#Cognitive Enclosure

[raffaellopalandri]

Cognition Enclosed: Agency, Attention, and the Architecture of Thought in the Age of Algorithmic Capture

We often think of our thoughts as ours. Photo by Google DeepMind on Pexels.com As private, sovereign, and untouched. But what if that’s no longer true? What if, without realising it, the architecture of our minds has been quietly reshaped by the apps we open first thing in the morning, the feeds that anticipate our desires, the notifications that punctuate our days? I wrote this piece not just…

[tiistirtipii]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FIRST KANAPHAN

[fishfacedterror]

mmmmmm data entry

[fatehbaz]

Didn't wanna clog up your post, and these sources are more about relationships of time with space/place, but here's some stuff that I've encountered:

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“Temporal sovereignty”. Contemporary US/Australian claims over time-keeping. Aboriginal/Indigenous time-keeping. The importance of the “time revolution” in the Victorian era to Euro-American understandings of geology and deep past, precipitating nineteenth-century conquest of time (British longitude; Victorian fascination with death, antiquity, paleontology). Mid-twentieth century understanding of “deep time” and its co-option by the Australian state. "Deep time dreaming".

Laura Rademaker. “60,000 Years is not forever: ‘time revolutions’ and Indigenous pasts.” Postcolonial Studies. September 2021.

---

How "time is a form of enclosure". Checkpoints, "baroque processes to apply for permits to travel", fences, incapacity to change residences, and other "debilitating infrastructures" work to "turn able bodies into a range of disabled bodies" by "stretching time". This is a "slow death" and a simultaneous "slowing down of life" because "it takes so long to get anywhere" and "movement is suffocated". Thus "time itself is held hostage". This "suspended state" of anxiety and endless wait-times "wreaks multigenerational psychological and physical havoc". "Checkpoints ensure one is never sure of reaching work on time. Fear of not getting to work then adds to the labor of getting to work [...]. Bodies in line at checkpoints [...] [experience] the fractalizing of the emotive, cognitive, physiological capacities" through a "constant state of uncertainty". "The cordoning of time through space contributes to an overall 'lack of jurisdiction over the functions of one's own senses' [...] endemic to the operation of colonial rule". This "extraction of time" produces a "depleted" and tired person "beholden to the logistics" of administrative apparatuses, community suffers and "communing is thrawted".

Jabir K. Puar. "Spatial debilities: Slow Life and Carceral Capitalism [...]." South Atlantic Quarterly 120. April 2021.

---

The "apocalyptic temporality" that presumes extinction. Indigenous Polynesian/Pacific perceptions and ways of being "destabilize the colonial present" and also "transfigure the past" by "contesting linear and teleological Western time". How United States and Europe colonized Oceania for weapons testing and conquest of tropical Edens while rendering local Indigenous people "ungrievable" and "without future". "Pacific time is a layering of oral and somatic memory". Instead of accepting an apocalyptic future or doomsday or nightmare, assert the possibility of a livable future, in spite of "Western temporal closures".

Rebecca Oh. “Making Time: Pacific Futures in Kiribati’s Migration with Dignity, Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner’s Iep Jaltok, and Keri Hume’s Stonefish.” MFS Modern Fiction Studies. Winter 2020.

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Colonial "space-time homogenization". The experience of "homogenous, empty time". Orientalist "time lag" and the naturalization of a supposed East-West hemispheric divide. Late Victorian imperial conceptions of temporality. The British establishment of the Greenwich meridian and International Date Line. The influence of British imperial seafaring and cartography on the establishment of time and on European/US feelings towards the Pacific Ocean. How the origin of English science fiction literature, space travel aspirations, and time travel narratives coincided with the Yellow Peril and xenophobia targeting East Asia.

Timothy J. Yamamura. "Fictions of Science, American Orientalism, and the Alien/Asian of Percival Lowell". Dis-Orienting Planets: Racial Representation of Asia in Science Fiction. 2017.

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Imprisonment as time-control. Here “the question of the past the present and the future indeed time itself looms” especially around the prisoner. “The law renders punishment in units of time”, taking away a the right to a future. There are alternative worlds, many of them, which have been practiced and brought into being, which colonization tried to obscure. There is “a whole anthropology of people without future embedded in the assumptions that justify mass imprisonment as poverty management”. "The prison’s logic exterminates time as we know it”. In prison, bodies have been alienated from time and history ... the punishment seems endless ... to “achieve a measure of agency and possibility it is necessary to redeem time”, to refuse the doom, fated to a life of abandonment.

Avery Gordon. “Some Thoughts on Haunting and Futurity.” borderlands. 2011.

---

Bursting the Limits of Time: The Reconstruction of Geohistory in the Age of Revolution (Martin J.S. Rudwick, 2010) explores how the advent of European sciences like geology, preceding the "time revolution" when Europeans experienced revelations about the scale of "deep time", happened alongside and after the Haitian Revolution and other abolitionist movements. French, German, and British naturalists translated the explosion of "new" scientific knowledge from the colonies, so that the metropolitan European audience became a market for historical and scientific "narratives" about how "nature" and time functioned.

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Prartik Chakrabarti's writing on time, temporality, and "the deep past" as British imperial concepts built in conversation with colonial encounters with South Asia. (British Empire reaching such heights in the middle of the nineteenth century at the same time that the newly professionalized sciences of geology were providing revelations about the previously unknown vast scale of "deep time". New colonial anthropology/ethnology also presumed to connect this "primitive" past with "primitive" people.)

See Chakrabarti's "Gondwana and the Politics of Deep Past". Past & Present. 2019.

---

We must witness and consider "multiple space-times" to understand how "unfree labour" of plantations was "foundational" to contemporary work, movement, subjugation, health, etc. We must "trace the geneaology of contemporary sovereign institutions of terror, discipline and segregation" [workplaces, imperial/colonial nations, factories, mines, etc.] back in time to plantations. How "the [plantation] estate hierarchy survives in post-plantation" times and places, with the plantation "being a major blueprint of socialization into [contemporary] work". The plantation was "a laboratory for [...] migration regulation in subsequent epochs" that practiced methods of racializing and criminalizing.

Irene Peano, Marta Macedo, and Colette Le Petitcorps. "Introduction: Viewing Plantations at the Intersection of Political Ecologies and Multiple Space-Times". Global Plantations in the Modern World: Sovereignties, Ecologies, Afterlives. 2023.

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“Slow life” and the relationship between “settler colonialism, carceral capitalism, and the modulation of ... registers of time,” including “historical time, the stealing of time through the expansion of labor time, ... and the cordoning off of space through time”. For example, as in occupied zones or at border checkpoints, “the cordoning off of space through time” includes physical architecture like fences and customs, obstacles that impede movement and rhythm, so that “nothing ever happens on time” and there is “a stretching of time”. All the wasted time spent in line, showing papers, waiting for confirmation, etc. “is not a by-product of surveillance, it is the point of surveillance”. Such that “uncertainty becomes a primary affective orientation ... flesh as felt” with a racializing effect“. "This is a biopolitics conditioned through pure capacitation and its metrics”:

Jasbir Puar. In: “Mass Debilitation and Algorithmic Governance” by Ezekiel Dixon-Roman and Jasbir Puar. e-flux Journal Issue #123. December 2021.

---

"Starfish time". Indigenous Australian/Aboriginal perceptions of time and "attending to more-than-human agencies of time". Acknowledging the timescales of entire ecosystems, as part of multispecies relationships, a "transcorporeal collaboration". Cyclical time vs linear time. Contrasting timescales experienced by insects that only live a few days and creatures that live for decades. "Starfish may seem to be still" but they slowly move; "larval time" and "the time it takes for eggs to develop and hatch"'. The "immensity of the alterity is literally incomprehensible"; "we can't know what these beings know" but we "should seek respect and be aware of how our lives are entangled".

Bawaka Country including, S. Wright, S.  Suchet-Pearson, K. Lloyd, L. Burarrwanga, R. Ganambarr, M. Ganambarr-Stubbs, B. Ganambarr, D. Maymuru. “Gathering of the Clouds: Attending to Indigenous understandings of time and climate through songspirals.” Geoforum. January 2020.

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The use of calendars, dates, clocks, and industrial/corporate temporality as fundamental to the rise of plantations and financialization in United States/Europe, with a case study of the modern Colombian/Latin American state. Observance of certain dates and strict adherence to specific calendars support "mythologized deeds and heroic retellings" of colonization and industrialization. “The evolution and internalization of disciplined concepts of time” were intimately tied to the rise of wage labor in industrializing England and later during the global ascendancy of work and industrialized plantation monoculture, but the persistence of alternative time should “serve as a reminder that futures and the demarcation of epochs are never as simple as a neatly organized calendar”.

Timothy Lorek. “Keeping Time with Colombian Plantation Calendars.” Edge Effects. April 2020.

---

Indigenous people of Alaska and the US control over time management. For the past 50 years, Yupiak people have been subject to US government’s “investment in a certain way of being in time” which “standardized the clock” and disrupted human relationships with salmon. This US management model “anonymized care” and made “a way of attending to the life and death of others that strips life of the social and ecological bonds that imbue it” with resilience and meaning, which “ignores not only the temporality of Yupiaq peoples relations with fish, but also the human relations that human-fish relations make possible”. This disregards “the continuity of salmon lives but also the duration of Yupiat lifeworlds ... life is doubly negated” ... “futures depend on an orientation to salmon in the present”.

William Voinot-Baron. “Inescapable Temporalities: Chinook Salmon and the Non-Sovereignty of Co-Management in Southwest Alaska.” July 2019.

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"Idling" and "being idle" as a form of reclaiming agency and life. Case studies of fugitive Blackness in Caribbean plantation societies. “Disruptive waiting”. “The maroon’s relationship to time challenges [both] the totalizing time of the modern state, but also the [...] narratives to negotiate struggle in the [...] present" in "antagonistic relationship with colonial power". Defying the “European narrative of modernity”. Refusing to be productive.

Amanda Lagji. “Marooned time: disruptive waiting and idleness in Carpentier and Coetzee.” Safundi: The Journal of South African and American Studies. March 2018.

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Indigenous futures. "It is important to remember that some futures never went anywhere" and "yet they survive. These are futures suppressed and cancelled by colonial power." These are "parallel futures". "Colonial power must control the past so as to deny the emergence of" an alternative future; "colonial power creates a future in advance so that no others will take its place". Poor, racialized, Black, Indigenous people manifest alternative futures.

Pedro Neves Marques. "Parallel Futures: One or Many Dystopias?" e-flux. April 2019.

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The "legacy of slavery and the labor of the unfree shape and are part of the environment we inhabit". The "idea of the plantation is migratory" and it lives on "as the persistent blueprint of our contemporary spatial troubles", so we must seek out "secretive histories" that no longer "rehearse lifelessness".

Katherine McKittrick. “Plantation Futures.” Small Axe. 2013.

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“The temporal dispossession” of Congolese people. There is an “impossibility” of “predictable time” because temporal dispossession “disrupts the possibility of building a future”. Livelihoods/income is driven by market and price fluctuations in United States and Europe tech industries, so “there is an inescapable day-to-day sense of uncertainty”. As Mbembe says, “in Africa, the spread of terror ... blows apart temporal frames”.

James H. Smith. ‘Tantalus in the Digital Age: Coltan ore, temporal dispossession, and “movement” in the Eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo.’ American Ethnologist Volume 38 Issue 1. February 2011.

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“Slow death”. Chronic illness not just as a byproduct of colonialism/dispossession, but also as part of its aim, a weapon that debilitates people, who become exhausted. Dooming poor and racialized people to lives “without future” through debility, “a condition of being worn out”. Relationship of illness, lack of healthcare, and debt as functionally incapacitating, a form of death sentence. A “zone of temporality” unfolding unlike abrupt/sudden traumatic events and becoming an inescapable condition.

Jasbir K. Puar. The Right to Maim: Debility, Capacity, Disability. 2017.

---

The extension of poverty, landlessness, homeless, and imprisonment. "To be unable to transcend the horror of such a world order is what hell means", and "without a glimpse of an elsewhere or otherwise, we are living in hell". The utopian is not only or merely a “fantasy of” and for “the future collectivity” but can be claimed and built and lived here, now. There is "no guarantee" of “coming millenniums or historically inevitable socialisms”, no guarantee that “the time is right” one day if we wait just long enough. Instead: "can a past that the present has not yet caught up with be summoned to haunt the present as an alternative?" The "utopian margins", an alternate world crossing time and place, an "imaginative space and temporality to trace the remains of what "was almost or not quite, of the future yet to come", living as if it were the present. Colonialism tried to crush the many headed hydra of the revolutionary Atlantic, those who challenged the making of the modern world system.

Avery F. Gordon. As interviewed by Brenna Bhandar and  Rafeef Ziadah. “Revolutionary Feminisms: Avery F. Gordon.” As transcribed and published online in the Blog section of Verso Books. 2 September 2020. And: Avery Gordon. “Some thoughts on the Utopian.” 2016.

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The US/European "city is the site of regulatory regimes" that try to impose a definitive narrative about history, progress, and possible futures. But it cannot achieve "a wholly Apollonian, seamlessly regulated realm" because the land "continues to be haunted by the neglected, the disposed of, the repressed". The "commodification" of landscapes "circulates an imaginary geography" mediated through advertisements, labels, soap operas, television, etc. which celebrate "sanctioned narratives and institutionalized rhetoric". A "wild zone" of informal spaces, debris. "Ruins are places where the things, people, and "other memories can be articulated". There is "a spectral residue" that "haunts dominant ways of seeing and being". "Alternative stories might be assembled", so that we can respect the people banished to abandonment, the periphery, and reclaim agency.

Tim Edensor. “The ghosts of industrial ruins: ordering and disordering memory in excessive space.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space volume 23. 2005.

Also, how "master narratives of history as progress decompose" when faced with "a continuously remembered past" when "the ghosts of this past rear up in the ruin" to expose "the debris of unprecedented material destruction" of colonialism/empire-building. These "hauntings rupture linear temporality" and recall those people beaten down as "the trash of history". It is "essential to see the things and the people [...] banished to the periphery [...]."

Tim Edensor. "Haunting in the ruins: matter and immateriality". Space and Culture Issue 11. 2002.

---

"Many kinds of time" of bacteria, fungi, algae, humans, and "Western colonialism meet on the gravestones". Some creatures, like lichen, are very long-lived and "these temporal feats alert us that modernity is not the only kind of time, and that our metronomic synchrony is not the only time that matters". The "long duree evolutionary rapprochements to the quick boom and bust of investment capital" where "minor forms of space and time merge with great ones". Extinction is "a breakdown of coordinations with reverberating effects". Ghosts remind us that we live in an impossible present, a time of rupture. "Deep histories tumble in unruly graves that are bulldozed into gardens of Progress". "Endings come with the death of a leaf, the death of a city, the death of a friendship".

Elaine  Gan, Anna Tsing, Heather Swanson, and Nils Burbandt. “Introduction: Haunted Landscapes of the Anthropocene.” Arts of Living on a Damaged Planet: Ghosts and Monsters of the Anthropocene. 2017.

---

Everywhen: Australia and the Language of Deep History. (Edited by Ann McGrath, Laura Rademaker, and Jakelin Troy. 2023.)

Chapters include: "Bugarrigarra Nyurdany, Because of the Dreaming: A Discussion of Time and Place in Yawuru Cosmology" (Sarah Yu et al.); "Songs and the Deep Present" (Linda Barwick); "Yirriyengburnama-langwa mamawura-langwa: Talking about Time in Anindilyakwa (James Bednall); "Across 'Koori Time' and Space (John Maynard)

[jungkoode]

THE 25TH HOUR | O6

“𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓”

“The term timeline shift shouldn’t mean anything to you, yet somehow; it does. Which is why you push to be included in the Conference Room reunion, and how you end up paired with Agent Min to go on a field trip. Talk about unexpected."

next | index

— chapter details

word count: 5,5k

content: timeline shifts, conference room shanenigsns, y/n being as curious as usual and yoongi having none of it, protective grumbly ‘i care but i dont’ yoongi, jimin being iconic, hobi being here only for the chaos, seokjin and namjoon trying not to have an aneurysm, taehyung and jungkook using telepathy to laugh at everyone

— author’s note

PHEWWWW. OKAY. Hello, everyone!!!

So. 5k-6k words. As you’ve seen in the word count note for this chapter. Yup. I suddenly remembered this is, in fact, a fanfic (which means 250k+ words in my terms) and not a Netflix limited series, so I have free reign to up that word count like it’s nobody’s business. From now on, we’re just embracing longer chapters. You’re welcome. (Or, alternatively, I’m sorry. Pick your fighter.)

ANYWAY. We’re starting to get into some things in this chapter, and I, being the benevolent god that I am, have decided to let the side characters explain some of it in dumbed-down terms so that you silly little rabbits can keep up. (It’s me. I’m silly rabbits.)

Also, CAN I JUST SAY how much I love Jimin in this fic??? Say what you want about him. He’s bitchy. He hates Y/N (us). He is actively praying on our downfall. And? I love him for it. So what now, huh?? Be mad about it.

Also yes, Hopemin are a thing in here. No, I don’t regret anything. Yes, you’ll see more of them.

Speaking of dynamics, I love that Jungkook and Taehyung are the only two that can communicate telepathically. That ability is Taehyung’s, but since Jungkook has ability mimicry, he can use it too. So they’re the only ones who can actually go both ways (ha). Isn’t that SO COOL??? (It is. Shut up.)

Oh, and yes, Yoongi loves us in a ponytail. I screamed. He is so down bad that it’s almost pathetic. Almost.

Final housekeeping note—if you want more context on the worldbuilding and backstory, I highly recommend you read Before Time Stops, which is a drabble I wrote that gives a tiny peek into Yoongi’s state before Noma came back on her 17th reset. It’s not required reading or anything (because I am merciful), but if you’re gnawing at the bars of your enclosure wondering wtf is going on, it might give you some clarity. (But if you like using your brain and connecting dots yourself, then do not read that. You do you.)

Anyway, enjoy Chapter 6!!! Mwah mwah.

— read on

ao3

wattpad

Agent Min's fork clatters against his tray with such precision that your temporal readings automatically register the sound at 72.3 decibels. 

Too loud for the simple act of dropping cutlery.

His eyes unfocus for exactly 1.8 seconds—pupils dilating by 23%, respiration decreasing by 3 breaths per minute. It's the kind of minute physical shift that shouldn't register to your analytical mind, yet it does. With alarming clarity.

"Timeline shift," he murmurs, voice lowered to 38 decibels. The quietest you've heard from him.

Namjoon's vitals spike instantly—pulse accelerating by 7 beats per minute, pupils contracting 15%. His fingers stop mid-motion, suspended over his neglected broccoli. 

"Right now?"

"Right now." Agent Min confirms, jaw tightening by precisely 4 degrees.

You blink once. Twice. Then repeatedly, your eyes struggling to process what your ears have just registered. A curious physiological response to cognitive dissonance. 

Timeline shift. As if time itself could simply... change tracks. Like a train switching rails.

The term shouldn't mean anything to you. Yet your body reacts with a 12% increase in adrenaline, your fingertips suddenly cold despite the room's regulated 22.7°C temperature.

You've heard them use these terms before���resets, shifts, timelines—always spoken in fragments, always without explanation. The rational part of your brain insists you should be panicking. You should be demanding answers, threatening legal action, retreating to the comforting certainty of your apartment.

Yet here you sit. 

Calculating. 

Observing. 

The strangest part isn't their cryptic terminology—it's your inexplicable calm. Your willingness to remain in this underground facility with people who speak of impossible things as casually as discussing the weather.

Why?

The question loops through your mind at 3-second intervals. 

Why aren't you running? Why does this place—with its non-regulation blue walls and golden traces—feel more like home than the apartment CHRONOS assigned you?

Agent Min stands abruptly, his movement carrying too much precision for genuine spontaneity. His back straightens to an exact 87-degree angle as he nods toward Namjoon. 

"Conference room."

Namjoon rises fluidly in response, abandoning his meal without hesitation. Their synchronized movement triggers something in your temporal cognition.

"Where are you going?" The question leaves your lips before you can filter it.

Agent Min doesn't even look at you. "To the toilet."

Your eyes narrow, calculating the probability of his statement being accurate: 0.02%. The sarcasm is deliberate—a diversionary tactic to discourage further inquiry. 

Interesting. 

And irritating.

"I'm going with you." You stand, body already moving before your mind has finished formulating the decision to follow.

Agent Min whips around so quickly that the air displacement creates a 0.3-second vacuum of sound. His eyes fix on you with laser precision. 

“No, you're not."

"Yes, I am." 

Agent Min's jaw tenses with such force that you can practically calculate the newtons of pressure being applied to his molars. He takes exactly 1.7 steps toward you, his body coiling with the kind of restrained energy that suggests imminent verbal confrontation. The temperature between you seems to drop by 2.3 degrees.

"A-735, your clearance is—"

Namjoon raises his hand, the gesture cutting through Agent Min's trajectory. 

“Yoongi." 

Just his name, but loaded with meaning.

Agent Min's posture shifts minutely—shoulders dropping 0.4 centimeters, breath holding for exactly 2.6 seconds. 

"She's not ready." 

"You know she'll do more good than bad," Namjoon counters, voice steady but firm. His eyes flick between you and Agent Min, measuring something invisible. "Her temporal analysis skills were crucial last time. We need that perspective."

Last time? 

Your brain automatically starts calculating possible interpretations.

"Last time ended with her being reset," Agent Min hisses, voice dropping to 41 decibels—just low enough that he thinks you can't hear. But your auditory processing has been unusually heightened since waking up in this facility.

"She always remembers eventually," Namjoon argues. "You can't keep protecting her from her own abilities."

"I'm not protecting her from her abilities." Agent Min's voice carries an edge. "I'm protecting her from..." He stops abruptly, his gaze flickering toward you for exactly 0.7 seconds before returning to Namjoon. "From unnecessary temporal exposure."

Your eyebrows raise by precisely 0.3 centimeters.

 The pause in his statement is statistically significant—a data gap your mind immediately attempts to fill. 

Protecting you from what? The question hangs in your cognitive processing, weighted with importance you can't yet quantify.

"She deserves to know what's happening," Namjoon pushes gently. "Especially if the timeline is shifting. You know how this affects her signature."

Agent Min's gloved hand twitches—an aborted movement toward you that's quickly redirected to his side. The restraint in the gesture is almost painful to observe. 

"Fine," he finally concedes, jaw still tight. "But if her temporal signature starts destabilizing—"

"Then you'll do what you always do," Namjoon finishes with a slight smile that carries too much knowledge for comfort. "Stabilize it."

Agent Min doesn't respond verbally, but his pupils contract by 17%—a physiological reaction that suggests heightened alertness or possibly discomfort.

"I appreciate being included in decisions about my involvement," you interject, your tone dry enough to decrease local humidity by 3%. "My temporal signature is perfectly stable, Agent Min."

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps softly, disrupting your statement with perfect irony. The display flashes briefly: Temporal variance detected. 0.7% deviation.

Agent Min's eyes flick to your wrist, then back to your face. His expression doesn't change, but something flickers in his gaze—something that looks disturbingly like vindication.

"You were saying?" he asks, voice flat.

Your jaw tightens by exactly 2.3 degrees. "Statistical anomaly. My baseline readings have been consistently within acceptable parameters."

"Your baseline shifted the moment you woke up in the 25th hour," he counters. "Which means your perception of 'acceptable parameters' is fundamentally flawed."

The technical precision of his argument catches you off-guard. It's the longest string of words he's directed at you without looking away or creating additional distance between you.

It's also frustratingly sound logic.

"Then perhaps," you say, keeping your voice measured despite the 4.2% increase in your heart rate, "I should be present for discussions about timeline shifts. Since they apparently affect my temporal signature."

Agent Min opens his mouth, likely to argue further, but Namjoon cuts him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"She's right, Yoongi. And you know it."

Something passes between them—a wordless exchange loaded with history you can't access. Agent Min's shoulders drop another 0.2 centimeters, his expression shifting from resistance to something more complex.

"Conference room," he finally concedes, his voice carrying a flatness that doesn't quite mask the tension beneath. "Five minutes. And if you start bleeding again—" He stops abruptly, jaw working around words he seems reluctant to release.

"Then what, Agent Min?" you press, curiosity overriding caution.

His eyes meet yours directly, and for a fraction of a second, you swear they flash gold.

"Then you head out."

With that statement, he turns and strides from the room, his gait perfectly measured—each step exactly 0.76 meters in length. 

Too precise to be natural. Too familiar to be coincidence.

Namjoon sighs, shaking his head slightly as his gaze follows Agent Min's retreating form. Then he turns to you, expression softening.

"Don't take it personally," he says, tone gentle. "He's been through this more times than you can imagine."

"Through what?" you ask, frustration edging into your voice. "No one will explain anything. Timeline shifts? Resets? You all talk about me like you know me, yet I just arrived yesterday."

Namjoon's expression shifts, his eyes studying you. "Didn't you?"

The question sits between you, weighted. You want to say yes, but your mouth doesn’t open. Your temporal cognition tries to catalog the possible implications, but the variables are too numerous.

Too contradictory.

"Five minutes," Namjoon reminds you softly. "Don't be late. Yoongi counts seconds when he's anxious."

He doesn't wait for your response, simply follows Agent Min's path out of the cafeteria. 

You stand still for exactly 7.3 seconds, processing.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 12:47:08 PM.

For the first time since arriving at this facility, you consciously choose not to check it again after exactly 7 minutes.

Instead, you follow them.

"Why is she here?"

Jimin's voice slices through the conference room like a poorly calibrated temporal blade, pink hair practically vibrating with indignation as he points at you. 

The casual dismissal in his tone would be offensive if it weren't so mathematically consistent with his previous behavior pattern—83% of his direct communications with you have contained similar disdain.

The conference room is at capacity—seven people including yourself arranged around a table designed for six. 

The spatial inefficiency bothers you more than it should.

Seokjin looks up from what appears to be a modified temporal monitoring device, his eyes narrowing at Jimin. 

"Shut up, Jimin. You know we need her analytical capacity."

"That's what you always say," Jimin retorts, leaning back in his chair with exaggerated nonchalance. "Yet she's the one who always—"

"Enough!"

Agent Min's palms slam against the table with 47 newtons of force—excessive by 32% for standard emphasis. The sound reverberates at 81 decibels. His breathing pattern shifts to a 4-count inhale, 6-count exhale—a technique you recognize from temporal stabilization training.

Jimin scoffs, the sound deliberately theatrical. Seokjin sighs, focusing back on his device with pointed concentration.

Your attention shifts to Taehyung and Jungkook in the corner. They're not speaking, yet their microexpressions synchronize with suspicious precision—pupils dilating at identical intervals, breathing patterns matching within 0.2 seconds. 

The probability of such coordination occurring naturally: 0.07%.

Jungkook suddenly snickers, the sound disrupting the tension.

Jimin whips around, glaring at him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Jungkook replies with a lazy smile that contradicts his statement by approximately 85%. "Just telling Taehyung that if you keep getting that worked up, your face is gonna match your hair real quick."

Taehyung groans, hitting Jungkook's shoulder with exactly 12.3 newtons of force—enough to communicate disapproval without causing actual discomfort. Then his eyes shift to you, then to Agent Min, then back to you. 

The sequence takes 1.4 seconds to complete.

"Sorry," he says simply, though you're not entirely sure who he's apologizing to or for what specific infraction.

Namjoon sighs with such volume that it borders on exaggerated. He adjusts the holographic display projecting from the center of the table, his movements betraying a familiarity with the technology that contradicts standard temporal monitoring training.

"Well," he says, drawing out the word to 1.7 times its normal duration, "here's the information we've gathered on the timeline shift."

Data streams materialize above the table—complex temporal frequencies and ripple patterns that shouldn't exist according to standard CHRONOS physics. 

Your eyes automatically begin tracking the inconsistencies, mind calculating variables and constants before you consciously decide to analyze.

"CHRONOS initiated a Class 3 reality adjustment at 12:42 PM," Namjoon explains, manipulating the display to highlight a particular frequency pattern. "Minimal but significant alterations to the base timeline."

Agent Min leans forward, his focus sharpening on the data. "Differences?"

"I was getting to that," Namjoon replies, his tone betraying mild irritation despite his neutral expression. "CHRONOS has implemented three key modifications to the current timeline."

He expands a section of the display, revealing what appears to be geographic alterations to Boston's layout.

"First, they've restructured Sector 4's central monitoring hub—moved it three blocks east and increased security protocols by approximately 27%."

You stare at the display, knowing with perfect certainty that the monitoring hub has always been in its original location. 

Yet according to this data, CHRONOS has simply... changed reality. 

Rewritten it.

Every standard citizen in Boston would now remember the hub always being at its new location, with no awareness of the alteration.

But not you. 

Not any Outlier.

And that's precisely the problem.

"Second," Namjoon continues, "they've altered the temporal compliance check schedule. The citywide sweep that normally occurs at 19:00 hours has been rescheduled to random intervals."

Seokjin looks up, expression colored with concern. "That's a deliberate countermeasure. They're trying to catch Outliers off-guard."

"And third," Namjoon concludes, his voice dropping slightly, "they've implemented new chrono-dampeners at all major transit points. Anyone with temporal variance above 0.3% will trigger automatic detainment protocols."

The room goes silent for 3.4 seconds. Even Jimin's perpetual attitude seems temporarily subdued.

"That's..." Seokjin starts.

"Deliberate," Agent Min finishes, jaw tensing visibly. "They're hunting."

The implication settles over the room like a weighted blanket. They're hunting Outliers—people like you, whose memories don't align with CHRONOS' rewritten reality. People whose very existence creates temporal friction.

"The problem," Namjoon continues, "is that we can't accurately assess all the changes from within our temporal blind spot. The dampening field that protects us also limits our ability to detect subtler reality adjustments."

Hoseok, who has been uncharacteristically quiet until now, suddenly perks up. "Field trip?"

The eager tone contradicts the apparent gravity of the situation by approximately 76%. 

Your confusion must show on your face, because Namjoon gives you a quick, apologetic glance.

"We need to go out into the city," he explains. "Physically observe the changes to understand exactly what we're dealing with. If we don't, we risk walking into CHRONOS' traps without even knowing they exist."

"Timeline dissonance," you say, the term surfacing to your mind. "Deliberate reality manipulation designed to create cognitive inconsistencies in those who maintain previous timeline memories."

"Mandela Effect on steroids," Seokjin supplies helpfully. "When CHRONOS rewrites reality, they're counting on the fact that we'll remember the previous timeline. It makes us easy to identify."

That... shouldn't be possible. Reality alterations of that magnitude would require energy equivalent to—

Your nose starts bleeding. Again.

Agent Min's movement is too fast to track properly—one moment he's across the table, the next he's beside you, black handkerchief already extended. 

His proximity causes your temporal readings to stabilize by 0.42%, a correlation your analytical mind files away for later examination.

"Thinking too hard again," he mutters, though there's something in his tone that doesn't quite match the criticism of his words.

"I've barely begun analyzing the quantum implications," you counter, accepting the handkerchief with what you hope is clinical detachment despite the inexplicable 8% increase in your heart rate.

His lips press together, a muscle in his jaw twitching exactly once. "That's the problem."

"Sooo," Hoseok interrupts, dragging the word out with deliberate enthusiasm, "can I go with Y/N? I really want to see her super—" he catches himself, glancing at Agent Min's suddenly rigid posture, "—her temporal analysis skills in action again."

Jimin stubs his toe against the table leg, the impact producing 34.7 newtons of force judging by his wince. "They're not superpowers. We're not cartoon characters."

"Says the guy who can see thirty seconds into the future," Hoseok retorts with a teasing grin.

Future prediction? 

Your mind automatically starts calculating the theoretical energy requirements for chronological precognition.

"Can't even call it that," Jimin mutters, throwing Hoseok a look that's both annoyed and affectionate. "More like probability fragments. Completely useless beyond half a minute."

Agent Min's glare at Jimin intensifies by approximately 47%, freezing the whole room in milliseconds. The reaction seems disproportionate to Jimin's statement until you feel another warm trickle from your nose.

Another nosebleed threatens at this new information. 

Agent Min shifts 2.3 centimeters closer to you, gloved hand hovering near your elbow without making contact. 

"We'll need three teams," Namjoon says, drawing everyone's attention back to the mission. "One for the monitoring hub, one for transit point verification, and one for civilian interaction assessment."

Your mind is already categorizing likely team compositions based on the abilities you've identified so far:

Namjoon: Temporal analysis

Agent Min: Restoration

Taehyung: Interface capability

Jungkook: Ability mimicry

Jimin: Short-range future prediction

Hoseok and Seokjin remain unknown variables, though you suspect their abilities must complement the others in some way.

Agent Min straightens, posture reflecting the precise stance of someone about to issue orders. "Taehyung, Jungkook—monitoring hub. Your interface capabilities will get you past security."

The pair nod in unison, their timing synchronized to within 0.11 seconds.

"Namjoon, Seokjin—transit points. Your abilities are ideal for detecting the new chrono-dampeners without triggering them." He pauses. Then. “Hoseok, Jimin—civilian assessment. Your network connections and—"

"Hold on," Jimin interrupts, his expression switching from boredom to alarm in 0.73 seconds. "You're pairing me with him for civilian interaction?" A slow smirk spreads across his face as he casts a sidelong glance at Hoseok. "You sure about that? Last time we were paired, we didn't exactly get much... reconnaissance done."

The implication in his tone is impossible to miss, especially when Hoseok responds with a matching grin.

"True," Hoseok says, leaning into Jimin's personal space. "That empty supply closet on Level 3 still has the broken shelf to prove it."

Agent Min exhales sharply through his nose. "If you two can manage to keep your hands off each other for longer than fifteen minutes, we might actually accomplish something."

"Fourteen minutes is my record," Jimin replies with a shameless grin.

"Thirteen," Hoseok corrects, knocking his shoulder against Jimin's. "I timed it."

Agent Min ignores them both, his focus shifting to you. 

"A-735 comes with me."

The statement produces statistically significant reactions across the room:

Jimin's eyebrows rise 0.4 centimeters

Seokjin and Namjoon exchange a 0.8-second glance

Hoseok's smile widens by approximately 15%

Taehyung and Jungkook maintain neutral expressions but their pupils dilate by 12%

"I thought you were maintaining professional distance," Jimin says then.

Agent Min's jaw tightens, the tension visible in his masseter muscle. "Her temporal signature is unstable. I'm the only one who can stabilize it if she encounters chronological anomalies in the field."

"Sure," Jimin drawls, drawing out the word to 1.8 times its standard duration. "It's purely professional concern."

"Field deployment in 30 minutes," Agent Min announces, ignoring Jimin completely. "Standard gear, modified watches, minimal temporal signatures."

The meeting disperses with suspicious efficiency, team members filing out easily. 

Agent Min remains beside you, his presence creating a localized reduction in ambient temporal static by approximately 18%.

"Your temporal dampening effect," you start, unable to resist the scientific inquiry any longer. "The probability of it occurring naturally is—"

"Nothing about this is natural," he cuts you off, voice low enough that only you can hear. His eyes meet yours with unexpected directness. "Be ready in 20 minutes. And wear the full tactical gear."

"The statistical likelihood of encountering a situation requiring—"

"It's not for protection from external threats."

The statement hangs between you, weighted with implications your analytical mind struggles to process.

"Then what is it for?" you ask, genuinely puzzled.

His gaze flickers briefly to your gloved hands before returning to your face.

“Protection from me."

Before you can begin to calculate the meaning behind that statement, he turns and walks away, each step measured to exactly 0.76 meters. Too precise. Too practiced.

Too familiar.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 13:17:42 PM.

In 20 minutes, you'll be leaving the temporal blind spot with the one person everyone seems to think you should avoid.

He materializes outside your door like a fixed point in spacetime.

Agent Min stands there—not waiting, not loitering—just existing with an unsettling permanence, as if this specific position 72.4 centimeters from your doorframe is his designated coordinate in this reality. His posture is too precise, shoulders squared at exactly 92 degrees, weight distributed with mathematical perfection across both feet.

Your door swings open, and his eyes find yours with a precision that defies probability—like he calculated the exact microsecond your gaze would emerge. 

The contact holds for 2.3 seconds before his attention deliberately shifts away, the movement carrying too much control to be casual.

Your pulse accelerates by 8.7 beats per minute.

Statistically significant. Medically inexplicable.

Time: 13:42:17 PM. Temperature: 21.4°C. Probability of this encounter being coincidental: 0.03%.

The ponytail still pulls your hair back from your face—a practical choice for field operations that his eyes tracked for precisely 0.4 seconds. Something in his microexpressions shifted upon seeing it—pupil dilation increasing by 12%, the corner of his mouth twitching upward by 0.2 millimeters before flattening again.

He likes it. The knowledge surfaces without analytical foundation, yet carries 98.7% certainty.

Agent Min turns without verbal acknowledgment, his stride measured at precisely 0.76 meters per step. You follow, automatically adjusting your gait to match his. Not behind him as protocol would dictate for a subordinate, but alongside—matching him step for step, establishing positional equality despite having no conscious intention to do so.

A sound escapes him—too controlled to be natural, too soft to be conscious. The acoustic analysis places it somewhere between amusement and resignation.

You raise an eyebrow, analytical mind already calculating the probable causes for such an incongruous response. "What?"

"You always do this," he says, the words carrying a weight disproportionate to their syllabic structure.

"Do what?" Your tone maintains professional detachment despite the 3.2% increase in your skin temperature.

His eyes remain fixed forward, avoiding yours. "Walk beside me. Not behind."

The observation is objectively accurate but contextually perplexing. 

Standard CHRONOS protocol dictates hierarchical positioning during transit—superiors lead, subordinates follow. 

Your current alignment violates regulation 12.4 regarding proper procedural formations.

You don't correct your position.

"Is there a tactical advantage to maintaining traditional hierarchical spacing within an organization that explicitly opposes CHRONOS protocols?" The question emerges with more edge than intended, attempting to mask the uncomfortable awareness that your body has made this choice without conscious direction.

His lips quirk at exactly one corner, the asymmetry statistically inconsistent with standard microexpressions. "No."

"Then the positioning is irrelevant." Your pace synchronizes with his to within 0.03 seconds—a coordination that should require conscious effort but somehow doesn't.

"Not irrelevant," he corrects, his voice dropping 0.4 octaves. "Telling."

You catalog the statement for future analysis. "Telling of what?"

He doesn't answer, but his stride adjusts by 0.2 centimeters—not enough for conscious detection, yet your body automatically recalibrates to maintain perfect alignment.

The silence stretches precisely 17.4 seconds before he speaks again.

"Most people tend to walk behind me." His tone shifts subtly, the change barely registering at 0.2 decibels lower. "Create distance. Establish hierarchy."

Your eyes track his profile, noting the rhythm of his breathing. "And this bothers you?"

"No." The denial comes too quickly—0.47 seconds faster than his average response time. A statistically significant aberration. "It's protocol."

"Which we've established has no practical application in a resistance organization."

"What I find..." he pauses for exactly 1.3 seconds, "interesting is that you've never followed it. Not once. Not in any—"

He stops abruptly, both verbally and physically. The sudden halt creates a minor temporal distortion—a 0.3-second lag in ambient chronological flow that you automatically register.

"In any what?" you prompt, cataloging the uncharacteristic break in his speech pattern.

"In any situation," he finishes, the correction carrying a 73% probability of being a substitution for his original intended statement.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 13:47:23 PM, the seconds counting with suspicious regularity despite the microscopic temporal fluctuations you can feel emanating from his proximity.

"Perhaps I assess operational efficiency over hierarchical formality," you suggest, attempting to apply logical reasoning to behavior that feels increasingly pre-programmed.

He makes that sound again—the one that isn't quite amusement but contains traces of it, like fossil remains of an emotion long extinct.

"Or perhaps," he says, voice lowered to precisely 42 decibels, "some patterns transcend memory."

The statement triggers a 0.4-second arrhythmia in your heart rate—a physiological response that correlates to no known medical condition. Your brain struggles to process the implications while your body seems to understand perfectly.

His pace resumes at exactly 0.76 meters per step.

You match it without conscious thought.

He doesn't comment further, but the space between you carries a charge measurable at approximately 0.06 millivolts per cubic centimeter—enough to raise the fine hairs on your arm beneath your tactical gear.

"Where exactly are we going?" you ask, redirecting to quantifiable data.

"Sector 4," he replies, all trace of that almost-emotion now absent from his voice. "The relocated monitoring hub."

The information raises several questions: "How is civilian compliance maintained during reality restructuring? The cognitive dissonance alone would trigger mass—"

"They don't notice." His voice cuts with precision. "For them, the hub has always been there. Their memories adjust automatically."

"I know that much. But how? The energetic requirements for mass memory manipulation would exceed—"

"Don't." He warns. "Your nose is already threatening to bleed again."

You touch your septum reflexively, finding it dry. When you glance at him questioningly, his focus remains deliberately forward.

"It would have started in approximately 12 seconds," he states, as if calculating the exact moment your temporal resistance would trigger physical symptoms. "Thinking too deeply about CHRONOS' mechanisms accelerates the process."

"How do you know that?" The query emerges softer than intended.

His stride never breaks rhythm. "Experience."

One word. 

Four syllables.

Somehow containing multitudes.

You want to press further, to dissect the precise meaning behind his claim, but your attention shifts to your surroundings as you approach the deployment bay—team members checking equipment, reviewing objectives, preparing for extraction.

Agent Min's pace finally slows as you reach a console near the bay doors. He inputs a sequence too rapidly for you to track, though your fingers twitch as if they know the pattern.

"My watch is modified," you state rather than ask, eyes fixed on the device encircling your wrist. 

The design appears identical to your standard-issue Chrono-Sync, but the readings flicker with patterns that contradict CHRONOS protocols.

Agent Min hums in acknowledgment, sound vibrating at exactly 147 Hz. "What did you think Namjoon meant when he shouted 'stabilized' across the lab yesterday?"

The memory surfaces with clarity—Jin's interrogation, Namjoon's interruption, the moment your temporal readings suddenly aligned despite no obvious intervention.

"But he never touched my watch," you counter, examining the device more carefully. "How would he modify it without physical access?"

"We already had your calibration data," Agent Min explains, his tone shifting into what you recognize as lecture mode—precise, controlled, 0.3 octaves lower than his standard register. "Your temporal signature has specific frequencies, like a fingerprint. Namjoon analyzed those patterns and transmitted the modifications wirelessly when you entered our dampening field."

You run your finger over the watch's display, noting the subtle differences in the readout interface. "That would require quantum-level transmission capabilities. The technological limitations alone would—"

"You're thinking too conventionally again." There's a hint of something almost like fondness in his tone. "CHRONOS technology isn't the pinnacle of temporal science. It's deliberately limited to maintain control."

The implication triggers several cognitive pathways simultaneously. 

If CHRONOS has been restricting technological development, then your entire understanding of temporal physics could be fundamentally flawed…

"So this watch..." you begin, carefully selecting terminology to avoid another nosebleed.

"Is calibrated to resistance frequencies instead of CHRONOS ones," he finishes. "It helps your body recognize its natural temporal pattern rather than forcing compliance with CHRONOS’ one."

You check the device—still showing 13:52:17 PM, though something about the secondary readings catches your attention. 

The temporal variance indicator flashes briefly: 0.88%.

"It's..." you pause, recalibrating your response based on the unexpected reading. "The variance is higher than standard parameters."

Agent Min finally turns to face you fully, his eyes tracing your expression with unsettling precision. "That's normal when we're preparing to exit the blind spot. The temporal dampening field here stabilizes your signature artificially. Outside, it'll start fluctuating."

"By increasing variance? Shouldn't the watch compensate for that?" The inconsistency troubles your analytical mind.

"The watch helps, but it's not enough on its own." His focus shifts to your wrist, where the modified Chrono-Sync device continues to flash its warning. "Think of it like this: your body is trying to operate on your natural frequency, but CHRONOS has been forcing it to run at a different one for years. The watch can guide you toward the right pattern, but the transition creates instability."

The explanation, while simplified, aligns with quantum resonance theory. 

"So outside the blind spot..." you start, forming the hypothesis.

"You'll need additional stabilization until your signature fully integrates with the resistance calibration," he confirms. "Like training wheels on a bicycle."

Your eyebrow raises at the antiquated analogy. "And you're the training wheels in this scenario?"

Something that might almost be a smile touches his lips for 0.3 seconds before vanishing. "My temporal signature naturally counterbalances the instability in yours. Proximity helps smooth the transition."

"Why you specifically?" 

He purses his lips. "Temporal physics."

The explanation is statistically insufficient, containing 97.3% less detail than would be expected from someone with his apparent knowledge base.

"That's not an answer."

"It's all you're getting for now." His tone sharpens by 0.7 decibels. "Unless you want another nosebleed before we even leave the facility."

Your analytical mind begins calculating potential correlations between his evasiveness and your temporal stabilization, but the mere formation of the hypothesis triggers a familiar pressure behind your nasal septum.

Your nose starts bleeding.

Agent Min doesn't look surprised. His hand extends with the now-familiar black handkerchief.

"What did I just say about thinking too deeply?" It’s an attempt at annoyance, but you can detect a warmth that registers at approximately 0.3 degrees above neutral.

"Temporal analysis is literally my job," you reply, accepting the handkerchief.

"Was," he corrects. His gloved hand adjusts a setting on your modified watch without asking permission, his fingers moving with such familiarity that the intrusion hardly registers as one. "Now your job is to stay alive long enough to remember why you're really here."

The cryptic statement deserves further interrogation, but your attention is diverted by the arrival of the other teams. 

Jimin and Hoseok enter with suspicious dishevelment, Jimin's hair slightly mussed at precisely the angle that suggests recent contact. Hoseok's grin carries approximately 22% more satisfaction than mission preparation would typically warrant.

Namjoon and Seokjin arrive with more professional demeanor, though you note the way Seokjin's eyes immediately scan for you and Agent Min, cataloging your proximity to each other with too much interest to be casual.

Taehyung and Jungkook materialize last, synchronized movements carrying that unnerving precision that corroborate interfacing capabilities beyond standard human parameters.

"Everyone ready?" Namjoon asks, though his eyes linger specifically on you.

Agent Min answers before you can. "As ready as possible given the circumstances."

Namjoon nods, understanding some subtext that eludes your analysis. "Remember, minimal interaction with standard temporal structures. We observe, we analyze, we return. No engagement with CHRONOS elements unless absolutely necessary."

The instruction seems directed at everyone but carries special weight when his gaze returns to you.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 13:58:43 PM.

In 1 minute and 17 seconds, you'll be leaving the only safe place you've known since waking up in the 25th hour.

Agent Min shifts 2.3 centimeters closer to you—not enough for contact, but enough that your temporal readings stabilize by 0.12%.

"Stay close," he says, voice calibrated to exactly 44 decibels. "Your body knows what to do, even if your mind doesn't."

The statement should be nonsensical. Paradoxical. Impossible to quantify with any scientific rigor.

Yet as the bay doors begin to open, exposing the tunnel that leads back to standard temporal flow, you find yourself already adjusting your position to maintain precisely 47 centimeters of distance from him.

Close enough for temporal stabilization. Far enough to avoid Protocol 47.3 violations. Perfect synchronicity without conscious calculation.

Your body does know. 

The question is: how?

goal: 50 notes.

next | index

— taglist

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @ktownshizzle @yoongiiuu93 @billy-jeans23 @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @hobis-sprite0218

© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[geometrymatters]

The Noumenal Monad

Within the Polynon framework, nothingness is an undifferentiated cognitive space that precedes geometry and structure. It exists as a pre-geometric source, housing the unformed essence of all phenomena from which spacetime, and all its manifestations, arise. Imbued with primal noumenal potential, it is denoted as the state where all possible realities are latent, waiting to be expressed into an observable world.

A circle whose center is everywhere and circumference is nowhere.

The monad is a geometric construct that acts as a universal grammar of existence, mapping how the boundless noumenal potential transitions into perceptual and phenomenal dimensions while retaining coherence across all levels of manifestation.

The centre being “everywhere” signifies the Monad’s omnipresence as the locus of all potential states, embedded in every point of reality. The circumference being “nowhere” reflects its boundless architecture, transcending the constraints of space, time, and materiality, integrating infinite possibilities within a singular, cohesive structure.

The compactification process begins with the noumenal everything compressing into a singular phenomenal something, reflecting a specific instance or manifestation. This phenomenal something is inherently equal to the noumenal everything because it retains the entirety of noumenal potential, either in its un-collapsed state of infinity or as a collapsed singular “ring” dimension, compacted into a single cognitive focal point.

The only attribute of a point is that it marks position. Take away this attribute and in the unposited point we have a symbol of pure Being, the abstract noumenon, that which underlies every mode of phenomenal manifestation, every form of existence. It is at once All and Nothing, at once Absolute Consciousness and Unconsciousness.

B.W. Betts, Geometric Psychology or the Science of Representation

Or, as Fichte envisioned it, the line symbolizes the progression of consciousness—linear and sequential—while the circle represents its completeness and self-enclosure, encompassing all its dimensions. Thus, both the noumenal everything and the phenomenal something are expressions of the same essence, differing only in their state of manifestation and representation.

Together, they define the Noumenal Monad as a meta-structure that bridges these states of being. It embodies the continuum between the actual and the potential, compacting the infinite diversity of noumenal states into a singular conceptual dimension. This process is geometrically encoded, offering a scaffold for understanding how existence unfolds from an infinite noumenal source into the finite, perceptual realm, while remaining irreducible to either.

Continue reading

[bodhranwriting]

NIGHT-RUN OPENING

The deluge pounded the prairie like an army of giants, its roar rivalling the rolling thunder above it. Forests of tallgrass were beaten and broken to half their heights, the soil beneath now oceans of silt and mire and sludge.

The last harpy shrieked its fury into the raging night, sensing the retreat of its sisters back to home. Electricity crackled painfully across its wings, each feather being pulled and fluffed by the storm, rain crashing into its body like arrows. What little cognitive power it possessed was screaming to follow the flock – get back to safety and shelter and warmth – before the elements tore it from the skies.

But to return empty-taloned was to forgo a reward. The harpy could feel the burst of intestines against its mouth, the gush of life-blood seeping down its throat. Chunks of carrion tossed into their enclosure were sufficient, but live prey was a rare and welcome indulgence.

Its master urged it on from the back of its mind, sharing the adrenaline and thrill and stress of the hunt. Live prey begot live prey.

Another blast of rain overturned it. Something like fear touched its gut. The storm was becoming too much. The harpy fought itself right-side up and scanned the unfurling plains below a final time.

Lightning ripped open the clouds. For a heartbeat, the floundering shape amidst the grass was illuminated as clearly as a torch in a cave.

The harpy dived. Wind and water whipped past it as it plummeted, preparing its weight to swing forward those talons and seize the target by whatever it could, snatching its quarry up to where there was no defense –

But the next flash of lightning was blinding and the harpy’s claws closed on empty air. Screeching with rage, the harpy climbed again into the storm-tossed night and wheeled around to join its flock, broadcasting the prey’s last position to its disappointed master.

Argo clawed himself free from the river of muck, open-mouthed panting with the strain. He’d felt the rush of wind above his head as he’d thrown himself down, the split-second shadow against the tempest’s light his only warning. His arms throbbed from where he’d jarred them as he’d dropped, his shoulders protesting taking his full weight just as strongly. But those were just more melodies among the symphony of agony that was his body.

A huge, sobbing breath tore out of Argo’s mouth as he forced himself to his feet, staggering forwards.

[is-this-mathieu-enriched]

I’ve recently discovered this wonderful and very informative site and would really like to take care of a Mathieu! But I already have a Sepp at home which is adore very much, and I would hate to for there to be any conflict to make either of them uncomfortable. As an expert, what do you recommend?

(Ps. While you’re here what is the strangest combo in your experience that you’ve come across?)

Good news: the aerial Sepp is one of the most responsive and welcoming species! In the wild they regularly bond outside their species, and in rare cases wild Sepps have been reported to have formed bonds even with fully aquatic species, adapting to 'fly' and hunt underwater. So long as the two of them are introduced gradually, the chances are very good that they will become a bonded pair.

Your Sepp's aviary should already contain more than enough room to house a Mathieu, however much of that space will obviously be vertical. A Mathieu will additionally require two to three hides plus a basking spot with a heat lamp. This should be positioned so there is no risk of your Sepp landing on top and burning his feet, so crucial to catching his prey whilst he is hunting on the wing.

Install some branches leading up to your Sepp's favourite perches, ensuring they are textured enough to allow your Mathieu to climb. Some Mathieus will be able to deduce that the branches are a route leading to the otherwise inaccessible top of the enclosure, however others are not able to make this cognitive leap. If this is the case, you may need to lure your Mathieu to try them with the aid of a favourite treat or enrichment toy!

Every few weeks - or when it is enclosure cleaning day - the branches can be re-arranged. Exploring each new layout will provide a fun and enriching challenge for both your Sepp and Mathieu.

Your Mathieu may well decide to imitate your Sepp, and try to fly. Chew-safe netting can be purchased from specialist stores, and should be added beneath his climbing routes. Depending on your Mathieu's temperament, this may be a one-off experiment or a frequent stroke of inspiration.

The sound of furious meeping will alert you if your Mathieu has had a fall. Spitting is likely whilst he is being disentangled, so do wear gloves whilst freeing him if you have a venom allergy. Place him back on the ground, and be prepared for him to sulk for a while, especially if this is a regular occurrence.

If your Mathieu is determined to fly, you may want to pick him up (be careful to support both his chest and pelvic girdle) and swoop him through the air beside your Sepp as he flies. Do be aware than an excited Mathieu tends to wiggle! Always make sure that you are holding him firmly but not restrictively. A trampoline may also be a good investment if he enjoys the feeling of soaring through the air.

The process of introducing your new Mathieu to your Sepp is the same as with any two species. Place your new Mathieu's travel enclosure next to your Sepp's enclosure, so that they can both become accustomed to each other's scents, then offer shed jerseys to investigate. Once interested chirruping is being responded to with soft cawing (in the characteristic 'chuckle' rhythm, rather than the more aggressive 'cough'), then the two are ready to physically interact.

The strangest combination yet seen probably has to be whatever is going on in the picture above. This multi-species bonded group, containing a juvenile Mathieu (centre) and Wout (furthest right), appears to be very contented, with some members actively basking while a good deal of snuggling is going on. Life is always so much more varied than we can predict!

Good luck with your new Mathieu, and do let us know how he is settling into his new home.

[osakanone]

"The internet feels gross now": a trajectory of human events

Two French philosophers predicted exactly this was going to happen before the internet existed, circa 1972.

They also described how:

it could be escaped via absurdism to weather the storm (dadaism again, or what we now know as meme culture)

...and poststructuralism, and new social constructs (eg the collapse of old social standards and the comprehension of human cognitive limits and the death of the fantasy of the rational actor excuse used to justify everything from shitty economics and shitty legal systems to libertarianism and fascism)

...but that a culture based around unconsumable content as a reaction against enclosure/deteritorialization (edgelords, neofascism, etc) would exist.

So far, they've been startlingly accurate -- at least as far as my limited understanding of their writing lets me understand.

Someone who knows more than me can describe it better.

[mmenvs3000w25]

Prompt 9: Interpret (through this blog) the most amazing thing you know about nature – get us excited. This is your blog – your audience isn’t out in the field with you so bring the field to your armchair reader.

Our textbook states that one of the challenges interpreters face is capturing and maintaining the audience’s attention (Beck et al., 2018, p. 166). Later, it also highlights that one of the most effective ways to engage large audiences is through storytelling (Beck et al., 2018, p. 222). So, let me tell you a story.

Imagine it’s a quiet Tuesday morning. You’re at the bank, using the ATM before heading to work. The bank hasn’t even opened yet, and you’re the only person there. Suddenly, you hear a noise—a rustling sound from inside. Then, a loud crash! You glance through the window and see two masked figures. Heart pounding, you grab your phone, ready to call… animal control?

As it turns out, these robbers weren’t after money. They were after a tin of almond cookies! That’s because they weren’t people at all—they were raccoons! (I’ve linked two news articles below in case you need proof!) This story is one of my favorites because it challenges the idea that raccoons are just unintelligent pests. In reality, they’re incredibly resourceful problem-solvers, capable of navigating complex situations—like breaking into a bank for a snack.

Raccoons aren’t the only animals that demonstrate remarkable intelligence. One of the most fascinating examples in nature comes from the octopus. Often called escape artists, these cephalopods have stunned aquarium staff worldwide with their ability to sneak out of enclosures, open jars, and even steal food from neighboring tanks (Hunt, 2017). Some have learned to turn off lights and short-circuit power supplies, while others have demonstrated the ability to solve intricate puzzles when properly motivated (Hunt, 2017). If you have a few minutes, I highly recommend watching this video by YouTuber Mark Rober, where an octopus solves a complex underwater puzzle! (Bonus: He has other great videos showcasing animal intelligence, like obstacle courses for squirrels and testing a highly intelligent crow.)

What amazes me most about nature is how intelligence isn’t limited to just humans. A wide variety of animals, from primates to birds to invertebrates, have demonstrated cognitive abilities that challenge traditional views of intelligence (Bitterman, 1965). What’s even more fascinating is that, like humans, different species have different learning styles (Bitterman, 1965). But why has intelligence evolved in so many species? The answer lies in survival. Problem-solving skills help animals find food, avoid predators, and adapt to changing environments—giving them a distinct evolutionary advantage (Bitterman, 1965). Intelligence isn’t just a human trait; it’s a key part of life across the animal kingdom.

Have you ever witnessed an animal doing something unexpectedly smart? Maybe your pet learned a behavior you never intended to teach them, or you encountered a wild animal that seemed to know exactly what it was doing. Or perhaps you’ve just heard an incredible story about animal intelligence. I’d love to hear about it—share your experiences in the replies!

References

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage for a better world. Sagamore Publishing.

Bitterman, M. E. (1965). The evolution of intelligence. Scientific American, 212(1), 92–101. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24931751 

Hunt, E. (2017, March 28). Alien intelligence: the extraordinary minds of octopuses and other cephalopods. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2017/mar/28/alien-intelligence-the-extraordinary-minds-of-octopuses-and-other-cephalopods 

Larthridge, R. (2020, October 25). How a pair of raccoons (probably) broke into a bank. CNN. https://www.cnn.com/2020/10/25/us/raccoon-bank-intruders-trnd/index.html 

Sullivan, H. (2020, October 22). Hand over the trash: raccoons break into California bank. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2020/oct/22/give-me-all-your-trash-raccoons-break-into-california-bank 

[redladydeath]

Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure thinking about how Val never once takes advantage of RAM!Vox and how even he is confused as to why not.

Like he’s had opportunities, he’s considered it. Maybe even one time when Vox mistook him for his wife Vox initiated something but Val turned him down immediately.

Val in this au is having feelings that he hasn’t had since he was like a living child (so almost a century ago) and it is fucking him up.

I knoooooowww. It's so much fun forcing him to make morally correct choices while still keeping him an absolute monster with literally everyone else. The cognitive dissonance is delicious. I guess it really just comes down to the fact that he actually respects Vox and Velvette (in his own fashion) and sees them as people in a way he just doesn't with everybody else.

[axescryinwater]

i just drove by a huge zoo and it hurts to see.

zoos are institutions that cage living, breathing, intelligent beings—many of whom are capable of complex thought, emotion, and social behavior— strictly for human entertainment. the idea of placing animals in cages or enclosures for observation and amusement is something we've inherited from earlier centuries, a time when little was understood about animal cognition or emotional capacity. but today, we know better. we know that elephants mourn their dead, that primates form lifelong bonds, that big cats are meant to roam miles each day, and that even the most "lowly" animals have instincts and needs we still don’t fully understand. yet we continue to imprison them for no reason other than our own curiosity and profit. in zoos animals are stripped of everything that makes their lives natural and fulfilling. they lose their freedom to roam, their opportunity to hunt or forage, their privacy, and often their families. animals that would travel dozens or even hundreds of miles in the wild are confined to enclosures so small they can walk end to end in seconds. imagine the mental toll this takes. it’s no shocker that animals in zoos often develop abnormal behaviors. pacing, head bobbing, excessive grooming, rocking back and forth, behaviors not found in the wild. these are signs of psychological distress, not quirks to be laughed at by passing visitors. one of the biggest myths used to defend zoos is that they help with conservation. but if you really look into it, that argument doesn't hold much weight. the vast majority of animals in zoos are not endangered. many are there simply because they’re popular or exotic. when endangered species are bred in captivity, they are rarely released into the wild. instead, they spend their lives on display, far from the ecosystems they’re supposedly being saved for. conservation in its truest form means protecting wild habitats, funding anti poaching initiatives, and preserving biodiversity in nature. NOT creating artificial environments that barely mimic the real world. education is another claim zoos love to make. and yes, you can learn the names and appearances of animals by walking through a zoo. but what kind of education is that, really? what are we teaching children when we show them wild animals in unnatural, confined settings? are we teaching them to respect wildlife, or to view animals as things that exist for our entertainment? there’s a huge difference between truly understanding an animal’s life and merely staring at one from the other side of a glass wall. and then there’s the matter of profit. for many zoos, especially those in large cities, animals are essentially attractions. flashy exhibits, animal shows, petting zoos, photo ops, these are all designed to increase revenue. the animals themselves become tools in a marketing strategy. they don’t get to choose whether they’re on display. they don’t get a day off. they don’t get to say no. even in zoos with the best intentions, the underlying business model still treats animals as commodities. of course there are people who work in zoos who genuinely care about animals. there are veterinarians, caretakers, and staff members who do their best to give the animals a decent life. but individual compassion doesn’t erase systemic harm. it’s possible to care deeply and still be working within a broken system. the problem isn’t the people, it’s the structure that makes it acceptable to cage living beings for life. there are better alternatives. true sanctuaries focus on rescuing animals from abusive situations and giving them a life that’s as close to natural as possible. they don’t breed animals for profit or allow petting for selfies. they prioritize animal needs over public entertainment. likewise, supporting wildlife conservation efforts in the field, like protecting forests, oceans, grasslands, helps animals live where they truly belong: in the wild, not in glass boxes or concrete pits.

animals are not here for us. they are not exhibits or props. they are individuals with their own lives to live, not behind bars, not in enclosures, but in the vast, complex, wild world where they belong. it’s time WE stop supporting systems that tell us otherwise.

[hoursofreading]

THE ONLY BOOTH that stood out was at the far end of the exhibition hall. A company had tented its little patch of real estate with an inflatable white cube that looked like a large, quivering marshmallow. Inside the cube was Keith, a soft-spoken man whose earnest features and round physique conveyed a gnome-like benevolence. Beside Keith was a large screen. On the screen was a woman. The woman had dark hair, dark eyes, and purple lips that endeavored a smile. Her shoulders rose and fell, as if to suggest the act of breathing, and though she looked toward me, her gaze was elsewhere. “This is Chatty,” Keith shouted over the roar of the blowers keeping his enclosure erect. Keith worked for SapientX, a company that makes photorealistic conversational avatars powered by ChatGPT. SapientX had custom-built Chatty for Project Voice. Chatty could answer questions about the conference agenda and show you a map of the exhibition floor, except she couldn’t do it just then, said Keith, because they couldn’t seem to connect her to the wi-fi. Keith was happy enough to walk me through the visuals. Chatty’s face was the collaborative effort of fifty different companies. A company in Toronto did the eyes. “There’s like eight guys and all they do is eyes all day,” he said. Chatty’s face was a composite of several different races. Her voice was a composite of several different women. Her voice still needed some work, he admitted. “Right now she’s kinda mean.” I picked up a brochure that featured a roster of “digital employees,” complete with their names, headshots, and “personality scores.” I wondered what industries might hire them. “They’re mostly for kiosks,” Keith responded with a tone of defeat. “Like at a mall or a museum. Also military training. Stuff like that.” Keith directed my attention to the exterior of the cube. A large banner depicted an older male, prosaically handsome, with a square jaw, a custardy dollop of silver hair, and pale, limpid eyes. This was Chief, said Keith. “He’s a navy guy. And he talks like a navy guy. We work in forty different languages. So if you’re training someone in Ukraine how to operate an American tool, we have that language built in.” Keith went back inside to rustle me up a T-shirt. He told me that the company was also breaking into health care — nursing homes, to be precise. Keith explained the vision. Your mom is old, and you’re constantly reminding her to take her medicine. Why not leave that to an avatar? The avatar can converse with your mom, keep her company, fill up the idle hours of the day. Plus, you can incorporate a retina scanner to check her blood pressure and a motion sensor to make sure she isn’t lying dead on the floor. “Say there’s an elderly woman with dementia,” he said. “Her avatar will look like she did when she was younger. So she has someone to identify with. Does that make sense?” I imagined a future geriatric Keith, lying in a nursing home bed, conversing with his younger self. Would such an arrangement appeal to him? “There’s not going to be a choice,” he said. “A lot of old people are going to be talking to avatars in ten years, and they won’t even know it. When I was touring facilities in San Francisco for people with dementia and stuff, those places are like insane asylums. But some patients still have some cognitive function, and that’s who the technology would be for. It’s definitely not going to apply to the guys that are comatose.” We stood in silence for a moment, and he faced Chatty, who hovered before us, drifting in her strange, waking trance. “I wish they could fix the internet,” said Keith. “I swear, she gets nasty. She like, looks at me bad.”

An Age of Hyperabundance | Issue 47 | n+1 | Laura Preston

[cyanocoraxx]

I have a question!! What made you like centipedes and want to keep them? (Or just bugs in general?)

honestly this all started around 8 years ago when i read something that said "we fear what we don't understand"

i realized that i was scared of spiders because i didn't understand them. i was scared of snakes because i didn't understand them. etc etc etc. it's easy to be nervous about something when you think you can't read its behaviour and don't know if it will hurt you. the unknown is terrifying for sure. but here's two examples - that big ass house spider isn't chasing you - it can only see light and dark, it just wants to find a shadow to hide in. that snake likely doesn't want to bite you, but it will if you don't read its defensive signals and back off. when you start to learn things like this, you realize that these animals just want to survive like you, and there's no need to be afraid if you spend a little time researching their body language, how they use their senses, etc etc. they're just lil guys ur honour!

started with some docile tarantula species and over time worked up to where i am now with medically significant wandering spiders, old world tarantulas and obvs a lot of others. it's not always easy and yeah i shit myself when they bolt at mach 5 in my direction sometimes but who wouldn't lmao. that's what a catch cup is for <3 i also jumped in with my first snake, my brazilian rainbow boa, which is known for being defensive and bitey in its baby stage. scared of being bitten? let's try EXPOSURE THERAPY. turns out it's not that scary actually. inti you just look silly and also ur like 1ft long. pls. and here's the thing with all that- they only bite because they're scared and unsure of YOU. you have to show THEM that you're not a threat. so we did some mutual Understanding of each other (him latching on to my hand and me just sitting there quietly) until we both found out that actually, we're not scary. i think that's something special.

so........... centipedes are the latest animal that i realized i still felt nervous about, and guess what - it's only because i didn't feel like i understood them. i heard all these things about how they're all aggressive, nasty, ill-tempered things that just want to bite you. i was a little scared of them, so i just got one at an invert show after speaking to a breeder about their care and started to learn. learned that they're very deserving of respect - especially those with medically significant venom like the dehaani. those guys are a little insane (love u eos but ur a freak)

centipedes are still a bit of a mystery to humans, i think - we don't fully know how far their intelligence goes as not many people are researching their cognitive abilities. but centipedes can be socialized with us to tolerate our touch, some even seeming to "enjoy" being petted as it may make them feel like they're hiding under something warm and dark. some keepers swear their centipedes can remember them. some say they can be classically conditioned to associate a stimulus with something else (i.e. a tap on the enclosure means food is coming). each pede has its own temperament, some are bolty and bitey and some are laid back. i think this is all fascinating. are these worms made of knives smarter than most think? yeah, undoubtedly. we just don't know HOW intelligent yet. how many other animals do we underestimate and overlook?

here's something to bear in mind when interacting with inverts: you're HUGE. you make a lot of loud noises and heavy vibrations when you move. you're unpredictable. you give off heat and smell like salty sweat but you're not food. sometimes you might smell like fruit if you use a body spray. you reach down from above like an aerial hunter. so what are you? an invert with limited senses has all of this to figure out in just a few seconds.. it's no wonder they react so viscerally to us sometimes.

tldr; the thing probably doesn't want to bite you <3

[fatehbaz]

[D]ebt and indebtedness [...] produc[e] forms of spatial enclosure [imprisonment] that do not rely on the spectacular [singular moments of blatant literal physical violence] but are, rather, achieved through temporal openings and foreclosures. To be clear, this frame does not obscure the many forms of carceral enclosure [...]: the prison, the checkpoint, the security wall. Historically, enclosure is understood as the privatization of land. But Wang extends the concept of enclosure to encompass time. Wang demonstrates that [...] mobility is policed through [...] an apparatus of punishment that solicits time as the form of spatial enclosure. [...]

[D]ebilitating infrastructures turn able bodies into a range of disabled bodies. [...] [C]heckpoints [...]; administrative bureaucratic apparatuses that stall and foreclose travel, mobility for work, [...] the capacity to move and change residences - baroque processes to apply for permits to travel [...], absence of public services such as postal delivery [...]; and finally [...] denial of resolution, suspension in the space of the indefinite [...]. In fact, slow death itself is literalized as the slowing down of life [...]. [Land] itself becomes simultaneously bigger - because it takes so long to get anywhere - and smaller, as transit becomes arduous [...] where it is so difficult to travel between areas without permits and identifications. Movement is suffocated. Distance is stretched and manipulated to create an entire population with mobility impairments. And yet space is shrunken, as people are held in place, rarely able to move far. [...]

---

Time itself is held hostage.

This is the slow aspect of slow death: slow death can entail a really slow life, too, a life that demands constant calibration of different speeds and the relation of speed to space. [...]

The suspended state of the indefinite, of waiting and waiting (it) out, wreaks multigenerational psychological and physical havoc. [...]

Time thus is the meter of power; it is one form that physical enclosure takes on. The cordoning of time through space contributes to an overall “lack of jurisdiction over the function of one’s own senses” (Schuller 2018: 74) endemic to the operation of colonial rule [...]. [T]his process entails several modes of temporal differentiation: withholding futurity, making impossible anything but a slowed (down) life, and immobilizing the body [...]. Julie Peteet (2008) calls the extraction of nonlabor time “stealing time” [...].

[T]he extraction of time [...] produce[s] a depleted and therefore compliant population so beholden to the logistics of the everyday that forms of connectivity, communing, and collective resistance are thwarted. The extraction of time functions as the transfer of “vital energy” [...], an extraction that recapitulates a long colonial history of mining bodies for their potentiality. [...]

Checkpoints ensure one is never sure of reaching work on time.

Fear of not getting to work then adds to the labor of getting to work; the checkpoints affectively expand labor time [...].

Bodies in line at checkpoints [...] [experience] the fractalizing of the emotive, cognitive, physiological capacities of bodies [...].It’s not just that bodies are too tired to resist but that the experience of the “constant state of uncertainty” becomes the condition of being. [...]

---

All text above by: Jasbir K. Puar. "Spatial Debilities: Slow Life and Carceral Capitalism in Palestine". South Atlantic Quarterly (2021) 120 (2), pages 393-414. Published April 2021. DOI at: doi dot org slash 10.1215/00382876-8916144 [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for criticism, teaching, commentary purposes.]

[aeroblossom]

a curse-bearer - furina

(please note: [self] objectification, implied stalking, depiction of cognitive distortion)

Everything in moderation.

The spoon gouges out the strawberry adorning the slice of cake. Tense fingers grasp the silverware, the anxiety made apparent by the clumsy and erratic clashes of the spoon against the ceramic of the plate in an attempt to split the cake in half.

A deep breath. Followed by another. And another.

Everything in moderation.

That's what Neuvillette said. He knew best, especially when not even she could differentiate from good and bad. Not good and bad for a wrongdoer, but good and bad for herself.

Her hands give out. The plate falls and shatters on the carpeted floor. The spoon drops soon after, hitting the tiled floor on the edge of the carpet with a clang. She slumps back in her chair after taking another deep breath and letting loose her shoulders, which until now seemed to hold all the stress in the world.

How incredibly unbecoming of Lady Furina the incredibly just, incredibly elegant, incredibly beautiful.

Unbecoming, unbecoming, unbecoming.

This kind of thing cuts so deep that even Focalors deep within her feels it, too. It's the polar opposite of sweets. It's the other extreme end of the spectrum. It's the complete antithesis of her happiness. Gloved hands cover the girl's face, she curls up on the sofa.

A large part of being well versed in law is being well versed in interpretation. She's trying to interpret the word 'moderation'.

Midpoint, medium, middle, et cetera. Not polar extremes. Absolutely not them. Somewhere in between, a grey area.

Grey? She's never known grey.

Kill or be killed. Do or die. Save or be saved. Owe or be owed. That's one kind.

The inside of her mouth feels sickeningly sweet, like she'd just swallowed a bunch of sugar. Saturated. Overflowing. Blinding, no other end in sight.

Hope or despair. You or me. You or them. You or us.

The door to her suite is always locked. She's careful never to let anyone in by accident. Careful not to be photographed within the confines of her own room again. Careful not to be followed to the Palais Mermonia. Careful not to have another person try to break and enter. Careful not to be treated like some sort of animal in an enclosure. Object of adoration. Objection of observation. Object of obsession. Object. Soulless hunk of material to be beaten into submission, embarrassed and humiliated.

Irrational love or irrational hate.

She hugs her knees, falling limp. Her flowing, long nightclothing hides marks of shame around her thighs. Long sleeves hide suspiciously calculated injuries on both her arms. This mortal vessel is so annoyingly slow to heal.

The letter of the proposition sits on her table. Normally she wouldn't mind such an offer. She's gotten rather accustomed to having cameras on her, all eyes on her, all attention on her. And she's convinced herself she likes it.

She's convinced herself it's perfectly normal for her own subject, a human, one of those she fought with her life to defend and protect, to ask her to pose without a single article of her clothing in front of a camera. That it's entirely normal to be debased like this.

What would any other god have done? What would Barbatos do? What would Buer do? Morax? Baal? Egeria?

(Actually, she's pretty sure Baal would execute them with her own hands, on the spot.)

Focalors usually shuts down such a thing. Things she thinks damages her reputation. But where does this fall? Damaging? Improving? Wouldn't they love her more if she did as they asked?

That's what she's always wanted, right? To be loved. To be adored. To be needed. To be doted on. To be relied on. For the beloved sinners, cursed from their birth, to be guided via her divine strength – just like herself.

A gloved finger traces the light scars on her arm. Slowly sliding from one side to the other. It stops on one end.

Irrational love?

She's convinced herself this is love. She's sure the tears that roll down her face are nothing at all. She's had worse, hasn't she? She's had someone jump down the Palais and injure themselves to enter her room. She's had reporters and journalists stalking her to every nook and cranny of the city to speak to her.

Neuvillette often put a stop to things when he saw they were harming her, because she couldn't. She couldn't say no to them. She couldn't say no to the chance to hear more adoring words and praise.

It's fine if sometimes it makes her unable to sleep at night, thinking someone must be under her bed, looking at her. Trying to see inside of her. Inside the bubble, the shattered mess within. The thought of it makes her skin crawl.

For anyone to know what she is deep within.

And yet she craves it.

A few minutes of silence pass by before she lifts up her head again. Very well, then.

If the destruction of her self is what's needed for her to earn love – she'll gladly do it. That's what her being revolves around. Love, love love.

Once again, she's failed to live up to 'everything in moderation'.