There was once a time where there were no serpents that roamed on the land or in the sea. There was no fear of the venomous bite of a cobra, or the heavy, tight coils of the boa constrictor. There was no need to fear the rattling noises from the bushes, or carefully watch each step as to not step upon a camouflaged serpent. Only the criminals that lurked in the shadows, and the mighty wild beasts that roamed outside of the city’s walls were any cause of concern. But even they were often regarded as nothing more than a cautionary tale to discourage young men from sneaking out at night and getting themselves into trouble.
Such peace only came to an end far later on, when one foolish man had stolen five golden coins from the altar of one of the many gods. Even from high in the lofty heavens, the gods saw his crime and punished him furiously. They took away his limbs so he could steal no longer, took away his legs so he could not escape, took away his speech so he could only complain about his punishment in hisses, only let him eat the filthy rodents and pests, and only gave him scales to cover himself with so that no one would dare to come near him. It was on that day that the first serpent had been created, and it was on this day that the city and the places beyond would soon discover a new fear.
Seeing their new creation, the gods were both appalled and pleased by the sight of it. It was a creature so fascinating, yet so horrid at the same time. They had made something good out of something bad. And so the gods all came to an agreement: any one of the people that did wrong, would be turned into one of the slithering serpents. The sudden appearance of such creatures caused utter chaos and confusion throughout the lands, which only prompted the creation of more. The gods used such events to their advantage, creating wide arrays of serpents of all sizes and colours, all unique in their own way.
Those who had previously been musicians for the leaders and rulers of their cities were given rattles on the end of their tales, so that even in their cursed existence, they could still provide entertainment for themselves, and others. The strongmen and the warriors were given the largest bodies and the most strength, and those who were from royal descent could keep their titles of king, and were even permitted to consume their own kind. And after stepping back, the gods could see that this truly was their greatest creation so far, with such variety and uniqueness between each and every serpent. Such a thing came at the cost of their worship, as the serpents had no hands or voices to praise them with, but the beauty of such creatures were enough to temporarily satiate them.
And eventually, when the gods were wanting to be worshipped once again, they brought back the old people of the land, only this time giving them the knowledge of the new serpents. With this knowledge, there was now not nearly as much chaos as there had been before, when they were first unaware of the existence of such creatures. In time, they became a welcome addition, keeping the rodents and other pests at bay, while also being admired for their various colours, and serving as an image of the power of the gods they worshipped.
I’m not quite sure when it started. I just know that I started to notice things. Things that seemed far too coincidental. As if a pattern was forming, even in the chaos of our lives. Throughout the years I have spent wandering these halls, I wondered if there was some sort of purpose to this all. We had access to any knowledge we could ever want, access to magic that could only be seen in stories, to some. We saw every side of the world, observed mythical creatures and watched dreams come true. Perhaps I had just been reading into too much philosophy, but I just began to truly wonder why.
I loved all the wonders of our world, and the wonders of all the others. They were like a gift given to us, a priceless one deserving appreciation. We were given the light of knowledge, and this was a light that was meant to be shared. Sometimes, however, others did not feel the same. This is what kept me wondering. We had all of this, a fantasy come true to those unaware, and to some it must be kept away. For some, it must be destroyed entirely, left only as the one-imagined fantasy it once was. It couldn’t just be that things were unfair— we’d always overcome anything that came our way. There was something else going on here. Something reminiscent of some kind of plot.
But this was only the beginning. I looked back on everything else that I knew, searching through my own Library of memories to find something that could help me find some kind of end to this. Surely there would be something to find, especially in my old age. And while I did find something eventually, it was certainly not exactly what I was looking for. As old as I am, I oddly cannot remember too much of anything, really. It wasn’t because my memories were starting to slip away, no, I hold on to everything. It was simply that I don’t think I ever had a family, or went to school, or had any sort of childhood. Whatever space those memories and experiences should’ve taken up was simply just an empty space.
The only thing I can remember is appearing here, in the Library. Not with any sort of entrance or anything, I simply was just already here. I would’ve originally thought it was as simple as this, and that I just always had been here after all, but I am certain that this is not the case. I’ve never had these supposed lapses in memory since, and combined with everything else I have observed… it seems like there truly is more to this than you’d think. I’ve traced all the dots up until this point, and I’m seeing the pattern. Despite everything, there is some sense of cohesion here. Different roles for all of us, different objectives, all leading up to more endings. Those endings would sprout new beginning, and it would cycle all over again.
I kept following this trail of dots I had connected. I found more discrepancies, and more details that all seemed to link to something much larger. This trail was becoming a maze, but as with all mazes, there is a correct path. I wasn’t able to go back once I had started down this path, but I had already come this far. The more I kept walking, the more this trail began to resemble the endless halls and bookshelves I had become so accustomed to. But eventually, I had reached an end. It was something I had never seen before, in a place where you could wander forever and could look across the endless shelves filled with books. And yet here, I had found the end. A fairly old— even by my standards— and dusty place, there was little to see.
The few things here were a few loose threads in the carpet, empty bookshelves holding nothing but dust, and the absolute silence. There was one more thing, though. One singular book remaining on a shelf, still untouched by the dust. It was one I had never seen before, in all my years here. Being in this place, the end of the infinite, felt oddly wrong. But this one particular book, with its green leather cover and gilded details, was giving me some odd form of respite. Turning a few pages, I truly could not believe exactly what I was seeing. It was a collection of stories, ones I’ve all read before. The one at the end, however, was unlike any of the others. It was still being written as I was watching, and this story was about me.
Every one of my actions up until now, every one of my thoughts, all of them were being written in here in real time. It was almost dizzying to watch, and so I flipped to the last page. At the end of absolutely everything, I had found my answer. I finished connecting every dot, and now the larger picture was revealed. As it turns out, our glorious world was just like any other fantasy story. I, and everyone I had ever known, were apart of one. The dreamlike scenarios we were apart of were not real, after all. This thought was almost terrifying, but then I came to one final conclusion. Since we really are just in a story, someone must be reading it.
So, to you— yes you, the one who is reading this right now— thank you. Because of your time and appreciation, everything here is not pointless. Our existence can continue, all thanks to you. I’m not sure if you can see me, but I’m waving at you. Now I’m smiling slightly. Keep on going, friend. I still do believe this Library is infinite, so there will always be more here for you. Go on out there, then, and enjoy.
It has long since been known that our world is truly extraordinary. Even without counting the living myths and the secrets of magic, with the endless halls of the Library and the intrigue of what else there is to learn. There remains one more facet that makes up the grand tapestry of all things, one familiar yet unknown. One that must forever remain in place, lest all the other threads begin to unravel.
Of course, this is the realm of Metaphysical Mathematics. A science that is deeply rooted throughout reality, one that is almost always out of sight yet one that maintains everything around us. A daunting science for some to study, using elements of both the notorious Metaphysics and the sometimes frustrating mathematics. Yet once again, something as deeply important as this must not go ignored.
One of the main principles of this science is the idea of *value*, a specific number assigned to something, representing that object in a numerical form. Everything that exists has a *value* which is always above at least zero. Sometimes, they can become decimals or fractions. These *values* can be altered using various operations, and this value is determined by what makes an object what it is. Examples vary, but a common one is this: *What makes an oak tree an oak tree? And after this has been solved, how do we find its value?*
First, we must consider what an oak tree is. For this, we will have to find its *traits* by asking specific yet broad questions. What *traits* makes it up? What *traits* make it different from anything else? To answer the former, an oak tree is mostly made from roots, a trunk, branches, and leaves. Then to answer the latter, it is different from other objects as a whole because of its name. It is different from other trees as it bears acorns and has its own wood type. Do note that all these *traits* tend to be fairly abstract, so do not worry about trying to find every specific detail. But once you have found each of these *traits*, count them and add them up. In this example with the oak tree, the *value* is seven. Now that you have some understanding of how to find the specific values of objects, we may now move on to how these values are able to be changed and how these operations used function.
*Values* are able to change either naturally or by intent. Take for example an apple with a value of eight. This comes from the shape, skin, inside, stem, seeds, name, and flavour. If you were to peel the apple, its value would then be reduced to seven. The peeled skin would gain its own value, essentially then gaining a designation as a separate object. No *value* has actually been lost, instead only transferred. It is currently theorised that *values* are unable to be destroyed under normal circumstances. On the other hand, *value* can also be added naturally. As an example, a bare blueberry bush would have a value of five due to its branches, leaves, name, and ability to theoretically bear fruit. However, if we were to allow enough time for the bush to produce blueberries, it would then also gain the *trait* of bearing fruit. Its value would then increase to six, as possibilities have been observed to be considered different from current statuses.
However, as stated previously, *value* may also be changed by intent. Much like elementary level math, Metaphysical Mathematics also uses the four main operations: addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. These operations will, of course, still give us numerical results— although this time it may have a change to generate rather peculiar behaviour. Under most circumstances, objects will not be heavily affected by a loss of *value,* as shown in the example of the apple and the peel. This is only because the *value* is not entirely destroyed, as no such thing may happen naturally. However, by intentionally attempting to change *value*, it is very well possible to destroy *values* under the correct circumstances. This intent manifests in the form of an abstract mathematical equation, using any of the previously mentioned operations. The *values* are placed into the equation through considerable amounts of focus and patience, while the result is calculated automatically. For this reason, it is often discouraged that those new to the realm of Metaphysical Mathematics attempt to preform any operations in the case that they are unaware of the potential consequences of doing such things. Of course, the potential severity of this varies based on the operation being used. Subtraction and division have been known to have specifically drastic effects upon reality.
Now we may go into greater detail regarding these operations and their effects. Each operation has two separate variants, these being abstract operations and concrete operations. Abstract operations are ones that do not have any true effects on the object. This includes all naturally changing *values* and all results from equations made without much effort. No *value* is lost with abstract operations. Concrete operations do have effects on the object, and these operations can only be performed with considerable effort, and can only be preformed in a reliable and safe manner with enough knowledge and practice. Concrete operations are sometimes not able to be undone, and can also have serious consequences on the functionality of reality. As with many other sciences, there will almost always be some sort of danger somewhere within. Whether it be the slight feeling of panic in accidentally adding or removing an incorrect part of a certain value, or if it is because of removing something vital. Or sometimes, it may be because one ends up finding the answer to an equation that is better off being left unknown. Yet despite this danger, there is still some beauty in it. Perhaps this is the reason you have chosen this topic to study. Or perhaps it is just out of intrigue. Whatever the case may be, you will receive what you are looking for, as now we shall start on how these operations work.
To begin with the most basic of these, addition; the operation learned first in schools and one used even unintentionally before then. When used in Metaphysical Mathematics, addition still simply adds values. For example, you may have three apples in a small crate. In total, this would have a value of five. Three for each apple, one for the crate, and one for the placement of the apples. They are specifically *in* the crate, not underneath it or to the side of it. Now, if you were to add a fourth apple into the crate, its value would then increase to six. Of course, this would have the same effect that it would if this were to happen naturally. No major differences have been made, only the addition of another apple and the increase in *value*. However, say you have an apple that has been peeled. As explained earlier, this peeled apple would have a *value* of seven instead of eight. The now separate skin would have its own value, and would also not be able to be added back to the apple through natural means or without applied effort. There is, however, a secondary way to add these *values.* That is, a way that will alter both the *value* and the object itself. With a strong enough will and intent, the peeled skin may be re-added to the apple, bringing its value back up to eight and appearing to fuse the skin back on.
Secondly, we have the operation of subtraction. One known for ages, one that hasn’t lost any importance. In the realm of Metaphysical Mathematics, placed into a concrete equation that can sweep away *values* and everything else assigned to them. Of course, the abstract equation needs no detailed explanation. Whether you peel an apple or remove all the acorns on an oak tree, the *value* is reduced. This is the abstract form, still able to cause some problems, but nothing as severe as concrete subtraction. When the operation of subtraction is used in its concrete form, the value is destroyed entirely. Depending on whether you are targeting the *value* as whole or only a fraction of it, the object very well may be destroyed with it. Whatever the case, both pose rather serious problems. Whenever a *value* has been destroyed— such as when it has been reduced to zero by subtraction the same number from it— the object will not only be destroyed with it, but will also be “removed” from reality, in a sense. The comprehensible and existent nature of the object will be destroyed as well, effectively removing it from possible comprehension. In simpler terms, the object is destroyed in such a way that it will become incomprehensible, and seen as though it never existed.
As previously mentioned, there is also a second form of this operation. That is, subtracting only a fraction of the *value* instead of the full thing. This will produce very similar effects, albeit in a much more unique and possibly more interesting way. As this has now become a common example, take an apple, for instance. Apples have a value of eight, but if you were to subtract the *value* of the apple’s colour alone by using a concrete operation, the total *value* would be reduced to seven. However, a side effect of this is that the apple’s colour will, of course, now be impossible to perceive or describe. The colour of the apple not only does not exist, but whatever may have been left behind— if there is anything left behind, that is— will then also be incomprehensible. For this reason, concrete subtraction in any form, whole or fractional, has been deemed as exceptionally dangerous. If something vital to life or existence as a whole were to be subtracted, the effects would not only be severe, but it would also be incredibly hard to find the source of the issue and then fix it. However, now we must move on to a much less dangerous yet important operation. Another one that many of us have known from a very young age, and one that can raise *values* higher than the stars.
Thirdly, we have the operation of multiplication.
