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The Cosmic Observatory
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The Cosmic Observatory was in complete disorder.
Mighty rumbles shook its foundations at irregular intervals, causing the interior to shudder and rattle in tandem. Accompanied by the chimes of clanging objects, a cloud of detritus cascaded down and coated everything in a fine layer. The usual, meticulous order of the place was now more reminiscent of a library that had been hit by a tornado. Countless books and scrolls were lying strewn about, thrown down all over without a second thought. They also covered a significant portion of the expansive central desk; claiming the entirety of its bulk. Only the large legs were visible beneath the flood of clutter, and their fluted shape gave the impression that they were bending under the weight - if such were possible for the impressive piece of mahogany furniture. The intricate table apron with breathtaking carvings depicting all sorts of celestial bodies was all but invisible in the shadows of overhanging papers. A brass quill stand and a big, beautiful inkwell would have been threatened to vanish under an avalanche of tomes and parchments if not for their elevated place atop a cherry wood stand. Its sorting compartments contained more writing implements and a few other odds and ends of various nature.
Towering bookshelves encircled the space of the pentagonal room. Tomes and scrolls also sat there, albeit in a more orderly fashion, but the gaps between them suggested the origins of the surrounding chaos. In between the five bookshelves, each situated at one side of the room, were archways leading into darkness, and vague outlines in the gloom hinted at a sprawling expanse beyond the limited visibility of the present moment. Positioned before one of the high bookshelves was a very tall rolling ladder. It provided access to the loftier regions of storage and a means to get to the broad balcony circling the entirety of the Observatory. Five walkways connected each corner of the balcony to a central platform. They were made of an opaque material with a slight iridescence akin to frosted glass. A massive telescope sat there, its smooth metal surfaces shimmered with soft reflections of the sparse light that reached the soaring heights. It was not an ordinary telescope. Not only due to its gargantuan size and fascinating build, but also because of the countless movable lenses affixed to its front. An innumerable amount of knobs, buttons, and screws was distributed all over it and enabled fine adjustment. The Observatory lacked a ceiling, but instead, a monumental glass dome crowned the structure, offering the telescope a clear line of sight. An extraordinary and incomprehensible moving mechanism allowed the telescope to be positioned in any desired orientation.
Yet another quake shook the Observatory, the upheaval causing fine debris to descend anew on every available surface. The overloaded desk in the middle of the room had taken on a quite dusty appearance, with all but a small section buried beneath written records.
This was where the Observer sat now - perched on the desk itself - something unimaginable under ordinary circumstances. After all, the purpose of desks was to sit at them, not to sit on them. But the Observer, much like his dwelling, was also in complete disarray.
What to do? Events like these had never happened before.
The Observer had tried to calculate the implications and consequences - but was at a complete loss. Today had left him in utter confusion, an uncomfortably alien feeling for him. It was impossible to oversee all the spanning, interwoven connections! They did provide certain opportunities, though, did they not?
Would he even be able to do this? After all, his purpose was to observe, not to... make.
Even an extensive delve into his notes had not provided him with any deeper insight. This was another point adding to the Observer's unease - never before had he been forced to consult his written records. As much as he might enjoy reading in general, they were more of a pastime than a real necessity. Despite his love for the written word, he wasn’t dependent on it; he remembered everything, and he had to stop second-guessing himself, for Cosmic’s sake.
His head hurt.
Had his head ever hurt before?
The Observer felt very out of character and grumbled. He glanced at the tapestry that occupied the air between the desk and the platform above, while the quake-like trembles caused some more dust to rain down on him.
To anyone else's eyes, the tapestry would just be a magnificent nebula of colours shifting in incomprehensible formations; a beautiful and wondrous display of swirling hues and intricate motifs that seemed to dance and change with every glance - an eternal and never-ending pattern in perpetual motion, building an infinite weave of ongoing designs. Yet, it was anything but inconsequential.
After watching it for a little while, the Observer was sure that he had to act; otherwise, the opportunities would pass. Who knew when - and if ever - such happenstances would occur again? The Observer revised his plans one last time, then took a deep breath, puffed his cheeks, and slapped his thighs. Had he ever done that prior to today? He was reluctant to admit to himself that he wasn’t sure; he was also unclear about the consequences if he went through with his manic ideas. And how could he be? He was certain about just one thing: This was a unique and singular opportunity, and he had to get to work. Now.
The sense of urgency overpowering his tentative reluctance at last, he jumped down from the desk and went at a brisk pace to one of the enormous bookshelves while trying not to slip on his scattered records. This added yet a few more atypical actions to the Observer's already bizarre circumstance, as he did not usually jump, walk briskly, or, least of all, slip. A frantic collection unfolded as he rummaged around in the drawers at the bottom of the shelf. He needed these particular items; others just wouldn't do. A few moments later, he returned to the desk and just slid the mass of clutter down to the floor with the use of his elbows.
Useful, he noticed, these elbows. Order could still be restored later. Now he required room for his endeavour.
After a short moment of contemplation, he shrugged his shoulders, gave in and climbed atop the desk. The Observer braced himself and began to pull strands out of the tapestry with thorough attention and careful precision. He used a pair of shimmering tweezers and held his breath every time he removed something.
He was sweating.
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Had he ever been sweating before?
Never mind; he had to concentrate. The Observer did not want to lose any more of what could have been preserved. He scolded himself with silent curses for not paying better attention in the past, and couldn’t bear to think about all the loss. Maybe he even hated himself a bit. Had he ever hated anything before? He was sure that he hated his meandering thoughts right now. Finally, his focus reset, and he was able to shut all distractions off. For a while he was toiling hard, panting profusely without ever realizing that he did so. He had not breathed in an eternity, as he had transcended breath long ago - but now he fell back into the subconscious habit from the time before. He took great care to be as precise as his skill would allow him and never let up. When he was done, he swept his brow with an absent mind and inspected his work.
The Observer looked at the Phylactery in his hands, his labour fruitful, and the small glass bottle sealed with a polished silver stopper. Due to the fine craftsmanship of the item, the container itself was a marvel to behold. Its glass body was delicate and elegant, with intricate designs and runes etched into its surface. Inside, a warm light glowed with soft radiance, pulsing like a beating heart and casting a gentle, ethereal luminescence. The contents shifted and swirled from time to time and created mesmerizing patterns. Holding it, the Observer could feel the subtle but nonetheless immense power contained within. It captivated his gaze and made the object both beautiful and slightly intimidating.
Another low rumble shook the mighty foundations of the Observatory, but he ignored it, lost in his thoughts about the treasure in his hands. After a while, he placed the Phylactery on his desk with great care and then just let himself flop down to the ground. He needed a moment to get his breath back - strange as it was, as he had never needed rest before.
As his thoughts spiralled, his mind sought respite amidst the turmoil, and he found himself drawn to a behavioural quirk he had often witnessed and pondered before. Humans, in particular, seemed to have not only refined but mastered something he found both mind-boggling and captivating - the art of distracting themselves. Their creative methods, honed over centuries, were unparalleled in their effectiveness, and he marvelled at their ability to divert their attention from pressing matters with an assortment of trivial seeming pursuits. From the quiet solace they found in books to the flickering images on screens that enthralled their minds, humans had become diversion experts to escape the harshness of their realities. The way they used music to drown out their worries, or how they immersed themselves in petty pastimes to escape the banality of their routines, was nothing short of a miraculous craft.
The Observer found himself both amused and intrigued by their inventiveness. But, as one had to note, these techniques were not always for mere procrastination. Often times, they were a means to comfort a troubled or overworked mind, to ease stress, and to mitigate pressure. How ingenious it was that humans could find not just comfort but sometimes also joy in these frivolous endeavours, even when their world seemed on the brink of chaos. To the Observer's fascination, humans appeared to be able to concentrate better, making their work more effective afterward. It allowed them to redirect their attention, and to tackle previously overwhelming goals with renewed clarity.
They also had an extraordinary ability to turn mundane objects into assistive devices, and he had seen them resort to various means to settle their nerves.
Cigarettes, though popular, he found to be repugnant and offensive to his senses, yet the concept intrigued him.
It was the act of occupying oneself with a simple action, of having something tangible to hold on to. In his dishevelled state, he realized he needed something similar, something innocuous that could offer a momentary diversion.
Then it came to him.
Bubblegum.
He had observed how humans used it to soothe themselves, the repetitive chewing providing a rhythmic solace. Though the habit was curious, it was far more appealing than smoking, and its innocent simplicity seemed to be of unexpected effectiveness. Rather than creating a portal, which felt a bit extreme, he found the idea of summoning bubblegum both practical and fitting for his current need. He recalled a vivid memory of a young human blowing bubbles with bright pink chewing gum - a cheerful, carefree scene full of light and colour. While focussing on this image, the Observer extended his hand and brought the bubblegum into existence. A bright pink, shimmering wrapper materialized, encasing the small, sweet brick - an exact replica of what he had seen. As he unwrapped the gum and placed it in his mouth, the sweet flavour calmed his frayed senses in an instant, grounding him once more. An involuntary, satisfied smile graced his lips, which were just a tad sticky now. He didn't mind. The wrapping paper slid out of his hand and floated down to the floor, settling amidst the clutter.
The Observer wished he could take a few more moments to gather himself, but time was of the essence today. Plans, tasks, and ideas flitted about in his head, but being more relaxed now allowed him to sort through the tangle. He still needed to pick a means to address, but he could already feel two options resonating within himself. How to pick the right one? In a spurt of creativity, something fundamentally foreign to the Observer, he decided to go unconventional all the way.
And why not?
This had been a very unconventional day, after all. The most unconventional of days, if he were to be honest.
The Observer chewed excitedly.
He also needed a place for growing, but it had to be secret and well protected. Maybe he could just find a location that provided the base necessities? He would then have to take care of the rest by himself and put down some guarding. Strict and heavy concealment was also warranted for safekeeping, he determined. Where and when, he wondered, would be right to place it? Something small, something unimportant. Something out of the way. He consulted the tapestry once more and tried to decide.
There. That was it!
Or rather, a good start, he thought after closer inspection. His current focal point seemed overall fitting, yet something was missing. Contemplating possible solutions for a moment, he glanced at the Phylactery.
Why not try?
This would at least provide a connection, perhaps even an anchor. With careful and deliberate movements, he removed the diamond-shaped silver filigree stopper and pulled out one of the most lively sparks with his shimmering tweezers. The gum proved its worth yet again, steadying both his hands and his mind during the process. He had to get more, seeing as he might need it to navigate future endeavours. After closing the Phylactery again, he wove the spark into the pattern with meticulous care and watched it merge. Seamless. Perfect. The Observer nodded, this had been the right choice.
“Now the real work begins.”
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