The archives

Universus Alveo: Logs, Stories, and Notes

Arcus 03

Spent the entire day doing unnecessary, mundane tasks like sweeping the floor, dusting statues and furniture, and polishing silverware all in a fairly successful attempt to keep my mind busy.  I imagine once I have the Auris working as it should be, I'll be able to keep myself distracted with was seems to be dreaming black fog. Toward the evening, I tinkered with the Auris, and when this proved frustrating, I worked out mathematical equations and theories while talking to myself and engaging in stimulating debate and what I believed to be meaningful discourse. One of the lessons of those on assignment within the boundaries of an Ancient is to keep to a rigorous routine of writing, reading and self-talk to not let the pillars of the intellect crumble under the weight of laziness, alienation and boredom. Thinking and speaking are skills, and like any skill, they can decay and wither away if not practiced regularly.

Arcus 04

Stories and journals are scattered everywhere. So much to read... and yet I find myself drawn to the scribblings and renditions of the unknown creator I'm calling the Mad Designer. Journals filled with the wild sketches and musings of people I imagine are caught in other parts of this living dimension--people juxtaposed with other Terra worlds and timelines that make little or no sense to who they are or where they come from. The illustrations and notes are foolish, absurd and quite contradictory, and yet they bring moments of levity to my life which does the soul good. I suppose it's a form of absurd escapism I turn to when I'm not reading the more traditional stories. Interestingly enough, I found seventeen versions of a story featuring a killer named Evan written by seventeen versions of the same author from the omniverse. Seventeen similar stories with sometimes subtle, sometimes significant differences. What I find particularly interesting is how the stories are written as fiction in one world and non-fiction in another. It reminds me of Universus Alveo... a theory that suggests that the human mind might very well be equipped with a powerful networking mechanism that reaches out to other worlds for wisdom and knowledge from our other-selves. Some can use their minds in this way and others can't. The theory suggests that those who have experienced trauma in their formative years detach from their reality, allowing them to explore other realities and worlds with relative ease. Artists like magicians and shamans see small things in the big, unexplainable endless dream that is the omniverse and they bring these ideas or insights back to entertain, enlighten and inspire the world. Fiction in one world, non-fiction in another. Everything is real, or nothing is. And here in the Chamber of Blood there are countless horror stories of every variety. So many that it seems to me that one of the unknown prisoners was collecting these stories as a way to discover more about their imprisonment, the Entity and the terrible screams coming from the surrounding abyss. Whether this true or not, I'm not sure, but what I do know is I spent the whole night reading my favorite stories out loud like my father used to do by the fireplace. And the entire time I couldn't help but wonder... How? How could anyone have accessed and assembled such a rich collection of notes, journals and stories? I have no immediate answer, but I suspect by the texture and density of the fog that I may be in a place as complex, mysterious and misunderstood as a black hole—a living, breathing, all-consuming black hole, the serpent of infinity that gorges on its tail, that eats itself endlessly as it spirals downward into the cosmic, Fibonacci stew that is life incomprehensible.

Arcus 8282

Dozens of severed heads in the den and I'm not sure how they got there. I stared at them all day, recognizing a few of them from the last few memories I've been exploring.  It took me all night but I made a cairn with the heads outside the door. When I was done they began to talk and argue and bicker with each other over pedestrian nonsense. I squeezed my eyes shut until silence returned.  When I opened my eyes again, they were gone. I then returned inside and retired to the Chamber of Blood where I read stories aloud and went through the absurd creations of the mad designer.