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rainbowfic2025-01-02 09:13 pm
paradoxcase) wrote in rainbowfic2025-01-02 09:13 pm
Entry tags:
Fresh Thyme #9 [The Fulcrum]
Name: Theory Class
Story: The Fulcrum
Colors: Fresh Thyme #9: Deadline
Styles and Supplies: None
Word Count: 1795
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Characters: Setsiana, Meqhola
In-Universe Date: 1647.6.2.2
Summary: Setsiana goes to class.
Note: Yesora's Grammar is a real document that can be found in Github, although it is still a work in progress. Read the phonology section to find out how the characters' names are pronounced!
Setsiana awoke to the temple clock chiming the first hour after dawn. The day before came flooding back, along with Sapfita’s strange request during the night. Unable to find the will to get up and face the day, she rolled over and went back to sleep. Tomorrow, someone would be by to wake her even before the first chime, because it was her turn to help supervise Nyoacelya Lyuya, and she was not looking forward to it. Nyoacelya Lyuya lasted the whole of the morning hours on the middle two days of each of the four six-day weeks in the month, when the sanctuary would be open to the public, who would come to say their prayers, listen to the latest discoveries and theories of the full priestesses, petition the temple for any help they needed, and to schedule weddings. Three juniors had to be in the sanctuary for the full six hours to deal with all of these things, and it was the hardest job at the temple, so it was a rotating assignment. Almost everything was shut down or closed during the mornings on Nyoacelya Lyuya, so everyone was free. Only the type-setters were excused from this job; the printing press never slept.
She woke again at the double chime for the second hour. Resolutely, she sat up in bed; she had probably already missed a chance at breakfast, and had places to be, today. She went over them in her head: several meetings with the other teachers and the priestess who managed the public schooling, followed by her own classes that she had to attend. And… yes, today, Priestess Fyäccheira was reviewing the latest draft of her paper.
She shot out of bed and went to the desk, sorting through the piles of papers. That’s what she’d meant to do last night, she was going to rewrite a clean copy in ink and fix some errors that she’d noticed, and add some references. Did she have time to do it in the break between the meetings and the classes? Maybe if she hurried. She grabbed her draft and some sheets of blank paper and put them into her bag, quickly put on a nurefye from the dresser, and headed out to hopefully not be too late for the first meeting, braiding her hair as she went.
The schooling meetings were dull, and nothing she hadn’t already heard in her previous years as a teacher. She tuned out most of it, thinking about her paper. It was a survey of the various theories on the origins and nature of Sapfita, considering the merits and flaws of each, and the implications they had for the worship of Sapfita and the broader state of the universe.
When the last meeting let out, she used her key to enter the east wing of the temple via the locked door before the sanctuary. This was the domain of the junior priestesses, and contained most of their classrooms, and a number of study rooms. She planted herself in one of the latter and began the painstaking process of writing out the clean copy of her paper. Three quarters of the way in, she stopped; she’d made a note in this part about a reference she wanted to include, but without the full citation details, and she didn’t have the other paper with her. It wouldn’t be in her dorm; she must have returned it to the library and forgotten that she still needed it. She could go get it again… but no, it was more important to have the clean copy than for it to be perfect. Priestess Fyäccheira always had criticisms anyway.
As she finished, the chime that marked the time to leave for her first class sounded. She stapled the finished copy, put it in her bag, and hurried off.
There were only two classes today, fortunately, one on the history of the priesthood that was always fairly dry, with the second being a more interesting one about the theory of time travel. She sat through the first on autopilot, taking her notes and letting the others talk about the development of the public school system in the fourth and fifth century. Ordinarily she would have cared, but her paper was on her mind. If she could get it published soon, she would get her second braid and wouldn’t feel like she was so far behind the others.
The first part of the time travel class was spent reviewing the answers to their first exam, many of which were tricky to explain. The priestess teaching the class, Priestess Meqhola, was one of the younger full priestesses, having only graduated from the junior priestess program when Setsiana had entered it four years ago. She was liberal with criticism and conservative with praise, even compared to Priestess Fyäccheira, and her hair was the color of fire. Towards the end of the session, she opened a new topic of discussion.
“The next exam,” said Priestess Meqhola, “is going to be on the subject of events that may be said to cause themselves. The classic example is Yesora’s Grammar, of course. Priestesses Tyäqe and Faiyule from 198 traveled back to 36 years before the Gift to give the Grammar to Yesora, but where did they get it from? They naturally inherited it from Yesora herself when she received it in -36, and it was copied and reprinted throughout the priesthood for 134 years in the original language. So who is the author of Yesora’s Grammar, then? Who can we say originated that book?”
Yesora’s Grammar was the first, original, and only accepted grammar of QuCheanya, and also the document that had laid out the basic guidelines for how the priesthood would operate, it’s most fundamental rules, and its destiny as NoraCheanya’s source of scholarship and learning. It had appeared along with the two priestesses from 198 and an early printing press in -36, the day after Yesora had been instructed to create an inter-temporal auxiliary language for the purpose of uniting the priesthood linguistically in the face of natural language change.
“Yesora?” someone guessed, and then someone else said, “No, it was Priestesses Tyäqe and Faiyule”, “Or the type-setters in 198”, someone else suggested, and then a fourth person said, “No one.”
“The correct answer is Sapfita,” said Priestess Meqhola. “When something is the cause of itself, it has happened that way because it is the will of Sapfita. Even though She cannot directly change events in any timeline, She can exert Her will on the world through these so-called ‘paradoxes’. The people involved in these self-fulfilling events, like Yesora and Priestesses Tyäqe and Faiyule, are merely the Fulcrums that provide the foundation that enables Her to enact Her will, and cannot be said to be responsible for the event in any way.”
Someone asked, “Doesn’t this violate the doctrine of Free Choice? Did Priestesses Tyäqe and Faiyule spend their time in the priesthood hearing their names always associated with this event, knowing that this was their destiny? Did they have no choice but to fulfill it? What would have happened if they had chosen not to?”
“There is no contradiction of Free Choice,” said Priestess Meqhola. “They had the choice to never take that action, and indeed, to never become priestesses in the first place. Only in one of many possible timelines did this actually happen - in every other timeline, people made different choices and it didn’t. Think about it: if had happened in even as many as two different timelines, there would have been two versions of Priestesses Tyäqe and Faiyule back in -36, each coming from a slightly different place in the tree of Time. Since that didn’t happen, we can conclude: it only happened once, in all the possible timelines that it could have. That’s part of why it must be Sapfita’s will; otherwise there is a high probability that it would have happened more than once, and things would have been a bit of a mess back in -36. In all our recorded cases of these kinds of events, none has ever happened in multiple timelines like that. Everyone in a similar position to those two priestesses throughout history has to think to themselves before choosing to act: Is it me? Is this version of me, in this timeline, with this personal history, the true Fulcrum that Sapfita would choose to do Her will through, or is there some other version of me who is more worthy?”
Cautiously, someone asked: “So if I travel back in time to give myself a completed assignment or paper in the same way, is that allowed, then?”
There was some stifled laughter; Priestess Meqhola wasn’t known for her sense of humor. “Plagiarism,” someone said, in stage whisper. There was some more laughter; they’d all been grilled on the dire consequences of plagiarism.
“You will not time travel at all before you are invested as full priestesses, but even if you somehow did, in that case, we would revere your assignment as we would any divine artifact of Sapfita,” said Priestess Meqhola in an unamused tone, “and then you would be required to produce your own work in order to get the credit. Sapfita cannot do your classwork for you.” As she said it, the hour chime sounded, marking the second hour of the afternoon. “Drat,” said Priestess Meqhola, cursing in Vrelian. “I had hoped the review might go faster. Don’t go, I need to hand back these exams.” She went to her desk and began shuffling through a pile of papers.
Setsiana perched on the edge of her seat. She was supposed to meet with Priestess Fyäccheira momentarily, and she didn’t think the priestess would accept any excuses for being late. Priestess Meqhola unfortunately did not seem to be handing back the tests very quickly.
After what seemed to be an eternity, her name was called and she ran to get her test, and then darted from the room. On the way out of the east wing, she almost collided with another junior who had just left the same class.
“I’m sorry,” Setsiana gasped. “I just have a meeting with Priestess Fyäccheira…”
“Oh no, I’m sorry,” said the other. “You go ahead, don’t worry about the doors, I’ll lock them behind you.”
Setsiana breathed a word of thanks and rushed towards the east wing door. Gratefully, she found it already unlocked by others had passed before. She hurried across the corridor to the door to the west wing where the full priestesses’ offices were, hastily unlocked it, and, remembering what the other junior had said to her, merely let it swing closed behind her, before heading to the end of the hall to where she would find Priestess Fyäccheira.
Story: The Fulcrum
Colors: Fresh Thyme #9: Deadline
Styles and Supplies: None
Word Count: 1795
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Characters: Setsiana, Meqhola
In-Universe Date: 1647.6.2.2
Summary: Setsiana goes to class.
Note: Yesora's Grammar is a real document that can be found in Github, although it is still a work in progress. Read the phonology section to find out how the characters' names are pronounced!
Setsiana awoke to the temple clock chiming the first hour after dawn. The day before came flooding back, along with Sapfita’s strange request during the night. Unable to find the will to get up and face the day, she rolled over and went back to sleep. Tomorrow, someone would be by to wake her even before the first chime, because it was her turn to help supervise Nyoacelya Lyuya, and she was not looking forward to it. Nyoacelya Lyuya lasted the whole of the morning hours on the middle two days of each of the four six-day weeks in the month, when the sanctuary would be open to the public, who would come to say their prayers, listen to the latest discoveries and theories of the full priestesses, petition the temple for any help they needed, and to schedule weddings. Three juniors had to be in the sanctuary for the full six hours to deal with all of these things, and it was the hardest job at the temple, so it was a rotating assignment. Almost everything was shut down or closed during the mornings on Nyoacelya Lyuya, so everyone was free. Only the type-setters were excused from this job; the printing press never slept.
She woke again at the double chime for the second hour. Resolutely, she sat up in bed; she had probably already missed a chance at breakfast, and had places to be, today. She went over them in her head: several meetings with the other teachers and the priestess who managed the public schooling, followed by her own classes that she had to attend. And… yes, today, Priestess Fyäccheira was reviewing the latest draft of her paper.
She shot out of bed and went to the desk, sorting through the piles of papers. That’s what she’d meant to do last night, she was going to rewrite a clean copy in ink and fix some errors that she’d noticed, and add some references. Did she have time to do it in the break between the meetings and the classes? Maybe if she hurried. She grabbed her draft and some sheets of blank paper and put them into her bag, quickly put on a nurefye from the dresser, and headed out to hopefully not be too late for the first meeting, braiding her hair as she went.
The schooling meetings were dull, and nothing she hadn’t already heard in her previous years as a teacher. She tuned out most of it, thinking about her paper. It was a survey of the various theories on the origins and nature of Sapfita, considering the merits and flaws of each, and the implications they had for the worship of Sapfita and the broader state of the universe.
When the last meeting let out, she used her key to enter the east wing of the temple via the locked door before the sanctuary. This was the domain of the junior priestesses, and contained most of their classrooms, and a number of study rooms. She planted herself in one of the latter and began the painstaking process of writing out the clean copy of her paper. Three quarters of the way in, she stopped; she’d made a note in this part about a reference she wanted to include, but without the full citation details, and she didn’t have the other paper with her. It wouldn’t be in her dorm; she must have returned it to the library and forgotten that she still needed it. She could go get it again… but no, it was more important to have the clean copy than for it to be perfect. Priestess Fyäccheira always had criticisms anyway.
As she finished, the chime that marked the time to leave for her first class sounded. She stapled the finished copy, put it in her bag, and hurried off.
There were only two classes today, fortunately, one on the history of the priesthood that was always fairly dry, with the second being a more interesting one about the theory of time travel. She sat through the first on autopilot, taking her notes and letting the others talk about the development of the public school system in the fourth and fifth century. Ordinarily she would have cared, but her paper was on her mind. If she could get it published soon, she would get her second braid and wouldn’t feel like she was so far behind the others.
The first part of the time travel class was spent reviewing the answers to their first exam, many of which were tricky to explain. The priestess teaching the class, Priestess Meqhola, was one of the younger full priestesses, having only graduated from the junior priestess program when Setsiana had entered it four years ago. She was liberal with criticism and conservative with praise, even compared to Priestess Fyäccheira, and her hair was the color of fire. Towards the end of the session, she opened a new topic of discussion.
“The next exam,” said Priestess Meqhola, “is going to be on the subject of events that may be said to cause themselves. The classic example is Yesora’s Grammar, of course. Priestesses Tyäqe and Faiyule from 198 traveled back to 36 years before the Gift to give the Grammar to Yesora, but where did they get it from? They naturally inherited it from Yesora herself when she received it in -36, and it was copied and reprinted throughout the priesthood for 134 years in the original language. So who is the author of Yesora’s Grammar, then? Who can we say originated that book?”
Yesora’s Grammar was the first, original, and only accepted grammar of QuCheanya, and also the document that had laid out the basic guidelines for how the priesthood would operate, it’s most fundamental rules, and its destiny as NoraCheanya’s source of scholarship and learning. It had appeared along with the two priestesses from 198 and an early printing press in -36, the day after Yesora had been instructed to create an inter-temporal auxiliary language for the purpose of uniting the priesthood linguistically in the face of natural language change.
“Yesora?” someone guessed, and then someone else said, “No, it was Priestesses Tyäqe and Faiyule”, “Or the type-setters in 198”, someone else suggested, and then a fourth person said, “No one.”
“The correct answer is Sapfita,” said Priestess Meqhola. “When something is the cause of itself, it has happened that way because it is the will of Sapfita. Even though She cannot directly change events in any timeline, She can exert Her will on the world through these so-called ‘paradoxes’. The people involved in these self-fulfilling events, like Yesora and Priestesses Tyäqe and Faiyule, are merely the Fulcrums that provide the foundation that enables Her to enact Her will, and cannot be said to be responsible for the event in any way.”
Someone asked, “Doesn’t this violate the doctrine of Free Choice? Did Priestesses Tyäqe and Faiyule spend their time in the priesthood hearing their names always associated with this event, knowing that this was their destiny? Did they have no choice but to fulfill it? What would have happened if they had chosen not to?”
“There is no contradiction of Free Choice,” said Priestess Meqhola. “They had the choice to never take that action, and indeed, to never become priestesses in the first place. Only in one of many possible timelines did this actually happen - in every other timeline, people made different choices and it didn’t. Think about it: if had happened in even as many as two different timelines, there would have been two versions of Priestesses Tyäqe and Faiyule back in -36, each coming from a slightly different place in the tree of Time. Since that didn’t happen, we can conclude: it only happened once, in all the possible timelines that it could have. That’s part of why it must be Sapfita’s will; otherwise there is a high probability that it would have happened more than once, and things would have been a bit of a mess back in -36. In all our recorded cases of these kinds of events, none has ever happened in multiple timelines like that. Everyone in a similar position to those two priestesses throughout history has to think to themselves before choosing to act: Is it me? Is this version of me, in this timeline, with this personal history, the true Fulcrum that Sapfita would choose to do Her will through, or is there some other version of me who is more worthy?”
Cautiously, someone asked: “So if I travel back in time to give myself a completed assignment or paper in the same way, is that allowed, then?”
There was some stifled laughter; Priestess Meqhola wasn’t known for her sense of humor. “Plagiarism,” someone said, in stage whisper. There was some more laughter; they’d all been grilled on the dire consequences of plagiarism.
“You will not time travel at all before you are invested as full priestesses, but even if you somehow did, in that case, we would revere your assignment as we would any divine artifact of Sapfita,” said Priestess Meqhola in an unamused tone, “and then you would be required to produce your own work in order to get the credit. Sapfita cannot do your classwork for you.” As she said it, the hour chime sounded, marking the second hour of the afternoon. “Drat,” said Priestess Meqhola, cursing in Vrelian. “I had hoped the review might go faster. Don’t go, I need to hand back these exams.” She went to her desk and began shuffling through a pile of papers.
Setsiana perched on the edge of her seat. She was supposed to meet with Priestess Fyäccheira momentarily, and she didn’t think the priestess would accept any excuses for being late. Priestess Meqhola unfortunately did not seem to be handing back the tests very quickly.
After what seemed to be an eternity, her name was called and she ran to get her test, and then darted from the room. On the way out of the east wing, she almost collided with another junior who had just left the same class.
“I’m sorry,” Setsiana gasped. “I just have a meeting with Priestess Fyäccheira…”
“Oh no, I’m sorry,” said the other. “You go ahead, don’t worry about the doors, I’ll lock them behind you.”
Setsiana breathed a word of thanks and rushed towards the east wing door. Gratefully, she found it already unlocked by others had passed before. She hurried across the corridor to the door to the west wing where the full priestesses’ offices were, hastily unlocked it, and, remembering what the other junior had said to her, merely let it swing closed behind her, before heading to the end of the hall to where she would find Priestess Fyäccheira.
no subject
Also: is it just me, or does the unlocked door at the end feel just a little bit ominous? ;)
no subject
>_>
<_<
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Oh, wow, that is dedication to worldbuilding!
The theology debates are all very fascinating here... and of course, we still need to know what Setsiana's own important choice must be...
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The conlang actually predates the story, in fact, actually inspired the idea of the story in the first place. I should really have it better fleshed out considering how long it's been a work in progress.
Since the January challenge is canvas and frame, I thought I might actually write something about Yesora for it. Technically there are parts of the main story that take place in an earlier time than that, due to time travel shenanigans, but all of the characters consider Yesora to be a historical figure (well, the ones who know about her at all), so I figure it still probably counts as "before the start of the story".
no subject