Memories Of The Primus Metanoia

Back in December, of 2020, I wrote a travelogue.

A travelogue for a place that exists within my dreams.

Much of the travelogue is aimless and, perhaps, even a little perfunctory.

Sure, there’s a story, but the story is not particularly important and, instead, my focus was on putting together, and exploring, a series of images and themes.

Since then, I’ve shared this story with a few people. They all seemed to like it. Or, at least, they admired the creativity behind the story, and some of the ideas.

Based on that feedback — partly, at least — I’ve chosen to share the story on Medium.

If you enjoy fantastical imagery and unique ideas, you might enjoy this story.

If you’re looking for something a little more grounded and a little more focused, you might not.

Regardless of that, however, to those who read this story, I hope you enjoy it!

Memories Of The Primus Metanoia

Within the endless vastness of the Asima Samudra Kalpana, there is a vast body of land known only as “Ruh-Suhjin”. No one knows when Ruh-Suhjin was born, and no one knows when He will pass away. But, what is known, is that Ruh-Suhjin is one of the Asima Samudra Kalpana’s most beautiful creations.

Unlike many of the other bodies found within the Asima Samudra Kalpana, Ruh-Suhjin is exceptionally cold. Much of His land is icy and steep. Snow is a daily occurrence, and snow storms are, in some areas, perpetual.

Even though Ruh-Suhjin is a land of snow and ice, the sun is almost always present. Yet, when the sun sets, for the few-hours that it does, the celestial bodies of Elohim and Mahina are visible, allowing the extraordinarily vast landscapes of Ruh-Suhjin to be illuminated.

All across Ruh-Suhjin, there are caverns, mesas, hills, mountains, and valleys. Very little of His land is truly flat, and the little that is has already been populated by a magnificent city known only as El-Aliya-Hid.

Many of the cities within the Asima Samudra Kalpana’s endless depths are beautiful, but it is the city of El-Aliya-Hid that truly exemplifies the creative energies within the beings that inhabit the Asima Samudra Kalpana.

The city of El-Aliya-Hid is, upon first glance, infinite. It encompasses so very much, and all across the city, there are a multitude of wonderful spaces, lovely people, unique histories, and distinctive cultures.

Moving across the city of El-Aliya-Hid was, for so long, a rather difficult task. Unless one owned some kind of automobile, walking was the only choice. Due to the sheer scale of El-Aliya-Hid, and the exceptionally cold weather, this was quite obtuse.

Eventually, though, Lady Amara, in her infinite wisdom, sculpted a vast network of transportation chambers that stretched all across the heavenous skies and inner depths of El-Aliya-Hid. Everyone has the freedom to ride within these chambers, going wherever it is they need to go, regardless of money or heritage.

Riding across the wondrous skyscapes of El-Aliya-Hid continues to be one of my most cherished memories. The first time I did so, I remember being in awe of the celestial bodies that shined all across the chamber. This particular chamber was made entirely of glass, allowing the celestial bodies to illuminate the entire chamber with such precision that it was as if the Creator Herself were orchestrating the entire event.

I remember looking at the other passengers within the chamber, and finding a most peculiar sight: a male automaton wearing a fedora and holding a black cat. The automaton told me that his cat’s name was “Sal”, short for “Salmon”.

All across the city of El-Aliya-Hid, you will find extraordinary universities, libraries, theaters, art galleries, scientific exploratory spaces, and markets. Many of these spaces are contained within buildings that scrape the heavens themselves, existing beyond the visible and within the invisible.

Each one of these buildings is, I am told, designed as a “frozen memory”. The architect projects their memories onto the individual shapes, spaces, and mechanisms that comprise the building. By doing so, they have preserved the memories, feelings, emotions, and sensations of an entire lifetime.

There are entire spaces within each building devoted to the “refrigeration”, if you will, of the most significant moment in the architect’s life. Within these spaces, every feeling, emotion, and sensation can be found in the individual facets that comprise the space. Memory, to the architect, never truly dies; it is merely transformed.

Even though the city of El-Aliya-Hid is beyond modernity in nearly all respects, there are innumerable sectors of the city that come from eras that have been lost to memory and dream. Very few visit these sectors, and even fewer choose to live there.

As a wanderer, though, it has always been my duty to visit the spaces that exist along the precipice of memory and dream.

Within a sector known only as “Primus Metanoia”, there are thousands upon thousands of libraries. Each one of these libraries takes the form of a metallic skyscraper; the size of a city-block in width, yet taller than the eye can perceive. Every single library, I am told, exists within a precise and orderly grid that extends beyond the limits of Ruh-Suhjin, while being spatially anchored to the city of El-Aliya-Hid.

Wandering through the endless grid of Primus Metanoia is an exercise in both memory and intuition. Every single skyscraper looks the same, and every street consists of the same four roads, each one extending beyond the infinite, while continually folding in upon itself. Knowing where to go, and what is of value, must be relegated not to the rational mind, but to the invisible faculties that exist within our inexhaustible depths.

To explore each and every library within Primus Metanoia would have, of course, been a task of great difficulty. But, I did explore one library, a library that was known only as “The Oracular Precipice”.

All throughout The Oracular Precipice, there were shelves and shelves of books, tomes, and data units. Many of these books, tomes, and data units were in arcane languages that I simply could not read or understand. Yet, there was an energy behind these languages, an energy that felt malleable and definite, yet uncertain and out-of-reach.

To this day, I fear that I may have lost something within The Oracular Precipice, something that I would not have lost had I stayed outside of Primus Metanoia and away from The Oracular Precipice.

Throughout my exploration, I passed through vast halls filled with tables made of aged bark, shelves containing more tomes than they could fit, and ceilings that went beyond the spatial limits of the building itself. Entering the upper spaces of The Oracular Precipice was a rather difficult task, as I had to climb up a series of stone pillars that began within the library’s depths and extended through the library’s highest point.

Eventually, while wandering through the library’s upper spaces , I found a book sitting on a large table, surrounded by shelves and chairs. The book was very old and as large as a dictionary. Most of the book’s pages were in a state of decay that made their contents illegible. On the book’s cover, though, there was a very legible drawing of a metallic eye. Upon first glance, the metallic eye appeared to be a three-dimensional object, existing beyond the two-dimensional confines of the book’s cover. But, as I picked up the book, I found that this was but an optical illusion, no doubt intended by the illustrator.

While the eye was quite small, the individual facets of the eye were labeled. None of these labels were in a language that I understood. Yet, despite my lack of understanding, I felt that this book, and the mechanical eye on the front, was of great importance. I decided to take the book with me, as I continued exploring The Oracular Precipice.

Right behind a small shelf that was located in the largest wing of the library, on the eleventh floor, I found a wooden door hiding right behind a small, and completely out-of-place, shelf. The wooden door was quite short, yet very wide, and stained with a foul-smelling paint that looked to be both brown and gray.

When I pushed the door open, I found myself in an office. On the ceiling of this office, there was a small bulb that was emanating a vast white light that illuminated the office’s white walls and brown-and-black floor tiles. The bulb appeared to be much too small for the light that it was generating.

Right across from the door, by the wall, there was a single desk. On this desk, there was a computer terminal and a red light emanating from the terminal’s monitor. I attempted to manipulate the terminal’s keyboard, but nothing happened. Then, I decided to bring out the book I had gathered earlier. I pointed the book’s mechanical eye at the red light emanating from the monitor, and the wall to my right fell apart, revealing a small dumbwaiter.

Entering the dumbwaiter was challenging, due to its precarious size, but I managed to fit. I pulled the rusted lever downwards, for I could not pull it upwards. And then, I watched as the wall turned from rusted brown to dark gray to pure crimson, all within the span of several minutes.

Eventually, the dumbwaiter stopped, and I found myself staring out at a narrow hallway and the single red door that stood across from me. The walls of this hallway were green and white, as were the floors. Right in the middle of this hallway, there was a large insect-being — it looked just like a large fruit fly — that was emanating a sharp green light.

Initially, I was fearful of walking across the hallway and past the insect-being. But, as wanderers must, I exited the dumbwaiter and began moving across the cramped hallway. The insect’s body did not flinch, yet it looked strangely happy and at peace.

Upon opening the door at the end of the hallway, I found myself in a vast space composed of wood and glass. I was standing on a balcony, and from this balcony I could see a library filled with tall mahogany shelves, long tables, and numerous alcoves folding in upon one another. Above me, there were glass ceilings, and across from me, there were walls composed entirely of glass windows.

My perception was slow to reconcile what was taking place. Soon enough, I realized that behind the windows and ceilings there was a vast ocean of blue light and perpetual motion. I was able to see dolphins, whales, jellyfish; and all manner of wondrous aquatic beings.

It seemed that, wherever I was, it was not Primus Metanoia. Yet, within that vast space, I spent many hours — perhaps, days — gazing at the ocean of light, watching the beings float across the ceilings and windows.

Very few books within that space were readable to my eyes. Only one, and it was, strangely enough, a book on how to use the same computer terminal I had seen in the office space behind the shelf. The details of this book have, regrettably, fallen away..

Eventually, after having spent enough time within the space to gather my thoughts and notes, I said “Farewell” to the beings, and went back into the hallway. There, I was surprised to see that the insect-being had vanished. Yet, there was a radiant beam of green that stretched across the hallway, the same green light that the insect-being had emanated, allowing me to reach the dumbwaiter with incredible ease.

Upon entering the dumbwaiter, I pushed the handle upwards, and found the walls morphing from crimson to dark gray to the same sea of oceanic light that I had seen earlier. None of the ocean’s vast water fell into the dumbwaiter, and yet, I could see various beings as they moved into the dumbwaiter, communicating with me through a substance that I was, it seems, incapable of truly comprehending.

As soon as it had come, though, the sea of light vanished, as did the beings, and I was back in the office. There was no computer in the office, though, just an old mechanical eye, the same as on the book’s cover, that had, presumably, belonged to the men who once ran the library. I do not know where the computer went, or if it had ever truly existed.

Just as surely as I had come in, I exited The Oracular Precipice, and found myself back within the endless grid of Primus Metanoia. A sense of uncertainty gripped me, upon leaving The Oracular Precipice, and I chose to go back to the city proper. There, I met many good friends, and enjoyed the city’s wondrous cuisine.

It has been so very long since I last visited the city of El-Aliya-Hid. I am no longer certain if the city still exists, or if it ever existed at all. Let us hope, then, that this document serves its purpose as a frozen memory.

Conclusion

Thank you so much for reading this story! I hope you enjoyed reading it, and I hope you found the images and ideas compelling and engaging.

If you want to reach me, for any reason, you can do so at “maxwellcakin@gmail.com”.

Best wishes, and have a lovely day!