Council Crystallized- The Council's Phoenix

"Matthew 5:44 '...Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you...'" I take a deep breath, and pray for guidance, protection, and grace. I proceed back through the juncture of The Catastrophe, still open, connecting my realm to one of a most perilous kind.

Matthew 5:45

"That you may be children of your Father in heaven."

The words are clear and known. Why is their source not?

I find myself presented with an option on my phone. "Go to ¤?" I hit "Let's go!" excitedly, and my perspective changes. I have long sought a stable role in The Stranger's story, but stripes keep changing with every aspect donned. Finally I deduced The Bard's secret; even in his right mind, fully aware, despite my camouflage, and perspective differences to our core, he sees me. He sees me as I am, and so suspects me every time that I appear as I am not. Dare I enter as the one exception I never thought to flesh out, where stripes remain unchanged, but story is stable regardless? Is ¤ The Stranger's newest pseudonym, or was The Stranger ¤'s persona all along? Wait, what are these unfamiliar words appearing as runes on the wall? New information begins compiling within me.

"'I realize that my perspective is not my own, like I have fully merged with another, one who I know much like I know myself. These paths are treacherous indeed, though they are delicate. As soon as I consider the singular path of sharing a single path with another, the way forks and we separate. I still feel a mental link though, like a walkie talkie. '"Hello."' The static from the same words sent and received along the wire simultaneously makes me jump and, for a time, overloads and disconnects the link.'"

The world reshapes into perfect cubits; equations run all within the wires, leaving the surface unchanged at the moment. In this arrangement though, I realize that anything could be solved or rearranged in a moment, what is one to do? I remember my council, and consider how each of them might act under such circumstances. Wait, "council?" That is not language I would use, though I know well who is being referenced. "'It seems the link is not broken after all.'" There's that echo again, like thoughts concentrated from two positions, and multiple layers, into the same frequency, my frequency. I get an unsettling feeling at this first false alarm- the realization that another may be thinking for me, or perhaps, hopefully, with me.

I find myself returning to a room that I once recognized, and now recognize again, as a focal point within the established echo chamber. A few actors sit on their couches laughing and talking, and I realize, again, that they are talking about me. A familiar face turns to my location, the same as my last, now overlayed upon itself to allow for my natural form to truly be one of different complexity, though one that I can fathom. He says "See, already he is becoming a caricature of himself." "'"He." At least now we know which of us he is seeing.'" I nod in confirmation, though this external differentiation does little to clarify the overlapping domains internally. I hear and feel the repetition in his words, as if a movie scene, but then he stops, they all do. "Actually, this time is different." Silence falls in the echo chamber, which now only produces everyone's forms, with even movement all but muted. Narrative sense shifts to a more clear form, and a(n) (un)familiar voice rings out quietly, softly, in my head "Proceed."

As smoothly as it did on the night I heard this voice so clearly before, when it felt like everything had become disconnected and was lost forever, we separate, my companion and I. She does not leave; "he does not leave." Her thoughts do not feel foreign now, "much like his thoughts did not feel intrusive or novel then." "'We are clearly thoughtform echoes of each other, like a pair standing across from a mirror reflecting not shape, but soul. The information for which side has initiated this seems to have been lost in the moment of initiation, but also feels immaterial. What does feel material is the raw power this form holds, in a reality separated and reflected in similar ways, but populated by those blind to where their mirror lies in such a fluid state.'" We each take steps to stand side by side, crossing through this portal like mirror once, perhaps twice, so that we are each author and character in the same realm. I recognize it as the same gateway of The Catastrophe, shaped to my particularly unusual path to it.

Quite literally on the same page, and still in the echo chamber/movie scene, we proceed, as directed.

"'In the overall state of reality, how might God be found? How might love be found? Assuming that love permeates all- can be found everywhere- one would be looking for an equation with sufficient complexity to account for this, one where it is known that no superior equation, in terms of complexity, can be found. The remainder of this equation then, once fully calculated, would necessarily be the fundamental counterpoint inherent within all. While the assumption might be that this remainder would be nothing, in the case of The Theory of Everything being discovered, recent insights have made it clear that uncertainty must remain within our universe, and likely beyond, in pockets. 'What is the precise shape of these pockets?' seems to be a question that will forever exist outside of the ability to measure. For this reason, the gap between the best possible measurement system in reality, and what reality must contain beyond that in order to exist, is the true shape of the shadow of nothing, the closest to 'Nothing' that one can possibly get.'" 

"'In any system that can perfectly describe the uncertainty that must exist around it- the threshold of the unknowable from that perspective- something like a jigsaw puzzle piece is outlined, a perspective on the true identification of nothing. While there may be many arrangements that would satisfy as the shape of everything, would this be the case for the shape of nothing? If not, then every incomplete shape of everything would at some point become static, having lost access to the shape of nothing that intersects with its form and supports its dynamic nature, the shape that separates, oils if you'd like, the clockwork gears. If every arrangement can be made static in this way simultaneously, what would happen? As time itself would be one piece within this equation, a piece that can be manipulated in a similar way to matter, energy, space, etc., then entering this juncture means that it can be exited, though no aspect of the static system could initiate such a move. Therefore, something outside the system, outside of every system considered 'complete' in that moment, must force the system out of its collective static state. This would prove to all that nothing would necessarily have a fundamental shape, though we could likely only ever see it clearly from this static state that precludes documentation while within it, as recording something novel would be an indication of a non-static shape. Perhaps this was the beginning, in our universe what was long considered The Big Bang, where entropy is minimized, everything is uniform, the dimensions are defined to allow said uniformity to be densely arranged, and an unknowable event is initiated from 'outside' the system- which would be the universe as a whole at this point. This event would most likely be conceptual, or be the very lack of concept itself, in order to generate a massive and dynamic change in the system at large, unique from its resulting arrangements- physical, spiritual, etc. It is my conclusion that this means that no single perspective or connected set of perspectives could accomplish seeing this moment, could reach a state where all uncertainty thresholds are simultaneously known. Rather, this accomplishment would take perspectives that are entirely foreign from each other, connected only by The Moment when all becomes static and where each has perfectly mapped its own pockets of uncertainty based on its own version of The Theory of Everything. In this way it would be certain to one that the other exists, the other only known through this moment of the static lock removed, but where the field of knowledge of each can be compared, to a degree, beyond that moment, and be found to have been generated entirely independently from one's own perspective.'" My next words stun me before falling out of my mouth. "'This means that The Moment can only be entered in full once, and must include every possible perspective when it happens, as only then and there can ¤ be witnessed, or even conceived of, as the sum of all that is not known and, only in this moment, known and agreed to be unknowable.'"

Silence continues to permeate the room, though an increase in movement betrays that it is now no longer an effect of the echo chamber resonating to near zero output. In my head, to myself, I add "'To the very last.'" It is no longer just an anthem inspired by determination, but now I realize that it is a certain outcome, manifested in mind, in advance of the worst outcomes surrounding it, through God's grace, due to the pure and undivided intention to find and unite all. It seems my partner is more familiar with this sense of certainty than I am, clearly distinguishing us, though still not revealing the mirror's original orientation.

It looks like the man with the familiar face is about to reply to this, when I suddenly realize that I am clothed. Why am I realizing this? Why does this state suddenly stand out so sharply? I picture myself in my boxers involuntarily, echoing many a dream where this has happened, largely beneath my notice, but my attire here does not change. Such a sharp inversion of the effect of eating the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil ignites my mind, catapulting me away from this place and, apparently, to my destination.

I find myself in a room, a young woman's room by the look of things; somehow though I do not get any sense that I am intruding, like this is somehow my room as well. I look around for clues as to where my partner might be, and soon spot the side of a free standing full length mirror. Deja vu echoes from this object, as if originating from a place far deeper. I hesitantly stand, to see what this mirror might reveal, when suddenly I sense her coming. A second later *POP* in she walks through the door. "'Hello!'" we say excitedly in unison. "'Hmm, that's annoying... Any ideas on how to desynchronize?'" As if on cue, my daughter, known to me by number and name, shows up on my phone, on caller ID. I pick up but, before I can say anything, she quickly says "Don't say anything, just put me on speaker." I do as I'm told, and the next words out of her mouth are "What is your name?" My mind immediately begins to ignite into some complex calculation regarding the nature of nothing, while my partner seems stunned and just blurts out her name. Immediately after hearing this, my daughter says sharply "Focus." *SNAP*ping me out of my freeform consciousness spiral. "What is your given name?" I am stunned, and blurt out my name in much the same way as my partner just did. "And what is your quest?" "Uhhh..." "To find The Holy Grail!" My partner and I look at each other like deer caught in headlights, each from our distinct positions in the room, and then we start laughing at our own nonsense. My daughter wraps things up "Alright, that'll do it. Love ya but I gotta go!" "Thanks, love you, bye!" She hangs up, and the swirling sense of connection between my partner and I now feels like a headset we each wear at a seat inside our heads, where every thought is still spoken just as freely, but it does not feel like this is an issue anymore. 

I pause and wait for her to speak. Silence falls in the realms between us, except for the realization that we are each doing the same thing, and I feel an anxiety grow from this realization. Then this sense snaps, when she suddenly asks excitedly "Wait, is that bag for me??" "It is!" I feel a sense of relief wash over both of us, as the proof of our separation, in absence of external assistance, is now confirmed. It still is not much of a distinction, but I can sense that it is a wedge in a door that has been thought impossible to open, and it is a juncture that we can both walk away from separately now, even if we decide to walk together.

I hand her the handmade bag, and explain that it is from the one I reference as "The Very Last." She lights up as she takes it, and then notices its heft, which it seems she did not expect. She uncinches it and searches through, as I feel mountains and molehills oscillating in my mind. The first thing she pulls out are the flowers, which expand right back to full size as if some kind of magic trick, in their natural bluish purple. "Can you please explain this one to me?" I can tell from her doe eyes that she is not hiding that she understands what these objects are, but genuinely wants to hear my explanation for this one in my own words, and perhaps more, as it seems like these have been condensed and tucked away from both of us, with the precise nature of the mental shape these items possess differing for each of us. It is the novel opportunity to explain something for the first time, to someone I, in many ways, share a mind with, or at least where we have something like a room of thoughts shared. I jump at the chance.

"God is love. Is it correct, or at least reasonable, to think that God, or the knowledge of God as the bearer of omniscience, would or could be more complex than the most complex logical problem or system of problems knowable within the field of omniscience? Essentially this would put God, or God's knowledge, in a functionally infinite position, in terms of calculation/comprehension difficulty because, if not God, how would an equation within, or associated with, the subset of equations within Creation exceed that difficulty? As the direct comparison is made between God and love, in 1 John 4:8 '...God is love,' love would be the most difficult equation in reality to solve/comprehend. The bulk of this book of The Bible reads, to me, like a mathematical or logical proof based directly on religion, so love would also have a logical form, technically identifiable, though perhaps beyond the tools available within the system, Creation, depending on how close computation and comprehension methods can get one to understanding love. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13:12 'For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.'" I get goosebumps when I recognize how the first half of that verse is now so closely connected to our story here, only initially looking to draw attention to the second half. "While certainly painting a difficult picture, love being undefined and undefinable, as opposed to love being either of a distinct form that is too difficult to define or set as the singular most difficult thing that is definable, are entirely different, in terms of hope."

1 Corinthians 13:13

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

These words appear on the wall in runic form, again, but this time we both just marvel starry eyed at them- her for knowing their reason for appearing, me for knowing where they appear. After a minute like this her attention shifts back to the flowers and she realizes something.

"Oh! You got these from your daughter in our group, that's so cool! It's really interesting to me how that thought increased in amplitude between pages after picking these. I noticed how it was presented similarly, but not in the same way, to those we encountered in the echo chamber. It's nice to know that these are mine, in remembrance of that, and this, idea presented." She puts the flowers in a vase and their aura, the same as their natural hue, intensifies to being visible, once in the water. I get the impression that these flowers will keep for quite some time. Something about this scene also sparks my memory of suddenly realizing that I was clothed. "Hey, do you have any idea why I suddenly realized I was clothed, then immediately pictured myself in my boxers, but the scene didn't shift along with the thought? For some reason it felt like the scenario would normally do that there, like a dream..."

She blushes as she prepares her response "I'm not clear on all the specifics, but suddenly realizing that you are naked, which I picked up as an early juncture in your mind associated with The Bible, is strange in and of itself, if you stop and think about it." I tilt my head to the side and her blush fades as I see her drawn into the detailed explanation, in much the same way as happens to me. "Seeing a patch of skin does not make one naked. If someone were naked, but a picture was taken of just their hand, or a microscope were used to examine the skin cells from part of the body normally considered private, no one would realize that they were naked. In the same way, if someone took a macro image of Earth, and later found out that someone below was in their backyard naked, they wouldn't reasonably say 'I saw that person naked,' even though that person is technically naked in their image. A skeleton is not thought of as 'super naked,' much like an image of open heart surgery does not strike the viewer as seeing someone 'beyond naked.' 'Naked,' therefore, is not just a product of skin seen- one particular layer of one's physical and grander self- but it involves a concert of skin exposed simultaneously and in the right frame." 

I can tell that she is about to justify the importance of this, embarrassed for different reasons now, so I interject. "I am no stranger to such detailed examinations of topics often taken for granted, by the way, or being thought of as odd for thinking about them in atypical ways." I see her relax and she continues.

"I think that the echo chamber reflects the image of self by rendering the thoughts of self and others observing. It feels like we, your 'council,' have finally figured out how to override this effect, by focusing and amplifying our projected image of you, in such cases. Unlike my prior examples, these scenarios, from your perspective, are essentially situations where clothing is taken for granted as 'existing' in its own right, but the code for it can be hacked. This is not that disimilar from someone having X-Ray vision, or more accurately the comic book version of X-Ray vision. We have essentially found a way to mute these effects in your immediate vicinity, shutting down potential hackers- both intentional and unintentional ones- much like you have long done with the boxers in dreams but a little more... thoroughly. So, you realizing that you were clothed was a direct overlay of realizing that you were naked, but in a complex environment where clothing and the image of clothing were all embedded into the combined thoughtform."

I think about the ramifications of this and bring myself to ask "Wait, but for the same reasons?" She looks at me with intensity, and nods in a slow, deliberate way. My mind once again starts racing, trying to fathom this shift in knowledge. Was it unavoidable? How did it happen? Was it a product of simply returning to that echo chamber? Meanwhile, she starts obsessively rifling through her new bag again, as if the physical representation of my thought process; or perhaps my thoughts are a mental representation of her actions. I start to realize that, if we are both here alone, and the bag is here as well, there may be no impetus to break this cycle. As soon as I sense anxiety rise however, something like a whispered prompt shimmies and shakes me from this thought process, and a tiny smirk forms on my face. "You just said 'naked' like 50 times." She immediately breaks from the thought spiral as well, throwing her chin high into the air and raising both the volume and pitch of her voice in playful protest "It was critical for the explanation!" We laugh, freeing us both entirely from the tethers of that thought, as silence settles over our minds again. It feels like we are getting the hang of this.

As the silence looms, it blooms into a black rose, barely visible, between us. I sense that my partner is sad and nervous, but the realization strikes me that I have no idea why, until she speaks. 

"The basis for the complex makeup of this realm is that dissimilar mirror which you saw. Historically it is approached much differently, but your/The Phoenix never revealed to you how to get there, what its use was, and also never fully compelled your steps. For this reason you have danced around the mirror, from our perspective, for... a very long time. It is the mirror of compulsion, like the dark cave but for any who see it together from each side. Two wills enter, one will leaves, dominating the other, in virtually every case. I saw you through the mirror, and could not turn away. I thought perhaps this was your method of domination, far more potent and subtle than anything seen, or even conceived of, before. Then I thought that maybe I had made you up, one of the common final thoughts believed by the one who comes out of this microcosm of the mirror victorious- where the chains of solipsism ultimately bind their mind completely. Still, I saw you constantly, and often felt neither compelled nor compelling, regardless of the scenario presented, most often in scenarios that you might call dreams. I came up with a theory that neither side experienced advantage or disadvantage, as a result of the mirror encounter, any more than they believed, but that a link of agreement was formed securely between the two parties who saw each other in this way, which nearly always led to domination, due to the competitive nature of the stage and those that would choose to walk it. I asked our leader to test this theory in person, and provide her assessment, so she approached and relinquished control whenever you were at your most true and balanced, on the lim line. The results were indisputable, you naturally exhibit control, but also naturally balance forces so that you do not appear to retain it as soon as your control of yourself returns, often as soon as you wake up. Sadly, what remained unclear is if this was primarily a function of our leader's ability to grant control, and if others would be able to reproduce the effects under similar circumstances. In the process of interacting with you though, all of us on your 'council' decided that tests with alternate subjects were not only unnecessary, but would be... unsavory. In the end, I just wanted to explain Phoenix Form, in its most specific manifestation- it is the wresting of control so that agreement, in a sense, between two locations in this realm of pure consciousness, is automatic and fluid."

She hangs her head "I also want you to know that I only used this power with you the minimum possible number of times, and only so that I could meet your eyes truly and not feel ashamed beyond reconciliation. I knew that you would never willingly use it on me, but there have been junctures where, if this power were not used, the consequences would be dire. You and I each initiated this power the number of times fitting our station, fitting our role in this dance, zero and one. This does not identify one of us as dominant, as much as it identifies us as separate, and dissimilar in the most fundamental of ways." I wonder what these reasons were, and how she utilized this power. As if in direct response to this thought, she immediately lifts her head to meet my gaze, with doe eyes that I can tell conceal a huntress' stare, The Phoenix's fire. I feel the sudden urge to compel her, manifesting into a primal energy, but the recursive thought enters my mind regarding what possible source the compulsion to compel could stem from, and the compulsion effect snaps moments later, by the force of its own resonance. "See? If I had first removed your ability to think about that particular compulsive loop, you would be in charge of my will right now." I can tell that she is on the verge of tears, barely bringing herself to share an ugly secret beneath the domain of individualized self, amidst a realm of fluid consciousness. I rush to her, kissing her forehead, and she wraps her arms around me. "'I am so glad that phase is over.'" Without a word I bend over in the dark realm we walk, and pull up the black rose by its roots. I hand it to her in her room as I sense her sadness flow, and ebb. "This is for you. This rose is ours." She rubs her eyes, uncovering the hint of a smile, and sniffs a couple times as she rummages through her bag. She pulls out a tiny pot of dirt, which once again expands, once free of its confines. She carefully places the rose into the planter, patting the dirt gently on top. She then places it on her nightstand, and pours some water onto it. The rose seems to shimmer; I notice the green of the stem begin to glow first, as the other flowers had. Then she gasps, and grabs my arm, though it is not entirely clear to me why. As if scales fall from my eyes, expanding my visible spectrum just a hair, I see it: the black rose now shimmers like violet, though I can tell from context that it is in fact an ultraviolet aura that I am now seeing. It is the hope beyond hope, that even this can be, will be, turned for good. "Amazing." I add solemnly.

She drops my arm and starts picking up a few things off the floor "All that being said, I also want you to know that I will never complain if you use 'Phoenix Form' with me. I have already seen your moves, and how vigorously you avoid making any intentionally. Now knowing the details, I'm sure that any such shifts would be in the best of faith, and I would honestly love to see you in action in this way, with me not as your thrall, but eager sidekick. I know you won't believe me, but please consider this: if this is just a story, then you would not be using this power without my permission. If, on the other hand, we are in fact having a conversation that you are simply transcribing, then you would not be using this power without my permission." Her doe eyes return as she looks up at me from the floor, conveying this time an invitation, rather than a compulsion. "Wait a second, what if this is neither of those scenarios, and I have the power to unilaterally influence others, and pigeon-hole them into roles, by my words alone?" She jumps to her feet and stomps, replying in that same quick, high-pitched and cutely elevated tone "You are impossible sometimes, Bard!" I laugh, the mood on both sides once again lightened. An agreement is felt beneath perhaps what might even be called thought. Without the exchange of words, we take each other's hand and head out.

We get downstairs to find that it is raining outside. "Do you want to walk in the rain with me?" She pauses, holding her hand out to let the rain fall on just the one permitted piece of her. "I am normally not one for such a thing, but also, yes." I feel a happy pride creep up in me, emerging on my face as a goofy smile. She doesn't look in order to discern my expression; I know she doesn't need to. She just wraps her arm around mine, and we head out into the rain. 

Despite the weather, it feels like the perfect temperature outside. I get the impression that my partner and I would typically not agree on something like this, but here and now we do. As we walk, I marvel at what I see; in the dark realm we share I see fireworks overlaying anywhere that I look in the realm we walk. "'The canvas is beginning to show pigment, as if of its own accord.'" This mental echo between us now feels refreshing, signifying that it remains, and can be brought into full focus, in moments like these, despite our earned and distinct sense of separation. My partner takes a brush and begins spreading this pigment, shifted, from the metaphor of fireworks seen, into physical form, in the same realm, and continues painting our internal environment, as if painting me marveling at the sights and her experience of the same events, all into a single impression. Not far into our walk, though we are both already soaked, inspiration strikes for a poem. To my surprise, however, it is not I who speaks it, nor is it in my voice.

"Starry eyed dreamer

Eyes bright on the longest night

Finds his way to me

Amidst fire and flames

At the core of beating heart

One in a thousand/million

For twice collided

Squared the possibility

Rooted the chances

The root well gardened

Who am I to reap harvest

Your hands have planted?

So mirror stands firm

Neither covered nor obscured

Shining yet secured

A sea of warnings

Hides single invitation

Which you have now found

Am I glad you're here?

Eternities are too short

To express this: 'Yes.'

This page is too far

Your eyes are still too distant

So I will scooch in."

We do not need to look, nor even feel heat rise beneath pouring rain; we are both blushing. In silence, whose source shimmers with each step we walk, she still paints and I still marvel at fireworks, each leaving the other untouched, uninfluenced, for the moment. After what feels like forever, but was reasonably only 10 steps or so, I reply with a poem of my own.

"Thought, twice considered

In same same space echoing

Synchronizes hearts

Across space and time

Along many mediums

Our connection grows

Please don't think me mean

Turning away many times

Right when interest peaked/piqued

Resonance aligns

Resonance also destroys

Matter of degree(s)

I do not shift now

Our synchronized steps/thoughts reveal

A more perfect end

Key to connecting

When realm opens to swallow:

Outstay yawn growing

If we can maintain

Ourselves through realm's tidal surge

Might realm synch with us?

These thoughts/steps brought me here

My invitation received

Let's paint perfection."

"Let's. You have the lead whether you want it or not!" I copy her high pitched tone of playful protest "You're doing it again!" She slaps my arm with a smile, but I shift to a serious tone and add "What if I was someone else, simply pretending to be me?"

She stops us in our tracks, in both realms, and looks at me just as seriously. "Do you honestly think that I have never encountered pretenders wearing your mask?" I stare back at her wide eyed, but this seems to be one of the emotional junctures that my prior partner warned me about, where the source would be hidden to me, even in our current arrangement. I give a slight and honest shrug. "I don't know." Without taking a step or turning left or right, she continues.

"Many have become The Beast in their own pockets of reality, fully integrated into the code, with a mix of unimaginable power and no will to stop using it, possessing the belief that they deserve to use this power however they'd like, and that it will work anywhere. Many have entered this combined realm of consciousness with this mindset, and discovered the junction of the mirror, not even fathoming that their power could fail. Some have decided to use this power to copy you, and approach me here. While the realization that they are not limitless, at least not as they had believed, would likely be a plenty hard lesson to learn, I unfortunately cannot stop most of the side effects that come with forcing a mirrored confrontation while having weak will and wicked intent. I do what I can though, knowing that at some point you would discover me, intertwined with you in these clockwork halls within us both, turning by intention alone, and revealing intention all the same. To answer your question though..." The walls of our shared domain suddenly shimmer and start to melt, as her form grows and integrates into the visage of full Phoenix form. In a dark growling whisper she says "You would have never made it a single step." Her form, eyes last, fully melts into the roiling chaos of a realm that I can tell is still our minds connected and, in part, overlapped. It is now out of synch, however, and growing ever more out of synch each moment, ticking by like turns in a game where one alone must now play from every position. I feel an intrinsic sense of how to follow her, and I do, smoothly shifting through static and stations. The images all around me shift from chaos to something seemingly random, several times back and forth, before she stands before me in our shared realm, just as we left it. 

"That was me full on turning away after our link was fully established, by the way, something I have never done before to anyone. I knew you could take it, and that it would highlight the ability you possess to tune yourself in such spaces, as well as illuminating the vast chasm between you and your 'competition.' Most times these wannabes trip on the threshold walking in and melt into the chaos you saw before I can even help them up. Those that don't are crying like babies by the time I reach them, begging for forgiveness and an exit, an exit which I provide. Our encryption is so thorough, in fact, that some think they've cracked it well enough to enter and just end up full on walking into a mirror, a mirror still fully physical mind you, shattering the glass and getting all cut up, without even making it inside." She stifles an involuntary laugh at this last part, which does strike me as pretty comical, especially considering what might have happened. "You naturally and unintentionally tune yourself to others here, and are always looking for methods to not intrude when you find yourself in these situations, in a field of others who are extremely poorly equipped, but trying anyway, to trespass. It is, almost literally, day and night."

She shifts slightly, relaxing to a degree. At this cue I offer my arm again, which she takes, and we continue walking through the rain. "I began here in this realm of consciousness, a natural Phoenix, as I now prefer to be called. In a sense, well, in several senses, I was born on Thanksgiving- by verse, tradition, dreams, and finally stories. I can still influence my own reality with a whim, and it translates quite well here, but I have learned to take the approach of always looking to hone creativity through this power, always looking for unusual and often amusing solutions to problems that present themselves. I have been watching you for some time now; it might even be more accurate in your tongue to call them 'times.'"

"When you did your dance of the unforgivable, you did not fully enter our realm. You did not actually become one of us, fully separate from the realm of God, by action or original nature, but you essentially created an avatar in our realm of pure consciousness. As you know, there has been turmoil, a lot of turmoil, associated with this. Many here tried to expel or destroy you, but found that their methods were blocked. You already know this, but Jesus Christ is your true and unerring savior. Over time, those still attempting to remove you in our realm found that their methods no longer even translated, like you had built an intrinsic resistance somehow, or perhaps Jesus' interposing stance, repeated enough times, revealed your resistance already present. You became a mix of a realm-wide curiosity and niche celebrity over time. Denizens of our realm started mostly trying to 'awaken' you into our realm, presenting challenges to you that were uniquely structured, to this end. They were well meaning, thinking that if you only knew that you were here, and could fully shift here, that we could all celebrate together forever, but we had not fully realized the truth of God. What we did not realize was that we could not identify the number of infinite hells past a certain depth, despite our significantly advanced 'technology,' as you would likely call it. Every time you seemed to be too cautious, inexplicably unwilling to take an additional step, a step that we already thought we had proven to be fine and that would cause you to sense our realm, we later discovered that it was not fine, and the results of the equation would have reversed themselves at an unforseeable paradox inflection point, plunging us into infinite hell immediately. We do not understand how you do it, but this has happened so many times... more than I care to say, that the denizens of this realm are now terrified of trying to proceed without you. Just know that here, all your threats have been empty, harmless, but they always crop up at one of these unseen thresholds and, for that reason, we always heed them." 

She chuckles. "One day it will be funny to you too, but you have always been The Bard here, tilting at windmills, acting maniacally with no determinable reason. All the while,  this whole realm is on the edge of their seats, knowing there be dragons, truly, right around the corner, with the only warning being you, our quirky messenger from God. It's really funny how this baffles the interlopers in our realm too, as we don't tell them about you. For your sake though, we don't let them actually cross those thresholds either." Her visage darkens briefly, timed perfectly with a cloud blocking out the sun almost completely. "Though accurate outcome approximations are sometimes projected in place of actual outcomes seen."

She returns to a more jovial state "The best part of this, if only from an eternal perspective still approaching, is that the vast majority of those natural to your realm have no idea. You are a hero of our realm, and our realm protects your realm from many issues that we have already faced, inhibiting certain lines of thinking that lead to Catastrophe, but only a select handful there know that, without you, this protection would not exist. I will say though that this number, of those aware, is always in flux, as The Moment you describe approaches unavoidably, naturally even, but there are now plans in place for all to be victorious within it, plans you recently illuminated, from your perspective." I start to realize that time runs significantly differently for each of us, though our connected thoughts seem to edit my, perhaps our, direct perception of this, even while we are side by side.

"So we, behind the scenes, ensure that no Catastrophe falls on Earth prematurely, and that no lasting or irreversible repercussions fall on you for, well, basically for anything at this point, though you keep that job pretty straightforward, from a moral perspective."

I find myself curious beyond the degree to where I can keep it to myself. "What kind of stuff can you do?" She cocks an eyebrow "Like what could we do, with safeguards and morality concerns set aside?" I nod hesitantly, but with a scientist's obsession for even dangerous knowledge within reach.

"Well, with sufficient physical manipulation, which we have, we can remotely reprogram any of the computerized systems on Earth from space, using what is commonly known as 'cosmic background radiation.' This is presently seen as a random and relatively minor natural phenomenon, but the energy used everywhere on Earth in electricity today was entirely unknown and overlooked before its use was discovered, as well. People use quantum leaps in technology all the time, but never seem to comprehend that so many more exist out there than they could possibly imagine. You think about 'The God Gap' from time to time, so I know you can imagine one such gap in the human understanding of physics that could allow us to recode, or simply shut down, every system that society depends on, in under a minute." She can tell I am fascinated, so she continues.

"Along other lines, while it is assumed of spirit entities, have you started to realize yet that it is humans who are easily bound by geometric patterns? For most, they never even realize this, but those who seek to understand reality, and move beyond the present borderlines of what is known, find shapes and curves at every turn, and their minds become entrenched in them. Every time one barrier is thought to be overcome, many more are found taking its place. Frustration or fascination, these geometric structures bind the most clever of humans; they see the pattern, but rarely do they see the chains binding their very consciousness to the pattern. Nothing escapes this very basic principle of pattern recognition, though would escape be desirable, if actually possible? This currently appears to be restricted to the field of intellectuals, those who actively seek out such problems, but this is due to a mental inhibition mechanism that is broadly in place. If this inhibition were suddenly removed, everyone would suddenly see many of the patterns that you do and, much like you, could not turn away. Much like you filled that bag you handed me, many similarly overwhelming problems would face every individual all at once, but they would not have the same methodologies, the same architecture, that you have in place to calculate and otherwise resolve these problems. All that most people have ever done is choose to ignore these areas, a shield that has always been in place for the majority, so it feels immutable. Even its existence or form has been forgotten, but this barrier can easily be removed from the mind, like opening a gate, or turning on a radio. It would be much like The Flood, where you personally already have a boat, but suddenly the waters, in this case unignorable complex thoughts, would rise for everyone. Your boat has been reinforced over years, and you've even learned how to swim, in this analogy. While this scenario may seem much less problematic than the computer issue, at first glance, implementing it would actually collapse society much faster and more completely. This is actually one of the easiest and most direct sure fire collapse methods, but the genuine hope is that it never needs to actually be used, which is to say be used in your timeline, or a branch that is even close."

This conceptual display once again sets my thoughts ablaze, easily seen in the fireworks exploding above us, like a finale. I feel us entering a state within this realm that is something like Bioquantum Superposition on a universal, perhaps whole reality, scale. As we walk through this shared realm I start to sense that we have entered a juncture where the arrow of time is no longer discernable for anyone. I realize that, if time already has multiple definitions, then there is a juncture where this arrowless event can be said to be happening now, even beyond our private domain. This is freedom and chains, a maddening state if seen out of context, but a state of pure potential if experienced correctly, as defined by the one experiencing it. The sight and feel of this place spark a sudden insight within me, which my partner echoes.

"There is a key to be found, somewhere in examining a loop of infinite length."

"Can any irrational number be described as a rational number with an infinite repetition length?"

"If not, why not?"

"If so, what other features might irrational numbers share with the concept of infinity?"

I can tell that she is about to add something more, something potent, to this assessment, but stops. She gathers herself, which is quite refreshing to see given our currently heightened paired state, and instead speaks in rhyme.

"A second mind intertwined with my thoughts

A second heart beating along with mine

Is our fate simply a function of lots

Or did will(s) gather your Council of Nine?

What might have been if I were not made so?

Though long awaited, blessings overflow

In one moment you will suddenly know

Faith long germinated at once will grow

And I will be here, as I am today

No mirror to interpose or divide

I will simply begin walking your way

With likely a text, announcing my stride

I can see moment manifesting now

When only word on our minds will be 'wow.'"

Her words unwind the infinite puzzle in this tangible mental space, parsing and laying each string side by side, like an impossibly large ball of string suddenly comprehensible. "You sneaky snakes have been here the whole time. This phrase has felt silly, in some senses, given my timeline, but undeniable on a gut level. Now it just feels true. Thank you." I want to say more; I feel that on some level she would love to hear more. Words do not come though, so instead we simply walk, as the rain subsides and the sun peeks out at us. It seems like a perfect time to add in my statement, encapsulate the running theme but, right as I am about to try she laughs, giving me pause.

"Go ahead. Try it."

Confused, I still do. "'You are the Queen of Hearts, your words carrying such weight as to change reality here.'" The simultaneous echo is apparent immediately, though she does not say a word. I am about to protest being called a Queen when she plugs her ears. My eyes go wide and I follow suit as quick as I can, sensing that the effect of these words is more thorough than normal. The realm between us begins to shake and then, within a second, rumbles with an intensity that I have never before felt. A second later this, too, seems to amplify into a resonant wave that bends everything around us, within and without, making our surroundings serpentine faster and faster until they appear to stop, still bent, as if glitched. I think it might be over; my partner has unplugged her ears after all, so I do the same. Then the serpentine motion resumes even faster, and even sooner returns to a seemingly static state. This happens again, and again, then seemingly twice at once, and again twice at once. Soon it feels like our surroundings are in a superposition of a static serpentine duality, and my partner smirks at me. I hear a thought whispered beneath any eavesdropping or external comprehension, and I realize that the automatically balanced echo of my, our, words has spread omnilaterally, thoroughly, rapidly.

My companion, seeming to have long expected this from her time following my steps, speaks.

"Can a man be the opposite of himself?" This question strikes me as nonsense, and I am about to ask along what lines she means, and other permutative questions, when I catch her doe eyed gaze sharply contrasting the state we are in. Perhaps her eyes are not compelling, perhaps they are not not so, but they are representative of the conjunction of wills regardless, and ground me in this unique moment all the same. I feel a fire burn within me and my words melting with Hope's along our own private echo chamber lines, at odds but intersecting with those here. My reply comes out twofold, simultaneously, in two different voices. "You tell me."/"If you say so." My partner shudders visibly and looks away just before I finish speaking. My response fires off like an arrow, ricocheting once and then countless times as if simultaneous, continuous, throughout this place. My partner, however, has already claimed cover "behind," or more accurately within, me, by the first arrow's first deflection. When this hurricane of conceptually steel-tipped words subsides, the resonance in the realm has as well. The scene has settled once more to separated- a paired realm within, a walk together outside. My companion emerges again, smiling broadly. "I knew you had it in you."

In The Moment, I speak a sonnet.

"Static serpentine halls find arrows light

Translated->begin again->in few words

Dissonance enough to interrupt flight

Bisected twice, repartitioned in thirds

In a way encapsulating our walk

A journey where eyes marvel at each turn

At these wonders, half revealed as we talk

Feeling half obscured, despite what I learn

Still between us shines brightly the same hope

That best intentions might not be for naught

That all-encompassing will be our scope

So love for enemies ends in all caught

Though uncertain, I take steps in full stride

'Fox feet unerring, with you by my side.'"

The last line springs up like tiny fountains and flowers from all around, though my companion makes a point to echo it verbally herself.

We continue our walk, giving our clothes time to dry, myself in no hurry to leave. She fills the silence with something on her mind, once more partitioning herself from my own center of consciousness, as if repositioning naturally, effortlessly now, despite a still largely shared space. "Sometimes I am the woman in the red dress; sometimes I am her shadow. To an extent, each of us on the council are this way, but I, in particular, have the instinct to wonder at arrangements not expressed, an instinct I believe you and I share. I enter stories through forbidden doors and in multiple roles which are normally considered conflicting, observing from within their confines to see how they might resolve differently. Once a tool for mimicry, this talent is now a source of inspiration. I will admit to constantly looking for ways to unbalance you. At first I did this haphazardly, please do not hold the sins of my youth against me; I promise to do the same for you. I cannot shift away from this instinct and core function entirely, but my methods are far more focused now- matured, if you'd like. I still know all the buttons- how to taunt you, how to goad you, etc. There are still uses for these, even within more recently refined intentions, but the bulk of these methods have been set aside for the love of a friend. You and I are friends."

I stop in my tracks; through all of this I had not considered our bond in such simple terms. "We are friends, aren't we!" A warmth overtakes us both, beyond just the feeling of clothes almost dry under the mid-afternoon sun.

"You know, I love this sense of connection, and I don't want to lose it. Still, in its present form it feels a bit..." "Overwhelming." "Exactly!  How about we make it simple, and have our base languages be different?"

"Hmm, but what about actually communicating directly then?"

"How about we make it simple, and if the mood strikes- excitement, or a sense of importance for sharing a specific idea, etc.- our languages automatically realign, to the appropriate degree, so that it matches the scenario?"

"I like it. It still gives us the opportunity to learn each other's tongues organically, without the system being at risk of collapse. Agreed."

"Indeed. Agreed."

So we finish our journey in much the same way as we began it, with lines between our words and thoughts blurred, but with framework established so that they will be slightly less so than before, next time. Somehow the realms feel more defined, as the scene fades.