Storm Wolf: Tranquil waters - 7. Chapter 2 World- 2.1

World: In the palm of my paw, so... vast yet small.

I stared at the ceiling of the dormitory, indulging in a moment of idleness.

I didn't really mind dreaming about sword practice, but I wouldn't object to dreaming about something more pleasant, like... like... oh, Rationalism, how could I be so pathetic?

However, another part of dream...

I placed my palm over the left side of my chest, feeling my heart still pounding fiercely, accompanied by a strange emotion. It felt a bit like... a rhythm had skipped a beat.

Is this what heart palpitations feel like? Should I go to the medical bay?

A rustling sound interrupted my thoughts, drawing my attention to a change in a vibration pattern, shifting closer to a waking state.

I sprang out of bed, landing softly on all fours without making a sound. My skills in moving silently were already honed to perfection.

The morning routine had changed slightly. When you could control water flow with your consciousness, cleanliness became a breeze.

I was still exploring if control on such a level could induce phase changes, creating supercritical fluids would not only be cool but also highly practical. So far, I hadn't found any method to achieve my goal, but I kept experimenting with new strategies.

Today, I concentrated water molecules into a single point, attempting to force them into a lattice structure. If I could exert ten billion pascals of pressure with just my thoughts, I could create ice VI tetragonal crystals.

Thinking about it, the goal seemed a bit ambitious, but I believed practice was the only path to perfection.

Bathing and drying now took less than a minute, and I no longer worried about hanging clothes to dry, giving me more time to hang from the bar, exploring what else I could do.

I relaxed my consciousness, watching the perfectly round water droplets, shimmering in the morning sunlight.

I flicked my tail to adjust my slightly slipping position, continuing to hang from the metal bar.

Glancing at the inconspicuous drying rack in the corner, an indescribable emotion welled up within me.

I couldn't remember how I first noticed it there, perhaps only a desperate and helpless soul like mine would think of the rack's purpose. Maybe it was an antique from an era before cleaning machines became widespread, forgotten in that corner.

Regardless, I was grateful for the assistance it had provided these days. Someday, another wolf with similar troubles might find what they need in that inconspicuous corner.

Maybe I should leave a message, encouraging future wolves to try controlling water flow with their consciousness?

But I didn't understand the logic behind it myself, so perhaps not.

Is all of this connected? All the strange occurrences in my life and what I'm capable of? Which are the causes, and which are the effects?

Perhaps one day I would find the answer, but right now, I just wanted to know if I could crystallize water at room temperature.

So, basking in the warm morning sunlight and feeling the dawn breeze rustling through every strand of fur, I exerted all my might, applying mental pressure to the thumb-sized droplet, hoping the wildest possibility would become reality.

I never expected it to leave me exhausted. At least I knew my limits, providing a reference for the future.

It was no exaggeration to say I could barely lift a spoon; the pudding in my bowl felt like permafrost, difficult to scoop.

I had no mental energy to spare for external matters, so for the first time, I genuinely didn't notice anything happening in the cafeteria without pretending.

Until an object entered my now narrow, blind-spot-filled perception range in a parabolic arc, and didn't land on me as expected, I turned to see Piqsirpoq standing nearby. The entire cafeteria fell silent, the air seemed to freeze, and all eyes were on Piqsirpoq.

I raised my gaze, following the white wolf's raised left arm to see a red, moisture-laden berry clutched in his hand. Red juice trickled down the fur of his arm, some staining his white shirt, while others gathered at the soaked fur tips before dripping to the floor.

He placed the burst fruit on my tray, creating a splattered pattern with the juice and seeds. Then, he slowly scanned the entire cafeteria, missing no angle. The only sound was my own swallowing.

By catching the fruit aimed at me, Piqsirpoq sent a clear message, and I think everyone got it.

Only after he set his tray down and left did the subdued murmurs return, but I noticed many glances still darting towards the cafeteria entrance, as if afraid Piqsirpoq might return.

Well, that was... dramatic?

I looked at the fruit on my tray, identifying it as a solanaceous plant's berry from its prominent calyx and seed structure. I poked at it with a spoon, debating whether I should eat it - it seemed wasteful otherwise.

"...So, the War of Succession for the Grand Duchy of Australia ultimately saw the Maned Wolf House emerge victorious. This marked the first and, so far, only time in history that a non-pedigree dog family acquired a grand duchy-level feudal jurisdiction. However, under the coordination of Dust, the then Emperor of the empire, who hailed from the Ash faction, the Dingo House were allowed to retain Tasmania as their family territory.

"In the subsequent courses, the biology master will explain why this is a deeply ironic event. Some believe it was a twisted jest by Dust, as many scholars argue that he wasn't as wise as he appeared. But that's another chapter of history.

"The newly appointed Archduke of Australia, Parma, was recognized by the Emperor and the other eight Archdukes as the holder of the Empire's Fang after his coronation. Naturally, the Dingoes were quite vocal about this, arguing that the law prohibiting flagship involvement in Gaia's domain conflicts was the main reason they lost the war. Now, having to hand over the most powerful starship in the solar system was simply unacceptable to them.

"However, the Dingoes' protests were ignored. The ownership of the Empire's flagship and the archduke title are inseparable, one of the empire's foundational laws. That the Dingoes were allowed to retain the rest of the Empire's Fang fleet, excluding the flagship, was already a generous concession.

"Archduke Parma, eager to prove his worth as the only non-pedigree archduke, made many rash decisions. Among the most criticized was his handling of the feline refugee crisis, which ultimately resulted in the 'Lunar orbit massacre.' We will delve into this in detail in later chapters."

Master Klin descended from the podium and paced near the front row.

"History has no beginning or end. Everything that has happened and will happen is a ripple from the Big Bang." He raised his hand and pointed to the projection screen. "If the Golden House hadn't conspired for a century to annex the entirety of America, the Maned Wolf House wouldn't have migrated to Australia, and there wouldn't have been a War of Succession."

The screen now displayed the migration route of the Maned Wolf House and the changes in control areas during the War of Succession.

"Without the Maned Wolves' victory over the Dingoes, the feline exodus wouldn't have occurred, nor would the ensuing tragedy. What motivated the Golden House to unify America, and how did they succeed?" He glanced towards the back of the lecture hall, likely checking the time. "We'll continue this next class. Don't forget this week's assignment: 'Succession Rights and Feudal Legitimacy.'"

After most of the students had left the hall, I approached Master Klin, hoping to get answers to some troubling questions.

"Why..." I greeted the master, who gave me an encouraging smile. "Why, as fellow oppressed beings, couldn't the Maned Wolves..." I struggled to find the right words to express my thoughts. "...empathize with the fleeing felines?"

"That assumption might be a bit too hasty, Richter," the master said as he packed his things. "Why do you think the Maned Wolves didn't empathize with the felines?"

"But..." I had never considered this possibility. "...if that's the case, wouldn't it mean that the Maned Wolves, despite knowing the pain of oppression, did the same thing as their oppressors?" The thought sent chills down my spine.

"That's also a possibility." The master met my gaze, his ears slightly tilting towards me. "You seem to be suggesting that it's illogical for the Maned Wolves to become what they should have opposed?"

I nodded, maintaining eye contact, firm in my stance.

"So, you believe the Maned Wolves should place their own interests and those of the felines on equal footing?" The master's pupils narrowed slightly, and his ear movements became more pronounced.

"It sounds..." I swallowed but didn't back down, forcing myself to stay calm. "...logical."

Master Klin relaxed his expression, straightened his ears, and tilted his head slightly, chuckling and patting my arm.

"Richter, you might be smart, but your knowledge is evidently not yet sufficient to wield logic as a tool in debates." He lifted his black briefcase and adjusted his tie with his other hand. "I'm not saying your idea is contradictory, not at all." He smiled and tilted his head, signaling with his eyes for me to notice my drooping ears. "Defending your position with just..." he tilted his head the other way. "...emotion, isn't enough."

What did that mean? I pondered the master's khaki suit, flicking my ears back up.

"I believe we will have more opportunities to discuss this in-depth in the future. If you take Eulap's classes seriously, you'll understand what you're missing." He tilted his head again, glancing at the electronic clock at the back of the hall. "You're almost late for that class."

At the master's hint, I thanked him, grabbed my backpack, and left the hall.

As I climbed the stairs to another floor, I pondered what I was lacking. So, believing that everyone should understand each other and not just hurt each other is purely emotional?

Entering the philosophy floor, I found the lecture hall and, as usual, chose a seat away from others.

I've never really understood where philosophy fits in with logic or why it's called the mother of science. To me, it seems like an overestimation. My mind was still in a whirl from the last class's "Trolley Problem," struggling to see the practical use of thought experiments beyond creating self-inflicted confusion.

But since Master Klin said so, I figured he knew something I didn't. So, I let my tail drop, tried to keep an open mind, and prepared to tackle the self-inflicted challenges left by philosophers thousands of years ago.

"...The world is filled with various injustices, pain, and sorrow." Philosophy Master Eulap enjoyed moving through the seating area, encouraging interaction. "As gray wolves under the Senate's protection, you might not fully grasp the daily struggles of enslavement, abuse, and genocide faced by others." The master turned gracefully, his shoes tapping on the floor. "However, pain is pain, though its degree might differ. Even something as trivial as the cafeteria's food synthesizer failing to produce the dish you want is a form of suffering."

Some students laughed. I stifled the urge to roll my eyes, wondering if they truly understood what it meant to have the synthesizer constantly fail to make the food you wanted.

"So one day, the world's most capable individuals gathered to solve the problem of 'pain' once and for all. After much research, debate, and experimentation, they found the solution." The master returned to the front of the podium, arms outstretched. "The experience machine!"

The wolf stepped back, returning to the podium, slightly lifting his head and solemnly declaring. Some students chuckled, waking up a few who had dozed off.

"A machine that can give you any joyful experience you can think of, perfect and without flaw! The smallest moment, the greatest joy, the wildest fantasy, there is no scenario the experience machine can't create!" The master's tone now resembled that of a logic extremist delivering a speech, and I thought he would excel in such a role. "Don't misunderstand; the experience machine doesn't just provide joyful experiences. It can fulfill any experience you desire." The master lowered his hands, tilting his head slightly forward. "Challenges, pain, suffering? From zero to one hundred, in any detail, you name it!"

"The only question remaining is," the master resumed his upright stance, returned to the podium, and surveyed the hall, letting his words sink in. "Would you enter the experience machine and live there forever?"

The previously sleepy students were now wide awake, with some wolves showing keen interest.

I had no idea this topic would captivate them.

I refocused, feeling a stir deep within me.

Could I experience anything I wanted? That means... becoming... anyone?

"I wouldn't enter the experience machine," a voice said. I continued staring at my desk, fidgeting with my hands. "Fake experiences are meaningless."

"How do you know what's a fake experience?" the philosophy master said slowly. "How can you be sure you're not just a brain in a vat, immersed in a solution with electrodes attached?"

Hmm... that's a good question. I often feel like a brain soaking in a vat.

"Uh... but I..." The voice hesitated, struggling to articulate something so obvious.

Yes, how do we explain that I am me, the sky is blue, the sea is green, and I'm here daydreaming? The simpler, the more fundamental something is, the harder it seems to explain clearly.

Or rather, is an explanation even necessary? Does this prove that the essence itself has some redundant flaw? Isn't pure existence a self-evident truth?

"I'm sitting here, speaking," the wolf finally tried to describe their current state.

"You 'feel' yourself sitting, speaking, and seeing things--all electrical signals in the brain." Master Eulap pointed to his head. "External electrical stimulation can perfectly simulate your current sensations. This technology existed centuries ago, used to help the blind regain sight or simulate other senses." The master waved his hand, and the screen showed an image of a pair of goggles with wires, chips, and twelve pairs of neural network diagrams. "Applying it to those with normal physiological functions has some limitations, but overall, what was once a thought experiment has long been reality."

"But even if I can't distinguish between real and virtual, deciding to enter the experience machine knowing all future experiences are fake makes everything meaningless, so there's no motivation to enter."

Fake and... real? I tapped my fingernail slowly on the desk.

"So, being able to ensure the reality or falsehood is the most crucial premise?"

The master continued the dialogue, possibly trying to prompt everyone to think about their motivations and whether they align with the ultimate goal.

Oh, so that's where the logical aspect of philosophy lies. The key isn't necessarily about solving the problem but in the process of proposing ideas, self-examining, and debating.

But at the moment, I wasn't in the mood to marvel at the subtlety of the mother of sciences or to feel excited about finally understanding this point.

I still couldn't stop imagining what I would see after entering the experience machine. Maybe it would just be endless emptiness.

How enviable it is to be so decisive, to be able to reject entering the experience machine simply because they believe those happy experiences are fake.