Last Reflection

In a very real sense of the word, value is a simple and definable piece of information. Fodder for an equation. The answer to a variable.

We recognize the values that define us, but it's the same value we recognize in ourselves that we cannot adequately define, quantify or calculate. Morality, philosophy, evaluation, preference, admiration: to explicitly define the values for these is to break them.

The value we produce and maintain among ourselves is outputted data. A result cannot interpret itself, but the causal factor can.

Divine science.

We won’t break the world by our design, we can only vary the value produced.

Our individual minds are planetary bodies in the gravity of value, maybe solar or even galactic. It’s hard to say.

The explosions of stars may be the same stuff as a firing neuron. Our mind holds worlds of its own. It is in these spaces where we might employ the cosmic habits we witness when we look outward.

Turn our science divine.

The world we are portraying the ending moments of to you are made of the same cultural cosmic dust that’s been floating around since the beginning. It pulled together briefly under a gravity it does not understand, but now drifts once again to its inoperable atomic pieces.

Chaos remains. Conditions will change and perhaps become suitable for life once again. Maybe they will see themselves as we have failed to do.

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You’ve never Metagod until you are one, right Coyote?

* Liminal Renaissance

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We got to the underplate and all of us connected. Elk, the Hoardosphere, Coyote, Port Orbital, all of us. Things took on a nice clarity when we did.

Port Orbital is a lot older than the world it rests on.

It started as something similar in nature to Accretio. A planetary creature, meant to leave a dying world and grow itself into a new one from scavenged pieces.

This one had a piece that wouldn’t change. Some compacted immutable core or pit at its center that maintained.

The next God Beast found that pit, scavenged it and carried it into its final form.

Over and over this happened in countless iterations until that hardened pit was the one consuming.

Ever attracted to this dense accumulation of raw existential potential, worlds no longer sprouted from the God Beasts, since they were invariably hurling themselves into the ever growing furnace of this hungering new thing.

Elk is being carried toward its mouth now, with Accretio in rapid pursuit. The grimefoil, the paint on plates, all of it. Perfect signal between us.

They walk the interior of the vast planetary drill structure, designed to bury deep into its next cosmic hunting ground.

Parasite now called Port Orbital. The great promise of change, of subversion and resurrection.

We feel Thremp’s hunter's instinct come back to us. We see the answer to the question of Speculation City, which has come to life as God Beast Discernia and now ambles toward the Port as well.

There’s one sublime moment of clarity in which we recognize we are annihilating potential on galactic proportions. We become our victims and ferry them to us to create that flash of snuffed out novelty.

We do it for this moment, which is the very same moment where it all ends again.