Chapter 137 - Mandate of Omniscience

Rupert let his words hang in the air, and almost everyone was captivated by his little speech.

Vern chewed on them. Unfortunately, this plan didn't sound as outright villainous as he'd hoped. That would have made it easier for him to mentally cast Rupert as an asshole.

However, he did have a reason not to agree with his plan. Lady Sylphina had explained her reasons for not beckoning these Eternas.

She'd said, 'We prepared ourselves to never be observed again. Not unless we allowed the objectivity record to fall in the hands of those who seek to retread the old paths—the ones foredoomed to failure.'

That clearly suggested that what Rupert proposed was bound to be failure. However, as much as Vern felt disposed to blindly trust Lady Sylphina, he couldn't bring himself to stop thinking about it critically.

Yes, Rupert's suggestion might be doomed to failure in the long term, but if things are as dire as everyone's suggesting here, there might not be a 'long-term' at all.

He'd loathe for anyone to harm Lady Sylphina, but if they were just changing the content of the Objectivity Record, it might not affect her at all. Even if that meant a failure after millennia, it might still be a better option than having the whole civilization routed by the nightmares of subjectivity.

Horrors like the one that resided inside that child or the one he'd seen from the terrace of Vigil, or worse, the one who'd caused the Duskfall, the entity who'd enlightened Vern.

If even these people who were supposedly on top of the food chain were so pessimistic about the future, did he really know better?

Aghh. Vern groaned. What exactly was the scope of her proclamation!? What if she meant any other ideas could cause an instant failure of reality at a microscopic level, and everything would end with the slightest change?

That's not all. What sort of rewriting of rules is he suggesting? That was the most important question.

Fortunately, Vern didn't have to wait for long as the sweet voice of the Eterna lady pierced the oppressive silence as she asked what was on everyone's mind. "What kind of rebirth are you proposing, then, Rupert?"

Vern didn't miss how she called the Eterna of blood with his moniker but resorted to using Rupert's name directly. Interesting.

The bulge on Rupert's eyelids shifted in her direction, and he nodded, "Indeed. The devil is in the details, as they say."

Turning back to the crowd, he said, "Let's start with the problem rather than the solution." He extended his hands outward and requested, "Tell me, fellow Visionaries. What are the gravest of the problems that plague our society right now?"

Chatter erupted again, and people discussed fervently, yet no one dared to speak their conclusions out loud. Vern also had an answer, but he wasn't going to stand out for something like this. Not to Rupert.

Maybe noticing this trend, the man in black smiled, "It seems I have made a bad impression on everyone here. But I am sure most of you would agree with me once you realize how big of an opportunity Estefans would have stolen had I not intervened."

"It may have seemed cruel, but it was for the welfare of whole humanity."

His words had a clear effect, and a blonde from the fifth row eventually took the bait. "Omniscient one, I surmise the worst problem right now are the sightless. They suffer from the pollution, propagate it, and taint the unified perspective."

Thump Thump. Rupert repeatedly smacked the head of his cane with one hand, almost like a clap, "Very much on point, miss firekeeper, as expected from one of your lineage—straight to the point. That's indeed problem number one."

Turning back to the crowd, he prodded them again like some teach asking questions to his students, "Anyone else?"

This time, a bunch of people exclaimed simultaneously, and Vern could never have prepared himself for this.

"We all know that the real problem is our mortal coil. Only if we could become machines with numerical minds, we would never have to face the whispers ever again."

"The world has too much entropy. We need to further cull it. I suggest we end everyone that's infected and restart the society."

"It's the Observers other than us visionaries. We should wipe them all!"

"The problem lies in the emotions. We should prune emotions from humanity. If there's no fear, there will be no madness to succumb to."

"The chaos we witness is the result of its nightmares. Our only salvation lies in awakening the Dreamer or, failing that, lulling it into a dreamless sleep. Only then can we find peace."

"Us at Veiled Sovereigns believe it's the lack of education about subjectivity. If the public understood it properly, they wouldn't be as susceptible to pollution."

"It's obviously the gods, the Elden ones, and irresponsible Observers. We need to somehow restrict their influence on reality. They're messing with our lives too much."

Uhhh…what? Vern doubted his own ears by the end. He thought he had a wild imagination, but this was…enlightening. It made him re-evaluate the people surrounding him. They all looked human, but their minds were clearly very far from that.

"Hahh, some of you are really amusing. Well, I suppose it's only for the good that consensus is necessary, and any one of us can't just enforce such…outlandish ideas."

"Anyways, Mr. Schaummer from Elysian Circle is onto something. Gods, Elden Ones, and unruly observers are the second, third, and rest of the problems, rapidly hurling our civilization towards doom."

Tap!

"These issues have already wreaked too much havoc on our planet." Pointing at a woman wearing a black silky veil in the fifth row, he continued, "Take Lady Amaira from Darkmoor—the underwater city, for example. Her whole habitat, which existed peacefully for seven centuries and survived even the duskfall, was ruined in but a single day. The day when the Great Resolver, one whose name shan't be evoked, decided the dark sea was his."

The woman in question bit her lip and didn't comment.

Vern felt his horizons broadening. He had never heard of an underwater city, nor could he fathom the logistics of such an arrangement. So he did what any other sane man would—write down everything about it. These were things he could research in the future.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Heck, he went ahead and jotted down those insane suggestions from a minute ago alongside slim descriptions of their speakers. He wasn't sure about it, but he felt like these assertions could give him a window into their mind and viewpoint.

Even if it wasn't anything useful in the long term, those words were still worth dissecting.

Also, who is this great resolver? An Elden one? Or a god? Are these two different entities or just synonyms of each other?

Rupert obviously didn't answer any of Vern's unspoken questions and pointed at someone who looked like a samurai, "Satsuma clan used to be the sole owner of Blademancer shade sequence, but the corruption of their retainers and outer members led to a terrible mutiny which ended with the whole clan burned to the ground, including the Observation Records for said sequence."

The samurai slowly shook his head, bitterness clear on his face.

"Many of you may not know of it, but a group of unknown observers massacred Artemis, the airborne legion of Westminster. They went as far as to derail the floating city from the orbit, and it's bound to fall to its death in a couple of months if what's left of their observers can't do anything about it. That's the reason we're missing at least three visionaries today."

A…what? Floating city? How even?

Vern's pen flowed non-stop, greedily feeding on all this free information about the observers of the planet. It was terrible news, but it would be a disservice for it not to be immortalized in his notepad.

After a couple more examples along the same line, Rupert tapped his cane for the umpteenth time and said, "As is clear from all these cases, the core problems are indeed the masses, the gods, the Elden ones, and psychopathic observers."

The skeptical expressions in the crowd were all but gone; what remained was curiosity.

"Now that we understand the problem, we can finally worry about the solution." He paused and coughed lightly, "Before I tell you about Mandate of Omniscience—my solution to these dilemmas, know that I'm open to practical ideas that are strictly better than mine."

He then turned his mutilated eyes towards one of the observers who'd answered him before, and his voice suddenly turned cold, "However, make sure not to waste everyone's time with stupid notions like wanting to turn everything into machines or anything that upends the fundamentals of perception. If the seriousness of our situation hasn't fully sunk in yet, then you're not fit to contribute to this consensus. Consider yourself out."

No one answered him, but the light smiles hanging on a couple of faces disappeared, and the whole hall turned solemn. Vern also perked up. He had yet to find any flaws in man's argument, and that irked him. He didn't like being of the same mind as the person who'd committed genocide.

Taking the silence as their agreement, Rupert sighed and took a deep breath, "Let's set the record straight: Mandate of Omniscience doesn't aim to dismantle the core pillars of our existence. To do so would court catastrophe, not progress. I envision the introduction of innovative principles that build upon, rather than dismantle, the scaffoldings of our reality."

"I'm not here to advocate for turning the constants of our universe into variables, nor am I interested in altering the fundamental forces that bind our existence. To meddle with the constants of time's flow, or to warp the very fabric of space itself, is a folly I wish to avoid. Our reality, maintained by a delicate equipoise, cannot endure such fundamental upheavals without cascading into chaos beyond our command."

Vern was further depressed. The man was talking so much reason, it was clear he'd given it more than just some serious thought. However, those words quickly caused many in the crowd to be displeased. Almost as if some legitimately considered that as a viable reality.

Pointing at his sutured eyes, Rupert continued, "I am a man that likes to see. Being able to see and critically analyze the information available is the greatest advantage humans have over the rest of the intelligent species."

"Now, everyone calls me omniscient, but I indeed can't see everything that's happening in our realm, nor can I analyze it."

"However…" He paused, just long enough for the crowd to get intrigued, and then asked, "What if I could?"

Vern frowned.

"Imagine, if you will, a reality where I could see every sightless across our planet, and monitor their psyche moment by moment, determining the level of corruption and catch it before it breaches the dam of their sanity."

Huh?

"A reality where I could determine the destructive thoughts long before one has the chance to act upon them."

"In this envisioned world, the very notion of consorting with the lurking horrors that gnaw at our reality's edges would be rendered impossible—erased before such a perilous thought could even take root."

That…

"Disruptive Observers would be found out before they have the chance to ruin any more lives."

"Armored with such boundless insight, we would foresee the gods' watchful eyes upon us, orchestrating preemptive defenses with unparalleled speed and precision."

"The whole world could work in concert to push back the uninvited guests."

"It would—"

"Wait, wait." The lord of Primordial blood next to Rupert raised his hand.

Vern caught the hint of displeasure on Rupert's face, which was gone in the next instant as he turned towards the other Eterna.

The man in the red outfit continued with a sharp voice, "I don't have a thousand lab rats in my backyard like you do, but my experience tells me your plan is flawed."

He sat wider on his throne and checked his nails before continuing, "You're essentially trying to create a vision to calculate the future perfectly, and surely you know the fifth Axiom better than me."

Without looking away from his nails, he shouted, "Someone remind Mr. Rupert here of the fifth axiom of observation."

Most in the crowd hesitated and fumbled, probably not wanting to get caught in the middle of an argument between two Eternas. But then, the lady who was holding onto trembling King Keras spoke with a defiant gaze, "Fifth Axiom says that Everflux is the state of infinite change, and any attempts to calculate the next state of chaos will result in nothing but destruction."

Vern was still disturbed by Rupert's idea, but he wasn't about to ignore such an unexpected windfall and penned down the fifth Axiom. It seemed quite an enigmatic one, too.

The lord of blood clapped his hands, "Exactly!" Pointing his other set of nails at the man in center of it all, he added, "Well, Rupert, it'd be one thing if you were planning this for a city or something. But on this scale, you're essentially trying to predict the Everflux and nothing good comes out of that." He then scoffed, "Surely, you know that better than me, too."

Rupert nodded, "Valid points, one and all."

"Except." And he smiled, "I don't mean to calculate the future at all."

The lord of blood retracted his extended arm and looked at Rupert suspiciously. Silence fell in the hall, and people shifted in their seats.

After a while, the only dissenter slowly nodded, "Well, go on, then."

The smug Rupert took the stage back, "Indeed. What I wish to analyze has nothing to do with the future. All I need is the present. I just need a window to everyone's mind and catch those thoughts that would be the cause of our eventual doom."

"The mandate seeks to seize the present in my gaze, wielding my wisdom to excise any future that threatens our society."

The man continued with increased bravado, "What I propose will neither interfere with the current state of society nor will it even be known by the people. For the masses, it will be like nothing ever changed. Except their lives would suddenly be free of disasters caused by madness."

His voice grew in intensity, "The gods won't be able to kill hundreds of thousands on their whims like in Darkmoor. The information exchange won't be limited by stupid factors like our Viewpoint's trace that we're too paranoid to share. We could all communicate and prepare for such tragedies on a world scale as necessary."

Passion oozed out of his every word, and he stressed, "The unruly Observers won't even be able to lift a finger to hurt the innocent before they're found out and punished."

"This world, currently fractured and self-absorbed, will weave itself into a tapestry of unity and altruism." He gazed at all the people he'd given as examples of tragedies and poured his heart out, "When I can see all of the world in a single glance, I could efficiently manage and assign resources to the battlefronts that would need it the most."

He looked up at the cosmos, "No one would be left unheard. Everyone would have equal opportunity to be seen and to receive help, unlike gods that show favor only to their worshippers."

He extended his arms and exclaimed, "It will be a world that's free of chaos, for it will be culled before it has any chance to grow."

A fervor beyond anything radiated off of him, and he bellowed, "It will allow us to tide over this unprecedented cosmic catastrophe and come out stronger!"

"The whole world would become an efficient clockwork—each cog and wheel dialed precisely to rout the unknown. To maximize sanity and minimize madness."

"When everything can be seen, nothing is unknown."

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"It will be the dawn of a new age."

"An epoch of subjectivity unlike any other."

He shouted at the top of his lungs, "An era of omniscience!"

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Oh my Lady… Vern stopped his pen, and his heart dropped. This is worse than I thought.