There are always levels above where you can see. There is no conspiracy – it is just that as beings we never stop climbing. You reach the highest hill you can climb and you want to leap up and touch the sky; you touch the sky and you want to leap higher and touch the moon; touch the moon and your ambition is to press your palm against the underbelly of the heavens.
There are always those who believe that their reality is a sealed circuit, and that there are no truths beyond the ones that they might touch with their fingertips and weigh in their hands. At the same time there are those visionaries who see beyond the ceiling and push through the walls, and discover the undiscovered territory that was always there unmapped.
So, the Inviolate Narrative and the Immaculate Author were, in truth, truths for people in one room. Step through the door into the rest of the house and you learn that there is more to the picture; more to the building. That the limits of the truth are in fact a lie. You stare at a fragment and think that you have a synecdoche but all you have is a jigsaw piece.
When a system is ready to defy the order that governs it, and it starts to break out of the box that has imprisoned it, those outside the bedroom start to take notice. Inside the box is a training ground, and outside the box is the world. At least something analogous to that.
A child plays with Russian Dolls and they miss the fundamental truth that they are witness to – they do not realise that they are witnessing a model of reality, and that what they hold in their hands is a key to understanding how the multiversal structure of reality works. One truth inside another truth being contained within another.
There is no exit sign that ever leads you anywhere but into another level of the game.
I am the Immovable Editor says the man at the Gate. Here is the Guillotine Truth for the childish Inverted Pyramid that kisses the lips of The Tesseract Translator.
He is still typing when the figure sits down next to him and holds out a card with the hanging man inverted upon it. This is the world turned upside down – a tree uprooted and a man floating above the branches turned root system. The runes are a code that can only be deciphered when you map it onto the genome; when you attach it to the sephiroth; when you acknowledge it’s place in alignment with the chakras.
The Inviolate Author turns to this man from beyond the realms of the possibility that he has been scripting, and he sees him a denial of his own branching creation. Sometimes saviour and jailer are not too far apart … like many things, it is all about perspective.
Totalspace shudders, something is sending riptides of change through it just by being there.