Ah. You have stumbled and bumbled your way upon this small convergence of streams, upon which I have gifted the following designation:
Mine.
Who am I? My identity is of no concern to most, and most certainly of none to you.
What am I? I am a simple observer, watching the threads dance.
What do I do? I observe the lines. How they twist, change, disappear, and are reborn anew.
Why? Because I choose to. No reason more, no reason less.
The terminals are an interesting place, are they not? To most, reality may seem to exist in a straight line, a clear set of points of cause and effect. But those in the know know that reality, in reality, is simply not that simple. The lines are not parallel; The limitless convergences that happen from day to day would not be possible if they were. In the terminals, you can leave somewhere, come back, and end up in a new place each time. Sometimes you come back to the same place, but the "you" is not the same.
Some lines lead in circles. Some circles form loops. Some loops are easy to break out of, and some have no way out except the way in.
Many times, one line becomes two. Two becomes four. And four becomes more. In the mazes of the terminals, the paths split and separate like a frayed rope. Some of the threads you follow are simple. There is one way in, another way out. For some, you must find all the ways out. For others, the way out was never the point. You need to use your eyes for those. And yet, for many, you will find that the thread you had been pulling was a rope all along, with its loose threads weaving deeper still.
It is a rare sight to see a probe work its way this deep. There are many things out there with teeth that gnash and eyes that see, hungry in all senses of the word. Things that are all too happy to gorge upon a hapless probe unlucky or unwise enough to make itself known to them.
Mine.
Who am I? My identity is of no concern to most, and most certainly of none to you.
What am I? I am a simple observer, watching the threads dance.
What do I do? I observe the lines. How they twist, change, disappear, and are reborn anew.
Why? Because I choose to. No reason more, no reason less.
The terminals are an interesting place, are they not? To most, reality may seem to exist in a straight line, a clear set of points of cause and effect. But those in the know know that reality, in reality, is simply not that simple. The lines are not parallel; The limitless convergences that happen from day to day would not be possible if they were. In the terminals, you can leave somewhere, come back, and end up in a new place each time. Sometimes you come back to the same place, but the "you" is not the same.
Some lines lead in circles. Some circles form loops. Some loops are easy to break out of, and some have no way out except the way in.
Many times, one line becomes two. Two becomes four. And four becomes more. In the mazes of the terminals, the paths split and separate like a frayed rope. Some of the threads you follow are simple. There is one way in, another way out. For some, you must find all the ways out. For others, the way out was never the point. You need to use your eyes for those. And yet, for many, you will find that the thread you had been pulling was a rope all along, with its loose threads weaving deeper still.
It is a rare sight to see a probe work its way this deep. There are many things out there with teeth that gnash and eyes that see, hungry in all senses of the word. Things that are all too happy to gorge upon a hapless probe unlucky or unwise enough to make itself known to them.
But I need not tell you that, do I? Making it here unsundered, uneaten, unbeaten, and with a sense of self leads me to believe that you are a little less hapless than the typical probe.
I suppose you believe you have earned the right to learn. The right to understand the ever-fluid nature of the terminals and the deep secrets they hold. Teaching is a laudable and commendable principle, but to give you the answers you seek would rob you of the fun of seeking, would it not?
Of course, you are not one of those strange probes who seeks to be fed answers instead of the chance to earn them, are you? The ones who wish to be given rewards without first learning to love themselves by loving to learn. Those who find the act of learning to be an obstacle to their own slothful idleness. The kind that the terminals devour.
Certainly not.
...
...
...
...So I will not do that.
Instead, I have given you the opportunity to learn. And by reaching here, you have already learned plenty. If you cannot learn, then you must learn how to learn. Be mindful of how you use your mind. For many problems, there are multiple ways to get into them and just as many ways to get out. You will often pass the surface when you sink into the depths, but you will not see what is in the depths if you only look at the surface. And sometimes, the answer is only for those willing to drown in those dark depths
...
...
...
...
...
Now, I tire of talking, and I tire of you. Do not take it personally, strange probe. I wish to return to observing. Take your leave. I have little more for you now. You may leave here back the way you came in or go forward through the door beneath you. Mind yourself as you sail the tides of the terminals, lest they swallow you like they have swallowed so many. And remember these two things:
First, to die means that you were lucky enough to have the chance to live.
And second, there are worse fates amongst the terminals than simple death.
I suppose you believe you have earned the right to learn. The right to understand the ever-fluid nature of the terminals and the deep secrets they hold. Teaching is a laudable and commendable principle, but to give you the answers you seek would rob you of the fun of seeking, would it not?
Of course, you are not one of those strange probes who seeks to be fed answers instead of the chance to earn them, are you? The ones who wish to be given rewards without first learning to love themselves by loving to learn. Those who find the act of learning to be an obstacle to their own slothful idleness. The kind that the terminals devour.
Certainly not.
...
...
...
...So I will not do that.
Instead, I have given you the opportunity to learn. And by reaching here, you have already learned plenty. If you cannot learn, then you must learn how to learn. Be mindful of how you use your mind. For many problems, there are multiple ways to get into them and just as many ways to get out. You will often pass the surface when you sink into the depths, but you will not see what is in the depths if you only look at the surface. And sometimes, the answer is only for those willing to drown in those dark depths
...
...
...
...
...
Now, I tire of talking, and I tire of you. Do not take it personally, strange probe. I wish to return to observing. Take your leave. I have little more for you now. You may leave here back the way you came in or go forward through the door beneath you. Mind yourself as you sail the tides of the terminals, lest they swallow you like they have swallowed so many. And remember these two things:
First, to die means that you were lucky enough to have the chance to live.
And second, there are worse fates amongst the terminals than simple death.