Naldine observed him for a long mont within that perception stretched toward infinity.
Then she raised her right hand.
"Watch carefully. I will only demonstrate this once before we discuss it."
Her palm faced outward, fingers spread wide as if preparing to grasp sothing that existed beyond physical perception. The gesture held stillness that seed almost reverent, a musician preparing to play an instrunt that had been waiting since before Observable Existence learned to observe.
Then her fingers began to move.
The first motion was a curling inward, each finger bending in sequence from smallest to largest as if she were grasping threads of reality itself that only five percent Civilizational Access could perceive. Her hand drew backward in a pulling motion, those invisible threads gathering in her palm like strands of a sea being unraveled from the weaving that held them in place.
Her palm rotated slowly, drawing a circle in the frozen air that suggested reversal, regression, the unwinding of causality flowing backward against its natural current. The motion was ancient, gestures that seed to have existed before gestures were possible, movents that touched upon fundantals!
Her fingers snapped outward in a flicking motion, releasing whatever she had gathered while simultaneously reaching toward sothing distant. Then her hand closed into a fist, authority condensing into configurations that pressed against the stretched mont with force that should not have been possible within perception alone.
Her fist opened.
Her fingers spread as fire would bloom from kindling, and her voice erged with words that pressed against existence itself.
"Silurian Ember, First of Flas. I grasp the Thread. I burn the Thread. What was shall be unwritten, what stood shall stand no more. THE SILURIAN LIGHT"
The words landed with force that made even this perception stretched toward infinity tremble slightly.
Golden fire, pale and terrible and filled with colors that should not have been capable of existing simultaneously, flickered briefly around her extended fingers before fading into nothing. It was only demonstration, only illustration, only showing him what the Modus Operandi looked like when properly executed by one who possessed the capacity to channel it.
She lowered her hand and looked at him.
Noah looked back at her.
He blinked.
Really, it had seed like she was just waving her hand around and spouting rubbish.
The gesture had been elaborate, certainly. The words had sounded impressive, undeniably. But watching her perform the Modus Operandi without being able to perceive what she was actually touching, without being able to sense the depths of Civilization she was accessing, without being able to feel the threads she was grasping and the fire she was calling forth, all of it had seed like theatrical nonsense.
A woman waving her fingers in patterns that held no aning he could discern.
A woman speaking words that sounded ancient but conveyed nothing to ears that could not hear what existed beneath their surface.
Gibberish!
"You see?" Naldine said with expression that held no surprise at his reaction. "To you, it ans nothing. Because you cannot perceive what I am touching when I make those movents. You cannot hear what I am calling when I speak those words. The Modus Operandi requires access you do not possess, perception you have not developed, depths you cannot currently reach."
She shook her head slowly.
"This is why I said it would seem like gibberish. Because without the capacity to perceive THE Silurian Light, without the access to find where it resides and grasp the thread that connects to THE Silurian Cause, you are simply a child mimicking gestures and sounds without understanding what they are ant to accomplish."
...!
Noah thought of the demonstration.
He thought about himself, about how different his path had been compared to every other being he had encountered in Observable Existence. The traditional progression demanded a Civilizational Anchor first, affirmations of self-knowledge that established the frawork through which all subsequent advancent would flow. Then ca THE Proterozoic Scale, the transformation of bones and organs.
Noah had not followed that path.
He, without making a Civilizational Anchor with his main body, was forming Hadean Bones. Not Proterozoic. Hadean.
A classification that should not have existed, a tier of transformation that the system prompts themselves seed uncertain how to categorize. His right hand blazed with THE Hadean Hand of Infinite Grasp.
And he possessed THE Hadean Organ of Civilization.
’Oh...’
His eyes flickered as he smiled at the realization. THE Hadean Organ of Civilization. He had ford sothing grander than a Proterozoic Organ first bwfore even forming any bones!
That construct within his chest had made everything possible. It processed Observable force. It granted Civilizational Eons of Developnt that allowed Ozymandias to progress at ridiculous rates. It collected THE Hadean Existential Singularities that siphoned knowledge and power from designated targets.
His progression was completely different than the progression of others!
The requirents Naldine had listed pressed against his awareness. Eighty-five percent Proterozoic Bone saturation. Organ Triad Foundation. Infinity Tolerance through integration rather than containnt.
He t the third requirent absolutely.
But the bone saturation, the organ requirents, these he lacked in traditional form.
However.
He possessed Hadean Bones rather than Proterozoic. Were they not superior?
He possessed THE Hadean Organ of Civilization.
And then there was THE Infiniverse.
But the most significant factor remained his connection to a Gilded.
He thought about Eon, about the Observable force flooding into him through Quintessence Infiniforce pathways that violated Existential Designations. If his thoughts were correct regarding the nature of THE Gilded, they should have no issues with accessing more of their existence and Civilizations. The limitations that constrained THE Bounded would not apply to them. They might start at five percent Civilizational Access. They might start at ten percent. Or more.
He was currently connected to and siphoning from a Gilded.
Could this change anything?
The Observable force flowing into him was not rely raw power. It carried sothing else, sothing that felt like perception itself being transmitted alongside the energy.
When he processed that force through THE Hadean Organ of Civilization, when it spread through his transforming bones and integrated with his foundations, was he gaining more than just strength?
Was he gaining... access?
He himself could not determine where he stood.
He looked toward Naldine, his perception eting hers within this mont stretched toward infinity.
"Okay. Let see the motions again."
His voice erged with determination.
"And you can tell about any other Pulses of The Scales. Any information I could benefit from. Even knowledge of THE Wyld."
He settled into posture of relaxation.
"After all, we have the ti."
...!
Naldine observed him for a long mont.
She nodded slowly.
"Very well."
Her right hand rose again, palm facing outward, fingers spread wide, and she began to repeat.
Noah observed. He processed. He attempted to find aning in what he was witnessing.
It still seed like gibberish, but he continued watching regardless.
---
The hours began to pass within their perception.
Naldine repeated the Modus Operandi of THE Silurian Light seventeen tis, each demonstration accompanied by explanation that grew more detailed as she recognized his genuine attention.
Then she moved beyond THE Silurian Light.
"There are other Pulses," she said, her perception waving hands that conjured new diagrams in the frozen air around them. "THE Ordovician Silence is one I possess knowledge of, though I have never successfully channeled it. It does not erase causality as it freezes it. Everything affected becos locked in the mont of contact, unable to progress forward or backward, suspended until the one who channeled the Pulse permits movent to resu."
She demonstrated a different set of gestures, fingers moving in patterns of binding rather than unraveling.
"THE Cambrian Word is another. It rewrites. Causality can be altered rather than removed, consequences changed to produce different outcos while the original actions remain intact."
Hours passed as she explained each Pulse she possessed knowledge of, their requirents, their Modus Operandi, their relationships to the various Causes that had ford Observable Existences across the vastness of reality.
She spoke of THE Wyld.
"It is not a place in the way you understand places," she explained. "It is a domain accessible through Prima Indifferentia, but only Primordial Architects can perceive the pathways that lead to it. Within THE Wyld, eons of our developnt and Civilizations are contained. Hierarchies that have nothing to do with Observable Existence govern who rises and who falls."
She described THE Deliverance and others.
"No one disobeys them," she said with voice that held sothing approaching fear despite her classification. "Those who attempt resistance simply cease to exist. Their Proterozoic Bones and Organs remain where their bodies once stood, available for collection by more obedient servants."
She spoke of factions within THE Wyld, of ideological divisions between those who wished to remain isolated and those who believed expansion beyond their borders was necessary. She had been among the latter, one of the Visionaries who advocated for alliance with entities outside Primordial Architect classification.
More hours passed.
Noah listened. He absorbed and processed everything she shared!
More than twenty hours later, his body of perception lay back on a golden cloud of Observable force.
The cloud had ford naturally around him as he relaxed within this stretched mont, his authority manifesting comfort that his physical body could not experience while frozen in objective ti. He threw a golden ball of Observable force upward, watching it arc through the perception-space before catching it when it fell.
Throw. Catch. Throw. Catch.
His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling of this stretched infinity, his mind processing everything Naldine had taught him.
"The crux of it all," he said slowly, throwing the ball again, "for THE Silurian Light and the two other Pulses you have knowledge of seems to be the sa."
He caught the ball.
"Powerful Second Scale beings drawing power from a Cause."
He threw it again.
"You have your own thod to draw power from THE Silurian Cause, a fiery Cause which triggers the ergence of Observable Existences. The gestures approximate what that Cause did when it created. The words call upon the authority that Cause possessed when it ford reality from nothing."
He caught the ball and held it, his perception turning to look at Naldine with eyes that blazed with understanding.
"I simply need to find my own way to draw upon the power of that Cause."
...!
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