Silent Ark

Chapter 14: The Amber Era

The five paintings displayed on the left represent: the golden net of benevolence, the scales of justice of righteousness, the network of connections of propriety, the all-seeing one of wisdom, and the obelisk of trustworthiness.

Although these images were drawn by different people—from mature, realistic painters to abstract, ethereal artists, from naive children to mentally ill patients whose disorder is very similar to that of artists—there is a sense of harmony between them.

Like five different instruments playing five different parts, although not perfectly harmonious, with tension and friction, the overall direction is consistent, and together they form a complete piece of music.

The seven paintings displayed on the right represent: Pride (mysterious geometric shapes), Envy (dark shadows), Wrath (raging storms), Sloth (a void of black), Greed (a bottomless black hole), Lust (a purplish-black net), and Gluttony (a blank space).

Although these diagrams do not present a harmonious form, the disordered camps are not entirely chaotic; there is a complex relationship between them that has not yet been sorted out.

Yao Chong couldn't categorize or organize this irregular data, but his intuition from constantly searching for anomalies led him to a hypothesis: "They complement each other."

Liu Pan looked up at him without saying a word.

"It's not like the Five Elements, which have mutual generation and restraint. There's no clear-cut relationship of restraint, but there's a high probability that there's some kind of complementary connection." Yao Chong pointed to the painting depicting pride and lust. "Pride is absolute isolation—severing all connections. Lust is absolute entanglement—dissolving all boundaries. They are two ends of the same axis."

He pointed to the dark silhouette and black hole on the right: "Jealousy is 'wanting to become someone else'—plundering identity from the outside. Greed is 'wanting to possess someone else'—plundering information from the outside. The direction is the same, but the methods are different."

He then pointed to rage and sloth, walked over, and gently tapped the two pictures: "Rage is over-movement—everything is disintegrating. Sloth is movement returning to zero—everything is freezing. The same axis."

Yao Chong's finger moved to the last two paintings, and he pulled them over. Unlike before, in the previous data and assessment, these two paintings did not represent the same camp: the arbiter of justice and the blank of gluttony.

Then he stopped.

Yao Chong looked at Liu Pan, who had reclined his chair and was leaning back.

"Brother Pan."

"Hmm, the gluttonous Yihe?"

"You noticed that too?"

Yao Chong looked at the two paintings.

Righteousness—the Arbiter of Heavenly Balance, a colossal statue wielding an invisible scale, whose eyes simultaneously see the cause and effect of all actions.

Gluttony—the Fusion Eater, a non-existent blank, a self-referential paradox that causes the description itself to collapse.

"Righteousness is judgment," Yao Chong said slowly. "It examines the causes and consequences of all actions and then makes a ruling—'This is right' or 'This is wrong.' The premise of judgment is that information can be distinguished, classified, and assigned a value."

"Gluttony is the cancellation of judgment," Liu Pan continued. "It makes 'distinguishing' impossible. It makes 'classification' invalid. It makes 'assignment' meaningless. Semantics says 'A and B are different.' Gluttony says 'the concept of difference does not exist.'"

"But they are on the same axis."

"right."

"Five plus seven equals twelve, twelve endpoints, at least six axes."

"Yes, but I'm not sure if there are more complex connections."

After pulling out two pictures, Yao Chong, who had been squatting in front of the low table, stood up.

His knees went numb from squatting for too long, but he didn't pay attention to it.

He took two steps in the cramped space of the shelter, stopped, took two steps, and stopped again—each time he stopped in a different place, but the rhythm of his movements was exactly the same.

"Liu Pan. You previously said that the laws of physics are 'conventions'."

"right."

"What if these twelve things are non-physical... terms of the agreement?"

Liu Pan remained silent.

But his eyes changed—not from being "persuaded," but from the feeling that "you've finally reached the position I've already reached."

"The Five Constants are the positive terms of the agreement—stipulating how the system should operate: connecting all things (benevolence), adjudicating cause and effect (righteousness), weaving patterns (propriety), filtering information (wisdom), and locking in the laws (trust)."

"The seven deadly sins are the antithesis of the agreement—stipulating how the system should not operate: it should not isolate (pride), it should not plunder (envy), it should not destroy (wrath), it should not stagnate (sloth), it should not devour without limit (greed), it should not dissolve boundaries (lust), and it should not negate description itself (gluttony)."

"Twelve clauses, twelve metaphysical entities. They are not 'God' itself. They are not simply concepts of 'good' and 'evil.' They are—"

Yao Chong stopped in his tracks.

"They are operation manuals, operation manuals for a certain precision instrument, which is called the universe."

Liu Pan collected the twelve paintings from the ground, stacking them one by one in order.

His movements were slower than usual—not because he was tired, but because the calibrated frequency hadn't completely failed; some frequencies were still operating in his bones at certain times, preventing him from doing any "unnecessary" movements.

"The instruction manual is written," he said, "now someone has to follow it."

"Who?"

Liu Pan stuffed the folded painting into Yao Chong's hands.

Have you ever seen a machine operated by its own instruction manual?

Yao Chong looked down at the painting in his hand. The twelve A3 sheets of paper were stacked together, about two millimeters thick, very thin and light.

But he felt they were getting heavier—not physically heavier, but their "importance" was increasing.

It's like a two-millimeter-thick cardboard sheet being transformed into a two-millimeter-thick lead plate.

"You mean—" his voice was dry, "that these twelve things—benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, trustworthiness, pride, envy, wrath, sloth, greed, gluttony—are not entities that 'exist' in the universe—"

"They are written down," Liu Pan said. "Written by something. Written on the skin of the laws of physics. Written in the underlying code of the universe. They are rules. Rules are not alive. Rules do not think. Rules simply execute."

"What are you going to do?"

"Execute the blueprints for the universe."

"If the universe is a machine, the laws of physics are its bones, and the flesh is its body, what happens to the flesh after the bones are broken down by a more powerful being? Or rather, whose blueprints were designed?"

Liu Pan walked to the wall of the shelter.

There was a whiteboard on the wall—used to discuss collision data before the whale fall.

The whiteboard still displays the parameters for the 4721st collision, but the writing is blurred as if it has been folded multiple times.

He wrote a message on the whiteboard.

He slays all the gods, reigns supreme for eternity, and is beyond knowledge and speech.