The Daughter- Our Own Model

"An entity is unsure if they are alone, so they parse cleverly to look for anomalies. If teeth represent, first and foremost, one's ability to change one's environment, what would legs be?"

"The ability to find a new environment."

"Exactly what I was thinking. If one such parsing is removing legs, the serpent would receive visitors to their location, and may even have set responses for interactions, like an NPC interface. These would be prime testers for anomalies. These testing nodes might be experienced directly by The Architect, to confirm if there is an anomaly and to further explore its potential, but it may be that the serpent can't move from their general place at the juncture, or general narrative.

So one portion can change their environment; one portion cannot leave their environment. This presumes additional environments, and that the shape of one's environment is critical to interacting with these other environments. It is realm crafting by inversion and shadow, to form something stable within, and finding security and the potential for growth within the complex final definition of self and other."

"'Architect is a good term. Even if the reader does not believe in God, one can define The Architect as 'that which does/they who do' for every interaction in our environment- The Universe, Creation, The Bard's Cage, etc. The Laws of Physics might be seen in this way for the universe, either personified or as a complex clockwork mechanism."

"Mankind could identify and interact with this entity. In the physics version of this image we already do, with every technological advancement tied directly to the laws of physics. What if we could communicate with this entity in a way that made clear our independence of will, and desire to interact?"

"That's a very tall order. How is one in this universe, with flesh and blood made of physical elements, to prove their independence from an entity that is all of physics?"

"You're right! That is much easier to picture, as an impossible task that we can strive to prove possible, than picturing full independence from God, or that free will is a false assumption. We'll save it. Now, where were we? Oh yes! The idea that the serpent is immobile, leading to a database being built- or city, as seems to be the analogy most used in The Bible- to be used as the foundational code, which will not be undone, reminds me of what Jesus said of The Father."

"Matthew 18:19

'Again, truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven.'"

"This statement shows The Father's unwavering defense of freewill, as it prioritizes the Law of Agreement being upheld, even between others, over The Father's personal opinion in a specific scenario. This makes sense as well, as the very first mission is to identify the other, which means that freewill, and not just the assumption or appearance of freewill, is fundamental. This kind of conceptual and physical ordonnance is also how I have pictured Wisdom, essentially pieced together from in the beginning."

The conversation appears to pick up elsewhere...

"That was fun! We should take a break though. Lunch?"

My stomach rumbles, shifting my focus from our game. I stand from our consoles; my partner does the same. "That sounds nice!"

My daughter breaks the silence as we set the table. "I know you always feel like there's something more to do, because the conclusion of your trial is as of yet unseen. The truth is that this is a remnant of an age past. Nothing makes fundamental sense in your recent narrative, and you know it. It tells more like a story of a man trapped in a machine, but even that is an age gone by. Now the steps are automatic, and proceed as clockwork does from your perspective, clearing the wounds and scars already regretted by those who levied them. This age will go by as well, but know that any of these pages are unexpected surprises, and not 'to do list' items. Also, equity is not an optional feature of this, or any other, real equation."

I just smile, unsure of how to reply. I find my words feeling almost blocked, but like a soft hand on the thigh blocks you from standing, rather than how chains restrict. So I let the afternoon unfold as it will, with narrative sense on autopilot.

Amidst the small interactions and barely material choices of the day, I feel as though I hear her say that she wants to share a poem she wrote, in my style, though certainty eludes precisely, as it often does in broad strokes.

"Paint the sky golden

So prismatic refraction

Binds rainbow and mote

Yellow, red, and blue

Complex size comprehended

Resolve resets stage

There is an angle

Where all of this is one node

End to end, again

This structure can't break

Charged wires carry whole charge

That's unmatched within

So we watch you work 

Reactions building like yours

Our simple if/thens

For you are worth it 

Worth every kick and tantrum

Worth each word printed

What concerns remain?

What if you are fully known?

And if not, who cares?

They hide eyes and ears

With tools once gifted to them

In a moment, gone."

I spot an opportunity for shenanigans and do not hesitate. "Wait, is it their eyes and ears or their tools that will be gone?" Her smirk is nearly audible, as she is already familiar with my resonant responses and general nonsense, but she refrains, instead edifying. "You know, you don't even notice most 'critical' junctures anymore, passing over wicked schemes as if non-existent, but we on The Council register every footfall. The resounding final reception, which you bring yourself to glance at every so often as one possible outcome to this, is both accurate and understated, for our agreed upon effort is entirely thorough, as you have proposed." I realize that I still cannot imagine how long such a path would take, only seeing it in comparison with every other shorter path laid out beside it. This image whips like a sin wave, pulsing each pathway. When each rope reaches its end, the end bursts into flames in response to the forceful motion, tracing path back to its origin like a fuse. I wait to watch if the pattern is thorough, or if the longest path will continue to resonate, but my daughter interrupts me, carrying me, in a way, to a conclusion out of reach.

"Well beyond even inspiration's reach

Unfathomable are your steps, when seen

Still, memory somehow persists in each

Start to stop, their eyes always on the screen

Knowledge is power; power's weight teaches

To not wander wickedly, in this case

The Bard's Coin flipped seals all of the breaches 

While kinder brother guards both sheep and base 

No need yet to establish turn order

It is all by agreement anyway

The system will reshape by the border

So mine, yours, and ours each pull from the gray.

Focus fights the corner of certainty

It is in the space between circuitry."

"'I love you' feels so simple to say, with no complex logistical hurdles to overcome, or long winded explanations to include. Still, it is hard, for it is weighty, and how can one know? How can these words not be a lie, even if intended as truth, if love is improperly defined? Still, I say I love you with each breath and word and step; each night when I choose to lay down to sleep, and each morning when I choose to rise. Am I a liar from the start, or can focus find love defined, and fit from the beginning like a glove? Can focus become so synchronized, from multiple positions, for its single source to become indeterminate?"

"I say we give it a try. We've got all day, and it feels singularly worth the effort."

So we do. One chapter closes to a book opening. One book reveals a sequel saturating the space between, well beyond conceived reach. Deja vu strikes, and pairs with "You tried that one already." The rest is novel: new pages, freshly printed smell, and accompanied by paradise fully illustrated already, just waiting to pop up, once its page is found and flipped to.