Paradigm: Reflections
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In order to exist, man must rebel, but rebellion must respect the limits that it discovers in itself - limits where minds meet, and in meeting, begin to exist. -Albert Camus
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Horizon Research & Development. Spatial Distortion. Horizon Plane.
Atticus stood in the center of his Sanctum, opposite a mirror image of himself, and studied it. The resemblance in facial characteristics and overall body structure was uncanny. The mirror image, however, had it's own style of dress " or rather, had a much more common style of dress: it was wearing a three piece suit, the same blue as Atticus' robes; it's footwear was similar, but rather than Atticus' supple, black leather boots, it wore black wingtips; and rather than his silver badges of office decorating a lapel, the mirror image wore a metallic silver necktie. Despite the mirror image being as detailed as an actual person, there was some quality it was lacking " something unseen unless you were exceptionally close. While even the most minute mannerisms and micro expressions had been adopted by the mirror image, it was still somehow....flat. Atticus' stoic expression betrayed neither his slight sense of unease at the image, nor his solace in the realization that it was some sort of projected light.
"Are you satisfied?" the image asked.
"Not in the slightest," Atticus remarked, stepping backwards and sitting back into what looked somewhat like a large, silvery, metallic armchair recliner. He leaned onto one of the arms, index finger and thumb of his hand coming up to frame his jaw in an L shape as he continued to stare " as if his eyes alone could plumb the answers from the thing before him. "I find it oddly off putting that Lazarus and I could share such physical similitude-" he was cut off.
"I've already told you why, Atticus." the simulacrum gave a wan smile, "You share almost identical genetic-" now it was the duplicates turn to be interrupted.
"Almost, you say. Your 'genetics' are not a familiar concept to me; you are implying, however, that I am....a homunculus of some sort. A Golem; a vessel awaiting implantation by whatever soul you say I used to be. The adverb 'almost' further implies that as a vessel, I am somehow flawed.? His words were flat, without emotion or inflection, as he kept trying to assimilate what the image, the hologram, was trying to explain to him.
~ ~ ~
In order to exist, man must rebel, but rebellion must respect the limits that it discovers in itself - limits where minds meet, and in meeting, begin to exist. -Albert Camus
~ ~ ~
Horizon Research & Development. Spatial Distortion. Horizon Plane.
Atticus stood in the center of his Sanctum, opposite a mirror image of himself, and studied it. The resemblance in facial characteristics and overall body structure was uncanny. The mirror image, however, had it's own style of dress " or rather, had a much more common style of dress: it was wearing a three piece suit, the same blue as Atticus' robes; it's footwear was similar, but rather than Atticus' supple, black leather boots, it wore black wingtips; and rather than his silver badges of office decorating a lapel, the mirror image wore a metallic silver necktie. Despite the mirror image being as detailed as an actual person, there was some quality it was lacking " something unseen unless you were exceptionally close. While even the most minute mannerisms and micro expressions had been adopted by the mirror image, it was still somehow....flat. Atticus' stoic expression betrayed neither his slight sense of unease at the image, nor his solace in the realization that it was some sort of projected light.
"Are you satisfied?" the image asked.
"Not in the slightest," Atticus remarked, stepping backwards and sitting back into what looked somewhat like a large, silvery, metallic armchair recliner. He leaned onto one of the arms, index finger and thumb of his hand coming up to frame his jaw in an L shape as he continued to stare " as if his eyes alone could plumb the answers from the thing before him. "I find it oddly off putting that Lazarus and I could share such physical similitude-" he was cut off.
"I've already told you why, Atticus." the simulacrum gave a wan smile, "You share almost identical genetic-" now it was the duplicates turn to be interrupted.
"Almost, you say. Your 'genetics' are not a familiar concept to me; you are implying, however, that I am....a homunculus of some sort. A Golem; a vessel awaiting implantation by whatever soul you say I used to be. The adverb 'almost' further implies that as a vessel, I am somehow flawed.? His words were flat, without emotion or inflection, as he kept trying to assimilate what the image, the hologram, was trying to explain to him.