Theories by A Friend.
What a Piece of Work is Man (debunked)
What a Piece of Work is Man
Still alive 2011-01-30
"How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! In form, in moving, how express and admirable... in action, how like an angel! In apprehension, how like a god. The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals; and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me..." -Hamlet, Shakespeare
This is a theory concerning the Submachine, and concerning us. All of us.
As is obvious thus far, the Subnet is a highly advanced and confusing mechanism of some sort, which expands and grows with seemingly no stop, that defies the laws of physics as we might have once believed possible. It has a core, which appears to be an enormous facility run by a single AI, a kind of technology out of reach of any here. This being has worked its way into our reality and distorted it beyond recognition, throwing us out of sync with each other, sending us to separate times, separate places, and giving us separate tools and items. We can communicate with eachother by leaving notes, and by writing theories, and by thinking. This is what we must stop.
It is at once obvious that you have never actually seen another living being anywhere in the subnet, no matter where you are; not Murtaugh, nor his alleged cat. Not a human being, not one of the various note-leavers... not even ourselves.
Have you ever seen your arm? Or your face? How about your legs, feet, or body? Sure, you've seen them. The ending of submachine 1!... it was a video. But what about the camera in sub2? Also a video. Here's another disturbing fact: have you felt them?
Moving in the subnet is not a matter of walking, or touching. Neither is seeing or hearing. You simply think and act. To move to another area, you simply move there. If you want to go, you do. "But then, how do we pick things up? What about the inventory?" They aren't there until you will them to be, but not if you wish for them before you've willed them to be in your inventory. And obviously, you can't do this unless you see them.
Now that I've raised some concerns about our own status, let me ask this: where do the notes come from? Who's writing them? How are they being left? How did Mur send us messages through the computer, and the subnet?
I'm sure that by now I'm sounding purely rhetorical, and all apologies for boredom I may cause; it's hard to leave a note when I can't hold a pen or press a button. With these initial questions out of the way, I'll just get to the point.
We are the submachine. Murtaugh is the submachine. I am the submachine.
I am not implying a natural joining of force and life, such as the connection to "Mother Earth" that many groups of people felt around 50 years ago. I mean that we ARE the submachine. It is a living thing, not artificial though it may seem; it is the human mind. When I say this, I mean THE human mind, the one and only. Not exactly a type of connective intelligence, and I will explain this soon. The submachine is our minds, consisting completely of what we think, made purely of imagination. We are all trapped inside our own humanity.
Then what powers the Submachine? Curiosity. In this case, it most likely DID kill the cat; I suppose that somebody may have lost a pet and thought so often of it in here that it simply became a reality. Like everything else. We think the subnet, and we expand and question and examine it. It is made of our fears and beliefs, our thoughts and our suppositions. Every theory we make adds to the submachine in some way, whether or not the theory makes its way in. The only way a theory can appear is if it is believed in strongly enough. We think of the notes. They appear when we leave.
The reason we see nobody in this vast world is because we are trapped, individually, in our own personal hell: ourselves. Solitary confinement is a punishment in prison because of the truths and lies you must face within. Nobody can escape themselves, unless they know how to. We are in our own minds, locked somewhere in the real world, thinking, ever thinking. I suppose that my creating this theory will begin to leak many confusing areas into the submachine, which appear to be real life, and not fiction, but I must risk it before any more lose themselves.
The only way to die in the Submachine is by losing faith. If you, for one second, lose all purpose, you are dead. In the submachine and in real life. Losing purpose, in fact, traps us in our own minds, not in a depressed state, but truly losing purpose... to have no reason to live. Once that happens, when we realize the false inevitability of life, once we have no strength to hold on, we are sent here. To be given another chance, perhaps, by whatever god watches us. We forget who we are, who we were, and who we will be; we bring nothing with us, not personality nor memories. In fact, if any tried to remember to speak, for whatever reason, they would not be able to find a word to convey their purpose. The notes that are left around do not have anything upon them. You are not reading any language, you are simply understanding what I mean to convey.
Now that we know our situation, here's the problem: we think. By wondering and being curious and trying to draw conclusions about our surrounding, we only expand upon the subnet, which then leads to more questions. Eventually, I suppose, there will be 999 coordinates to input on that odd device, all leading to different locations, and I believe that there will then be FOUR inputs, which I will dub xyz+. It is not an unlikely theory, but the human mind is as stubborn as it is curious, and refuses to waste empty space and create more. I also believe that when we begin using xyz+, the fourth dimension will appear to us as obvious, and simple, and we will never remember that there were only three to begin with. The ever-expanding dimension is a trap, and we never stop wandering through it, trying to gain some understanding of the enigma that is ourselves.
I have said that memories are not carried into this place, but that is not completely true. There are other ways to reach the submachine than by losing hope. Some people simply "snap" and become insane in real life, and this more violent transport brings memories crashing in with them, which are then scattered throughout the world. This is how I believe we know of such things as pillars, and computers, and beds, although those might be simply ingrained so deep in our minds that there is no blocking them.
There is escape from the submachine, as I have hinted at before; however, this is not a tunnel. You do not fall down the rabbit hole and arrive on the other side of the world. You have to climb out. I have no idea how to accomplish this, unfortunately, but I have several hypotheses:
1 - We must become "at peace" and find absolute tranquility.
2 - We must find a reason to live other than the submachine, and other than escape.
3 - We must stop trying to do anything, not out of lack of motivation or out of lack of reason, but out of sheer willpower.
Any of these could work, although it seems pointless as the walls of our consciousness close in upon us. With such looming mysteries and puzzles, we could easily spend the rest of our lives in this place - and I assure you all, that is a limited amount of time. We are still out there, somewhere, in the real world, appearing either insane or braindead, and the moment that those physical attachments cease to be, so will our chance at redemption. It won't be a momentous thing, nor will it be a small thing: all theories, all areas, everything that we thought while in the submachine will stop existing.
Now I will address one of the most persistent problems in this theory: what about Mur's Karma Arm? He opens portals with it, and he surely sees it as clear as day, so how can he be just a disembodied mind? I am not certain of this, either, but I have thought of several theories that seem quite possible.
1 - He is the only representation of ourselves in this desolate reality, and he interacts with us based on our progress out of the submachine.
2 - He is a monster, an antagonist of sorts, feared of by somebody currently in the subnet, and he will disappear when they escape or die.
3 - He is a racial memory, trapped deep inside every human being, that can only be brought about while in the submachine, and this is the only place he can help - or harm - anybody.
This theory has grown quite extensive, I fear, and I believe I have made enough points to solidify it as a possibility. It is what I believe in, and until I - we - know more, there is only one thing I can possibly do: wonder.