Chapter 62 - Analyzing the Observation

There was a simple explanation to why he thought that few grasped the nuanced link between Fundamentals and Observation.

Lennian Fundamentals had only emerged as a legitimate study thirty years ago—before that, they were dismissed as witchcraft or folklore. Coupled with Ambrose's hint that Observers had been limited pre-Duskfall, and further constrained by the deadly whispers, the odds were slim that many had reached the same conclusion as him.

The primary contributor, in this case, would actually be the Third Rune and this disconnected land. Despite being an Observer for just a few days, he possessed insights that eluded even seasoned Observers—yet remained ignorant of basic concepts.

But there was a silver lining in all this. He might have had a much better understanding of mundane aspects of Observation if he had stuck to the slow and safe route by carefully digging out the information throughout the city, but then who knew how long it would have taken him to learn about such an important connection between Fundamentals and Observation? About the uses of the Third rune? Even though he wouldn't have activated it given the threat of Hensen.

However, he shook off these boasting thoughts to focus on how this information could be useful to himself.

At first glance, it might seem insignificant, but this insight provided him with a systematic approach to Observation. It could be an analytical lens to decode the underpinning variables that influenced how Observation worked.

It was like the Particle doctrine of reality—a tool that enabled Fundamentalists to analyze and explain more sophisticated phenomena.

Even though it still can't explain the bizarre limitations on the theorized motion in the negative particles.

The subtlety of these insights shouldn't be underestimated. They might not seem groundbreaking, but often, it's the overlooked details that make a difference. With cautious optimism, he wondered if his unique, ground-up approach to solving these problems might offer a subtle edge over existing standards in Observer society. If so, the mental effort he'd invested would be well justified.

Anyways…

He tucked the Insight Sphere into his coat pocket and cradled his head in his hands, kneading his temples. His brain demanded a break, and the next experiments he had in mind would take more than a dozen seconds—so it didn't warrant melting his brain. Only a few foreign thoughts lingered in the sphere, just enough for maybe a couple more seconds.

He now had to figure out a few more things. Like what Vision to imprint on his Thought Space, and more importantly, what was stopping him from repeatedly imprinting it—shading his perception more than once.

What was the measure of progress between each shade? He had a few conjectures, but he would need to confirm their validity within his own Thought space. Until then, they were just that—theories. This was what he had hoped to ask Esther when she shut him up.

He smiled wryly at the thought. Well, he couldn't even begrudge her for that now. That'd be a luxury.

Yet, this all funneled down to a single question—What Vision should he forge? Gravity-related ideas were a no-go. To be exact, straying from the 'Structure' domain in Fundamentals wouldn't be ideal.

He realized the Visions could be far more intricate than merely altering one value within the viewpoint. In fact, he might be selling his own Visions short if it only tipped a specific balance one way or the other.

Instability Inducement, for example, worked primarily on the 'composition' of objects, but its essence was inducing instabilities in them. It worked with his Balance, and he didn't doubt for one second that many other Viewpoints could adapt and use Instability Inducement for themselves for a similar result but with a completely different underlying concept.

He needed a Vision flexible enough to go beyond just tipping the Balance yet focused enough to be personally effective—a fine line he'd have to navigate blindly. But at least he had a safety net in this land.

Another complex problem.

He almost instinctively reached out for the Insight Sphere again but then stopped. Over-reliance on anything was never a good idea. Extremism lacked rationale, and he would stick to balancing his mundane choices whenever possible.

Once his head stopped throbbing, he wiped the blood that leaked out of his nose and looked back out at the red world again.

He considered another subproblem, How are my Manipulation abilities affected by my affinity to Structural Fundamentals?

Observing objects within his perception was only one part of the equation—Manipulation was the key to producing tangible outcomes.

So, he wanted to try something simple for a start.

Height.

His affinity with height wasn't bad, and it was easy to understand. Even though height couldn't be exclusively contained within Fundamentals of Structure, a lot of discoveries surrounding it could be linked to that octant.

In his perception, he lumped the pebble on the ground with a black haze around it that slowly thinned out and turned brighter the higher he perceived—just like gravity, even though their underlying meanings were quite different.

He would start simple.

In one sense, couldn't gravity and height achieve the same results? He focused on the outline of that dark pebble on the ground and lightened it a notch.

In less than a heartbeat, he pulled back, his Perception shattering.

Ugh.

Predictable, yet still deflating. Well, at least he didn't bleed out of his eyes.

So I just did something wrong, huh? Something that would have unleashed the wrath of Whispers in full force were I to try this in Elmhurst.

But there was something to rejoice about here—there were no consequences for fucking up. The lack of catastrophic outcomes spurred him on as he jotted down his observations and repeatedly entered his Perceptive world—trying out one thing after another.

This round, he zeroed in on the gray area above the black pebble, imagining it to be darker.

In an instant, his Vision crumbled.

Okay, something's off.

The intended result had been...

.

.

.

Wait. What should happen?

What exactly had he anticipated when he tried to alter the height of that patch above the pebble? Did he expect it to simply lower itself? To carve out and relocate a piece of reality? Compress and displace the air within? Substitute its 'height' with something else?

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It didn't make sense.

Upon reflection, he realized he wasn't even clear on what 'height' really meant. Was it the measure of distance from the ground? Or perhaps an attribute of an object's elevation? And if he intended to 'raise' the rock's height, did that mean elongating it to reach the height he envisioned?

Yeah. It didn't make sense.

.

.

.

It was the confusion. It had to be. There were far too many possibilities, and he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted. If he didn't know what he wanted, how could that lens in his eye interpret it?

He nodded to himself and adjusted his Perception once more.

Alright. I want that pebble to rise.

Focused, he lightened the rock's hue in his mind.

And his thoughts rang true. The rock began its slow ascent, casting a faint, elongated shadow beneath itself. But Vern quickly identified a problem. It was…slow.

Far too slow. As slow as it was to Observe the Gravity in his Perception. Then it clicked.

That was it. He probably wasn't manipulating 'height' at all—his focus had shifted to more basic elements like 'position' or 'gravity.' And because these fell outside the Structural domain, the pace was sluggish—like a train inching along outdated tracks.

Yet the moment this realization dawned on him, the rock's ascent quickened. Not by much, but it was there.

Fascinating. Acknowledging the underlying mechanics made the manipulation smoother...

There were too many variables at play here. His viewpoint, the object under Observation, his intent, and his understanding of the concept he was manipulating. They all affected the outcome, and he had to figure out which aspect did what. Where he had more leeway and what was a strict rule.

For now, ambiguity could be tolerated, but confusion was a hard no. Will took precedence over vague intentions, as it unconsciously shifted the focus of his Observation to different concepts.

Moreover, his level of understanding was a significant influencer. Zero comprehension led to a stalemate—partial understanding made things possible, while deeper insight ramped up the efficiency.

Did that also mean he was more proficient at Observing and Manipulating concepts under Structure domain because he better understood them? That seemed like a logical conclusion.

Then could he get better at Gravity, too? Maybe other concepts? The idea was worth testing out—so he did.

The outcome, however, was tepid at best. Repeating the same action of lifting the pebble with his vague intentions helped for a while as the speed of ascent increased a little. Yet, despite his best analytical efforts, the law of diminishing returns kicked in, and he hit a plateau in terms of improvements.

It wasn't a terrible idea by any means, but it hardly seemed like the most efficient use of his time in this whisper-free realm. He would need to think more about this when he wasn't spending his precious Subjectivity.

What else?

He scanned his notepad one more time before pivoting to a new angle. Rather than fiddling with balance like it was a simple dial, he wondered what it would be like to see it as a means to achieve something more articulate—not singular in nature, just like Instability Inducement.

RUMBLE

But that's when the world shuddered, and he almost tumbled down the little beam he was sitting on. This could only be an earthquake. A few of the tall, iridescent buildings already on the verge of ruin took the fall and began to crumble away like a house of cards—kicking up dust and debris around him.

He scrambled away from the disintegrating structures into an open clearing as everything around him began to collapse and fragment, their foreign design distorted and damaged irrecoverably.

This isn't good.

However, he quickly realized he was more than secure in this clearing. Nothing actively tried to get to him—even the cracks in the ground were leagues away. So he finally turned his eyes to the pyramid in the sky and understood what just happened.

The rumbling and shaking slowly subsided as he gazed at the gigantic peak of the pyramid, which had now ruinously plunged itself into the ground far out in the distance.

He had thought he was right at the boundary of where the pyramid would have been if it had been on the ground, but apparently not. The vast distance between the point of impact and the cracks reoriented his sense of distance.

Like a bullet shattering glass, the land had splintered from the impact point. Strangely, he never saw the pyramid's peak fall. The whole thing still floated in the sky, now sheared and center hollowed out.

But when did it fall down?

He had been looking in the same direction, and the pyramid never moved an inch until its peak had somehow broken off and impaled the land in an instant.

Bizarre.

Yet, he was instead pumped to go back to his experimentation. There was already so much wrong with this place. This wasn't going to stop him from doing what he had to do. Who cared about a little natural disaster if he could always make a swift exit? Not like it—

Wait. No.

It had changed. The speed at which his Subjectivity was being sapped away changed.

He closed his eyes and focused within himself for a second, only to realize that the rate had increased by a lot.

Well, time to pick up the pace.

He didn't waste any more seconds and dove back into his previous line of thinking. What if he became a little more articulate about what he wanted to achieve with the vision? Then, he simply had to supplement the idea with his understanding of the underlying concepts to make it more efficient.

And he had an idea. A good one, too.

He pulled out the beefy yet small umbrella from another one of his pockets and unfurled its canopy. Few sprockets and gears fell out from just this action as his patchwork began to show its seams.

Given the circumstances, he hadn't done a terrible job fixing it, but it was far from ideal. It was destructive, and he would need a whole slew of new parts to get it back to its prime.

But what if I could repair it? Reverse what I did to it? Un-induce the instabilities. Or, more accurately, Induce stability?

The thought excited him, and he quickly broke down what he had to do to test this into actionable steps based on his recent experimentation. Observe the gears, then will some articulate changes to them, and then finally supplement the process with his understanding of the concept—vaguely relating it to his underlying Viewpoint.

So, for the keyword, he could probably try to look at its Balance under Complexity like he did while destabilizing this umbrella, but he wanted to try something else. Something that might just be better.

Stability.

It wasn't an exact keyword, but the word had a concrete meaning in his mind, and he understood it well enough to not be confused over what should happen. He guessed on the shades of gray for the faulty gears and sprockets to be dark, cloudy-gray while leaving the rest of the umbrella neutral.

Now came the part to impose his intentions.

I want these flawed components to become stable.

And as if on cue, the sprocket in his hand began to wobble before adapting to the shape of his palm while others that were still rolling around on the ground from their initial momentum stopped dead in their tracks.

Well, I guess I need to narrow it down further.

Stability was a little too vague, leading to the gears becoming stable in his hands and on the ground instead. Not exactly what he wanted, but it was definitely working. He wasn't confused this time—he just had too many valid ideas going through his mind. So he concentrated and imagined the abrased gears growing their grooves back—becoming more balanced in the sense of stability within the contraption.

And it worked. In the name of blasted fucking steam, it actually worked!

His heart raced as the potential of this new Vision crystallized in his mind, each implication amplifying his excitement. The immediate advantage was clear—it shared the same foundational elements as his existing Vision, Instability Inducement. This similarity promised that his affinity for this new concept would be at least as robust.

Moreover, the two Visions could work in synergy. Just as Instability Inducement leveraged his deep understanding of Fundamentals to offer him an edge in high-stakes situations, this new Vision held similar promise.

But what truly thrilled him was its untapped potential. Could he apply this to biological structures, like the human body? If so, the possibility of healing wounds would make him remarkably self-sufficient, adding another layer of utility to his abilities.

Beyond that, the ability to make on-the-fly repairs would be invaluable, particularly in a city where so many systems had broken down.

Yet every choice came with trade-offs. The major downside here was opportunity cost. Was he missing out on something even more groundbreaking by sticking close to familiar territory? While he was carving out his own path, how much was it diverging from the known routes?

What if he was wasting his possibly only opportunity within this land of the Third Rune on an ordinarily available Vision? He didn't have too many frames of reference to compare the utility or potency.

But hey, he had to be realistic, too. With limited time and gaps in his foundational knowledge, he couldn't afford to aim for an ideal he didn't fully understand. With this concept, he at least had a measure of confidence—it was, after all, an extension of his already potent Instability Inducement.

Glancing over his hastily compiled list of pros and cons, he considered the scale that tipped decisively in one direction. That's when—

RUMBLE

He cast a quick look ahead and saw that another massive chunk had vanished from the floating pyramid's corner. What were once mere cracks in the ground had widened into ravines, spreading across the landscape at an alarming rate.

The gravity of the moment settled on him. Any further hesitation could cost him dearly—leaving him with no Visions of his own.

Taking a deep breath, he made his choice audible, "Stability Inducement it is."