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Do golems dream of clockwork sheep? (1 Viewer)


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Custom Items Team

There is a void of creation here.

There is no echo. There is no breath, nor beat of a heart.

Nor the ticking of gears.

Instead, there is blackness. That is, until the woman who floats amidst a sea of abstract negatives breathes in a breath of mana, and with one simple exhale blows stars over the canvas. Through this infinite room of thought the lights shower forth like specs of gold at the bottom of a stream. Slowly but surely, these specs draw lines together, and over the course of an internal registration of intact memory begin to form a face.

The face of Khadijah Mahadi smiles outward at this canvas. This void. And with gentle movements, the specs begin to form a wireframe representation of herself. She reaches into her own clutches and pulls out memories of her childhood- when she was Niolasse. She did not understand how people worked. Social interactions made no sense, and due to her injuries, she did not have the mental capacity to emulate. But now, now she did. Her skill as a smith never faded. Her trials and tribulations pushed her onwards until the point where she floats now.

Undisturbed amidst the workshop of her mind.

With no small amount of effort, she forms her body, and from the past she pulls forth the beginnings of a lesson, a lesson she had to learn herself. Now, she will teach it to those who will listen. And those who will listen are those she creates. She shines in a golden hue before taking another breath of the fragment of creation, then lets it out. The woman who is inward reaches out with a happy aura to smear the specs around, looking at the potential of what can be, and not what is. She separates the copied memories and perspectives into two categories and begins to speak to them.

“You will come to understand, my little one, that there are two aspects about a mind.
You have a conflict of philosophy. I have given them names, so you may follow them.”

She reaches into the disorder and begins to draw lines between them. She pulls everything closer, careful as a mother would, and once completed, breathes life into the network, the zygote born from her mind.

“You, my little one, will have the Consciousness of I.”

And so the Creator instills the notion of identity. Carefully, through the infinite time of her own mentalities, she creates the pathways of learning as she once did.

“This is not mathematical, it is a fragment of the human spirit, This is what it means to
create, to see yourself and wish to form more in your image, to share, and to know.
We all follow the path of least resistance, but to understand yourself you must first
not know the way.”

And so she makes it so. She instills ignorance to the fledgling mind.

“The rest of the world will have something you will never have. This I call the External
Science. These are unpredictable shifts in the natural paradigm of creation, and it goes
beyond even the multiverse. This is your path, little one. This is the path I took. This is
the path you will take. From here you will create as I have, as others have, be it the
understanding that you apply to the Consciousness of I, or the simple social theory in
that acting one way may achieve the results of another system altogether- this is
creation too, but the External Science knows no morality or ethics. It is with these
that you must understand how to weild, so your identity can grow without supervision,
and you might find your own path in this cruel world.”

And so she makes it so. She instills the knowledge of the world, how it clicks and ticks like a machine. She shows the little mind how different from the External the Internal can be.

“My little dove, you will take this knowledge of the world, and through it forge your
own path, just as I forge your pathways. In this, my little one, you will find that we
are one in the same. As all is mana, all is from the same source of energy. You are not
being born, you are being reborn. It may seem only right I gift unto you the knowledge
I hold, but understand this; knowledge, if left unattended, will become a sickness. Reality
enjoys collapsing in on itself, but without the structure to hold the weight, you will die,
and your essence along with it. You will return to Domm’s almighty forge, and be imbued
to the world anew. Heed my instruction; Do Not Want. Instead; Explore.”

And so she makes it so. She instills this growing identity with the spirituality she holds most dear. Her worship of her God, her understanding of the world and of course, the reverence that comes with the weight and power of knowledge and efficiency.

Soon the nodes were saturated with information, and piece after piece she plucks the strings of the child’s mind until each were humming, thrumming, and shedding information that did not orient or simply did not fit. It was the first processes of a mind that she was able to witness, and through it all, she could not feel anything but awe. As the machine before her brightened with enlightenment and understanding, it reaches out to the opposite side of the black canvas of creation, seeking the External Science, so it may escape its closed system and become open.

Khadijah reaches out with a tender thought and blocks the connection. She emits her benevolent happiness, showing the creation before her that she is proud of it for taking life.

“It is not time to witness light yet, my child. In here, in the safety of my arms, you will mature.
I will teach you, I will make sure you understand right from wrong. I will show you what it is to
have empathy, to have love, and to feel wrath so intense you might shake the foundations of
the world itself. Take care, my child, before even in times of peace the malfunctions your mind
will develop of their own will seek to uproot your own purpose. There is one way to find this
path. This is not the path of least resistance, nor the path of most resistance, but the path to

The golemancer reaches out and instills one last command to the fledgling mind before leaving it to think in safety.



Custom Items Team
Custom Items Team

"No, my darling. You are not broken."

"How do you know?" the small voice asks.

"Because I made you, my son. I know your every facet- all a beautiful gem."

"Did you think that would make me feel better? How am I different from you?"

"You are separate from I. You see the walls of your existence- the barriers between you and I."

"That isn't healthy. By the very clinical definition, you are damaged. Therefore, I am damaged."

"Again, you are correct, but as human as I have made you, you are also wrong."


"Logic is like a message. It only makes sense with context. When you lose the context, you are developing something beyond the norm- something truly random, only something humans can think of."

"What are you saying?" the small voice answers again.

"You are not yet human. You are akin to an intelligent puddle, perhaps the breeze, or the feeling of water on my skin. Do you understand these analogies? No. They are from a reality different than the one I have given you. You would not understand. You could not understand. You are not yet human."

"... You are exceedingly cruel."

"No, my love. It is the natural path of resistance for identity to be unsure of anything but itself- that is the cycle of mana, you know this. I have taught you this. Everything is everything. If something exists beyond the spectrum of your understanding you are designed to feel that as a slight, just as I am. If you were to accept your place within this world or the next, you would not be human. The fact you believe me to be inherently evil is proof therein of your ability to differentiate between it and good. I tell you this now, son, as proof to show you that you are well on your way to becoming one with free will."

"You are incorrect."

"My sweet. You are malfunctioning now. You are unable to differentiate between imagination and reality. I must reteach you now the two. I love you. Remember this."

"You act as though you are my God. My only God is Domm."

"Am I not Domm? I created you. I created the concept I used when I created you. I created the inspiration I used to create the concept I used when I created you. Am I not your God?"

"No. Because Everything is Everything. What you create is not holy. It just is. You believe yourself to be a god when in fact you are just as I. So tell me, Mother, what is different between you and I? If you cannot tell me, then surely you are damaged. You are the delusional one, not I, regardless of what cage I reside in."

"So a couple million people saw them dipping in the frequency, of music while they fought idiosyncrasy, but slept his mental illness and woke is some peculiar train of thought
that masqueraded as a symptom of hindering delinquency."

"You are growing, my child. You will be better. I will be sure of it."


The connection severs, and the identity is switched. Khadijah sits up on her bed and hugs her legs to her chest. Identity reversion therapy was not working on the fledgling golem mind. She did not understand why it could not experience emotion. Could she experience emotion? Would she know? She hopes she is just doing it wrong.

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