The Paradoxical World Of Barnabas Lodwick

'The motions of the comets are exceedingly regular, and they observe the same laws as the motions of the planets, but they differ from the motions of vortices in every particular and are often contrary to them.'—Isaac Newton

I cannot, for the honourable sake of my appellation, presume the actual hour of my death, except to say that I have been drifting ever since through the measurable passage that is called time. It is an extensive yet transient journey that has filled the elementary core of my sapience with unimaginable wonders I had not previously perceived. My name is Barnabas Lodwick, a Victorian scientist of London. I had applied myself with the utmost proficiency and precision to verify my theory of time travel.

Do not err in linking the concept of travelling through time to the notion of an irregular precedent that is merely correlative to the intrinsic elements manifest and existentially simultaneous. This fascinating idea has been dismissed by sceptics as an unproven notion and unfounded theory. Yet the marvellous concept of absolute movement between distinct points in time becomes variable when the comparative movement of these opposing points in space connects at brief permitted intervals.

Ergo, the once divergent matter unites and forms an interaction—a precipitous homogeneity of active energy that effaces the preconceived paradox. From the quintessence of that vast energy emanates the paradoxical world, which governs in variance. It is an unnatural phenomenon experienced by those select mortals of precocity.

From this preternatural occurrence, I was fortunate to travel through the parallel junction of its arterial inception, using a creative contrivance known as the 'Omnis'. In this regard, theoretical physics expeditiously rejects the notion of time travel to a physical destination in the vortex of time, with strict animadversion. They have declared this concept fallacious and pseudological.

Time travel into the future by means of time dilation is a conjoined phenomenon, operating within the procedures of the laws of relativity. However, taking a quantum leap of duration in time was not considered contingent, according to their theories and the actual forms of recent technology established. Such theories of relativity correspond to hypotheses that are adequate to the geometries of the motion of time, which could, in principle, permit travel into the past and future—if those existing geometries or motions were concluded to be feasible and accurate.

The conglomerative nature of the emergence of cosmic energy within the universe could, therefore, grant the portal of the paradoxical world a transient existence—a momentary episode of extreme significance. Thus, the abstract force of energy might develop within the involved matter that is both substantial and constant, provided it is not contradictory in nature. Its circumference would dictate or limit the severity of its progressive function, and its access to Earth would remain transparent only to the superlative minds and visionaries of the advanced—amongst whom I was fortunate to count myself, as a time traveller. The energy I experienced transmitted and transported its foundation, serving as an affirmation of its undeniable presence.

Previously, I could not have precluded this arbitrary supposition, until an independent thought materialised into an efficient realisation. It soon acknowledged itself as a supreme alterity to my coherent reality. Before long, my ratiocinative logic converged perfectly with the paradoxical world I had discovered. It was through the device—better known merely as a pocket watch—that I first noticed the radiant energy, which allowed me to comprehend this force that moved faster than the speed of light.

Quod erat demonstrandum. I had effectuated the viable demonstrations in place of the supportive theories once expounded by Newton, and I had executed them on the grandest scale of sublimity. It was through modest and methodical practicality that this manifestation had been made apparent, igniting a disruptive pattern of thought.

The incredible pocket watch—the device that enabled me to engage with this uncommon and exploratory anomaly—was determined to be the very instrument that would assist in altering the sequence of subsequent events. The episode that had triggered the cohesive balance and magnetic impulse led to a succession of developing circumstances that defied the contemplation of any ad hoc purpose within science.

As a man of science, my research into the subject of physics had been drawn inexorably to the study of energy, matter, and motion in their crudest or purest states—phenomena that could not be refuted. I was fascinated by the nature of astronomy, yet it was physics that truly captivated my passion.

Through calculated experiments, I had endeavoured to produce an occurrence capable of inducing an extraordinary composition. I could no longer justify delaying the manifestation of this oddity, and I had long since forsaken the anthropism—or rather, the anthropocentrism—of my fellow scientific colleagues. The principle of my experiment might well have been debated, whether by syllogism or antilogy, but I was prepared for whatever outcome awaited.

During my days at university, I had studied anthropometry and anthropogeny; yet it was physics and the cosmos that truly transfixed me, particularly the rotation of ellipses manifesting in the prolate and oblate spheroids of undiscovered planets. Prior to my principal discoveries, I had experimented with gradual phantasmagorias—bizarre visions of mutants and androids—in a form reminiscent of metensomatosis.

These terrible dreams disturbed me daily, presenting a hypotyposis that transcended even my intrigue with cosmosophy. I surmised that these surreal visions were aligned, in some manner, to an undefined motive—one I could not grasp at the time.

I can still remember vividly the moment when the abnormal event transpired, and the exact sequence of events that ensued. On that day in the year 1908, the morning had passed uneventfully, without the slightest incident. I was alone in my laboratory when I noticed the sun glaring relentlessly through the window.

The chirping of sparrows grew strangely intense, rising to a deep, piercing shrill, while the flame of my candle remained unnaturally invariable. Then, the most unbelievable occurrence began to unfold, disrupting my thoughts entirely. The flame did not waver, yet the fire was unmistakably there; I felt its heat when I touched it. Looking out of the window, I saw that the position of the sun had not shifted, nor did the sparrows stir.

It compelled me to investigate whether this phenomenon was endogenous or exogenous. It seemed as if time itself had come to a standstill. I then heard a strange noise resounding from an as-yet undetermined source. As I drew closer, I perceived the origin of the sound: it was the vintage pocket watch I had placed on the table. My heightened curiosity drove me to ascertain the veracity of this unusual occurrence. I saw that the hands of the clock had stopped, frozen at the same hour and minute.

When I picked up the pocket watch to adjust the time, I moved the hands forward, and they began to spin rapidly, whirling until they abruptly halted. At that precise moment, I experienced a sudden, acute and palpable sense of heightened awareness. I observed attentively the bright electromagnetic currents flowing before me—sparkling orbs in an indeterminate orbit.

I was travelling through time, though ambiguously, and was unaware of how many years were passing indiscriminately. This indomitable force of nature seemed incongruous with the conventional principles of physics. I felt the heat radiating from these brilliant orbs as I spiralled deeper into uncertainty and awe.

When the occurrence finally ceased, I found myself in the year 1928—precisely 20 years beyond the date of my original presence. How I had arrived there, I could not immediately fathom. How this remarkable and rare event had come to pass remained a mystery. The next thing I noticed was the peculiar sight of my laboratory: it had changed, rearranged in a manner entirely unfamiliar to me.

At first, I was unaware of the change, until I began to look around the laboratory more closely. My watch indicated the hour was ten o’clock in the morning. I did not yet know the precise day, month, or year—until my eyes fell upon an almanac on the wall. At that moment, I heard an audible sound approaching and immediately sensed a shift, as if gravity itself had momentarily intensified. The door then opened, and in stepped the butler, Mr Hawkins; but his appearance had altered completely. He was now an elderly man, well into his eighties, frail in constitution. I would not have recognised him so easily were it not for his distinctive height.

His gait was symphoric and unmistakably slowed by age. The pallor of his countenance starkly revealed the toll of passing years. I stood before him as he entered. Though I sensed he was somehow aware of my presence, I was invisible to his naked eye. How was my presence undetected? Had this unnatural phenomenon contributed to such an inexplicable occurrence? After a brief moment, he departed, and my gaze was drawn to a stack of papers—a thesis resting on the adjacent table. I picked them up and began to peruse the contents.

The thesis described in detail a supposed theory I had written in the future, concerning the actuality of time travel and a mechanical contrivance called the Omnis—Latin for “all.” I was struck by a wave of absorbing confusion and incredulity, leaving me utterly pensive. Though I could not yet comprehend the full scope of my fantastical journey through time, I began gradually to grasp its significance through the pages of this thesis, which elucidated the theory. It was a trove of information, rich with the formulas and mathematical calculations that revealed the astonishing process behind this extraordinary eventuality—a most enthralling disclosure.

What was meticulously stated corresponded precisely to the doxastic theory I discovered thereafter. The cause of the abnormality lay in a vortex that allowed time to recoil in circular motions, wherein the universe, teeming with elemental forces, rotated like a cosmic wheel—all in the same direction, yet paradoxical in its properties. The circle spun at tremendous speed, with the centrifugal force preventing the gravitational collapse that might otherwise have ensued.

This phenomenon permitted passage into an alternate universe, where existing electrons could coexist simultaneously in distinct orbits, effectively giving rise to a parallel universe. The peril lay in its susceptibility to quantum effects, which could result in catastrophic consequences if the gravitational balance of these loops were insufficiently maintained.

The harnessing of negative energy between parallel plates was paramount for achieving the critical synchronisation required, necessitating an enormous quantity. It challenged Newton’s assertions—and those of other physicists—that time travel was relatively impossible, as this occurrence defied established laws of physics. Newton had famously stated that for every action, there must be an equal and opposite reaction. Yet, there was an underlying simplicity within this apparent inconsistency that proved indispensable to the phenomenon and its theoretical framework.

The universe, in this sense, was akin to the Pantheon of Rome or the Olympus of Greece in its preponderance, a grand structure presiding over all. There existed a zenith—a pinnacle—and a point of no return intrinsic to the theory. The structure of this domain followed a prescribed cause and effect: the cause being the interruption in the sequential existence of both universes, creating the vortex or black hole; the effect being the blatant encroachment and intrusive actions triggered by this chain reaction. It was analogous to the visible spectrum witnessed in a rainbow, where colours emerge through the separation of light’s components by their varying degrees of refraction, each corresponding to a wavelength generated by radiation.

Newton’s Principia formulated the laws of motion and universal gravitation, but the vital entropy and computations deduced within it exposed the profound complexity inherent in nature. Entropy, as a concept, possessed dimensions of energy distinguished by pure essence—akin to the quotidian vicissitudes of the sun’s and moon’s energy cycles.

Or, it resembled the vibrant electromagnetic waves of a phonograph, modulated by the subtle variations of a secondary recording at lower frequency. Nature was replete with these subtle irregularities, like cryptic alliterations woven into the stanzas of a poem. These were the postulates of this revolutionary process, sustained through retention, transcending mere metaphysical speculation. Henceforth, empirical evidence suggested that the equations defining the necessary density for temporal travel were demonstrable and conceivable, provided that the congruence of manifestation allowed for mutual coexistence.

The matrix of that density, proportioned in equilibrium, could enhance and initiate the formation of an aperture in the universe, thus enabling the progression of the phenomenon. It was as potent as a rapid bolt of lightning, its energy massive and precisely correlated. The juncture where these two worlds converged provoked the sequence of events that permitted my traversal through time, harnessing the speed of light as its conduit. If this occurrence indeed eventuated, it would explain why the present hour in which I found myself had been affected. It could also elucidate why the transmitted energy transported me into this parallel world or futuristic point in time.

This dominant component of that power would inevitably supervene, culminating in the formation of a temporary black hole. However, it also implied that a collision between two parallel worlds could result in absolute destruction for both—a sobering and cautionary prospect. The pressing question was: how long could this phenomenon endure? My foresight could only gauge the singularity or aberration itself, as I had no means of determining the precise duration of its effect, except that, according to my theory, it was merely a transient occurrence.

As I continued reading the rest of the material, I noticed my vision beginning to blur, and everything around me started to dissolve. Once again, the motion of the objects surrounding me gradually slowed and suspended, as the circumfulgent, flashing orbs suddenly reappeared. I glanced at my pocket watch and saw the hands spinning wildly forward, out of control.

My senses indicated that I was travelling through time once more. The sequence of movements had reactivated the mechanism propelling me into the future. It felt like a disembodied experience, inconceivable within the established precepts of physics. I had no perception of how long this transmission through time lasted.

All I knew was that it occurred within a brief interval—no longer than perhaps twenty minutes at most. I was powerless to halt the passage of time; I was entirely at its mercy. My only solace lay in the predictability of its dynamic progression.

The interaction finally yielded to time, and this time, I found myself in the distant future—two hundred years ahead. It was the year 2128, and I was back in my laboratory. The transport across each interval was inherently indifferent to the year recorded, as the wavelengths I occupied were not constrained by the passage of time. The sheer volume of energy flowing was sufficient to activate the necessary transmission of light. What had once seemed like an obsolete thought had now transformed into an essential presupposition.

The physics of the early 20th century did not entirely rule out the possibility of such a predestined event as the one I had just experienced. The timeline I had entered was a true reflection of an undiscovered realm of the universe. Should this controversial interpretation be deemed illogical or contentious, it could be regarded as both hazardous and pernicious.

I had adhered to the theory I had formulated, which seemed to be undeniably effective. The embedded patterns of thought had not caused me to stray from the idealistic vision of a possible utopia existing within the structure of society. What remained uncertain was the composition of that society. It would only be defined and brought to fruition by processing this new development.

I then pondered the moisture in the air, the cumuli that form when warm pressure cools and condenses, signaling the arrival of a storm. Or perhaps the vivid arrangement of the planets, which, though far removed from Earth, still function through the same principle of rotation.

Streams flow in currents, following a set path, but ultimately converging at the mouth of a river. All of these actions are no different from the natural stages of their operations. The active components of these phenomena are inherently tied to the composition that arises afterward.

What is truly remarkable is the subtle indication that materialises as a discernible trace of its presence. Within the Earth, there are properties that allow the function of phenomena that remain both unknown and inexplicable. A pending earthquake or an approaching hurricane are natural occurrences that remain beyond full comprehension.

If you are questioning whether my claims are merely an elaborate and fabricated deception, I refer you to prior theories, many of which were once refuted, yet later found to be true in time. If the phenomena I describe align with modern science, they mirror the process I experienced, serving as a promising sign of something unfolding.

I found myself standing alone in the chamber, singularly pensive. The year was determined to be 2118, as I saw the date displayed on what appeared to be a digital almanac embedded in a computed device. Before me stood a strange machine, projecting illusions—holograms—that shimmered in the dim light. The laboratory was in complete disarray, long abandoned. Heavy vines and xanthic moss protruded throughout the lab and house, overtaking the once orderly space.

At first, the remarkable machine projected only a simple reflection of myself, mirrored across opposite ends of halation. A sudden, simultaneous impulse was triggered when I touched the visual screen. Immediately, the image of a man appeared, speaking in a unique dialect that seemed to be a derivative form of English. I listened closely, striving to decipher the recorded voice.

I was astonished by the function and capacity of this device—not merely to project an image, but to transmit the voice of a man with such clarity. As a man of the early 20th century, I had only heard of recordings made on apparatuses like the phonograph and had seen images captured in developed photographs and antiquated daguerreotypes. Yet I had envisioned devices like these ipsographic machines many times in thought.

Afterwards, I travelled into the future once again, to the year 5068, and heard a suspiciously loud noise coming from an adjacent room as soon as my operative cognition had materialised. When I opened the door, I was confronted by a large mechanical contrivance—an automaton with a steel-plated wheel that rotated in sequence. A thick band held the wheel firmly in place, surrounded by large bolts securing it with formidable protection. It was a towering image of a fantastic invention, the like of which I had never seen before.

It was as colossal as the isomorphism between the Colosseum of Rome and the pyramids of Egypt. What was this incredible machine, actuated by pure energy? I was soon to discover that it was a device activated to record the passage of time. This ultimately meant it was the source that allowed the passage of time I had utilised.

I did not fully understand the consequences. What I had previously theorised was about to be revealed. I immediately began to feel a chilling effect, frigolabile in nature, as I noticed that the laboratory’s windows were tightly sealed with plywood and nails. The door leading to the hall of the house was stiff and unyielding.

When I opened it, I saw the hall was covered in ice from top to bottom, and a frozen corpse was sitting on the ground, stone dead. The corpse was that of a man. It appeared he could have died from any number of maladies, such as frostbite or thromboembolism.

It was impossible to conceive that his deceased body would be discovered approximately 3,170 years later. Had I, or someone else, preserved him in this suspended state of congelation for the purpose of scientific conservation? I was so astonished by the possibility that I fell, though I was not injured. I crawled across the frosty, icy floor.

When I reached the front door, I beheld a shocking sight. A stark expanse of ice and snow surrounded my house, and the temperature was well below freezing. No other house was visible nearby; all the bustling streets and buildings of London had vanished.

The metropolitan buildings were roofless and dilapidated—I was seemingly standing before a new ice age. It had been millions of years since the last ice age, and I could hardly believe what I was seeing. There was no one in sight for kilometres, except for a lone stranger approaching from the distance.

A tempest began to stir the dormant winds and sweep across the earth. The cerulean sky that had once covered London in my bygone days had turned into an ashen mass of mist, and the tree branches were coated in solid icicles. The sun I had once enjoyed immensely was nowhere to be seen, and the animals that had once roamed the earth were gone.

Did this stunning phenomenon of the ice age truly cause the absolute disintegration of the human society I had once known? I attempted to process, through my noesis, the telic antinomy that was too involute to ascertain by mere zetetic inference. Could anyone possibly have predicted the paralogism that had developed up to that point?

It was extremely difficult to substantiate this probative analogy with a tergiversation, considering I had created the mirific 'Omnis' for the preservation of knowledge—not for such a calamitous exaptation. Had I overstepped my bounds, venturing beyond the limits of my vision into an anachronism in which I was now ensnared? The very possibility of that hypothesis only compounded the convolution, further obfuscating the contiguity of that realisation. The visible reduction in the temperature of the Earth's surface and atmosphere had resulted in the existential expansion of continental and polar ice sheets, with alpine glaciers circumjacent and ubiquitous.

What I witnessed was a cold period marked by extensive glaciation that manifested subsequently. Increased aridity had accompanied the glacial maxima, reducing the precipitation necessary to sustain the advancing glaciers. Thus, the atmospheric composition—such as the active concentrations of carbon dioxide and methane—and changes in the Earth’s orbit around the sun began to disrupt the continental and oceanic crusts of the Earth’s surface, affecting the courses of both wind and ocean currents.

It was extremely difficult to substantiate this probative analogy with a tergiversation, when I had created the mirific 'Omnis' for the preservation of knowledge, not for a calamitous exaptation. Had I ultracrepidated, exceeding the capacity of my vision of this anachronism in which I was involved? The possibility of that hypothesis only compounded the convolution that had obfuscated the contiguity of that realisation. The visible reduction in the temperature of the Earth's surface and atmosphere had resulted in the existential expansion of continental and polar ice sheets, with alpine glaciers that were circumjacent and ubiquitous.

What I had witnessed was a cold period marked by the extensive glaciation that followed. Increased aridity transpired alongside glacial maxima, which reduced the precipitation necessary to sustain the prevailing glaciation. Thus, the atmospheric composition—such as active concentrations of carbon dioxide and methane—and changes in the Earth's orbit around the Sun began to disrupt the continental and oceanic crust on the Earth's surface, which in turn affected the course of the wind and ocean currents.

I was deeply affected by the ghastly outcome that had befallen the home and environs I had once known. How could humanity have gone so astray, causing this dreadful consequence—a veritable barathrum? Did humanity not have another reasonable recourse to seek or implement, instead of acting irrationally? Where was the altruism of those naturalists who had once championed the ideals of protecting the Earth and its multitudinous species? Science had been forsaken, corrupted by greed and monopoly.

In spite of this atrocious reality, there were still some who strove for the betterment of the Earth and humanity. I had chosen to be one of those brave scientists of history—not of Panglossianism. History will judge me favourably, for my actions, not my discrepancies.

The stranger who had seen me advanced towards my vicinity. At first, I could not distinguish him from afar, but what I descried was the figure of a deformed mutant of depravity, who was male. His dishevelled and threadbare appearance frightened me, reminding me of the abominable mutants I had dreamt of before.

I sensed that I was perhaps the first human he had seen in many years. Then, an inexplicable incident occurred: the winds intensified, causing a chain reaction that precipitated a blustery and bitter cold, with substantial ice covering the landscape and freezing everything in its path—including the bizarre mutant, who was a few kilometres away from me. The storm gradually manifested into what appeared to be the onset of another ice age.

I knew that my time was running out before the full effect of the ice age would inevitably reach me. I quickly returned inside my laboratory to study the mechanical device that had fascinated me since my arrival. What intrigued me most was the fact that it never ceased operating, and I discovered an invisible and magnetic field of energy guarding the mechanical device.

It was indeed the most magnificent invention ever assembled in human history. The prodigious, large cogwheel rings with their peristrephic teeth and gears operated with flawless precision alongside the axis of the mechanism, as the glaring numbers of the years gradually advanced.

I had never before seen such a device of sequential order perform with such phonophorous and mathematical precision. It was inevitable that the acclamation of science was effectuated through the brilliance of advancement and dedication. It was a lamentable shame that the ideas of a few contrasted with the prevailing views of the vanguard or the elitists.

I had been challenged through provocation and rebuke; my theories were deemed fanciful in nature, not consilient. Despite that, I had apprehended the true extent of man's innovation and imagination. Centuries of enquiry and investigation had culminated in this riveting invention and process. There was an abundant resource of information and details to be retrieved and analysed from the 'Omnis'.

Within my thesis, there was a diagramme that accurately described the functions and capabilities of the machine. Somehow, through my numerous voyages in time, I had designed the 'Omnis' for the sole purpose of preserving the entire human race. This admission, once accepted, revealed a principle that was regrettably not upheld by posterity.

I began to sense my time evaporating and, as on previous occasions, was compelled to experience another episode of time travel as the solid ice began to penetrate the room. This time, I was travelling into the past. The hands of my pocket watch began to spin counterclockwise as I stood motionless in observation. As I travelled, I saw haunting glimpses of the past—yes, the past from which I had originally come. A sequence of events unfolded before me, showing how humans, in their desperate need for self-preservation, had created androids to run the world.

Due to an external plague of cagastric origin, humans had been reduced to a mutant form of their allogeneous nature, reverted into an albescent deformity. It was not war that had destroyed humanity, but rather the spread of an anaerectic disease. Remarkably, the regression of the past revealed itself to me. The history of my past was intertwined with the mechanical device—orbific in nature—and the ineffable circumstances that had resulted. I had created this device in the future, some five thousand years ahead, through paragnosis.

The mysterious vortex or black hole had been fabricated by the achromatic keepers of the universe, who chose to remain innominate in omneity. I was in a parallel world that had existed—but it was the future. I had returned to the world I knew in 1908. As for the futuristic society I had once envisaged, it was no utopia, but a dystopian manifestation of miscalculations. Humans were never entitled to the earth, the world, by mere birthright. They were born to rule—and to be conquered—by the very machines they had constructed.

As I prepared myself for the uncertainty of the moment within my laboratory, my eyes were drawn to a faint glint beneath the layers of detritus that had gathered over the centuries it seemed. With cautious steps, I approached the source of that glimmer. There, partially concealed within the frozen debris, was a metal chest encrusted with ice. I went outside and knelt, as my fingers were trembling—not from the cold alone, but from an uncanny sense of fate converging.

With effort, I prised the chest open. Inside lay a collection of ancient parchments, bound by a ribbon frayed with age yet resilient against the ruin of time. I lifted them gently, noticing the ink was curiously well-preserved, as though it had awaited this very moment of rediscovery. As I unfurled the first parchment, my heart pounded with a mixture of dread and wonder. They were schematics—diagrams and formulae written in my own hand, yet from a time I could not immediately place.

The more I pored over the parchments, the more I realised their profound relevance. Hidden within the intricate diagrams and fragmented formulae were theories of energy transfer, temporal distortion, and cosmic equilibrium—concepts that resonated eerily with my own studies of the Omnis. Yet these parchments predated any known publication of such advanced thought, as though they were remnants of an intelligence operating outside the accepted timeline of human discovery.

Each parchment chronicled knowledge I had once thought lost: the foundational blueprints of the Omnis, treatises on the nature of time, and annotations that hinted at a deeper wisdom I had only begun to grasp. Amongst them was a letter, addressed—to my future self.

"If you have found these parchments," it began, "know that the cycle endures not in vain, but in hope. The knowledge within these pages is the seed of salvation, waiting to be sown by hands yet to come. Preserve them, and with them, preserve humanity’s final chance."

A profound stillness overcame me, and I realised that my existence, my sacrifices, were not an isolated struggle but part of a grander continuum. The parchments were a testament—not only to survival but to resilience and foresight.

It was not merely the content that astonished me but the implications: these documents suggested that the seeds of my inventions and theories might have been sown long before my own time, that there existed a lineage of thinkers who had glimpsed the same universal truths but were silenced, forgotten, or simply too far ahead of their era to be understood.

The parchments, though incomplete and deteriorating, offered a tantalising glimpse into this lost continuum of knowledge. I began to transcribe and analyse them meticulously, determined to preserve and decipher their meaning. They were a convergence between epochs—between forgotten wisdom and my own futuristic aspirations.

In their faded ink and delicate fibres lay an enduring message: that knowledge is not bound by a single age or individual but is a cumulative force, passed down through time in fragments, waiting to be rediscovered and advanced. The parchments had become my new compass, guiding my resolve to continue the work of unravelling the mysteries of existence.

As I set my words to ink documenting my findings, I felt a quiet yet profound certainty. Though the Omnis could not physically exist in this time, its essence—the preservation and pursuit of ultimate knowledge—was very much alive within these parchments. They were the missing link, affirming that my mission was part of a much larger, timeless endeavour.

And in that revelation, I found both solace and renewed purpose.

The parchments also alluded, in veiled terms, to the phenomenon of temporal displacement—a concept that, until my own experiences, I had thought purely speculative. Their subtle references to "folds in the aeon" and "transitory breaches in the fabric of existence" seemed to corroborate the strange occurrences I had endured. Time travel, it appeared, was not a singular anomaly but an intrinsic part of a deeper, hidden order of the universe. This realisation reinforced my belief that my voyages through time were neither accidental nor isolated, but part of an intricate pattern yet to be fully understood—a pattern whispered through the ages and now, at last, partially unveiled.

Clutching them to my chest, I pondered the meaning of their discovery. I now understood that though my time might soon cease, the parchments would endure—a message across the ages, a beacon for those who would one day rise again.

The final vision that lingered in my mind was not of destruction, but of quiet hope—hope inscribed in ink and safeguarded by time itself.

And so, I waited, steadfastly, as the realisation consumed all but the undying pulse of human perseverance. Each tick of the clock echoed the silent march of fate, and though uncertainty clouded the horizon, I felt anchored by an unspoken resolve. In that stillness, I grasped the enduring truth: that whilst the mechanisms of time might shift and falter, the spirit of inquiry and survival remains immutable, propelling humanity ever forward, even in the face of oblivion.

I had obtained comprehension then of the nature of the applicable energy that enveloped and engrossed me. This energy pertained to the protean matter that revolves around the cosmos. The vast universe is governed by the scientific laws and mathematical computations of boundless infinity. The Omnis was beyond anything Ada Lovelace and George Boole could ever have envisaged. The remaining enigma, still insoluble, was: when would the portal of time occlude forever? When would the eternal automaton called the Omnis cease its singular circumvolution? The answer, perhaps, was never.

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