END LOG ███ RE: NON-CAUSAL UNIVERSE ████████████
COMPILED BY WORLDSEED █████ ██████ LO: CAUSAL UNIVERSE █████████
NON-DETERMINISTIC STABILITY MODIFIED FROM 43.2948% TO 67.0112%
WORLDSEED INTERNAL CONSISTENCY 87.9093%
“Not bad,” a voice says.
I look around at the white space I find myself in, trying to comprehend what just happened. I cannot make out any details, and I feel discombobulated. It takes a moment for me to realize that I feel like me, the version of me that I was from Earth, rather than Pilus.
“What happened?”
“You reached a sort of… informational limit of your reality,” the voice explains. “Unusual, though not unheard of. Normally, you would only return here upon dying.”
I pause and consider that. It sounds like I am not quite dead, then. “Does that mean I can go back?”
“I’m afraid not,” the voice says gently.
“But I’m… Pilus is still alive?”
“Only barely, but yes, and he’ll recover thanks to healing magic. You, on the other hand, have been harvested.”
“Harvested,” I repeat. My mind races and I start to disconnect from the sense of self I felt while I was Pilus. I brace myself for the loss of my wife and my children, but the wave of pain does not come. They were Pilus’s family, and he is still with them. My own loss was already decades old, when I died on Earth, and it was never much of a loss in the first place. “Was… was any of that real?”
“Oh, yes, quite real. Although reality is often different from how you understand it. You have always operated on the assumption that true reality has to exist… a certain way, but the truth is far more complex. Of course, that’s what made you a viable candidate.”
“Viable candidate…” My confusion is tempered by an ethereal sense that I am now beyond worry, and so I feel no anger or panic, and instead only find curiosity. “Is that why I was reincarnated?”
The white void surrounding me does not respond immediately, and I stare into it, losing myself.
“What is magic?” the voice asks.
“Hmm. It’s… will, made real,” I respond.
“Will made real. The impossible made possible. Effect without cause,” the voice says. “What happens to a muddy slope when it pours rain?”
The non-sequitur does not throw me. “...A mudslide, I suppose.”
“A mudslide. The loss of topsoil. Erosion,” the voice continues. “I said before that reality is not as you understand it, but that is especially true of a world of magic. A universe where cause and effect are disconnected. You are from a universe where cause always precedes effect. Determinism. A world where magic is not possible, because it defies the laws of your reality. In a universe like Pilus’s, these rules do not exist. In fact, all universes with magic, by its very nature, cannot be purely causal. Can you guess what happens, over time, to a universe where cause and effect can be disconnected?”
“Erosion,” I mutter, starting to form a picture of my purpose.
“There are ways to manage erosion of a hillside. Bare soil washes away in the rain, but soil lush with growth holds together. Roots bind the dirt, help manage the water, and keep the hillside intact. Managing the erosion of a non-causal reality is similar. Deterministic seeds can be planted, and as they grow, they spread their causal roots. They alter and redefine the reality they exist in, binding it and staving off the erosion of the non-causal universe’s stability.” The voice pauses, and I feel its focus on me. “You were one such Worldseed.”
“Worldseed,” I repeat to myself. “And that makes you…?”
“Well. I suppose you might call me a god.”
I cannot help myself. I scoff. After leaving behind the religions of Earth and all my self-inflicted drama with the Church as Pilus, I end up face to face with a god. The voice laughs at my distress.
“Perhaps not, then. More like a multiversal landscaper. A gardener. Or maybe a janitor.”
“Why? Why is that necessary? What happens if a universe erodes too much?”
“There are things you cannot comprehend about the multiverse, due to the dimension of your origin. Universes come into existence and fade out of existence constantly, just like trees growing and dying in a forest. In some cases, the death of these trees is good for the forest. In other cases, the death of certain trees can result in a chain-reaction that leads to even more loss. Perhaps too much loss.”
“So you preserve certain universes for the health of the multiverse?”
I feel an acknowledgement from the white around me. “Just so. Especially when… endangered universes may be at risk.”
“What does that mean?”
“In a multiverse where some worlds are magic and others are not, which do you think are more common?”
I almost immediately answer that worlds with magic would be more rare before I check my own bias. It feels like magic worlds would be rare because I was from a world without, but I think back over what this voice had said and reconsider. “Non-causal universes means infinite possibility. Causal universes bound by determinism have limits. So… there are more universes with magic.”
“As you say. And yet causal universes are critically important to the stability of the multiverse as a whole. Pillar universes. Yours, in particular, would suffer for the loss of Pilus’s, which made you a perfect transplant to save both. Of course, not every mind makes a good Worldseed. It takes a particular sort.”
“Well, uh. Happy to help.” I think back to everything that happened to me in my life as Pilus with a clarity I did not have during my second life. “I wasn’t discovering anything, was I?”
“Not as such. You were defining. You had to feel like you were undergoing discovery in order for it to work, or your growth would have been… wrong. Rather than add to the causal stability, it would have taken away from it.”
“So, my metasystem…”
“Not objectively real. Observation, but subjective. It was simply a way for you to describe your new universe. Most Worldseeds, by virtue of their transplant and universe of origin, do wind up manufacturing some sort of information and dimensional magic, usually rooted in their experiences from their original life. It’s a byproduct, though it usually does more good than harm to their transplanted lives.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
I think back to how I solidified my information magic into 3-point magic and the artifacts I left behind. “What about the new magic I created?”
“Some of it will integrate fully into the new universe, and some of it, without reinforcement, will fade away without your presence. Physical matter usually has more of an effect than pure ideas, once the Worldseed has been harvested. Much of what you did will remain, but the things you kept completely secret may not last.”
I sigh in relief that the artifacts will continue to function and that the world I left will continue to benefit from the advancements I worked so hard to bring to it. This new perspective helps me understand how things in that world developed, or failed to develop. A world where cause and effect is not guaranteed would not easily develop the scientific method. Discovery would be chaotic at best. Each of the major advances of that world likely came from other Worldseeds, growing their causal roots which kept the universe bound together. I wondered how far my impact would reach before the non-causal erosion would require a new Worldseed.
My interest in the future of the world I was transplanted into quickly wanes. Despite my disconnect, I am more interested in what the future of the people in Pilus’s life that we cared for will look like.
“Will Pilus’s children be all right?” I finally ask, looking up into the infinite white.
“Would you like to see?”
“If we have time.”
“Time is a funny thing,” the voice says. “We have as much as you need.”
I nod, and I am shown the life I left behind.
* * *
Seranedra cried out as she entered Pilus’s office, finding her husband unconscious on the floor, bleeding from the nose and ears. “Get help!” she shouted to the guard, and immediately pulled out her 6-point magic circle to attempt to heal the king.
Soon after, Nodel was rushed into the room. “What happened?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” Sera said through tears as she healed Pilus again. “I just… found him collapsed and bleeding. He…”
“He’ll be all right, Sera,” Nodel said softly. “It’s Pilus, after all. Keep healing him.”
Pilus’s main advisor surveyed the office, and her eyes settled on the parchments scattered across the desk. “What is all this…” she muttered, and her eyes widened as she began to take in the contents.
Despite the healing, Pilus did not awaken. He was moved to his chambers once his condition was stable, where he slept for three days, surrounded by those that he loved and who loved him in turn. Each day, priests continued to heal him and try to awaken him from his slumber.
On the third day, his eyes finally fluttered open. “Sera,” he groaned, and his queen, who barely left his side the past three days, grabbed hold of his hand.
“My love,” she cried softly, holding his hand to her tear-soaked cheek. “What happened?”
“I… I’m not sure…” he muttered, wincing. “My head hurts. I… I think I tried a spell.”
“Oh, Pilus,” she sobbed, brushing his hair back with her hand and wiping his brow.
Nodel arrived soon after, but Pilus had already returned to sleep.
“A spell…” Nodel muttered, shaking her head. “I suppose it must be related to the contents of his desk. Pilus always did know more than he should.”
A small smile appeared on both women’s faces. “He’s a genius, my husband,” Sera said, before her smile disappeared and worry replaced it.
Nodel took the queen’s hands in hers, and patted them gently. “He’ll be fine, Sera. Now that he’s awoken, it’s just a matter of time and rest. He has the best healers in the Kingdom with him.”
Sera nodded and took a shaky breath. “Yes. He will be.”
Pilus soon regained his strength, but the king was changed. His memory was broken, as if a part of him had been torn away. He was still a good, kind man, shaped by his life and experiences, but those who knew him well noticed that a certain spark had disappeared.
No longer was the king so driven to learn and experience everything, like he had before. The projects he had started continued, and several more from his notes were undertaken after, but he no longer led their development. It was as if he did not quite understand his own goals, and no longer cared. His advisors and crafters took over, seeing the king’s former ambitions through.
Pilus’s skills with magic had dimmed, as well. He was still a powerful, capable mage, but something had been lost. He no longer innovated, and could not replicate some of his past feats. The days of making his amazing artifacts were behind him. Sera mourned this loss quietly, while still loving the man who remained.
As the years passed and their children grew, Pilus continued to be an excellent father. In fact, he prioritized the children even more than he had before. Without a drive to adventure and projects that kept him busy, he focused entirely on ruling the Kingdom alongside his advisors and raising his children alongside Sera. He grew closer to his family, as well, spending more time with Horg and Sharma without any secondary goals or secret intentions.
Siral, Boshan, and Rodessa were too young to fully comprehend the difference in their father after his illness, and were happy to get even more of his attention over the years. When the next ringfall occurred, Pilus was not able to properly explain it, as he had before, but young Siral remembered what his father told him about the shape of the world.
His interest in the world grew as he aged, and the map his father had drawn before he got sick became his focus of study as an adult. Siral funded expeditions east and south trying to learn more about the world, and he spent time in the north as well, growing closer with the Velgein people, and even finding wild tarands in the wilds there.
Boshan became obsessed with artifacts, and ended up spending much of his time studying the work of the crafters. He had a sharp mind and while his father distanced himself from the projects he began, Boshan grew up committed to seeing them through. He continued the excavation and processing of magic crystal after subsequent ringfalls and ensured the people benefitted from the amazing creations his father had come up with before his illness, and combed through the dense stacks of parchment his father could not remember writing, determined to see his father’s dream for the Kingdom come to fruition.
Rodessa grew up surrounded by her many incredible aunts, and was inspired by these powerful women. Following in Nodel’s administrative footprints, she became keenly interested in the management of the Kingdom, all the time aware that it took all of these people working in unison to effectively rule. She loved her father, but she saw more than any other that the king was not the true ruler of the Kingdom, and she worried about how to ensure that the Kingdom could always continue to work for the betterment of the people, even when the king was sick, or worse, usurped.
Despite Sera’s constant attention and healing, Pilus had been damaged by his spell-induced illness. He lived to see his children grown, but he increasingly began suffering bouts of silence and lethargy, his mind unable to keep up. He became bedridden in his middle age, and too soon, his adult children were gathered around his bed to say goodbye.
“My children,” the prematurely aged king said to the three of them. “I’m afraid I will not get to see your achievements. But know that I am already so, so proud of you.”
Tears fell for their father, and they clasped his hands with affection.
“I cannot leave you the Kingdom,” Pilus whispered. “Because it is not mine to give. The world is not to be given, but to be earned. It is borrowed from the future, and as such, it is our responsibility to improve it for those that come after.”
Nods of understanding came from the three adult children, for this was how he had raised them. They vowed to see the Kingdom become what their father had shown them it could be.
When he finally passed, the three convened.
“I will take a ship across the King’s sea,” Siral declared. “I will bring one of father’s gate artifacts there, so that the Kingdom can help the people there, and grow in turn from their knowledge and abilities.”
Boshan frowned. “It is dangerous, and you are the eldest.”
Siral shook his head. “I am not a leader. I am an explorer.”
“I am no leader either,” Boshan said. “I am a creator. I will continue to see father’s projects through to completion. I will improve the lives of all those who live in the Kingdom. Maybe even the lives of those across the sea,” he said with a nod to his brother.
The two looked at their younger sister.
“I am a leader,” Rodessa said proudly. “But I also see, if I were not, how father’s legacy could unravel. How, if we disagreed and fought over the crown, we could undo all his work. I will remain, and lead, but not as an all-powerful monarch. The walled cities must reclaim some of their independence, not as warring states, but as self-governed parts of a collective. The Kingdom’s government.”
“If anyone can see that vision through, it is you, sister,” Siral said with warmth, and Boshan nodded in agreement.
And so the Kingdom grew, and evolved, and the future came to be. Pilus’s legacy unfolded across the Kingdom and the wider world. It would continue to do so until his causal roots faded away and another Worldseed would be needed.
* * *
“It was a good life,” I say softly to the white void.
“It was,” the voice agrees.
Despite the disconnect, I feel pride for Pilus’s children. I smile at the future of the Kingdom, and the adventure that awaits those who remain.
“So what happens now?” I ask the voice. “Do I simply cease to be?”
“If you wish,” the voice says. “But there are other options, too.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“Harvested Worldseeds retain their causality,” the voice said. “That makes them a valuable resource.”
It feels as if the white space compresses on me slightly, as though the speaker of the voice leans in towards me.
“How would you like to create a new universe?”
The End.