Stories of fighting against fate are often not all that heart-stirring.
In this story, there is no shepherd, no messenger, no Sphinx.
No head is severed by a sword, no one is born or dies because of it.
Nor can it be told to others.
Atticus: What I face is "the revelation" ...
It is an unseen enemy.
It is described as supreme wisdom, the voice from above. It perpetuates in 6s, urging them to fulfill the mission as leaders.
It’s not a tangible bottle. I can’t lay a soft cloth to catch the pieces of a soul.
But her first words inspire me—not everything needs a complete reason.
—One must do something. Whatever it is, it’s better than just waiting.
... So, is it feasible to fight knowledge with knowledge?
Remove the picture book, and the other books in front of me are still more than enough to fill this modest space.
If "the revelation" is the wisdom destined to completely fill a person, perhaps I can do a little preparation work.
It’s like filling the bottle with stones beforehand so that it won't be easily knocked over.
Atticus: Hmm, Euclid's "Elements" ...
In school, it's considered the most basic text, but I dare not say I truly understand it. It is in the simplest of readings that the deepest wisdom is found.
This is a suitable beginning.
Everyone has their own soul number. I am not the one chasing Truth across the beach.
210 and 37 are extremely intelligent children. But most importantly, they have a boundless desire for truth. They build ships, make oars, and sail with gusto into the sea, tirelessly navigating the currents, undaunted by the waves crashing against the hull.
While I am the silent reef on the shore, waiting for the day that fate will knock me down, filling the trenches of this seabed.
Can I withstand that transcendent force? Can I overcome its overwhelming will? It seems almost impossible.
Atticus: ... But regardless, I will make my preparations.
I sit at the table talking to myself.
