Lusihar was running toward Sadim's palace, which was smaller than the one she worked in but more harmonious. It was black, full of glass windows and doors, nestled within a highly detailed garden.
She hurried inside to inform the respected Sadim of what had happened, only to find her already coming out.
"I received your message. Why did you come and leave Farid? Didn't I order you to watch him?"
"Did you want me to fight them or something? I have no chance against them. Imagine if the Thunder Birds hadn't reached you—you would still know nothing. Aren't you going?"
"Going where?"
"To try and talk to them to explain what's happening, of course?!"
"Ah... well, and you, Lusihar, won't you accompany me?"
"I want to, but... I ran away from them. They won't let this go easily."
"Hmm, fine. Stay here."
After some time, Farid began to wake up, not knowing what had happened. He quietly looked around and was met by the focused stares of several armored soldiers sitting silently before him. He looked down to find himself restrained in what looked like a patient's gown, his legs tied with leather straps, and secured to a stretcher. From the shaking, it seemed he was in a vehicle.
He tried to free himself from the restraints to examine his face. Initially, he struggled, but the restraints were tough. He tried with greater force, and indeed, they began to tear...
They tried to hold him down, and one of the soldiers hit the white wall of the vehicle, causing it to stop moving. Farid freed his body despite their attempts to hold him, which prompted them to try and shoot at his feet while he was pinned to the floor. But Farid, looking at the muzzles of the rifles and guided by his senses, knew where the bullets would go, and he dodged them. It was as if he was seeing them move in slow motion, and he felt he was faster than them.
The door opened, and several soldiers wearing heavy armor appeared.
"Secure him."
The soldiers held him upright, the muzzles of the heavy-armored soldiers' live rifles pointed directly at his head.
"Stop! Stop! Fine, I'll calm down."
Farid was restrained again with chains, a complete surrender from him as he waited to see where all this would lead.
Walls that looked grey like cement, illuminated by gas lamps—that was the sight Farid saw when he was escorted out. When they didn't shoot him, he felt they didn't want to kill him, but this didn't lower his tension, especially since they weren't responding to his questions.
After a long corridor, he was led to a room that looked like an interrogation chamber. They ordered him to sit on a chair. After a little while, the Interrogator entered in his formal suit, his belly slightly protruding, with brown hair, a slightly lighter beard, and thin glasses. He was carrying several papers and files, which he placed on the side.
Farid was tense and didn't speak first, but the Interrogator began after staring at him for a bit.
"Alright, let's get this done.
... Do you know why you are here?"
"No."
"What is your name?"
"F... Farid."
Silence.
"Isn't it Sahin, or something similar?"
"Yes, they used to call me that name."
"Who are 'they'?"
"The servants of his palace. They said I occupied his body, and they, along with the respected lady whose name I don't remember—I mean Sahin's mother and father—were satisfied with what happened."
"You mean the respected Sadim and Sir Neuhaus?"
"Yes, those are their names."
"How exactly did you occupy his body? Did you share consciousness for a while and then take over, or did you simply wake up in it?"
"I think I woke up in it during something that seemed like his funeral."
"Hmm, interesting and unnatural. What is your relationship with that forest woman who had three eyes?"
"They..
.. believe she is the reason I was brought back in this body, but Sahin's family and servants were completely satisfied with it and allowed her to stay."
"Why?"
"Um, I know her."
"So, they allowed a being that hunts humans and turns them into slime to exist, simply because you wanted them to?! There must be a deeper reason. Come on, confess."
"Sir, I am not even from this world, and I don't understand what is happening here.
I woke up and found myself in the middle of a storm, and here I am in a police station for something I don't even know what it is. And you assaulted me while I was asleep..."
"I am dealing with you calmly, so deal with me calmly. As for that raised tone of yours, our tone is even higher than that."
"Sorry."
"We cannot examine your aura. Can you remove the encryption on it?"
"I don't know how... Oh, I remember. Sahin's father ordered a servant named Arim to give me this ring
[Farid exposed his right hand and continued]
to block my Ninth Aura."
"The Ninth Aura?"
Farid removed the ring, and he saw the Interrogator's eyes bulge, looking at him, then at the two guards, then at a window, and he finished somewhat flustered.
"May I have a moment, and I'll be back?"
After some time, the Interrogator returned with someone whose white clothing suggested he was a doctor, with broad shoulders, an angular, sharp face like his eyes, black hair swept to the right, and pale skin. The doctor approached, and with his cold, solid hand, he grasped Farid's face, who felt the joints of his fingers. He brought his face closer, examining his golden eyes and his nose, where the blood had dried around it. Then, the doctor, in a heavy voice, ordered him to be unbound.
Farid stood up and was the tallest in the room. The doctor removed the ring that Lambda had given him and examined his body, now unencrypted with his aura. From the examination of his brain, he concluded that he was a second-type Reverse Translocator with uncontrollable voices.
"Welcome, Ninth."
The doctor said it, handed the report paper to the Interrogator, and left the room.
The Interrogator offered Farid a seat.
"I apologize for the poor reception, my respected Sir.
[The Interrogator looked at one of the guards, who understood and went to fetch some water.]
Your appearance at this time is frankly a surprise. In any case, welcome. Did Sir Neuhaus say anything about a secret meeting?"
Farid replied while washing his face:
"Yes... Thank you... Yes, he spoke about discussing the issue of my appearance and the ramifications of this matter on society with some people."
"I expected that. Well, the reason we brought you here is completely different. The Objective Reality Anchor registered an anomaly a few days ago, represented by an unnatural rise in Reality levels in a specific spot, which points to the intervention of a higher consciousness monitoring what is happening here. Estimates suggest the matter concerns Gary Sto."
"And... and what do you mean by the Objective Reality Anchor, and how exactly do you measure Reality, and how did you know that a higher consciousness is monitoring a specific place?"
"I am not a specialist in this field, but I will explain what I understand, and as a newcomer, I don't think you will grasp the matter immediately or comprehend it."
"Don't worry, I was a theoretical physicist in my past life. The study of reality is my specialty."
"Before answering, allow me to ask you: can you read our language as well as you speak it, Sir?"
"No."
"Hoof
[The Interrogator sighed]
The Reality Anchor is a massive project sponsored by the Sixth to define a framework for engineering the existents that are comprehensible to humans on the strongest scale, which is the Author Entities. It has several manifestations, but to avoid delving into side issues, when we talk about Reality, we are talking about the Objective Anchor. In physics, there are constants called the Limits of Reality, and they are constants that cannot be exceeded, such as the limits for time intervals and the limits for distance intervals, and they are what prevent the existence of infinities within them..."
"Ah, I know them. We call them Planck constants, which are derived from the Planck constant, which can only be derived through experiment."
"Good that you know them. Within them, there is something called the limit of smallness. I believe you call it the Planck length, is that right?
[Farid nodded his head, confirming his statement.]
Well, below that length lies a domain we call Surrealism, named after the set of Surreal numbers that transcend infinities in both smallness and largeness... It is a special world of complexity on its own. The important thing in this domain is what we target: strange shapes that possess seven dimensions..."
"Seven dimensions! You mean the Holonomy G2 Manifold within the framework of M-theory, which determines the internal shape of space, where the remaining seven dimensions out of the original 11 are curled up, and whose size and moduli determine the constants of the universe, is that correct?"
"Yes, that moduli is what I'm trying to get to. They are those free fields that require stabilization for the universe to be stable."
"But how did you reach them? I mean, here we are talking about extra dimensions—seven dimensions. These are metaphysical, theoretical things more than physical, and they are very small. How did you reach them?"
"We are dealing here with another, non-Euclidean existential layer that we call the Land of the Lost or the Blind God-Point. This different reference allowed some of our technologies to make a limited link to it, enabling the Sixth's inventions there to perform what we call 'tasting Reality,' determining the extent of its increase and decrease compared to the reference, which is 100. A drop in Reality indicates its softening in preparation for manipulation, and we observe this through subtle changes in the topology of the G2 bodies, manifested in a decrease in their stabilization. When the moduli stabilization drops, Reality drops, as if the laws of the universe become a painting whose colors have not yet dried, capable of being erased, swapped, or distorted. Areas that lose moduli stabilization turn into foggy zones; time within them is non-linear, distance is volatile, and the physical identity of things erodes in that domain. Moreover, near zero, we talk about abstract things, we talk about the world of Forms and the primary models of things. And an increase in Reality is like a choking of existence. Quantum phenomena become more deterministic, wave functions collapse, and Reality is forced to follow a single, deterministic path. It's something akin to the observer effect, but this observer does not exist in our dimension or even our existential layer. It is like dark matter; we only see its effect, even though our current theories in our world have begun to know its nature."
"This is amazing, but a simple question... How do you know all this? I mean, your weapons, your clothes, your buildings—all suggest they are from the Middle Ages or the beginning of the Enlightenment era. I mean, even your rifles are living beings and not real guns, and everything suggests you still adhere to superstitious thinking. So, how did you know non-intuitive things that require extremely complex laboratory tools to discover?!"
"That is because the knowledge about these technologies has been poisoned. I mean, for example, when you try to build a complex means of transport, that initial knowledge about how to build it consists of personas that create a living anti-measurement idea—meaning they block your perception of it and may corrupt your mind and drown it in madness. This is related to the concept of the noosphere, or the Noo-field, which is the domain where ideas evolve. Just as life evolves and flourishes in the Biosphere, or the living domain, so too do ideas flourish and evolve in the collective Noosphere of humans and any being that understands the connotations of our language. But limits have been imposed on our ideas—meaning limits on the shape of the Noosphere. All this knowledge we have is what is permissible for us to know. As for what is not permissible, you won't even realize that you know it, lest it cause the third extinction again, or something similar. This knowledge is restricted in books, but these books are classified as Infohazards, meaning knowledge risks, whether anti-measurements that kill you instantly, or memes that make you cut off your face and feed it to animals in front of people, and anyone who sees you will try to imitate you. Ahem, all this is because of those beings that the Great Sixth insulted."
"I see you praise the Sixth a lot. Tell me, what did he do?"
"
What the Sixth did is extremely complicated, and it is an anti-measurement. I cannot say it, but you will know it."
"Is it possible to circumvent the anti-measurements and approximate the idea, even slightly?"
"I cannot say that either, Sir. Listen to me carefully: just forget what was said here. If you delve too long into thinking about these matters, a knowledge hazard may form in your mind and force you to bang your head on the wall until you die, and that is the simplest thing, because I have seen people do illogical things with my own eyes, and were it not for my shame in describing it, I would tell you. Believe it or not, there are even sensory hazards, Cognitohazards, which are a type of anti-measurement where exposure to a thing or topic with any of your senses is destructive to your mind. And even the corpses affected by these things—some of them, if you look at them or they are exposed to any sense, whether sight, hearing, smell, or others, directly or indirectly (meaning through a medium that converts it into a knowledge hazard, such as a drawing, a picture, or a description)... Literally, if you are exposed to these hazards, death, despite its difficulty, is more merciful, because we are talking about a complete destruction of normal perception of the world—I mean torment for which there are no words to describe, and this is not an exaggeration. Human logic is incapable of describing it. What we know is that it is torment unlike anything we can compare it to or form words from what we know to describe it. But the faces of the victims, which literally had their expressions wiped out into strange, abnormal, aberrant shapes, embodied infinite pain. I swear it is something more than just torment, and even now, I am still haunted by nightmares of their shapes. And the infected person, 99% of the time, cannot be cured, and sometimes the infected cannot be killed, no matter how much you destroy their body—you only increase their pain."
Farid swallowed, terrified.
"But we humans have managed to coexist with all of this. These cases are rare, and even if they appear, international organizations like ours, the Global Coalition for Paranormal Monitoring and Occult Studies (or the Sleepless Eye Organization), have the mission of keeping these scourges away from humans."
"Mr. Interrogator, the respected Sadim wishes to meet with you by a higher order."