Reclined on my side atop a plush, pillow-like bed, my gaze drifts out through the expansive window before me. Beyond it, a colossal, resplendent tree looms, stretching far beyond the window's frame. Its mountain-sized trunk commands my view, and I trace the path where its mighty branches start to diverge in every conceivable direction. These boughs fractal into an almost infinite number of smaller branches until all that remains visible is a vast ocean of leaves, effectively obscuring the sky. Strikingly, the hilly terrain below is untouched by shadow. It's a mystery whether the sunlight is somehow refracted through the tree's leaves or if the leaves themselves emit a luminescent glow.
But a magical sight it is, with the constant slow rain of leaves.
The lower part of the trunk splits off into a forest of freight ship-sized roots that slither around in every direction, much like the branches above. The roots are so grand and so ancient that a forest has grown upon and around them. I am starting to understand what the Norse meant when they said that Yggdrasil was immense.
At its base stands a solitary, grand edifice, nestled within the sprawling network of roots. This enchanting structure boasts a V-shaped roof adorned with verdant, luxuriant grass and an imposing, majestic door. From this vantage point, the intricate details of the building remain a tantalizing mystery.
It appears almost as if the building itself has sprouted organically from the very roots it resides among.
I draw my gaze away from the colossal trunk of the ancient tree, towards the boundary where the dense forest seamlessly merges into the bustling cityscape. It's as though an invisible hand had drawn a definitive line, declaring an end to the encroachment of urban sprawl. From an administrative perspective, managing such a stark divide must be an absolute ordeal, especially considering the intense congestion at the city's edge. The burgeoning estate near the grand tree seems to be in high demand, with pathways and edifices stacked atop one another, forming a vertical labyrinth that mirrors the natural jungle it borders. The city ascends in tiers, buildings clinging to the roots and rising above them. Here and there, towering skyscrapers shaped like giant trees pierce the canopy, stretching into the sky like stalwart sentinels propping up the verdant sea of leaves above.
What a sight to behold. It's a stunning world I've been born into.
As time passes, my vision blurs until my eyes begin to cross. I shake my head vigorously to clear the fog. There's an odd sensation in not having the basic movements ingrained in passive muscle memory; it feels like delivering a constant lecture to the lizard mind for every action I intend to take. One part of my consciousness is well-versed in the intricacies of motion, while the other remains blissfully unaware. The synthesis of both parts leads to a peculiar state of functionality. Sharing the same body means that ignorance in one aspect inevitably impacts both. Yet, I find solace, for the lizard mind, with its ancient, primal instincts, is a patient and diligent listener.
I wonder what the lizard mind truly is? Is it a fragment of myself or perhaps an intrinsic part of me that completes the whole? Since the storyteller decreed my reincarnation, I suppose it could be the primal consciousness of the infant form I now inhabit. The reasons behind this decision are shrouded in mystery, but I don't mind it too much. It provides ample nourishment for my curiosities. What composes a mind? David Hume once wrote that "the mind is a bundle of perspectives," a notion that now unfolds with crystal clarity before me.
I lazily switch sides and turn to look at myself in the mirror.
I am not human anymore, which is exciting! Surprisingly for a newborn, I have the physique of a child around four years old. Very skinny, however. Unlike a human child born with plenty of fat, this body did not have any. Well, I guess in a simulated world the need for a child to have an energy reserve isn't necessary if evolution didn't happen before society did. Or perhaps evolution is just a lot faster here. Wait, I'm making the presumption that this world doesn't have a long history. Whatever. Empty guesses, these are.
This time, I find myself embodied as a girl. Having lived through the whirlwind of a boy's childhood, it's thrilling to imagine soaking up the wonders of youth through a fresh and vibrant lens. A female body doesn't feel unfamiliar, especially since I was never anchored to any fixed form in the old world. Back then, technology had advanced so much that one's appearance became a matter of personal whim. I soon dismissed the societal construct of gender, realizing that everyone carries both femininity and masculinity within them. I delighted in the grace of both and would often shift between them, depending on the needs of the moment. Honestly, I don't give much thought to what's between my legs; it's all about what I do with it. Yet, I noticed I often embraced the male role, perhaps mirroring a more masculine essence within me.
Personality. I guess that's at the heart of it all.
But the truly astonishing novelty is this strange- oh yeah, the tail, yes, the tail that I also find fascinating, even as I idly scratch my back with it. Surprisingly, it was the tail I mastered before any other limb, this peculiar extension of myself. The sheer thrill of possessing something entirely new urged me to experiment with it first. It seems the lizard brain learns faster with me than from me.
Oh, but the truly marvelous wonder is that inky oval gem perched upon my forehead! As I close my eyes, an inner focus blooms, and through this wondrous gem, I begin to sense the essence of everything encircling me. Imagine a canvas from before, yet in this magical twist, the "nothing" and the "something" have intriguingly swapped places. With this newfound sense, my awareness extends beyond myself, drinking in the multitude of things that are not part of me. This gem showers me with a cascade of information, almost too abundant to digest, but from the chaos, I discern the general layout of the space I occupy. Like a subtle whisper, I can map out each piece of furniture within this room, and my perception flirts with the edges of walls, ceilings, and floors. For now, my vision rests on anything visible, but through this gem, it feels almost tangible. X-ray vision, though—ah, that precious ability, perhaps lies hidden amidst this torrent of knowledge. Intriguingly, I can also sense the presence of thinking beings, their minds flickering like gentle lights in my extended awareness.
Of which there are none in this room right now. Those who I assume were my parents departed some time ago, their touch lingering in the memory of my skin. Before they left the air crackled with shouts—at least, I think it did. To my young, unrefined self, the tumult was nothing more than a symphony of dissonant booms. In those early moments, my mind was a tangled web of instincts, a raw, primal confusion that rendered the world a blur of indistinct sounds and fleeting images.
What leads me to believe they were arguing was the profound intensity of my mother's anger that I felt deep in my core. She was holding me, and it felt as if she was moving frantically, the tremors in her grip making me shake with her. I was left to ponder what sort of chaos was unfolding around us. I have a vague sense that my father was present too, entangled in the storm of emotions swirling in that moment. There were many feelings from many people, a cacophony of sentiments, but among them, only two emanated love for me—those must have been Ma and Pa.
I am utterly clueless about their current whereabouts. Honestly, I doubt my parents departed voluntarily. It all aligns—the turmoil, the uproar. It stirs my curiosity—did my mother attempt a daring escape from the authorities with me in her arms? It's a wild notion, almost comical if you ponder it.
I pivot to the left, facing the mirror wall. The pictures hanging there capture some high-and-mighty types flaunting their affluence. They do have strikingly good looks, though. Even so, they seem so full of themselves that I almost spit out of disdain. Ha! I really ought to reserve judgment on the folks in this world, at least for now.
Yeah, but old habits cling tight. In my experience, where there's needless fortune, there's bound to be ignorance. And boy do I hate ignorance.I've been here for... I think a day now? But who knows, since I seem to drift off to sleep every twenty minutes. At some point, it was pitch dark outside the window, and now it's bright again. The only person I've seen is a twitchy, scared nurse who brought me food. She didn't exactly coddle me like a newborn; instead, she dropped off a tray and stared at me lying on my stomach, tail swishing, hands tucked under my head. I gave her my best "I'm harmless" smile, but she whipped out some weird-looking gadget that made me nervous. After what felt like an eternity, she finally left. No idea what I did wrong, but I'll chalk it up to my lizard brain. At least the food was mushy, so I didn't have to stress about choking. Though, drowning was still on the table.
But hey, the lizard brain did its job. Good work, "me".
That woman had a captivating vibe about her. She looked mostly human, but there was something sheepish mixed in. Those unique, rectangular eyes and her incredible mane of hair—so much hair, it was almost comical. You could imagine her being unable to move if it ever got soaked, the weight alone would anchor her. Yet, she had woven it into intricate braids, ensuring her beautiful face remained unobscured. The dark cascades of hair against her pale skin made for a striking, eye-catching combo.
Hmm, definitely feels like I've stumbled into a fantasy realm. It's like everything around me is imbued with a bit of magic. I can say that even though the only clear details I have are of myself and the nurse. Speaking of my appearance, I think I've lucked out. Kids around this age either end up being adorable or somewhat odd-looking. Fortunately, I'm in the cute category. My chic hair is a cascade of short, curly white tendrils, stylish and unruly. My skin is ghostly pale—so light it nearly glows. This fair complexion only serves to make the midnight-black gem set on my forehead stand out all the more ominously. My tail is like soft leather in texture, sharing the same ethereal pallor as the rest of me. But my eyes—they are the crowning glory. Silver-gray irises that shimmer like moonlight, the deepest hue on me next to the enigmatic gem on my brow.
I can see my strikingly sharp and symmetrical facial features echo those in the portraits lining the walls. They must be my ancestors even if I'm much paler than them. It's evident that this room has been meticulously designed for me. I survey the space once more. The careful arrangement of the furniture. Even the lighting has been expertly crafted to highlight the spectacular view outside the window. I turn towards the mirror. Reflected back at me is the grand tree, standing guard over my reflection. Every other element in the room fades in significance compared to this scene. I see it now. This was intended to be the first sight I would behold. Clearly, a great deal of thought went into setting up this room.
What a shame.
*Sigh*... I'd really love to see that nurse again. I'm starving.
The room trembles once more, sending ripples through the air like a stone tossed into a tranquil pond. Distant rumbles weave through the walls, yet I pay them no mind. It's become a rhythmic part of my day, a constant backdrop to my thoughts, though the source remains an enigma. Not even my nifty new sense can unravel this mystery. I have my hunches, but I steer clear of dwelling on them. After all, this world is a tapestry of the fantastical, where anything is possible. Getting caught up in needless expectations only paves the way for letdowns.I flip over onto my stomach, looking down from the lofty height my cushion has become. It feels like I'm peering over a ledge—a daunting descent for a tiny being like me. My clumsy limbs would never survive such a fall; I'd undoubtedly break something.
With a few wobbly pushups, I roll back onto my spine and start pondering a safer route to the ground. It has to be magic! That mysterious melody that healed my wounds and the bizarre phenomena with the spheres—it must have been some sort of magical trickery! The mere thought of magic rekindles a spark of childhood wonder within me, invigorating me. I simply have to unravel its secrets!
Turning my focus inward, I visualize the cube I once designed. The sensation of its creation is still vivid in my mind. Each time I wake from a nap, I find myself returning here at least once. My stays are brief, feeling like mere minutes, but I know time flows differently here. How differently, I can't discern, as I have no means to measure it. In real-time, it might just be a few seconds—seems like cheating, really. Like pausing the world to slow time. Yet, I can't think about anything unrelated to this mystical canvas without losing concentration and getting yanked back to reality.
I dive back into the maze of patterns, hunting for something I can morph into the real world. I search for threads connecting my swirling ideas to the solid truths around me. But, as always, I crash into the same stubborn barrier.
I realize, yet again, that I know virtually nothing about this world.
The only piece of knowledge that vaguely fits my mental puzzle is that my reality is at least four-dimensional. And that's pretty much it. These intricate patterns of countless dimensions and the spaces within them have zero relevance to what I experience here and now. It's maddening!
This time, I decided to combat my frustration head-on and impose a little order on my unruly lizard brain. I wanted to harness it to help me understand the chaos of the world outside. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift into an expansive white void. Before me appeared a humble library and a solitary book lying on the floor next to it. I then conjured a mirror in this blank space. I collected all the tangled, primitive thoughts swirling in my mind, those pesky remnants of the lizard brain, and funneled them into a reflection within the mirror. The image solidified into a green lizard with anthropomorphic proportions.
"That's you," I said silently. "Not in the flesh, but a manifestation of your essence, lizard brain. And what am I? The observer—a reflection of you. For now, we are intertwined."
Now, I just needed to coax that lizard out of the mirror or find a way to step through it myself. In doing so, we would inhabit the same reality as distinct entities. Not the strangest idea that's crossed my mind, honestly.II imagine stretching my hand through the mirror, only to see the lizard mimicking my every move. Our hands meet in the center, nullifying each other's actions in an almost comical standoff. Alright, no chance of getting there in this three-dimensional world. I've got to think about this differently, like flipping a canvas upside down. It's all about changing my perspective.I envision this space, or even just the cozy niche where I stand with the mirror, as a multidimensional canvas, brimming with the vibrancy of my masterpiece. It's quite the challenge. In higher dimensions, numerous paths lead to the same intricate geometry that my eyes behold, making it a delightful puzzle to pinpoint the perfect description that captures the essence of what I see.
The canvas works, since it's not real, it's just a geometric representation and appliance of a concept.
Wait a minute. Hold up.
What exactly is a mirror? Sure, it's just a surface that bounces light back. But the mirror I'm pondering isn't a tangible one. It's a figment of my imagination, a symbolic looking glass. I know everything there is to know about it. I can dissect it into pure ideas.
Reflective: It sends things bouncing off.
Surface: A flat, geometric expanse.
That's all there is to encapsulate a mirror. No need for anything ornate. Just a straightforward plane reflecting whatever stands before it.
I have to test this theory out in the real world. But that's a tangent.With newfound insight, I focus on the mirror hosting the lizard. The creature behind the glass remains unchanged; it only needs to come to me, or vice versa, to serve its purpose. My task is to craft a path that keeps the lizard within my sight, for once lost, it vanishes from my reality, evaporating my imagination's grasp. Its existence is merely my reflection. The moment that reflection fades, so does its apparition. Yet, I know this lizard isn't truly real, nor does it inhabit any physical space. Thus, I must convince myself that I am peering through a window, not a mirror. On the other side, my lizard self moves in perfect harmony with my every gesture.
Next, I must simplify the canvas. This canvas, a flat surface, paradoxically represents a boundless multidimensional space. But how does this translate into our three-dimensional world? This is beyond my comprehension. Fortunately, shifts in higher dimensions are obscured to those in lower dimensions. I need not envision every possible dimension; I simply need to find a solution nestled within the fabric of four-dimensional space.
In physical reality, the fourth dimension would be time. Or more accurately, movement through the fourth dimension creates change in our three dimensional space. We describe that constant change as time. Time is a fancy four-dimensional illusion. In reality, once one can perceive it, it's just another dimensional space you can perceive in, like looking down or up. But since I can't understand how it would be perceived as an axis, I'll use the canvas.
I imagine myself, the lizard, and the mirror between us existing within a box. I visualize that space flattening into a map, then imagine holding that map, which shows the interior of the box from a top-down perspective. This map will serve as the canvas. It represents the space inside the box but in two dimensions instead of three. On the white map, there is a green point representing me, a red point representing the lizard, and a black line between us symbolizing the mirror. Then I envision cutting three corners of a rectangle around my green point, leaving the side facing the window uncut. I do the same for the lizard's red point, but instead of leaving the window side uncut, I leave the side on the lizard's left intact. Next, I take the two dangling pieces of the map and imagine them fusing into a loop, hanging off the map.
Now, I just need to trust that this map accurately represents the space within the box. Since I can't visualize the fourth dimension, I reduced one dimension to create a map and used the remaining extra dimension I can perceive to depict the fourth dimension.
All I need to do is walk backward, and according to the map, I should see myself appear on the lizard's left.Alright. I turn to look at the lizard and notice it has the same cut map as me.
Believe, lizard. And walk.
I slowly begin to walk backward and see the lizard doing the same. I wonder what my own reflection would look like. At this point, this is no longer just my imagination. How my ideas apply to this place is up to my subconscious and the storyteller. I only hope what I see walking in front of that mirror isn't something I dislike. Don't fear. I have nothing to fear here unless I let my subconscious create something that I fear.
As we walk, I lift the map to my face, ensuring I can still see the lizard in my peripheral vision. The red dot on the map has moved away from the window in a straight line, seamlessly continuing over the cut paper. Meanwhile, the green dot travels along the strip of paper that dangles from the map.
Promising.
The walking continues until my heart jumps to my throat. I see my flank appear in the mirror in my peripheral vision.
That actually worked! I mean of course it did. Calm, keep the focus. The best part is still coming. Heart pounding, I continue walking backward very slowly at first. But before I can take another step, I realize that, shit, I'm going to walk into myself. I won't be able to see the lizard anymore.
Damn it, this concept is completely bewildering; I entirely overlooked that aspect. I blame you for this, lizard brain! Then again, while I cannot see you, you can see me. I think I should have made the cuts in the opposite way. Prove me wrong, lizard brain.
I observe the lizard in the mirror, or perhaps beyond the window. It's distant enough that I can't determine whether it's looking at the person beyond the window or at me standing on this side of it. After all, from its vantage point, it can see both.
Then the surface of the mirror shatters, and I hear something hit the ground. I continue to stare at the broken mirror, not daring to turn my head. I am slightly alarmed that something other than myself has appeared in my own imagination. On the other hand, I find this incredibly thrilling.
I calm myself and confidently turn to where the lizard should be standing. I see the lizard collapsed on the floor.
The lizard then starts to flail on the ground lazily like a drunkard. What are you doing?
Oh, right! I forgot.
We make up the same whole but, on our own, we are very different kinds of beings. I am not the only master of this imagination. Just as much as I am, so are they, the original mind of this infant I inhabit. "Lizard brain" is just a name I have for it. I think it strange, but which of us is really unnatural?
I watch the lizard crawl into a fetal position, its body slowly shrinking in size, its green leathery skin turning pale and soft, and its fearful white eyes looking towards me. I look at the map. The two points have changed position. The green point is now where the red one originally was, and the red one is at the top of the map, as far from the mirror as you can get. How did I not notice it? How did I fail to consider it?
Or perhaps now that we are separate, I can finally tell.
To you, I'm the strange green lizard.