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Chapter 199: Pillars of Reality
🕑 Added 2025-02-20 12:00:14 +0000 UTCIn order to reopen the Lavish and resume the train ride, Fentanyle had to be sent off.
Staff had been busy the day following the discovery of the body; they were apparently working closely together with Omi to figure out the best way to proceed. According to her, and corroborated by Qyy, it was common in their home world Thalassus to leave large people to be incorporated by earth. It was uncommon to burn or bury them, though occasionally wildlife that was adept at deconstructing organic material were left at the site in large quantities to hasten the process of dispersing the material across the world.
Theora had received this knowledge from Treeka, who had spent the entirety of the last day together with Omi.
The issue was, of course, that the train did not have organisms at hand that could aid in the process of laying Fentanyle to rest, so all staff could do was to send a letter and advise someone else as to Fentanyle’s final resting place and last needs. In the meantime, before closing off the connection, they would hold a ceremony to send Fentanyle off.
Theora was still certain that Fentanyle had not in fact died, but she decided to participate in the ceremony anyway. She was perhaps the only one present who was convinced that this was not goodbye forever. It wasn’t even the first time Theora had visited a funeral of a person she knew she would meet again — she held Dema’s hand through the procedures, occasionally using a piece of cloth to wipe away Dema’s tears.
The two didn’t have the chance to really talk since the discovery of the body. Dema had consoled Omi, had joined Montaparte’s investigation, had helped out with planning the funeral. She was as socially active as ever, while Theora had stayed in her room brooding and theorising with Bell.
And so, despite standing right next to her, Theora couldn’t help but feel far away from her. She wanted to talk about everything that had happened, she wanted to ask Dema’s advice and opinion, and she wanted hugs. Sadly, it might be a while before that could happen; Bell and Theora had plans to visit the underbelly of the train after the ceremony. All passenger rooms had a ladder leading down into a lavatory, and each carriage had ladders leading down to storage compartments. But they needed to comb through them, to make sure nothing was hidden in the lower floor of the train that could explain what was going on.
The staffers were difficult to get a hold of currently, but neither Bell nor Theora expected them to be entirely truthful about the train anyway; they would have to ascertain things themselves either way.
Raquina declared the moment of silence over, and with that, called Theora back from her land of thoughts. Omi dashed onto a rock at the side of the meadow; the day was cool and very windy, shuffling her black robe around her as she shouted over the breeze.
“Fentanyle took me in fifteen years ago,” she said with a steady voice, despite eyes puffy and red. “In our home world, people like me have always been seen as a pest. We were subject to extermination and only few were left — I, for one, was hidden away as a child by my parents, raised by an old man in the crevice of a side street in the capitol. When one of Fentanyle’s ravens found me, he thought this was our end. He took me and we fled. I held onto his back as I felt his legs slow and his breath shallow.
“But Fentanyle did not kill me. She came because she wanted me safe. She lived with us until he died, and…” Omi took a deep breath. “You see Fentanyle is a pillar of our home world. For her, this manifests in a simple rule: Whatever she believes becomes reality in Thalassia. Thus, everything she ever believed is true. By definition.”
Omi let out a little chuckle before continuing. “This means that when people wanted to change the ways of the world, they would often come to us, and try to convince her. But she was stubborn. She rarely changed her mind. She believed I should live. She believed she was the only one who could keep me safe. She was my safe haven. The reason I could sleep soundly at night. I have no idea what to expect on Thalassia if I were to return… will things forever stay the same, the way she wanted? Or will we be met with chaos?”
She sniffed. “All I can say is that chaos is what’s in my heart now. Thank you.”
She darted off the pedestal, sobs ringing out as she fled the Lavish.
After the ceremony, Dema ran off with Montaparte for more investigating; having seen the impact of Fentanyle’s death seemed to have invigorated her desire to fulfil her task. Meanwhile, Bell sought out Theora the moment the Lavish had closed, and formed a bubble around them to block the sound. Neither Theora nor Bell had explicitly mentioned it, but there was a silent agreement between the two to only talk about their own half of the investigation when nobody who could be a suspect would be able to overhear them.
Changing reality in the way that was shown was a gross infliction upon the autonomy of every passenger, and Theora wanted to find who was responsible, and hear their motives.
“The problem,” Bell started the moment the bubble had fully formed, “is that even if the train changed reality, in order for that change to be untraceable, it still needs to make sense. Meaning…”
Theora looked at the now closed door to the Lavish. “There still was some kind of murder?”
“At least that reality-overlay needs to work out somehow. So whatever findings result from Montaparte’s investigation, they are likely going to be relevant to us too… Also, now that the ceremony is completed and the Lavish is reinstated, I assume that the train will start moving again soon. It should also free up the staffers, so maybe we’ll be able to ask some questions.”
Theora nodded along, not understanding anything. “How do these things connect?”
“I mean…” Bell gestured to the praise book next to the Lavish entry. “There’s a reason it’s here, right? And not somewhere else. I assume the Lavish is the place the train gets the most praise about. And I assume having a literal murder happen sort of puts people off from praising it. I certainly wasn’t in the mood to do it…”
“But now the ceremony is over, and the cloud’s behind us, so to speak,” Theora said with a nod. “Though I assume it will only be fully cleared up once Montaparte has a result. I imagine the staff is putting pressure on her to come to a revelation soon.”
“From what I hear, they already did,” Bell said. “According to Treeka, the Caretaker blew up at Montaparte when she shared preemptive findings yesterday evening. But either way. I wrote a letter to None asking about divination; I can’t help but feel it will be relevant. I hear we can send letters in the lounge. Seems to be Ulber’s job. I asked about that after our talk yesterday.”
“You want to go there right now?”
Bell nodded and let the silence bubble pop. Then she immediately beelined to the teleporter and was gone within a second. Theora still had to grow accustomed to these; she kept walking distances she could have teleported instead. There was a little lever at the side of the mirror denoting the current destination; Theora hesitantly made sure it actually led to the lounge before sending herself off.
On the other side, Bell was already talking to Ulber, so Theora hurried to not miss most of the conversation.
“So, yeah, I imagine we’ll be up and running in a minute,” Ulber just finished saying. “But this is kind of funny, in a way, you know? Dr. Alp told me that a long time ago, when he started working on this train, it actually didn’t use praise to propel itself at all. It was using something else… something that would have helped us a lot in this situation, I imagine. It was even more pathetic, if you can believe it…”
Theora sat down next to Bell at the bar. “Oh? What was it?”
Ulber smiled. “Pity. That’s what it used to run on, I kid you not. The conductor had to collect enough pity, and when the metre was full, the train could receive a new passenger.”
“We’re here to send a letter,” Bell chimed in, apparently unimpressed with the anecdote. Theora couldn’t quite share the feeling; finding out more about the history of the train seemed like the perfect path to move their investigation along.
Regardless, Ulber nodded at the request. “Alright! First things first — the disclaimer. The train is not anchored, which is how we are able to guarantee instant travel. Sending letters messes with the anchoring though; you will get a reply immediately, but time will pass in your home world while the recipient answers. This can sometimes be a little wonky, but the train won’t wait for longer than six months for a reply. Does that sound good?”
Theora tilted her head. “We will receive a reply instantly?”
“Yep! Magic makes it possible, like with anything. Do you need ink and paper?”
“I have it written already,” Bell said, moving an envelope over the counter. “Raquina explained things to me yesterday.”
“Alright,” Ulber said, then asked Bell a few more questions about the destination and recipient, all the while typing down words on a little typewriter on the bar. When she was content, she opened the glass door of a little furnace behind her and threw the letter into blazing flames. She shut the door, then opened a hinge beneath it. A new letter popped out, slightly singed. She turned with a smile and handed it over to Bell. “There we go!”
Bell received the letter with a tendril rather than with a hand, and immediately passed it on to Theora. Isobel’s writing was on the envelope, addressed to her ‘family’, so she gently tore it open and began reading out loud.
Hi! I hope you all are doing well!
In her letter to me, Bell asked about the question at the heart of [Divination]. Rather than answering outright, I decided to research it for a few weeks to make sure I get it right. I talked to some experts in the field too, so give me a moment to establish foundation and explain the problem.
Imagine you want to know where your lost mom is. You have last seen her years ago, lost contact or whatever, so you go to a mage that’s specialised in [Divination] so that they can give you an answer. Now, of course, divination magic occasionally fails if not cast by an expert, but usually, a diviner would be able to give you as accurate a result as they spent mana on the spell. For example, the diviner might be able to tell you, ‘Your mom is stranded in space at the edge of the solar system,’ or something like that. And you might say, ‘Well, that makes sense, that’s where I last had contact with her’.
Theora’s voice turned increasingly weaker as she was reading until Bell clicked her tongue and took the letter from her. “Fine, I can read it. Just make sure you follow along and don’t space out!”
Theora swallowed. Was that why Bell had given it to her? Before she could dwell on the thought, Bell’s reading voice resounded clearly through the otherwise empty lounge.
However! Not all divinations are this straightforward. A second example:
The legendary diviner Hareta — said to be the most advanced one to ever live — has made several legendary-rank prophecies throughout their life. Many of them were completely unpredictable by any scientific means; for example the change in course of the Ancient Devourer before it started heading to Himaeya to eat us all. If not for the prophecy, we would have never known — until it would have been too late, that is.
Which sort-of starts us on the train of thought that leads to the question at the heart of divination.
“Here it comes,” Bell murmured. “‘Would the Devourer still have visited Himaeya had Hareta never made that prophecy?’”
A shiver ran down Theora’s spine. How did that question make her so uneasy?
“‘Or in other words,’” Bell continued reading, “‘Does making a prophecy affect the outcome of a random event?’”
When we cast a die, we can expect a random result. Sure, with more information we can make predictions; at some point, there may be enough information present to us that we can predict the outcome long before it happens. But divination doesn’t seem to work like that; the answer divination gives is based on magic, not knowledge about the system. In fact, it is precisely when we lack data that we turn to divination to replace it.
But then, if I prophesize a die roll a week before it is cast, wouldn’t that mean I have affected reality through the process of making the prophecy itself? If I use divination to locate a person, does that ‘lock in’ a certain fate of the world to have occurred, where if I hadn’t, things might have turned out differently?
From this, the foundational philosophical question of divination arises:
Bell cleared her throat before reading, “‘Is divination invention, or discovery?’”
I call it a ‘philosophical’ question partly because it has always been a thought-experiment. Even if divination is invention, it’s not like any diviner has ever been able to decide on a given outcome in advance. Sure, maybe locating a missing person collapses the wavefunction and what we see is only the result — a multitude of possibilities constrained — in much the same way as if we had found out from that person deciding to send us a letter while on a train abroad. But even if it is invention, it would be the divine will of a higher existence that invents as we invoke the spells; it would not be us doing it.
Now, research in the area of divination thus splits in two distinct paths. One group is trying to figure out if there may be hidden variables that divination magic has access to in order to make a prediction; that it actually does use additional knowledge that we just can’t see. The other group are trying to go after the ‘holy grail’ of divination: trying to find a way to actually influence the result. To have divination become decision.
Bell swallowed. “That would be terrifying,” she murmured.
Hareta was firmly in the camp of discoverers; they even tended to say that trying to decide was a waste of time because that is what other types of magic already do. If Dema decides to build a rock bridge, she just does so with magic. In Hareta’s mind, the whole point of divination was to attain knowledge, not to be a decisionmaker, and they thought that’s the only way it can work, otherwise it would be too mana-expensive.
And I mean, that honestly doesn’t sound all that wrong, considering Theora has the same problem with her divination magic—
“Wait what?” Theora let out. “My what?”
“Your divination magic,” Bell repeated. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not a mage,” Theora supplied. “I don’t have magic. Divination magic, of all things?”
Bell shrugged. “It says… ‘She’s the strongest entity to ever exist, and still pouts every time her [Head in the Clouds] gives an unrelated answer… Or when her [im//possibility] results in something she doesn’t like.’ So you at least have two [Divination]-type Skills, according to None. And I mean, your description of [Stargazer] does sound pretty divinatory too…”
“I never even realised,” Theora admitted. Was she some kind of mage after all? She didn’t even use mana, though… Bell continued reading, so Theora did her best to keep focussing on the letter for now.
I mean, make no mistake; causing events in the way she does rather than observing them is still far beyond what any other diviner has been able to accomplish — but it’s very crucial that even she can’t meaningfully affect the outcome. Meaning that even when the strongest ever performs divination, it’s still just discovery in the end. And this might also be why she ended up with divination-magic in the first place — because pure discovery might be the exact quality her magic needs in order to remain unaffected by [Obliterate].
Theora couldn’t help but feel really self-conscious. It seemed everyone on the planet knew more about her than she did herself.
“So there we go,” Bell closed off, “that’s the current state of research as I could glean it. Hope that was of help!” Then she laid the letter on the counter and hummed. “It sure was useful. I need to think about this a little, but it doesn’t sound like the train is a divination machine, based on this, because it can make choices as to the outcome. It probably runs on good old wonky magic. Which likely means whatever happened was manually constructed with a lot of effort, like one of Dema’s bridges.”
“What are you two talking about?” Ulber asked, but Bell waved off.
Meanwhile, Theora nodded absently, before catching another glimpse at the letter and noticing a few lines at the bottom of the page that Bell had neglected to read out loud.
Good luck with your endeavours!
P.S. Still… Some nights, I can’t help but wonder.
What if it’s invention after all?
Comments
Vorpal Corporal
Reminds me of the little I read of Discworld, where wizards predicting things set that future in stone
