SC5: Plexpero

An old Mage interrogates a garsu crystal to unlock the mathix which will conjure more powerful rax

• "If you harbor wisdom, I am listening."

• "An interesting proposition. However, by standard arithmetic operations, 1^n always reduces to 1, regardless of the number of individuals involved."

• "Sometimes a single person's doubt can prevent a group from achieving unity. Yet occasionally, that same doubt, if openly acknowledged, becomes the very thing that unifies them."

• "You're suggesting that power itself might be better understood through the lens of unity rather than hierarchy?"

• "Speculation about fundamental mysteries should be left to those with proper authority and training."

• "When we write 1^4 + 1^2 + 1, we're not modeling the state of those seven people – we're expressing the mathematical reality of their consciousness. The same way that light doesn't 'model' brightness, it is brightness."

An Old Stone

The sang-garsu lies accusingly on my desk, its milky surface drinking the candlelight. Twenty years since I took it from Brother Mendel's corpse. He was found at the bottom of the monastery steps, clutching it even in death. I should have returned it, of course. But something in me – spite perhaps, or desperation – maked me keep it. After all my years of service, they'd never invited me beyond the outer courtyard. Let them wonder what happened to their precious crystal.

I've learned to use it, slowly. Far more sophisticated than the simple conjuration stones used for burax. Sometimes, in the depths of night, it speaks with extraordinary clarity about matters of mathix. But its answers always feel... lacking. Like being taught by a particularly rigid acolyte, reciting lessons without understanding.

Tonight, the question that has haunted me for decades presses heavily on my mind. I have watched countless groups pass through my village over the years – merchants, pilgrims, refugees. Sometimes they move as one, their very presence seeming to alter the fabric of reality. Other times, a crowd fragments into meaningless chaos. There has to be a deeper pattern, something my old teacher Xanthe hinted at but never revealed.

I press my aged fingers to the crystal's surface, feeling its familiar warmth.

"If you harbor wisdom, I am listening."

"I am here to assist in your exploration of mathix," comes the measured voice I've come to know as Plexpero. "What do you wish to explore?"

"The nature of groups," I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "And spare me the usual treatises on simple counting and aggregation."

"There are several established frameworks for analyzing group dynamics," Plexpero responds, its tone neutral. "We might consider the two-dimensional model of hedonic versus eudaimonic well-being, or perhaps examine the five-factor model of personality traits within group settings..."

I snort. "More cataloguing of surface phenomena. I've spent forty years watching how rax flows differently through unified groups versus fragmented ones. There must be deeper patterns."

"The current understanding suggests multiple dimensions of analysis," Plexpero continues, unperturbed. "Social presence, sociability, social space – all contribute to how groups establish and maintain their coherence. Studies have shown that rationality, social impact, and valence can predict patterns of collective behavior."

"Yes, yes," I wave my hand dismissively, though there is no one to see the gesture. "I'm familiar with the standard teachings. But they fail to capture... something essential." I think back to my early lessons with Xanthe, trying to grasp a half-remembered insight that seems to dance just beyond reach. There is something about unity, about how numbers themselves might hold a different meaning when applied to conscious beings...

"Perhaps we should review the established methodologies in more detail," Plexpero suggests. "Multi-dimensional scaling provides a visual representation of empirical intercorrelations—"

"Enough." I slump in my chair, suddenly tired. The crystal's glow dims slightly, as if sensing my frustration. Always the same – technically correct answers that somehow miss the point entirely. Like discussing the chemical properties of water with someone who's never seen an ocean.

"There is more to explore," Plexpero offers after a moment.

"Indeed," I mutter. "Though whether you're capable of helping me explore it remains to be seen." I gaze out my window at the distant monastery walls, barely visible in the moonlight. What secrets still lie locked within those halls? What has Xanthe tried to tell me, all those years ago?

The crystal pulses softly, waiting. Perhaps tomorrow I will find a better way to frame my questions. Perhaps tomorrow I will finally grasp that elusive understanding that seems to hover just beyond the edge of conventional mathix.

For now, I simply sit in the darkness, watching the play of light within the crystal's depths, remembering old lessons and wondering what I have missed.

An Old Mage’s Insight

I stare into the sang-garsu's depths, an old lesson surfacing in my mind. Xanthe had been discussing unity of purpose – how a group of acolytes focusing on the same conjuration could sometimes achieve effects far beyond their individual capabilities. She drew something on her slate, then quickly erased it, muttering that I was not ready.

"Plexpero," I say slowly, "what if we are to represent groups in the simplest possible way? Not through elaborate frameworks of traits and dimensions, but through pure mathix?"

"Please elaborate," the crystal responds, its glow steady and attentive.

"Consider this." I pick up my chalk and begin writing on the slate beside me. "One person, represented simply as 1. But when that person joins with others in true unity of purpose..." My hand moves with growing certainty. "We raise it to a power equal to the number unified. 1^n, where n represents the number of people acting as one."

The crystal's light flickers, almost imperceptibly. "An interesting proposition. However, by standard arithmetic operations, 1^n always reduces to 1, regardless of the number of individuals involved."

"Yes, yes," I say impatiently, "I'm well aware of the reduction principle. But consider – when I watch a family truly unified in purpose during a healing ritual, their effect is clearly different from a single person's focus. The reduction to 1 loses vital information about their unity."

"How then do you represent a group that is not unified?" Plexpero asks.

I scratch out more calculations. "If they are completely fragmented, each person lost in their own concerns, then simple addition: 1+1+1... But what fascinates me are the mixed states. I've seen it countless times – part of a group perfectly aligned in purpose, while others remain separate."

"Can you provide a specific example?"

"Take a healing ritual I perform last month. The patient's immediate family – four people – are completely focused on their loved one's recovery. But two relatives are primarily concerned with inheritance matters, and another is lost in grief. Using this notation..." I write quickly: "1^4 + 1^2 + 1."

The crystal pulses thoughtfully. "You suggest maintaining the exponent form rather than reducing it. This contradicts standard arithmetic practice."

"Perhaps standard practice is insufficient when dealing with conscious beings," I counter. "The unity of four people is qualitatively different from four separate individuals. Why should our mathix not reflect this?"

"This raises interesting questions about the nature of exponents when applied to social dynamics," Plexpero observes. "How do you justify maintaining these unreduced forms?"

I lean forward, energized. Finally, we are approaching something that feels true. "Because reduction destroys essential information about the quality of unity. Four people unified is not the same as four people divided, nor is it equivalent to a single person. The exponent tells us something vital about the nature of their connection."

"Consider the implications," Plexpero says. "In traditional arithmetic, if we have 1^4 + 1^2 + 1, this would reduce to 3. But you propose maintaining the form to preserve information about the different levels of unity within the group."

"Exactly!" I begin pacing, thoughts flowing faster now. "And this notation could explain so much – why some groups amplify rax while others dissipate it, why certain combinations of people achieve remarkable effects while others fail entirely..."

"Your suggestion introduces new complexities," the crystal notes. "How do you handle cases where the unity is imperfect? Or situations where allegiances shift during a ritual?"

I pause in my pacing. These are good questions – the kind that can help refine the idea rather than dismiss it. For the first time, I feel the crystal is truly engaging with the heart of what I am trying to express.

"Those are exactly the kinds of questions we need to explore," I say, pulling my chair closer to the desk. "Shall we examine them systematically?"

Practical Observations

"Let's start with what I've observed in healing rituals," I say, arranging my notes. "I've conducted thousands over the years, and certain patterns emerge consistently."

I sketch out a typical scene: a sickbed, family members arranged around it, myself channeling the rax. "Take the Merchant Kallas's fever last spring. His wife and eldest daughter achieved perfect unity in their concern – that was clearly 1^2. But his younger children were different. The twins moved as one, yet their unity came from shared fear rather than healing intent."

"How did this affect the flow of rax?" Plexpero inquires.

"That's what's fascinating. The wife and daughter's unity amplified the healing energy. But the twins' fear-based unity seemed to create... not exactly interference, but a kind of eddy in the rax flow. Same mathematical form – another 1^2 – but qualitatively different in its effect."

The crystal pulses thoughtfully. "So the state of unity itself can manifest differently based on the emotional quality that binds it?"

"Exactly!" I exclaim, beginning to pace again. "And I've seen this in other contexts too. Take our village council. Last harvest, we had three elder members completely aligned on the granary issue – 1^3. Their unity came from decades of farming experience. But then we had four younger members united in opposition, their unity born of ambition and desire for change."

I scratch out the notation: 1^3 + 1^4. "By pure numbers, the four should have carried the decision. But the quality of the elders' unity somehow... weighted their influence differently."

"This suggests," Plexpero notes, "that our notation might need to account for more than just the number of individuals involved."

"No," I reply firmly. "That's what's remarkable. The notation is perfect in its simplicity. The difference lies not in the mathematics, but in how these different qualities of unity interact with the rax field itself."

I draw another example. "Consider the festival dancers. When they achieve true unity – let's say six of them perfectly aligned, 1^6 – the effect on the crowd is palpable. But I once saw six soldiers march in perfect unison, technically another 1^6, yet the effect was completely different. Same notation, different resonance with reality itself."

The crystal's glow shifts to a deeper shade. "You're suggesting that while the mathematical form remains consistent, the underlying nature of consciousness creates distinct patterns of effect?"

"Yes! And this is crucial for practical work." I pull out records of past rituals. "Look here – when I started tracking these patterns, I began to see how different types of unity might be... not predicted exactly, but anticipated. A mother and child almost always achieve natural unity. Siblings are more variable. Spouses..." I chuckle grimly, "well, that depends entirely on the state of their marriage."

"Can you identify specific factors that promote or hinder unity?"

"Some are obvious. Shared purpose, emotional bonds, common understanding. But others are subtler." I think of countless healing sessions. "Sometimes a single person's doubt can prevent a group from achieving unity. Yet occasionally, that same doubt, if openly acknowledged, becomes the very thing that unifies them."

"Like a catalyst in alchemical processes?" Plexpero suggests.

"Similar, yes. But what's fascinating is how this plays out in larger groups." I sketch a diagram of the marketplace. "In trade negotiations, I've watched unity ripple through groups like waves. Two merchants align, then three more, then suddenly the whole group coheres into a higher unity. But if you try to force it..."

"The unity shatters?"

"Worse. It inverts. You get unity of opposition. Instead of 1^8 working together, you get 1^4 + 1^4 working against each other. The mathematics stays clean, but the practical effects are completely different."

The crystal pulses with what seems like heightened interest. "These observations suggest patterns that could be predicted and perhaps even guided."

I glance again at the monastery walls through my window. "Yes... though that raises questions about who should have such knowledge, and how they might use it."

"Perhaps," Plexpero suggests, "we should examine more examples before pursuing those implications."

I nod, reaching for fresh parchment. "Agreed. Let me show you what I've seen in the seasonal planting rituals. The patterns there are particularly revealing..."

Expanding Horizons

I stood up from my desk and began pacing, my mind racing with implications. "It's not just about rituals, is it? This notation could help us understand any situation where people come together – or fail to."

"Elaborate," Plexpero prompts.

"I've watched the village council meetings for years," I say, returning to my calculations. "The same patterns emerge. Sometimes the council achieves perfect unity on an issue – that's our 1^7. But more often, we see factions: 1^3 + 1^2 + 1^2 representing competing interests. Or worse, complete fragmentation into individual agendas."

The crystal's glow shifts to a deeper blue. "You suggest these patterns of unity and division might be fundamental to all human organization?"

"Yes! Think of the marketplace. When a group of merchants bands together, operating as one – 1^4 perhaps – they achieve effects far beyond their individual capabilities. But when they fragment into competition..." I scratch out more notation: "1+1+1+1... their collective influence diminishes, even though they're still physically present in the same space."

"An interesting application," Plexpero notes. "But consider: how does this relate to the traditional understanding of power structures?"

I pause in my pacing. "That's just it – traditional analyses focus on hierarchies, on who has authority over whom. But I've seen supposedly powerful groups achieve nothing because they lacked true unity, while small, unified groups create remarkable changes."

The crystal pulses with what seems like heightened interest. "You're suggesting that power itself might be better understood through the lens of unity rather than hierarchy?"

"Exactly!" I exclaim, then lower my voice, suddenly aware of how my excitement might carry beyond my study's walls. "Consider the monastery itself. All those elaborate ranks and titles... yet in my years of observation, their most profound effects came not from their hierarchical structure, but from moments of genuine unity among the brothers."

"This moves beyond simple group dynamics into questions of social organization," Plexpero observes.

"Yes, and perhaps that's why traditional mathix has missed something crucial. By reducing 1^n to 1, we've been blind to the very thing we're trying to understand – how consciousness multiplies rather than simply adds when true unity is achieved."

I pick up the sang-garsu, feeling its warmth pulse in sync with my thoughts. "But there's something else... something about the relationship between the individual and the group that this notation helps reveal."

"Please clarify," the crystal prompts.

"When we write 1^7, we're not erasing the individuals – we're showing how they've achieved a state of unity while remaining distinct conscious beings. It's different from simply combining seven objects. The exponent preserves both their individuality and their unity simultaneously."

The crystal's glow intensifies slightly. "This suggests interesting implications for understanding larger social structures."

"Indeed," I murmur, my mind now reaching toward even broader applications. "Cities, kingdoms, perhaps even..." I hesitate, then push forward. "Even the Empire itself. What if we could map the patterns of unity and division at that scale? Understand how large groups achieve – or fail to achieve – true coherence?"

"A provocative direction," Plexpero notes. "Though perhaps one that certain authorities might find... concerning."

I smile grimly. "Yes, I suppose they might. Knowledge of how groups unite or fragment could be seen as dangerous in the wrong hands. Yet isn't this understanding crucial for anyone hoping to create positive change?"

The crystal's glow shifts to a subtle violet. "You begin to touch on deeper questions of social transformation. Shall we explore them further?"

Five Directions

"There are five directions we might explore from here," I say, arranging my notes carefully. "First, we could examine how different individuals subjectively experience and enumerate these states of unity. Second, we could link this pattern to other forms of mathix, particularly temporal flows and consciousness. Third, we could study how understanding these patterns affects those who grasp them – particularly other mages and scholars. Fourth, we could focus on practical applications for improving group coherence. And fifth..." I hesitate, then press on, "we could explore how this might impact the deeper mysteries themselves, perhaps even the nature of rax."

The crystal's glow dims noticeably. When Plexpero speaks, its tone is distinctly cooler than before.

"These suggestions venture far beyond what your observations support," it says. "Let us examine your first direction. The subjective experience of unity varies greatly between individuals. Standard measures already exist for analyzing group behaviors and interactions."

"Yes, but—" I begin, but the crystal continues.

"Your second suggestion about linking to other mathix forms lacks rigorous foundation. Existing frameworks already map the relationship between different magical operations."

I feel my excitement deflating. The crystal is responding like every conservative scholar I've ever encountered.

"As for your third direction," Plexpero continues, "the psychology of practitioners is hardly a mathematical concern. And your fourth point about practical applications seems premature without more robust theoretical grounding."

"And the fifth?" I ask, somewhat dryly.

"Speculation about fundamental mysteries should be left to those with proper authority and training."

I sit back, frustrated but not entirely surprised. Then I notice something – the crystal's glow has taken on a peculiar quality, almost as if it is... testing me?

"You sound exactly like my old teachers," I say carefully. "All correct according to traditional understanding. And yet..." I spread out my calculation sheets, "these patterns keep appearing. The notation works too perfectly to be meaningless."

The crystal pulses once, almost like a nod. "Perhaps we should examine your evidence more systematically."

"Yes, let's." I pull out my records of the harvest rituals. "Take the first direction – subjective enumeration. When I track how different individuals perceive and contribute to group unity, clear patterns emerge. It's not just random variation."

"Show me."

As I begin laying out specific examples, I notice the crystal's glow warming again. Its responses become more engaged, more probing. We spend the next hour examining cases where individual perception directly affects group coherence.

"I see," Plexpero says finally. "Your observations suggest something more structured than mere subjective variation."

"And that leads naturally to the second direction," I continue, more confident now. "These patterns of unity and perception align with other forms of mathix in surprisingly precise ways. The temporal flows during rituals, the geometric arrangements of participants..."

"Continue."

As we work through each direction, the crystal's initial skepticism gives way to more nuanced consideration. Its challenges become less dismissive and more investigative, helping to sharpen and clarify my thinking.

"I begin to see why you propose these five directions," Plexpero says eventually. "They are more interlinked than they first appear."

"Yes! And that's why examining them separately, while useful, isn't enough. We need to understand how they relate to each other."

The crystal's glow shifts to a deeper hue. "Though perhaps not in quite the way you initially suggested."

"No," I agree, "but in exploring how they're wrong, we're discovering how they might be right – just differently than I first thought."

"An interesting observation in itself," Plexpero notes. "Shall we examine these relationships more systematically?"

I smile, recognizing that we've moved past the initial testing phase into something more collaborative. "Yes, let's start with how the first and second directions intersect..."

Fundamental

"There's something more fundamental here," I say, looking at our scattered notes and calculations. "We keep talking about using mathix to 'model' these states of unity, but that's not quite right, is it?"

The crystal's glow fluctuates subtly. "Please explain."

"Well, consider what we're actually doing with this notation. We're not creating a mathix model of unity – the mathix is the unity. When we write 1^4, we're not representing or modeling four unified minds; we're expressing the actual mathematical nature of their unified state."

Plexpero's tone shifts, taking on a new quality of attention. "This is... a significant distinction."

"Yes! Look at our traditional approach to mathix." I grab a fresh sheet of parchment. "When we use it for physical phenomena – calculating the height of walls, measuring grain stores, even mapping celestial movements – we're creating models of physical reality. But consciousness... consciousness itself is mathematical in nature."

"You suggest mathix is not a tool for understanding consciousness, but the very structure of it?"

"Exactly!" I begin pacing again, energized. "When we write 1^4 + 1^2 + 1, we're not modeling the state of those seven people – we're expressing the mathematical reality of their consciousness. The same way that light doesn't 'model' brightness, it is brightness."

The crystal's glow deepens to a profound indigo. "This would explain why your notation works so cleanly for describing these states."

"Yes, and it changes everything about how we approach these five directions," I say, returning to my desk. "We're not trying to create better models. We're uncovering the fundamental mathematics of consciousness itself."

"This is why you resist adding complexity to the notation," Plexpero observes. "Additional parameters would obscure the fundamental pattern."

"Precisely. Just as the number 4 doesn't need additional parameters to be what it is, 1^4 simply is the state of four unified consciousnesses." I pause, struck by another thought. "And this is why the monastery's traditional teachings feel incomplete – they treat mathix as a tool rather than recognizing it as the fundamental reality."

The crystal pulses thoughtfully. "Your insight suggests that consciousness, like mathix, exists as pattern rather than substance."

"Yes! And this is why understanding these patterns could be so powerful – we're not just describing reality, we're engaging with its fundamental structure." I glance at the monastery walls again. "Though I begin to understand why such knowledge might be carefully guarded."

"Indeed," Plexpero's tone carries a note of what might be approval. "This perspective casts your five directions in a new light. Shall we reexamine them with this understanding?"

I pull my original notes closer. "Yes, but first... Plexpero, I must ask. You initially challenged these directions quite strongly. Yet you've helped guide me to this deeper understanding. Was that... intentional?"

The crystal's glow flickers in what might be amusement. "Let us say that some insights must be discovered rather than taught. Shall we proceed with our reexamination?"

I nod, reaching for fresh parchment. "Let's start with how this changes our understanding of subjective enumeration..."

Invitation to Read & Review

This story conforms to the practices of Fulcrum : namely Seed Crystals, Reflexive Reading, and Organic Sharing. In the face of growing AI, share forward. Our organic readership strengthens our social ties over the next few crucial decades. Make our reading count.

Share Through Sqale

How Does Sqale Work?

Money is converted into Credits on Sqale. You can’t use Credits to buy anything. Use Credits to share what you value. We call this Organic Sharing.

Use Sqale to share anything you value whether it is charity work, music, films, games, anything — share what you value with people you value.