Chapter Text
Just as 6 had hoped, the crossing of paths between him and the Answering Machine soon became a recurrence in 6’s suitcase life.
It continued to happen in the same spontaneous manner as their very first encounter, though the exact situation differed from time to time. Their meetings occurred at unexpected locations in the suitcase. Each time the two of them parted ways, they had no clue when exactly their next chance to exchange words would arrive; there were irregular intervals between every meeting of theirs. Even so, they were bound to eventually find each other anyway, each encounter giving rise to new and insightful discussions. Aleph, with his memorably unique mask and vibrant hair, quickly became a familiar sight for 6.
What stood out the most to 6 was how … compelling it could be to speak with this man.
Long conversations or debates tended to be particularly draining forces for 6’s social battery. However, he found himself able to talk to this man for hours at a time. Whenever he had leisure time to spare, he would allow himself to stick around for awhile and continue exchanging words back and forth with Aleph, until one of them eventually agreed to wrap it up for the day. Their conversations tended to be rather slow-paced, with occasional silence punctuating their sentences, providing them both a chance to let their spoken words sink into each other’s minds. Yet of course, they were also intellectually engaging, providing 6 with much to think about each and every time. To him, a discussion was something that could be both relaxing and challenging simultaneously, and this held especially true for the ones that occurred between him and Aleph.
Aleph spoke of infinitude and transcendental truth, of thought and existence, of the physical and the metaphysical, of subjects 6 was always willing to engage with no matter how esoteric. Within his very literal explanations, metaphors were interspersed every now and then; a testament to the breadth of his mind and his capability of interconnecting concepts with one another. Straightforward as he might be, there was sometimes a paradoxical or otherwise perplexing quality in the things Aleph said. Somehow Aleph himself, too, carried within him a paradoxical nature which 6 had yet to be able to fully make sense of.
6 could sense a palpable air of chaos and confusion from Aleph, which he sometimes feared would engulf him entirely if he ever got too close. Yet he had no sensible explanation for the reason Aleph left such an unsettling impression on him. At the same time, Aleph somehow was able to constantly maintain an expressionless tone of voice, and 6 had never heard it falter. It was as if even Aleph was unaware of whatever inner chaos existed within him … or perhaps he was simply detached from it.
Oftentimes, 6 was able to notice the concealed or repressed emotions of people by paying close enough attention to the subtlest of hints contained in their tone of voice. When it came to Aleph, however, it was as if there were no hidden emotions at all for him to discern; Aleph’s voice was simply a means to communicate information and ideas, nothing more, nothing less.
While 6 had gradually grown accustomed to these traits of his, and was no less content to converse with him regardless, the coexistence of hollow indifference and inexplicable chaos within him still left 6 utterly puzzled.
A paradox with no explanation in sight, at least so far … that was what Aleph was to him. But most importantly, the possibility of eventually finding this explanation wasn’t something 6 had entirely ruled out just yet.
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The Wilderness contained areas which resembled specific arcanists’ place of origin, set up deliberately by the Timekeeper, who had her ways of harnessing the suitcase’s arcanum to adjust its environment to her liking. She had somehow conjured up terrains and buildings with impressive resemblances to their real-world versions. This resulted in a fascinatingly diverse landscape which managed to serve as a cure for homesickness for some, particularly for the arcanists whose abodes, or even entire eras, had been lost to the Emanation. It seemed that the Timekeeper truly understood how to set up an accommodating place for the arcanists she had taken in.
Sometimes, as a way of spending leisure time outside of his own room, 6 would find for himself a relatively vacant area of the suitcase’s Wilderness, in which he could breathe in the fresh air and immerse himself in his surroundings without disturbance. This often served as a way for him to ease his mind. The Wilderness, too, had an area which specifically resembled his own home island; of course the Timekeeper was considerate enough for that as well. Though its familiarity was pleasant to revel in, he also was content to hang around in different landscapes at times, for a slight change of atmosphere.
This time, the spot he had chosen to momentarily dwell in was a lush garden. It was during this solitary outdoor moment that a tall figure approached the spot where 6 was standing. 6 quickly recognized the figure’s straitjacket; he had to admit that there was something peculiar about seeing him out in the open like this. Yet of course, he had no intention of objecting to a conversation with Aleph right then and there.
6 turned around to directly face Aleph, curiously awaiting whatever he was about to say.
“I must say, this is an intriguing part of the Timekeeper’s suitcase,” Aleph started off, then seemingly awaited some kind of confirmation that 6 was fully willing to listen to him before he continued to speak. 6 signaled this with a simple nod, subtly raising an eyebrow out of curiosity. Aleph continued at last, “This so-called Wilderness manages to serve as quite a splendid imitation of nature … though of course, there is far more variety to be found here. Different ecosystems are condensed into this singular place, coexisting in ways that would be unnatural in the outside world … yet the Timekeeper makes it work somehow. For sure, she would be more familiar with its inner workings than anyone else, considering that this domain is first and foremost hers … but I can make my own observations and notice all its intricacies. I’ve noticed how the structure of this place consists of a tessellation of hexagons, held together with the help of arcanum.”
6 recalled that 37, too, had once pointed out to him the essence of this place before, acknowledging its hexagonal foundation. She had been excited to show him how the wondrous harmony of geometry could be found even in a place like this. 6 himself had, of course, taken note of this structure as well. In a way, because of it, he was able to feel an innate connection to the Wilderness, despite not exactly being its most frequent dweller. To him, it simply felt right for the Wilderness to be structured in such a way.
“A balanced structure,” replied 6. “There is a multitude of reasons I enjoy being in this place … but I do think that this pleasantly stable foundation contributes to it quite significantly. It is something I’m particularly fond of, I suppose … I cannot help but be reminded of the similar tessellating structure of honeycombs.”
“Is that the first example to come to your mind?”
6 wondered if this example sounded perhaps a little too ridiculous, even indulgent. Yet, he supposed he wouldn’t mind being honest about his train of thought; it wasn’t as if Aleph would judge him for it anyway. “Honey has always been one of my favorite foods, after all. It simply came to mind, almost too naturally. The structure of the honeycomb is fantastic on many levels, yet at the same time, I found myself thinking of the delectable sweetness it contains …” 6 couldn’t help but smile slightly at the thought, but realized that he might have been going on a tangent. “Well, I could always find other examples of similar structures. I’m actually quite glad you decided to bring it up.”
“Truth be told, I’ve always held a certain fascination toward hexagonal structures,” Aleph said. “The hexagon itself is a prevalent shape in many aspects of nature, but not limited only to it, considering how frequently it has been used in manmade structures as well. A perfect middle ground between angularity and circularity, able to tessellate in the most aesthetically pleasing way. Its prevalence may indeed appear miraculous, but makes complete sense when the natural efficiency of this shape is taken into consideration. The sheer stability of these structures must be proof of the number six’s symbolic perfection … it cannot be merely coincidental that the foundation of so many naturally stable existing constructs happens to be the very number of balance. How the theoretical meaning of the number holds true in practical applications … it’s perfection at its finest, transcendent. Of course, there are countless other numbers which hold fascinating properties. Yet somehow, it happens that I continue to notice this particular number everywhere, embedded into the very fabric of the universe I perceive.”
For a moment, these words left 6 utterly speechless.
Aleph’s statements, as always, were delivered as mere fact, most certainly without consideration for 6’s feelings. Yet, 6 would be lying to himself if he were to say that he was entirely unaffected by them. There was the undeniable fact that Aleph wasn’t just speaking of any number after all; it was the number tied to his very existence and identity. By continuing to emphasize the sheer perfection of this number, Aleph had, in a way, significantly elevated 6 in his view.
“That’s good to know.”
Those were the only words 6 could muster at the moment.
“Perhaps it was the right choice for me to come to this place more frequently,” uttered Aleph. “In order to better understand the suitcase I inhabit, down to its smallest perceptible details, I wanted to properly observe every nook and cranny of it, and that certainly includes the Wilderness. Now that I’m here, I managed to cross paths with you again. Will I be able to find you here from now on?”
“There will always be a possibility of it,” answered 6.
“When I first moved into this place, I scarcely left my own room unless it was absolutely necessary to do so. However, I find that the very nature of the suitcase has fascinated me. A stable yet ever-changing place, continuing to expand to accommodate those who inhabit it, opening up new possibilities of observation for me,” Aleph elaborated. “The experiences I’ve had here differ quite drastically from my time in the panopticon, where I merely confined myself to my observation tower all the time. I don’t exactly mind being out here every now and then, although others tend to swarm me and inundate me with their questions when they find me. But that’s what I’ve always been around for, anyway … so I suppose it should be the least of my concerns.”
6 noted a particularly interesting word in Aleph’s explanation. “Panopticon?”
“Is that something you’re familiar with, 6?”
The word was indeed one that 6 recognized; he had certainly read about this particular structure before. Though the style of architecture on his own island had never undergone particularly drastic changes even throughout centuries of its existence, he was still keen on learning about other architectural styles from across the world, across eras. It deeply fascinated him to look into and attempt to make sense of the structures which shaped a stable society.
6 recalled the important points of what he had read. “A prison structure whose concept was first proposed in the 18th century by philosopher Jeremy Bentham. It wasn’t until decades later that a real-life version of the structure was implemented. But now, it can be found in various places in the world,” 6 paused shortly after this brief explanation. “Panoptes. All-seeing. At the center of the structure stands a tower which enables simultaneous observation of the prisoners … by the guard who resides in it. It would be physically impossible for the guard to observe all of them at once, but nonetheless, they cannot be certain whether or not they are being observed, causing them to become wary at all times. Effectively, the guard is treated as an omniscient force.”
“Correct,” Aleph said. “It appears that the understanding you possess of it is adequate after all, leaving me with no need to elaborate further.”
“What does this concept have to do with you, then?”
“I’ve spent much of my life in such a structure myself,” uttered Aleph. “Comala. A prison at the very edge of the world. The origin of the Answering Machine … all of it started in that very facility. I confined myself in a singular room throughout my entire time there, yet also lived countless lives, countless cycles. One letter after another, one phone call after another … it was from this room that I fulfilled the curiosities of people. Such insight they’d all gained from one who never left his corner of the world, yet perceived it all with immense clarity nonetheless. In a way, I consider it a structure that befits me more than any other place in the world. Even if nothing more is left of it now, what better place would there be for someone like me to reside in? The observational experience within the central tower of a panopticon – being able to perceive multiple prisoners at once from a certain perspective – mirrors my own experience of observing the universe through what I’ve memorized of it. In my mind, every single recollection exists simultaneously and in perfect clarity.”
How fascinating. The Answering Machine originated from … a panopticon facility at the edge of the world. What was Aleph before this, then?
6 briefly contemplated asking how Aleph could even have ended up in a prison to begin with. Yet, he wasn’t quite sure if the answer was something he was prepared for, or if Aleph would even be willing to disclose anything about it. 6 wasn’t one to pry too deeply; he believed that whatever was necessary for him to know would eventually come to him in its own time.
“We find a way to return to our initial subject, somehow. At the center of the facility stands a hexagonal structure as well; the observation tower where I resided. The structure from which all control and surveillance is administered. Can you imagine it?” Aleph questioned. “You have been a leader before, 6. I imagine this structure could be well-suited to you. The idea of you overseeing your subjects from this height, being able to effectively scrutinize every action of theirs. What do you think of it?”
6 began to visualize it as well, based on his knowledge on panopticons and the description Aleph had just given him. A tall, hexagonal tower overlooking all his subjects. The sheer height of it would naturally create a significant distance between him and all of them, with him having to, in the most literal sense, look down upon his subjects. He would perhaps wield a significant amount of authority and become a respected figure, not unlike in the island. Yet this respect would be borne out of fear, driven by his surveillance over them.
“I fear it may not suit me as well as you think,” 6 refuted. “I simply cannot see myself as that kind of leader. The panopticon is structured specifically to instill fear upon its inhabitants. It exists with the purpose of being a prison, a facility of punishment. To supervise the entirety of it is to subjugate those under your watch. That is … not the kind of power I wish to hold over people.”
“But say, what if you opted to abandon this position, and become level with your subjects instead?” Aleph replied … with a voice that did not sound like it belonged to him.
6 was caught entirely off-guard by this shift. He then remembered how he had heard from other residents of the suitcase about Aleph acting drastically different from usual every now and then. Whatever was happening at this moment, was this the kind of occurrence they were referring to?
Aleph, with this new and different voice, continued to ramble on with a zeal that 6 had never heard coming from him before. “If you wish to, you could step down from the observation tower and thereby relinquish authority, standing on equal ground with your subjects. Would it be an unusual course of action for one who has taken up the particular role of observer within this society? Perhaps it is so. Yet I, of all people, have proven it to be a perfectly viable choice. Rather than idly sitting in observation like Aleph, or instilling fear like the reprehensible Physician, I have chosen to personally engage with the people and ideas which exist within the facility!”
The change that had occurred within Aleph was jarring and sudden. Yet apart from the evident shift in personality, something remarkable 6 noticed was the way he had spoken of Aleph in third person. What exactly was this man’s deal?
“Aleph …?” 6 hesitantly pronounced this name, still uncertain about what exactly was happening. He hoped that the other man could help clarify the situation for him, even if his attitude had morphed into something unfamiliar.
“One can argue that on a technicality, it is not incorrect to refer to me as … him,” Aleph – or whoever he may have been at this moment – responded. “After all, Aleph is the foundation upon which my entire existence is built; simply put, there is no me without him. However, I wish for my individual identity to be acknowledged as well … it would be quite a waste for me to so ardently commit myself to the pursuit of literature, thus further strengthening my identity, only to remain completely unrecognized, for the sole reason that I am limited to merely existing within his physical body …”
Throughout this speech, the man gesticulated with wild abandon, adding a certain theatrical flair to his words. This made him noticeably differ from Aleph, who tended to be withdrawn and stiff when it came to body language, his freest movements being seemingly absent-minded gestures at most, such as fiddling with the belts on his straitjacket whilst he talked. Many questions began to appear in 6’s mind, but he chose to focus on the most urgent one at hand.
“Very well. How shall I refer to you, then?”
“Alas, it appears that my name has evaded me! I must’ve had one myself too once … but after all these years spent traversing my literary labyrinth, it was lost somewhere along the way. But does this entail a total loss of identity for myself? Why, I would certainly hope not! Nameless as I may be, one can still distinguish me by whatever they find most remarkable and consistent about me. My undeniably fervent literary passion, mayhaps? Or the idealism that is fundamental to my existence … what a philosophy indeed! It is what defines me now, after all, in lieu of a name. For this reason, many have referred to me as the Idealist … so of course, you may do the same!”
6 nodded, immediately committing this name – or rather, a stand-in for one – to memory.
“I’m … 6,” he introduced himself simply but hesitantly. While Aleph certainly was familiar with who he was already, he was unsure if the same could be said for the Idealist.
“At long last, I am faced with the opportunity to become acquainted with this embodiment of a perfect number! It is through Aleph that I’ve learnt all there is to know about you. You are someone he regards quite positively … which frankly is unusual considering how Aleph regards most people with utter indifference. However, that doesn’t necessarily mean that I share his exact perception of you,” the Idealist rambled on. It was quite jarring for 6 to hear an exclamation within his speech, especially after having gotten used to the total lack of energy within Aleph’s voice. “It is only natural for me to eventually form my own opinions on you, completely independent of whatever he may think. 6, who so adamantly believes in the inevitability of fate, and thus accepts all the despair that naturally comes with it. 6, who could shake up the whole world with all the transcendental knowledge contained within him, but instead chooses to walk a singular, fixed path. I believe that our principles are fundamentally incompatible. However, because of these very aspects of your character, I wish to further understand what drives you. If the occasional disagreement between us is something you can accept as an … inevitable part of our eventual dialogues, it would be a great pleasure to further converse with you.”
6 raised an eyebrow at the Idealist, trying to digest his words little by little. The Idealist had left him a peculiar first impression for sure, but 6 could also recall that back then, Aleph hadn’t exactly started off their interaction in a particularly ordinary way either, having responded to his supposedly simple inquiries in the most cryptic of ways. Perhaps a certain degree of eccentricity was essential to every personality of Aleph.
The Idealist was a man who wielded his words expertly. Every word that left his mouth must have been chosen with careful deliberation, constructed into meaningful sentences in the most eloquent way, making sure to not only fulfill its communicative intention, but also leave its mark upon whoever he was engaged in dialogue with. Despite how baffling 6 initially found the Idealist’s words and intentions to be, 6 could sense a clear sincerity from him; even if he did deliver several rather personal jabs toward 6, there was no malice whatsoever to be found in his tone.
For a moment, all that came to 6’s mind was a certain rhetorician who had been lost to the Emanation; his passion for debate, his judgement of 6’s attitude toward fate, among other things. Perhaps there was a specific kind of person who would inevitably be drawn toward the prospect of continuously debating him. 6 imagined that if the Idealist ever were to set foot upon the Hall of Apeiron, he would have quite a field day delivering all sorts of arguments, prolonging debates with his well-prepared arsenal of words and rhetoric.
Frankly, 6 had little interest in spending much of his time around someone whose main motivation of conversing with him was for the sake of constant disputation. However, the Idealist’s friendliness and genuinity made it rather difficult for 6 to truly hold any resentment toward him. In spite of their apparent incompatibility, which both of them were quite aware of, the desire for friendly connection between them both was still notably existent; it wasn’t entirely impossible, he supposed.
“It’s a pleasure knowing you too, Idealist,” 6 finally replied, mustering all the cordiality he could. “From what I understand, you have always existed as a part of Aleph, then. Why have you chosen this particular moment to show yourself?”
“Rather than giving an imaginative response and placing yourself in the perspective Aleph had put forth, as he had probably hoped for, you chose to approach his question from a political perspective, thinking first and foremost of your hypothetical subjects within the panopticon. I simply couldn’t help but be compelled to participate in the conversation myself!” The Idealist exclaimed his answer. “Contrary to what you may think, there are endless possibilities of endeavors to pursue within the facility. Yes, even regardless of the amount of authority you hold within it. Aleph speaks of observation and providing answers from his room … yet why confine yourself within these limitations when you can broaden your horizons? Allow me to recount to you my experiences of leading my very own literary salon …”
The Idealist began to describe all sorts of things about the facility and his experiences in it, his explanations notably carrying far more enthusiasm than Aleph’s. Considering how much more engaged he seemed to have been with its society when compared to the reclusive Aleph, it did certainly make sense. Amidst these descriptions of life experiences, he continued to wax poetic and bring up frameworks of thinking which otherwise would never have crossed 6’s mind. The Idealist would occasionally give 6 an opportunity to have his own say as well, as he wished to engage in dialogue. While 6 didn’t mind it every now and then, he also noted how the Idealist’s control of the conversational pace left him with very little room for silent contemplation, which was something he had always enjoyed whenever he conversed with Aleph.
“I do have a question, Idealist,” 6 uttered at one point. “If you are a part of Aleph, do you ever answer questions in his stead, then?”
“Certainly, that is within my realm of capability! Though it is something that people here may find … jarring. More often than not, it is Aleph’s encyclopedic and straightforward answers that they wish for, but alas, my methods of answering naturally differ from his. I cannot simply mold myself to suit his mechanical ways! Unlike the Answering Machine, I hold genuine passion for the subjects I speak of, and therefore cannot help but embellish my answers with personal flair!” The Idealist proclaimed.
This was a good enough answer for 6, he supposed. He nodded in understanding, but there was still another pressing question he needed to know the answer to. “Are there any other … personalities that exist alongside you?”
“Once there were five … now only three of us remain. Perhaps somewhere within the deep, dark crevices between the cluttered array of thoughts which exist in Aleph’s mind, traces of the lost two can still be found. But now, apart from Aleph himself, to whom all of us owe our existences, there is no one but myself and the Physician,” the Idealist explained. “The wicked, contemptible Dr. Merlin! Existing as if his sole purpose is to assert superiority and power, yet utterly blinded by it all to the point that he can justify to himself even the most reprehensible of actions. At least I can proclaim that I’ve had the honor of speaking to you before he ever got the chance. To hell with that wretched physician!”
Whether his statement regarding the Physician was grounded in truth or a complete overdramatization of reality, 6 supposed he would have to find out for himself eventually … if the Physician himself would ever be willing to speak to him in person, of course.
It appears that he didn’t have to wait very long, or even at all. Another shift in demeanor seemed to have just occurred within Aleph. His stance straightened up and stiffened, as if all the vivacity in him had been sapped out, its place taken instead by severity. What set this stiffness apart from Aleph’s was that it seemed to have come from a place of rigid inner conviction rather than inner emptiness.
“Pay no heed to any of his frivolous words,” Aleph – or the Physician this time, as 6 inferred – commanded. His voice was indeed entirely different from Aleph’s or the Idealist’s, characterized by its remarkably low pitch and callous authoritativeness. “If you wish to judge my character, I advise you to perceive me yourself and come to your own conclusions, rather than allowing that imbecile’s needlessly embellished speeches to cloud your judgement.”
“Excuse me,” 6 said, already having a slightly better grasp on what was going on by then, but still slightly hesitant around the new personality. He then asked simply for confirmation, “Are you the Physician?”
“Indeed I am,” he answered firmly. “But Merlin is an acceptable way to refer to me as well … Dr. Merlin, professionally. I, too, have long awaited the chance to speak to you in person.”
Completely contrary to the Idealist, the Physician’s total lack of easygoingness had a way of making 6 feel horribly tense around him. Not even Aleph had ever made him feel this way; at least around Aleph he was able to be relatively calm. Around the Physician, however, 6 could sense himself becoming a subject of meticulous scrutiny.
“Surely you aren’t airheaded enough to see any value in the Idealist’s blabbers,” the Physician said, his tone filled with clear condescension toward the aforementioned personality. “Don’t let yourself be swayed by his nonsense. Discipline is necessary in such a facility. Otherwise, everything will fall into disorder … much like Aleph’s mind, as it is now. If my existence were to cease, I doubt that he would even remain alive for long, given how neglectful he is of himself. At the end of the day, someone will always have to bear the responsibility of maintaining order, however severe their means of enforcing it may be. That is the purpose of my existence, and has always been.”
“I do agree that discipline and order are absolutely necessary to maintain at all times,” 6 responded. Though most of the Physician’s points seemed broadly agreeable at the moment, there was still something about them that induced unease. “Yet surely there must also be a limit for the severity of their enforcement. How far would you go for the sake of perfect discipline, Dr. Merlin?”
“I have no doubt that you, as an authority figure, would highly value discipline. But context is also something that matters. The same principles you use to govern your island cannot be applied to govern a society containing as much entropy as the panopticon,” said the Physician. “There is an extremely low chance that any prisoner of mine could possibly last long on your island. Why? Simply because you would have turned them away to begin with, according to your centuries-old doctrines. They would be deemed far too irrational to find a place in your harmonious, balanced society, would they not? There is a price to pay for utopia. To shape your perfect society, you, too, have boundaries that you and your people strictly adhere to, most of which have largely remained unchanged since ancient times. How are you to judge the way a prison facility operates when your society is held together by rules that would be considered peculiar by this era’s standards? Its collapse upon facing external factors you were not equipped to handle was inevitable.”
As uncomfortable as it may have been, there was truth to be found in the Physician’s words, which truly had a way of cutting at the heart of things with surgical precision. In the hypothetical situation 6 had been discussing with various personalities of Aleph, would he even understand how to handle such a facility? 6 was a “perfect leader” for a very specific kind of society, one that had maintained stability for centuries. That being said, how would he fare as a leader anywhere else at all? From what the Idealist had described to him, the prisoners of the panopticon could essentially be likened to a society of irrational numbers, and the Physician seemed to have somewhat confirmed this view as well.
“I suppose so. Not even a so-called perfect number is exempt from flaws or criticism,” 6 admitted. “I may be able to learn about various styles of leadership, but in the end, there is none I am more familiar with than my very own. There are some things that can only be fully understood through experience, after all. The irrational ones, as you have mentioned … though their place may not be on my island, I have begun to encounter more such people in this suitcase. But never have I pictured the possibility of myself governing an entire society of them before. What is it like in your position, Dr. Merlin?”
“It is simply a life full of disciplinary enforcement, as I have mentioned before. You may wonder if I find these people difficult to control, considering how unpredictable they may be, but I have my ways of dealing with those who have strayed too far from reason,” the Physician continued; the last sentence alone already carried implications that unsettled 6. “These prisoners find order in chaos, and have built their own societal structures upon this principle, volatile as it may be. It should also be noted that this was done without my direct interference; it was simply the principle of the panopticon in action. Fully aware of the observant gaze cast upon them all, the prisoners found a way to organize themselves. However, with no concretely established structural rules, and the instability which runs deep in their psyche – which is the reason they all wound up in this very facility to begin with – chaos is bound to occur eventually. Someone will fall out of line, lose themselves in madness, commit harmful acts toward the prisoners around them and eventually their own self … and when that happens, I will have to take care of them. I am known as the Physician for a reason.”
6 couldn’t exactly say he was pleased with the direction this conversation was heading. He further evaluated his conversation partner. A physician who “dealt” with the insane and had no problem resorting to force, having been painted as morally reprehensible by the Idealist … 6 was momentarily overcome with the urge to flee right there and then. The Physician was most certainly a man of strong conviction, yet the values he held onto came off as rather questionable. There already were clear reasons for them both to clash with each other; even argumentative exchanges with the Idealist seemed far more preferable to this.
Before 6 could say anything, the rigidity of the other man’s stance vanished in an instant, his posture adjusting itself to a slightly more slouched one.
“I hope you aren’t too perplexed by everything that had just transpired,” The familiar, monotonous voice at last spoke again. An unexpected smile of relief formed on 6’s face, purely on instinct upon recognizing Aleph’s voice. “It takes some getting used to, I must say. With the subject of the panopticon at the heart of the conversation, they were inevitably overcome with the urge to chime in. Both of them have pursued various endeavors back there, encompassing even the most bold and immoral of acts, all for the sake of transcendentality. So I decided that they should both be given the chance to have their say. Were you particularly bothered by it?”
6 was unsure how to respond. Getting to know both the Idealist and the Physician for the very first time had been a fascinating experience for him, yet he did also hold thoughts about how much the Idealist’s relentless orations had thrown him off, and how uneasy he had become around the rigorous Physician. Though he had attempted to go along with their conversations anyway, he couldn’t exactly retain the same ease around them as when he conversed with Aleph specifically. “All is well. I’m simply relieved to be able to talk to you again, Aleph. I’ve … gotten to know a different side of you as well, I suppose.”
“Now that they’ve become personally acquainted with you, they may try to find other opportunities to talk to you,” Aleph said. “It may happen unexpectedly. If I wanted to, I could use the Tear of Comala to physically separate them from myself again here. However, that would be far more trouble than it’s worth. Merlin found the idea quite appealing, but I’d rather not entertain it, really.”
6 noted to himself the mention of the Tear of Comala; an infamous arcane artifact he vaguely knew about. All he knew about it was that it resembled a die of some sort, and could be used to tamper with fate. The idea of that was rather perplexing for him, but perhaps if he could see it in action, he would be able to make more sense of it.
At the thought of Aleph, Merlin, and the Idealist all coexisting separately from each other, and thus getting to simultaneously pursue their own endeavors in the suitcase, 6 shuddered slightly. “I suppose it isn’t worth the risk of seeing this marvelous, hospitable suitcase transform into another panopticon,” he quipped somewhat humorously.
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Ever since that particular encounter, both the Physician and the Idealist started to become more frequent presences in their conversations. As Aleph had warned, it tended to happen at the most unexpected of times. Though it was still Aleph who most frequently engaged in conversation with him, at least one of the other two would surface from time to time, sometimes interrupting a particularly pleasant conversation, much to 6’s mild dismay. Dealing with every one of them did indeed take some getting used to. Three for the price of one; 6 supposed it was necessary for him to get to know them all if he wished to better understand Aleph as a whole.
The nature of Aleph’s inner chaos had become a little more comprehensible to 6; it was clear that the different selves that existed within Aleph were at constant odds with each other. Far too dissimilar, yet forced to coexist as parts of a whole. Throughout their encounters, 6 attempted to familiarize himself with all their different traits.
The Idealist was particularly memorable for his way with words. Indeed this moniker suited him well, yet it was also the only thing that defined him – unlike the Physician, who at least still answered to the name “Merlin”. It was suitable for the Idealist to be specifically known for this aspect of his, 6 supposed. He defended his beliefs with sincere passion, constantly striving toward better things; a perfect language, an ideal world, and so on. Yet of course, he was still particularly keen on engaging in debates with 6. The Idealist debated tirelessly and with eloquence, as if it was what he was made for. This, combined with his enthusiastic friendliness that was absent in both Aleph and the Physician, made him a particularly draining force for 6 to put up with. Yet, though 6 would much prefer to converse with Aleph over him – considering how little the Idealist ever gave him any time to linger in silence, unlike Aleph – he found the Idealist rather compelling in his own right, and learnt to become used to him. His sincerity could be quite endearing, anyhow. 6 didn’t exactly consider himself the most compatible conversation partner for the Idealist; he could, however, imagine 37 quipping in an endless back-and-forth with the Idealist regarding numbers and language, as well as the meaning contained within them. He certainly hoped for this opportunity to arise someday.
The Physician was … bizarre, to say the least. The imposing, somewhat tyrannical impression he had left upon 6 had already been a glaring red flag, but aside from that, his utter lack of a moral compass became clearer the more he spoke of his methods and treatments. His views were rigid and entirely set in stone. Even the Idealist, who was earnestly committed to his values, was still far more open-minded in comparison. To be completely frank, 6 would rather not need to put up with such a person at all. Yet the fact that he was a part of Aleph, and seemed to have developed his own fascination toward 6 as well, made him all the more difficult to completely avoid. The Physician was notably fervent when it came to the subject of power and, of course, the pursuit of transcendentality. Naturally, it fascinated him to converse with an authority figure who carried transcendental wisdom within him. 6 most certainly wouldn’t consider this fascination to be mutual, though. There might possibly be something particularly morbid about the nature of the Physician’s interest in him; 6 tried not to concern himself too much with it.
However contrasting the two may be, both the Idealist and the Physician clung onto their principles with remarkable fervor. Strangely enough, this trait was completely absent within Aleph, who held total indifference toward most of the things he perceived and discussed. Unlike the other two, whose personal convictions bled through their every word and action, Aleph himself was entirely detached from such matters, existing merely as an apathetic beacon of objectivity with all his impartial answers. Nonetheless, all three of them shared and were defined by one common purpose; achieving transcendentality.