amb ses mans als malucs, contemplant sa seva obra.
“Ja està,” va dir, sense alè. “Arreglat. De res, Calyx.”
Mirà s’artista, que encara dormia tranquil·lament damunt sa tela. Vivix girà es ulls en blanc. “Clar. Ni tan sols un gràcies.”
Es silenci només es trencava amb es suaus roncs de Calyx. Era rítmic i tranquil·litzador, un so que d’alguna manera coincidia amb es pols des Llenç Infinit. Però llavors... es va aturar.
Vivix es quedà petrificat.
“Calyx?” digué, acostant-se. “Ei. Desperta’t.”
Calyx no es movia.
Vivix s’agenollà i el sacsejà suaument. “Calyx, para de fer-te es graciós.”
Res. Ni s’alçament ni sa caiguda des pit. Ni tan sols un murmuri sobre colors liles o mons capgirats. Només quietud.
“Calyx!” cridà Vivix, amb es pànic apoderant-se de sa veu. El sacsejà amb més força, però no servia de res.
Es Llenç Infinit semblava notar-ho. Es colors vius començaren a apagar-se, ses escultures acuradament restaurades s’esquerdaren i es desferen, i s’aucell recentment cosit es dissolgué dins una taca de tinta.
“No, no, no!” cridà Vivix, corrent d’una peça a una altra. “Quedau-vos junts! Acab de reparar-vos!”
Però es món no escoltava. Es marges des llenç es començaren a encongir, doblegant-se i cremant-se com si fos paper.
Vivix s’agenollà, desbordat i esgotat. Agafà un petit fragment de tela—un des primers esbossos de Calyx, d’alguna manera encara intacte.
“No puc fer això,” va xiuxiuejar Vivix. “Tu ni tan sols ho intentaves, i tot... funcionava. Jo m’hi he esforçat tant, i no he pogut mantenir-ho dret ni cinc minuts.”
Quan sa foscor els envoltà, s’esbós a ses mans començà a brillar lleument. Vivix sentí una escalfor, com un batec, que pulsava a través des fragment. Era com si Calyx hagués deixat una part de si mateix enrere—no bastava per reconstruir es món, però sí per deixar una pregunta.
Vivix mirà es fragment brillant, es caos desaparegut, es Llenç Infinit reduït a no-res. L’estrenyé amb força.
“I ara, què se suposa que he de fer?” xiuxiuejà dins es buit.
Es buit no li oferí cap resposta.
I aquest fou es final.
The Infinite Canvas
Calyx lay sprawled on a massive canvas, one hand lazily draped over a smudged charcoal sketch. Their chest rose and fell slowly, in rhythm with the strange pulse of the world.
Vivix stood over them, arms crossed and expression full of frustration.
“Look at this place!” they exclaimed, their voice echoing in the vastness. “It’s a disaster, Calyx! You’re literally the messiest person I’ve ever met.”
“Mmhmm,” Calyx murmured, barely opening an eye. “You’re welcome.”
Vivix threw up their hands. “I’m not thanking you! I’m saying fix it!”
Calyx shifted slightly, rolling onto their side with a lazy grin. “You’re so good at fixing things, Viv. I trust you. Go nuts.” And with that, they closed their eyes again, already halfway to sleep.
Vivix’s jaw dropped. “Oh, come on! You’re just going to—” They stopped mid-sentence as Calyx’s soft snores filled the air.
“Fine,” Vivix muttered, glaring at the sleeping artist. “Fine! I’ll do it myself.”
---
Vivix set to work. They started by chasing down a flapping sketch of a bird that kept diving into a puddle of paint. It screeched indignantly as they pinned it down and carefully stitched its torn wings with threads pulled from a nearby canvas.
“Stay still,” Vivix grumbled as the bird fluttered briefly before settling onto a branch that had once been a jagged smear of brown.
Next, they turned to a collapsing sculpture—a tree made of marble, its trunk fractured and unstable. Using discarded brushstrokes and forgotten outlines, they built a root system to anchor it. Piece by piece, they brought order to the chaos.
Hours passed, or maybe days—time didn’t mean much in the Infinite Canvas. Slowly, the realm began to transform. The colors became vivid, the shapes harmonious. Calyx’s chaos was turning into a dreamscape of strange beauty.
Finally, Vivix stood back, hands on their hips, surveying their work.
“There,” they said, panting. “Fixed. You’re welcome, Calyx.”
They glanced at the artist, still napping peacefully on the canvas. Vivix rolled their eyes. “Of course. Not even a thank you.”
---
The silence was broken only by Calyx’s soft breathing. It was rhythmic and soothing, a sound that somehow matched the pulse of the Infinite Canvas itself. But then… it stopped.
Vivix froze.
“Calyx?” they said, stepping closer. “Hey. Wake up.”
Calyx didn’t move.
Vivix knelt, shaking them gently. “Calyx, stop messing around.”
Nothing. No rise, no fall of the chest. No murmured nonsense about purple or upside-down worlds. Just stillness.
“Calyx!” Vivix shouted, panic creeping into their voice. They shook the artist harder, but it was no use.
The Infinite Canvas seemed to sense it. The vibrant colors began to dim, the carefully restored sculptures cracked and crumbled, and the newly-stitched bird dissolved into a smear of ink.
“No, no, no!” Vivix shouted, running from piece to piece. “Stay together! I just fixed you!”
But the world wasn’t listening. The edges of the canvas curled in on themselves, folding and burning away like paper.
Vivix collapsed to their knees, overwhelmed and exhausted. They clutched a small scrap of canvas—one of Calyx’s first sketches, somehow still intact.
“I can’t do this,” Vivix whispered. “You didn’t even try, and everything just… worked. I tried so hard, and I couldn’t hold it together for five minutes.”
As the darkness closed in, the sketch in their hands began to glow faintly. Vivix felt a warmth, like a heartbeat, pulsing through the fragment. It was as if Calyx had left a piece of themselves behind—not enough to rebuild the world, but enough to leave a question.
Vivix stared at the glowing fragment, the chaos gone, the Infinite Canvas reduced to nothingness. They tightened their grip on the scrap.
“What am I supposed to do now?” they whispered into the void.
The void offered no answer.
And that was the end.
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