Our third, and final, part of “A Journey Into Yifaka Mountain” can be found right below.
And, with that in mind, let’s dive right into things!
Her Name Was Amanika
On a day that passed so very long ago, a woman named Amanika conducted an experiment.
The focal point of this experiment was an experimental tool.
A conceptual structure that, she was told, grows, develops, creates, produces, evolves — and so on and so forth, endlessly and infinitely; ad infinitum — an infinite wealth of mental programs, beliefs, assumptions, states of being, habits; and so on and so forth, endlessly and infinitely; ad infinitum.
Right within this technology, and the infinite paths, potentials, possibilities — ad infinitum — it allows for, there is a deep, rich hunger that guides Amanika towards one particular possibility.
The possibility of a mental program, embedded within the fabric of her mind, that would grow.
Grow and generate and produce — ad infinitum — across and within — ad infinitum — an infinite wealth of levels, depths, spaces, aesthetics, minds, thought-matrices — and so on and so forth, endlessly and infinitely; ad infinitum — a neverending abundance of functions, processes, algorithms; and so on and so forth, endlessly and infinitely; ad infinitum.
Every single one of these functions, processes, algorithms — ad infinitum — is rooted within big numbers, infinity, eternity, endlessness, googology; and so on and so forth, endlessly and infinitely; ad infinitum.
A single function might be, and was, something like the following: plexing the number 100,000,000,000,000,000, across that number of millenia, while each plex is conducted at an infinite speed within infinite moments.
Right within that single function, there is the production, and exploration, of infinite numbers.
Yet another function is an elaborate visual involving a car that runs at any speed that, in turn, directs the number of plexes that occur within a single body of time.
Eventually, when set in the proper manner, the car runs at an infinite speed that conducts an infinite number of plexes and, when paired with greater energies and forces, transcends mathematics, as well as infinity, itself.
Just beyond these functions, there are others, as well; architecture conceptions that involve infinite architectures that contain, grow, and generate — ad infinitum — infinite spaces and infinite paracosms and infinite conceptions — ad infinitum — of infinity and endlessness and eternity — ad infinitum — and possibility and paths and potentials — ad infinitum — and stories and myths and paracosms; and so on and so forth, endlessly and infinitely; ad infinitum.
Yet another function, grown from that one, is the container conception; vast, infinite-dimensional containers that hold, generate, grow — ad infinitum — infinite items and quantities and collections — ad infinitum.
And so on and so forth, endlessly and infinitely; ad infinitum.
Even if Amanika were to use these conceptions to dive into, explore, and engage with — ad infinitum — the infinite infinities of a single set within a set within a set within a body — ad infinitum — within the mental program, she would never, ever reach the end or any sort of limits; ad infinitum.
And, it is that fact, coupled with so many wonderful others, that inspires Amanika.
Or, rather, inspired Amanika, for it appears that she is no longer with us.
A vague series of recollections are clarified within the document. But, these are hazy and unclear, prompting Amara to close “Experiment Log #00608,” followed by her transferring the program onto her data-sphere.
A Further Exploration
A period of several days is spent within the laboratory.
Slowly, but surely, Amara combs through the vast wealth of programs found within the terminal.
Many of them are remarkable.
And, as such, many of them make their way onto Amara’s data-sphere.
Right within this period, Amara enjoys food grown from the food synthesizer; a wealth of salads, meats, pies, cakes, and cold, icy beverages.
During the night, Amara sleeps on the mattress that lies right underneath the desk.
Eventually, though, the day comes when every program has been accounted for and every program that needs to be transferred has, in fact, been transferred.
And, when that day arises, Amara chooses to leave.
Choosing To Leave
On the day that Amara chooses to leave, she finds something underneath her mattress.
A small square door.
Right underneath this small square door, there is a ladder.
A rusty, metal ladder that leads into a damp, dark space.
Surrounding the space, and Amara herself, are walls made of dirt and moss; water flowing across the walls; small patches of mud lining the floors; as well as a faint light that seems to flow ahead of Amara, with every step.
Slowly, but surely, Amara walks through the passage.
Eventually, a large space, with tall ceilings that reveal a wealth of light, is unveiled.
Right within this space, there is a small, cramped passage ahead.
Just beyond the passage, though, there are walls made of dirt and the limbs of trees, coupled with a ceiling that is rich with light and, in turn, the heavy flow of rain.
Right underneath Amara’s boots, there are thick puddles of water, rich with small worms flowing through them and all manner of leaves, pine, and moss.
The moment is appreciated.
And, then, it is lost, and Amara continues to walk through the passage.
Eventually, a small hole in the ground is reached; Amara crawls through it and finds herself on a beach.
Right behind Amara, there is a large tree, sculpted from old, aged limbs and the multitudinous bodies of trees that were once alive and singular, yet now exist as a singular entity that exists beyond any one single tree.
Close to the beach, just off the shore, there is a canoe.
The same canoe that Amara took to arrive at this island.
A heavy rain flows across Amara’s rain jacket as she walks to the canoe and, then, begins paddling.
A Return To Innocence
Several hours come and flow. And, when these hours finally pass, Amara reaches a small island.
A small island that contains only a single tree, right within its center.
Right within the center of this tree, there is a door.
The door blends into the cracks, gashes, and contours of the tree.
But, this door, while part of the tree, is not of the tree.
Right before stepping through this door, Amara looks up at the cloudy, gray sky, gazes at the waves, looks at her canoe, glances at her bag, and, then, says “Thank you.”
And, then, Amara steps through the door.
A flash of light flows through her.
Right beyond this flash of light, Amara finds herself standing.
Standing in front of a tall window-wall, gazing at the skyline of Kuala Lumpur.
Amara is in her office.
And, she will soon step outside of her office and into the central laboratory, to show the other Suns of Athirah what she has discovered.
Just to wrap this up, thank you so much for reading this story!
And, of course, even if you didn’t, thank you, too!
If you want to reach me, for any reason, you can do so by emailing me at “email@example.com.”
Best wishes and have a truly fantastic day!