Immanentisizing the Paradox

From the looped terrace overlooking the mid-section cylinder bay where fourteen Gladiator vessels, each several dozen kilometres long, are waiting to be docked by the central terminal, High Functionary of the Plex Remcoil Blanårk Trimfilshian Sprount smooths his white beard as he conjures up an image of his daughters. His implant seems to decide which picture to use; he doesn’t remember this particular one. He seldom completely trusts non-human intelligences, even the device he carries inside him since his childhood, although he realises his view on these matters are cultural and change with time; similarly, his opinion on the Glacier Warrior Project seem to switch sides from one year to the next. The fact that his twins Zetliki and Varant spent years training on an uninhabitable moon with one of the most secret Undisclosed Factions, before subsequently disappearing into the Project’s confusing web of secrecy, certainly tainted his belief in this regard. Between the sliced snapshot, elegantly positioned by his implant in the fake perspective of his peripheral vision, he squints into the purplish void beyond the docking passenger ships and reaches for his hat. The commission should be getting ready for another day-long sparring contest about the immanent collapse of Jelblaum, the outermost base theoretically protected by the Plex.

From Remcoil Blanårk Trimfilshian Sprount’s records, 11/XVI/8922/V:

Ever since the Concordian Plex was reinstated between the All-Noble Glacier Warrior clans, mercantile wanderers have been encountering multileveled spurts of thought constructs emanating from interstitial, second-worldly, crystalline entities, seemingly aimed at the Parallel Dimension of the Biblots, a meta-existence rumoured to provoke paradoxes within colliding realms for no apparent reason. As a result, the Plex has revealed that it no longer controls its days, as it is being forced to give in to an overarching proto-form, winning over station after station.

Waiting for the displacement membrane to gain its full speed, his mind wanders. This often happens when he is not forced to concentrate on pressing, practical matters. Displaying pictures of his daughters in his peripheral vision makes him feel somewhat guilty that he is not devoting his idle thought to them, as an unrealistic urge to bring them back to relative safety through his loving prayers. His point of view seems to be changing since the Biblot manifestations, turning him from a broken old man into a secret, foolish mystic. It appears quasi-natural to him now that if he could focus on the precision, the pinpointedness of the manifestations amidst the selfish human clamour, he may perceive them as more than mere interference. Just as he believes that human space constructs are predestined to greet the Zlorbok and transcend their own sub-reality, opening the worlds to a so-far unimaginable Invisible Landscape.

He sighs and fastens his hat as the bioreactor, optimising ultrafiltration within the bi-spherical exterior of the membrane, reaches full momentum, plunging down several hundred kilometres to the third hearing port, where the meeting is being held. Every few seconds, through the windows, bright blurs of colour indicate docked ships, each of them preparing to take a million or so worried families to a less unstable habitat. Most of whom decided to bring their entire homes along, which requires extensive logistical shuffling and intervention. Beyond that, darkness, matched with the infrabass hum of inertia building inside the tungsten structure. He gets up from the single sofa, sensing immanent arrival, stands erect as his functions suggest, which is exactly what he intends to suggest to whoever will greet him.

Divergencies between penetrative and cloud-based sentient forms are well documented and now taught in academies. The humans, viewed as penetrative by most others except themselves, used to be entrenched in the belief that cultural difference was something to be worked upon and transcended through culture itself. Greeting the Other with open arms; learning, integrating their ways. However, other forms often viewed this as a warring, probing, aggressive stance, to be answered by more aggression. Is this conflictual attitude something that us humans have absorbed, digested and adapted, barely masking its barbarous alien roots? Or are we the source of evil, penetrating an otherwise peaceful – as far as we can conjecture, having no past records – harmony?

The detail lighting of the displacement membrane switches to a cool blue indicating that it has reached its destination. Remcoil runs his hands down the side of his robes to dry the sweat that unconsciously formed on his hands as an indicator of anxiety to his meeting. What will the council think now? Clearly the emergence of the proto-forms is displacing all the human terra and bioforming projects that have extended deep into the galaxy. The membrane's wall turned blue in a circular area indicating its exit. He walked towards the wall and touched the cool surface which opened like an organic iris revealing a metallic tunnel and three dignitaries of The Plex clad in deep blues that brought out an extremely subtle violet tinge to their skin.

“This way Plex Remcoil,” spoke the one nearest the door gesturing towards the tunnel.

The exit closed after twenty seconds behind him and they walked swiftly down the tunnel. This deep in The Structural CodexPlex the architects decided not to cover up the air-pumps and the life-mechanisms in the walls and instead opted to brutally display the connection of machines to man. It was a reminder of the balances and interconnectivities that was poignant for dignitaries of all to see for not only was the governance of the Post-Oreth colonies done by man but it was equally shared with machine-counterparts that took their own growth-line to new territories of post-humanism thus sharing organic matter yet machine mind. Without them the deep navigation and exploration of the outer-reaches would have never occurred. Though their limited perception and lack of intuition meant that they were just an extension of their creators from long ago. Deep space spellunkers that now harvested deep solar energies and shared colonies.

After a few turns they eventually emerged into the council chamber. The dark domed chamber stretched out beyond the eye could see and the dignitaries all sat in a circle looking at the pyramix screen in the center which organized the inputs and prompted dignitaries for input and discourse. Remcoil was shown to his station and his indirect podium light switched on indicating that he has entered The Discourse. Soon his readouts on the periphery of his eyesight came into view and scrolled a summary of events that transpired this day. The Council never slept and would function at all hours dealing with matters minuscule to large. The pyramix would analyze and put passages in motion based on the biofeedback of all present physically or tele-present. Remcoil noticed his 2nd-Plex was tele-present as he glanced to the podium to his right. It glowed a subtle green indicating this. Soon his 2nd-Plex came into his periphery and nodded welcoming Remcoil to discourse.

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