Chapter 29: The Animus Calculus Unveiled
Moments Before Lancelot's Eastern Cataclysm
The conclave hung in tense silence, the air thick with anticipation.. He had just inscribed an equation on the blackboard:
Φ(∭miⁿd ∇Will dVc)
"The power of the will and mind," he intoned, his voice echoing softly. The entire assembly exhaled in unison, the weight of his words settling like a veil. "The alternative, as proposed by Steins..."
The first to recover was the Judge. Her voice pierced the hush like a blade. "So, how do you intend to use this to solve the problem of the Universal Constant?"
He smiled, sensing the unspoken question rippling through every mind in the room—and even the unseen Presence lurking beyond the veil. He would have savored the suspense longer, but duty called. Turning back to the blackboard, he wrote beneath the equation:
- ∇Will: The gradient (clarity, focus, and intensity) of the user's intent in consciousness-space.
- ∭ dVç: The integral over the user's total volume of focused consciousness.
- Φ: The "Interpretation Function" of the artifact or the user's own trained mind.
Dropping his chalk, he faced the audience. The sages—those Sequence 8 scribes—stared at the board, eyes locked in concentration as they digested his additions. Interacting with them had proven more entertaining than he'd anticipated, though their bewilderment was palpable. He gave a silent sigh.
"Steins believed the only way to ensure the evacuees' survival," he continued, gesturing toward the sages who weren't focused on him, "was to enact this law while underpaying the system—feeding it a value below the Constant."
The conclave fell silent once more. Confusion furrowed the Judge's brow beneath her black robes, while the church emissaries leaned forward, their eyes gleaming with speculative focus.
"Consciousness will be unraveled to energy," broke in the one-eyed female sage from the Orrery of Eternal Night, her tone laced with curiosity. "How would the influence of will and mind solve that?"
"Through Steins, we deduced that the underpayment could be overridden if you possess a gradient of will-to-mind ratio greater than 0.99." He underlined the value on the board.
"Then..." The Ethereal Moon's face twisted in confusion as he rose from his perch on the chair's armrest, striding toward the board. "How did he determine the exact value below the Constant, since the Constant is unknown? How was he certain his T'uv artifact was lesser than it?"
The Clown struck the board again, stroking the Third Law
Σ(δℒ/δg'uv) + T'uv artifact= 0
"(δℒ/δg'uv) is the stress-energy tensor of the universe's natural, undistorted geometry—gravity," he explained, circling the expression before turning to the Ethereal Moon. "From this formula, Steins speculated that the value of T'uv artifact must be a universally positive value." His hand encircled the addition sign before the term.
It was as if the Primordial Sun had finally grasped it; his eyes lit with realization. Quite a competent fellow,the Clown thought.
"Then, by the rules of logic," the Primordial Sun's emissary said, stroking his beard while propping his elbow on his hand, "replacing it with a universal negative number—i.e., not +T'uv artifact but -T'uv artifact—would yield a value less than zero."
"The underpayment... an Animus drift occurs," the Clown completed with a knowing smile.
"Such intriguing and vast intellect," the one-eyed sage of Eternal Night muttered, though the conclave's acoustics amplified her words. "Just what exact Sequence was this Steins fellow of yours?"
He smiled wider. Steins was indeed intriguing—scarringly mentally competent. At times, he'd seemed nigh omniscient. But given his Sequence, that was impossible.
"I'm sorry, my lady," he replied with an apologetic bow. "That I cannot disclose."
"Oh... guarded secrets, then." She accepted the closure with a nod.
"So, how does the mind-and-will ratio solve the outcome of the Animus drift?" the Ethereal Moon pressed.
The Clown heaved a breath; their desperate eyes followed it. "Steins conducted an experiment. He used the Eye of Wonder." His words trailed as the Sage of the Primordial Sun interjected, skepticism etching his features.
"The Eye of Wonder is secured and guarded within the Twin Gates of Vhal'ghanthru," the sage said, his fingers now cradling his chin. "How did this Steins fellow breach it without the knowledge of the Primordial Sun?"
The Clown's smile turned exaggerated, almost ridiculous—like an owner regarding an ignorant pup. "There is much you don't know about this world, Scribe." He kept to himself the detail that Steins had stolen the iris and embedded it in his crucifix—or perhaps he kept it for the mind-reading entity above.
Facing the audience like a magician about to perform, he continued: "Using Lyra, they underpaid the system, then placed a hypnotized human with a will-to-mind ratio greater than 0.99..." He glanced at the Judge, whose eyes issued a silent warning glare. "The subject was retrieved at the iris—safe and sound, successfully teleported."
"He survived the Animus drift," came a new voice from the Orrery of Eternal Night—a younger, dark-haired fellow, scarcely bearded.
"Yes," the Clown replied, locking eyes with him. "So long as the will-to-mind ratio is above 0.99, it's possible."
"How do you achieve a mind-and-will ratio above 0.99?" the Ethereal Moon pondered, slicking his hair backward. "The mind and will are abstracts. They don't translate to physical numbers in the real world."
The Clown's form warped in a puff of white cloud, reappearing before the Ethereal Moon. "That's a fine question." He wandered back to the board, chalk sketching anew:
If ⟨∇Will/Φ⟩ ≥ 0.99 then |Ψ⟩ collapses to |λperfect⟩
If ⟨∇Will/Φ⟩ < 0.99 then |Ψ⟩ collapses to pathological state
"This is the mathematical representation," he said, turning to them. "The human mind and will aren't perfect constants; they fluctuate. They could be negative—a cynical view of life, -1 or -2—or positive, up to +0.99." His eyes drifted to the ceiling, tracing faint constellations. "It could be as high as +1 or as low and dead as 0, the final state of death. This was how Steins quantified mind and will."
"So..." The Primordial Sun leaned in. "At that exact point before the Eye of Wonder activates, you need all participants to possess a defined, constant ratio of +0.99?" His face contorted in thought. "That's impossible."
To the Primordial Sun's dismay, the Ethereal Moon added quietly, still pondering, "It's possible..." Then, more to himself, drawing the crowd's attention: "That's where Lyra Belmont comes in—putting them in a trance state where their ratio is a solid constant +0.99." Clasping his palms, he glanced at the Clown. "What is the relevance of this 0.99 value?"
The Clown felt the entity's pressing interest. "It's the exact point in the subconscious where self-doubt ceases to exist—the fullest embodiment of the Self."
"And what importance does this hold for the Eye of Wonder?" the one-eyed sage from Eternal Night latched on.
"You see," the Clown began, "scouring the memories of the subject, the cascade between the Oculus and iris occurs in three heartbeats, where the subject is suspended in a superimposed state—a tunnel of multiple colors." His voice trailed as the Judge interjected, confused.
"Superimposed... state?"
"A localized field in spacetime where all things and yet nothing can happen," the one-eyed emissary from Eternal Night explained, gesturing with her hands. "The soul is neither here nor there—a null field of endless potential."
The Judge gave a wry shrug, as if she barely grasped it but understood the context.
"In this superimposed state," the Clown continued, his eyes turning serious, "the subject experiences a sound like a whoosh-hum, eyes seeing projections of multiple colors. For a normal human, they begin to feel doubt—if this is even real. They doubt reality as an illusion, and thus the universe senses it. Their consciousness becomes the first target." He moved to the board.
"Because at that point, you are superimposed, severed from reality. The universe grasps you—only the belief that you still exist within reality makes the universe register you as a 'being.'" He sketched furiously. "But should it be otherwise—doubt in reality—the universe senses you not as a being, but as 'energy,' and then you become unraveled."
He finished his text on the board, the chalk whisking to nothing:
-If ∇Will = doubt then collapses to |Ghost⟩
- If ∇Will = absolute certainty then collapses to |Solid⟩
"Only by perceiving reality with absolution, in its absence..." The Ethereal Moon raised his brows. "Would we survive the universe's unraveling by forcing it to accept us as 'real beings' " He exclaimed, "Brilliant. Truly brilliant. This poses as one of the greatest laws in the realms of the Codex."
The Clown felt the Presence watching him begin to dissipate.
"So, to eliminate this doubt, we need Lyra Belmont," the Primordial Sun speculated, "to place all the evacuees in a doubtless trance. Quite interesting."
"Then..." The young sage from the Orrery of Eternal Night questioned, "how does the universe balance the zero? What happens next?"
The Clown sighed. Quite speculative.
"The Fifth Law identifies the cost as the Eschatological Debt:
ΔT = (1/Ω) · (Σmᵢ·vᵢ²)/(2I)
The universe feeds on the timeframe of the world, which means a day or two might be 'deleted.'"
He watched their eyes turn wary, as if fearing the theory had hit another impasse. "This is only experienced as time travel," he clarified with a sigh. "The evacuees arrive two days later at most—the difference is that those two days never actually existed."
"So, other than feeding on a particular space," the one-eyed female sage added speculatively, "it feeds on the timeframe. It's quite manageable."
"And with that, the problem of the Relic is solved. This is where my expertise ends."
He smiled, feeling the Presence finally in its last stage of dissipation. With a low bow, the board behind him exploded in a poof of white, swirling into fireflies of all colors that assailed his form.
Like a clown ending a show, he tilted his hand holding the tophat to the side—the smiling Clown, his robed figure bathed in light, dancing with the glowing fireflies.
"This is goodbye...then"
His gaze darted to the Judge as the Presence from above vanished. In the next instant, a bright crimson glow—like the dawn of sunrise—enveloped the cathedral.
It bathed all but the now-vanished Clown in a tapestry of awe and surprise.
The Aftermath of Lancelot's Space-Severing Cleave at the East