Oh goodie, he wants to rule the world. Solitaire rolled her eyes at the thought.

"How do you define 'weak', Mr... I'm sorry, I don't know who you are." Solitaire inquired, genuinely curious. He must have a viewpoint of some worth, or he wouldn't likely be here with most of The Pantheon assembled. She wanted to know what it was. She had been on Mars for the better part of a year, her grasp of the situation might be in error. Still, she did not see how the situation could have changed radically enough to allow the baseline masses to legitimately threaten Nova-kind. T2M:A could have, if not conquered, at least destroyed most the infrastructure of the country in less than a week if it desired too. The only real wildcard was other Novas.

"Balance exists now, or did when I left, its why they're so god-awfully afraid of us. They may have enough nukes stashed around to destroy the planet a few hundred times, but you only need to be able to destroy it once. We can do that too. We can survive even if they did. What makes you think they would even cast the dice and try? We have all their merits, some of their flaws, and few of their weaknesses."

"I think we're starting to get off topic. Again," Gravitas put in. Though he was intensely interested in establishing some sort of balance between novas and baselines, it was not really the purpose of this particular meeting.

"I would, however, be interesting in continuing it another time. To bring Solitaire up to date: Our actions during the final event of the Colombian insurrection gained us a certain amount of popularity amongst the rest of the nova population. Members are joining, many probably just to be trendy but some out of genuine interest, but most do not really well-understand Teras, much less how they can apply its principles. We're also being watched pretty closely by the world. They're waiting to see what we'll do next." He resisted the urge to launch into a more detailed lecture.

"The issue of the nova role in baseline humanity, while important, is somewhat broader than our more immediate problems." He addressed the room again, "So, I will ask, what shall we do about the influx of those seeking membership? If they could be trained in the basics of Teras many would make powerful allies and positive faces for the organization. Remember though, while we may be gaining some amount of political and cultural power as a group, that is not our goal. Teras is ultimately about the individual and personal improvement."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:14, Mon 14 Feb 2011.

"We can still attain greater heights of power.  If we refuse to do so, we remain weak."

Wilhelm was prepared to continue, but he conceded the wisdom of focusing on one subject.

"A threshing then, Gravitas?  A separation of the wheat from the chaff?  It would be a simple matter to devise a test to determine how much effort it is worth expending on a given nova.  I know.  A naive Bayes classifier.  The necessary training data is located in this very room.  Determine, based on known Terats and known non-Terats, the features, present and absent, that make a particular nova likely to continue in the study of Teras.  Classify novas desiring membership in the Teragen based on these factors.  Admit novas as resources allow starting with those classified highest.  All in all, a simple task if sufficient demographic information is available."

"you can count on continuing it another time Mr. Abernathy," rasped Shrapnel. "But we do need to stay on topic - what would we be without order to hold back the chaos? - and I actually have a counter suggestion that I'm sure Geryon and several others would approve of."  The woman's eyes gleamed with a somewhat malicious humor, anticipating that the more cerebral individuals in the room, and those with more Utopian ideals, were likely to find her next comments troublesome but hard to counter.

"Why don't we set up tests, see how much pain people are willing to endure for their ideals?  Even better, how much of their humanity they're willing to give up.  If they can't let go of a child, or kill a persistent friend that won't let them grow, then they need to walk a lesser path.  You can have all the right stuff, and pass all the academic bullshit you want, but if you don't have the will to move forward then you're worthless to the movement and a waste of time to the one training you."

Geryon smiled and nodded as Shrapnel spoke.  Though he didn't express as much distaste for Gravitas that Shrapnel did (not only had he been through chrysalis, the man stormed an enemy base after taking a nuke and losing limbs in the same day), it was nonetheless clear that he agreed more with her line of thinking.  He also seemed swayed somewhat by Kraken's idealogy; it was clear that he gave the other Monster's words consideration at the very least, but Geryon seemed torn on how he felt about some of Kraken's approaches toward humanity and his largely cerebral mindset.

"I do not, in principal, object to testing prospective members," Quentin agreed, ignoring Sharpnel's intended slight. "I also do not see any need to endanger baselines during the testing process. That is simply cruel." He narrowed his star-field eyes at her, "You can hate baselines all you want - you're as entitled to your opinions as anyone else - but I will NOT tolerate you or anyone else in this room using them as fodder for membership testing. If you believe yourself to be so far advanced over them, simply ignore them, but do not involve them." His tone made it clear that anyone that toyed with baselines for such trivial purposes, and with such flagrant disdain, would be answering to him.

"As for our prospectives, the testing should undoubtedly be more varied than simply a sacrifice of their baseline selves. If you believe such testing to be truly sufficient, you display a profound lack of understanding with the current state of the Teras philosophy."

"Wa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ho-ho-ho-hooo.  That there, that was rich.  The Teragen could recruit those philosophically inclined toward Teras, or those believing Utopia or baselines in general pose a threat to novas, or those seeking insight into the nature of their powers, but you think it better to recruit those so desperate to belong to anything that they would substitute your will for their own?  The Teragen is not a, oh what do the Americans call it?  A fraternity.  Or the Freemasons."

Wilhelm wished Shrapnel loads of luck with her plan.  He really did.  If she succeeded, just think of all the spineless meshuggeners she'd identify.  They were out and about in the general nova population now.  Better to group them all together where they could be more easily surveilled.

"Der Wille zur Macht gegen der Wille zur Lust.  Efficiency dictates a sorting between the two.  It further dictates that whatever sorting method is chosen be implemented immediately.  Lost time is lost power.  So do we have any other effective suggestions or shall I implement probabilistic methods and report back as soon as there are results?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:56, Thu 17 Feb 2011.

Imp stretched luxuriantly, then looked around the room, new faces, old faces, old issues, new issues.  "Just as we seek to define ourselves in terms or ways different from those that baselines use to define themselves, Shrapnel, so too must we not measure dedication to teras by how callous one is towards humanity, nor how willing one is to inflict suffering on those who are unable to defend themselves.  Such actions are little more than malicious acts conceived by minds too petty and unevolved to let go of their all to human baggage gained while existing as that which you currently despise.  Also," and here he looked directly into her eyes, "anyone who engages in such devilry should be warned that just as teras teaches us to move beyond baseline concerns, it also teaches us to be accountable for our own actions, and to be prepared to pay the consequences of them."
He looked around the room, "Just as we all seek our own paths to teras so should we be wary of setting rigid criteria for whether one truly follows the many paths that are one, let the chips fall as they may, exclude none, but embrace few, we each know what it takes to hold true to the ideals of teras, or most of us do anyways, and we all know who is finding their own way instead of merely following a trail blazer."
He settled back into his chair, scanning the room as he telekinetically fixed himself another 3-Mile Island.

Shrapnel looked at Impetus and rasped out "oh look, pretty boy's awake." before going back to sulking angrily.  Geryon took up the torch however.

"Well boys, girls, and whatever Kraken is, we have a problem.  I'm not sure we really much agree on how to do things here.  I don't think that a questionaire is going to show us people with the spirit for Teras.  Sure, you can go ahead with some sort of screener so we don't waste our time with the obvious groupies, but is that really all that hard a thing to do without a survey?  I don't really see the point.

Another problem we should think about is that different paths have different methods.  Those that see themselves as Portents seem to have the idea that endless thought and contemplation are the path to evolution.  Guess what though?  Being a Monster is all about DOING, and about cutting out the human weakness inside you with a razor blade and cauterizing it with a fucking blow torch.  We need to show ourselves that we've left the monkey-mind behind.  Maybe you don't, but we do."  Geryon seemed to be sincere and uncharacteristically serious and respectful in his attempts to explain the differences between the teragen paths.  Pax broke into Geryon's contemplation however.

"You can cut out whatever you want.  Take an arm, a leg, mutilate yourself however you like.  But you don't get to touch the humans."  Pax pondered a moment before continuing.  He had changed much since Columbia, when he realized how truly different from novas humans were, and how far he had to go before reaching the limits of nova power.  It humbled him in some ways, but instilled in him an insatiable drive to further mastery and feats of olympian might.  His blind eyes, still not healed from the radiation, stared toward Geryon and Shrapnel.  "Do you beat your dog just to prove you're better than it?  Or do you take care of it in exchange for its undying loyalty?  Don't beat my dog Geryon.  Don't even look at it wrong Shrapnel.  Do you understand me?"

The room was quiet for a moment as the members internally questioned the wisdom of Mal in allowing the Fist of Peace to sit on the Pantheon.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:07, Thu 17 Feb 2011.

Imp nodded to Geryon, "Agreed, my friend, it is not enough to endlessly contemplate, there must be appropriate action informed by intellect in order for what we do to have meaning.  That being said, it must be action, not reaction that we seek.  Base animals react to their surroundings or their needs. We must anticipate, understand and calculate then act before what we are acting to head off occurs.  I would argue that we must show humanity the virtue of action instead of reaction in order to head off the cataclysm that our compatriot Mathematician has foreseen."
He wetted his throat with his luminous drink, then smiled his trademark smile at Shrapnel, "Pretty boy is indeed awake, and has been for quite some time.  Sulking does not become you Shrapnel, you are filled with fire, determination, passion and power.  Rise above your anger and malcontent, let the magnificence of your potential shine through, be what we both know you can be."  In that fleeting moment he unleashed the full force of his personality upon her, called upon the better angels hiding within her to rise up and be counted.  She may believe that she wanted to become the horror that stalked the minds of the Church of the Archangel Michael, but he believed she could be so much more, so marvelous.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
31 total sux on the social-fu roll.

---

Er macht einen gültigen Punkt.  Warten Sie, dass ein Problem sein könnte.  Damned if it wasn't hard for one to disagree with Impetus and agreeability always raised flags with Wilhelm.  The more manipulative novas filled him with an altogether rational paranoia.  Wilhelm knew, intellectually, what Impetus was capable of.  He ran through the past few minutes of the conversation and came to the conclusion that the shot, if there was one, wasn't aimed at him.  There was a bit of an Evil Cartesian Daemon problem, though, in that he could be being intermittently deceived in a manner such that he couldn't be certain as to whether and when he was actually being manipulated.  He fell silent as he contemplated the issue.  If there was manipulation, if would have to work in the conventional way, i.e. through neurotransmitters.  By analogy to sodium thiopental, a selection of GABA and AMPA antagonist ligands ought to reduce the possibility of manipulation.  A cocktail of Tezampanel, CNQX, Ro15-4513, Flumazenil, Saclofen, and TPMPA ought to do the trick.  Admittedly at the possible cost of anxiety, convulsions, seizure, and death, but was that too high a price to pay to be free of subconscious manipulation?  Certainly not.  A matter to discuss with the people at KHI Pharmaceuticals tomorrow.  Perhaps he'd have the suit tuned to provide on-demand sound cancellation and viewport opaquing as well.  A course of action decided upon, Wilhelm snapped back to the conversation.

"Geryon is correct in at least one respect.  We will not reach agreement today.  It is fortunate, then, that we do not need to.  If we each do our duty as we see it to the best of our abilities, the best course of action will shortly become apparent.  I propose we adjourn and individually work to obtain empirical data showing the veracity of our claims.  Let concrete results rule the day.  Make it a competition of sorts.  In three months time, or six, or a year, we reconvene and each of us presents our results and defends our conclusions.  Any approach that cannot present a persuasive case, supported by evidence, for effectiveness will be abandoned.  The adversarial process ought to skim off the dross easily enough."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:17, Sun 20 Feb 2011.

Imp nodded to Kraken, he didn't know the entity at all, but the same could be said for several of the Pantheon members in attendance, how much had he missed when he had been in chrysalis?
"Agreeing with each other has never been the goal, supporting our mutual goal of understanding what we are and where we will travel is.  I like the idea of letting results speak for themselves."

"I'm not sure I would have quite put it like that, Pax," Gravitas put in. Baselines, for all that novas outshone them in almost every way, were considerably more advanced than any canine. "But I'm with you in the spirit of the thing. I'm not going to say we owe them anything, we don't, but they've got rights just as much as anyone else."

Gravitas suppressed a shiver when Imp targeted Shrapnel. He was acutely aware of the extent of his friend's ability to compel others, having witnessed it himself on dozens of occasions. The results spoke for themselves; the fact that Pax was in the room with the rest of the Pantheon said volumes without sound. He found himself wondering vaguely if the people affected by Impetus were even aware that they were under his influence. This line of thought led him to wonder if he had ever been effected by the man's overwhelming force of personalty. He rapidly cut that line of thinking off. Surely his friend hadn't turned that formidable arsenal in his direction without Gravitas himself being aware of it.

Besides, Imp was one of the good guys, and a friend.

"I'm content to continue meeting with these prospectives and tutoring them as I am able; I won't claim to have a comprehensive understanding of all of the nuances of Teras, particularly not the sides of it that I don't really approach it from, but the truly interested will internalize what little they learn from me and seek mentors more suited to their personal evolution if they're really interested." He made a soft grunting sound, "I'm not really interested in trying to set up any sort of formal testing or curriculum - though I certainly won't stop anyone that would like to give one or both of those a shot. To my way of thinking, they're all potential allies. Even the trendy groupie types. They just need to understand that we're not a social club - well, not just a social club. Teras is a way of life, not just some brains-in-jars baseline philosophy."

Shrapnel was silent for the remainder of the meeting, torn between visions of her own future grandeur, a self-loathing that manifested as hatred for everything that reminded her of her own weaknesses, and a kernal of resentment toward Impetus that she clung to in order to maintain her autonomy from the tidal wave of his personality.  Occasionally one could see her twitch as she struggled to cope with the conflicting thoughts, but she was incapable of coherent conversation.

Geryon beemed at praise from Impetus, and considered the possibilities on the table before making his own suggestion. "So, we do it your way Kraken.  We each try out our separate methods for the next 6 months, and we keep whatever works.  I actually like that.  Seems like we should adopt something like that from here on out, save ourselves some time arguing.  And cut down on all the damned talking, when we should be out there doing."

Pax looked around blindly, nodded once, then stood.  "Agreed.  Also, I think everyone here should know, I'm leaving Utopia to pursue Teras full time, and to fix the world my way, without all the bureaucrats telling me what needs to be done.  Anyone that wants to be a part of my solution can come along, as long as they leave their egos at the door.  There's no room for ego in what I'm doing, there's only the mission.  Transcending our limits, and making the world better in the process."  After his self-important speech and its highly ironic message, Pax walks out without waiting for the meeting to be adjourned.

Raoul mumbled something about a "self righteous pricks" in Spanish, though its actually a bit difficult to tell who the comment was directed at; he seemed equally irritated at the pontification of the Portents, shortsightedness of the Monsters, and self-importance of the Marvels.  He excused himself to take a call shortly after.

Scripture, silent thoughout, continued to listen and watch.

Imp watched Pax leave. This wasn't the fruit that he had planned on harvesting from that particular project but it was fascinating none the less. He'd have to keep working on the man to ensure that he didn't simply turn into a different brand of violent egomaniac, but it would make for a most interesting challenge. He was momentarily chagrinned that he could so casually use people and manipulate them, but it was for their own good, and the good of two species. Speaking of, Shrapnel was certainly mulling over the ideas he had set germinating inside her. She could be so magnificent, so remarkable if she but learned to let go of the hatred and fear she held for humanity. Scripture knew all this, assuredly, yet he did not act. Possible reasons for this spun through his head and he settled on Jeremiah having decided that he would let the Pantheon choose its own path, and play his own cards close to his chest that he may more easily affect the potential outcomes of this grand endeavor. "Six months then, if there's no other business?" assuming no voices were raised Imp casually stood and walked casually to the refreshment table and fixed himself a rather elaborate sandwich in a matter of seconds. He then walked outside onto the patio and stood looking out at their surroundings, munching thoughtfully.

Six months.  That ought to be enough time, at least if the anti-nova lobby didn't stall proceedings in the Department of Energy.  Two weeks for negotiations, two weeks to get the preliminary outbuildings set up, three months to bore down to the Moho, leaving two months to bring in equipment.  Some sort of spectacular demonstration would have to be cooked up for the six month deadline, something brutal and unmistakable in its application of raw power, yet only tending to increase baseline demand for KHI products.  Any of a number of projects might suffice.  The magnetic monopole project, for one, looked like it might bear fruit as soon there was sufficient power available for the particle accelerator.  That was the role the Nevada facility was meant to fill.  No more blacking out vast tracts of Thuringia.  There was probably a limit to the number of times Wilhelm could get away with that.  There was no way to tell what would be ready in six months, though.  Best just to leave matters until the last moment.

Pulling out his PDA, Wilhelm activated the remote starter on the Mil helicopter he'd left parked on Raoul's helipad.  26000 horsepower of Soloviev turboshaft started up with a roar.  While Wilhelm had the device out, he fetched all of the information available on the new novas showing interest in the Teragen.  At least two or three of them had to have skills that KHI could put to good use.  What better way to develop their capabilities as novas?

"It seems as though we are adjourned.  It has been a pleasure, it really has, but I have pressing engagements elsewhere.  This time, six months hence then."

Wilhelm excused himself from the villa in favor of the accommodations of his helicopter.  A brief fueling stop in Valencia, a three hour flight to Paris, and a two hour sub-orbital bounce to Los Angeles were all that separated him from planned negotiations with the Department of Energy.  He'd sort through the nova data on his PDA en route.  One of the novas would almost certainly be receiving a job offer before Wilhelm even arrived in LA.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:41, Sat 26 Feb 2011.

With a multinational corporation to run, a space station to build, and continued scrutiny from various governments to overcome, Hell Kraken was quite a busy nova.  Despite his full schedule however, one did not simply turn away a visitor like Jeremiah Scripture. The next meeting of the pantheon was not for another 2 months, but Secretarybot-37 had informed Kraken of the nova's presence at the Nevada facility as he disembarked from his most recent flight from Russia.  At the facility, Secretarybot-35 waited patiently for orders to be relayed from Secretarybot-37 regarding the nova in its reception room, as well as the day's itenerary.

It had taken a small fortune to translate the Chájīng into Ada, but the Kraken Consumer Electronics folks had managed it and the investment occasionally proved its value.  Wilhelm dispatched TEABOT-12 to the little green-tiled pavilion in the middle of the complex's contemplation garden with instructions to start brewing as soon as Scripture arrived before instructing receptions to send the Terat in the same direction.  Wilhelm made certain to select the Gongfu Cha setting on TEABOT-12 before sending him out.  Ihm?  Auch ich tue es jetzt.  That ought to buy some time.  It would be the better part of an hour before any tea was even ready for drinking.  To make certain that Scripture didn't think he was being slighted by the wait, Wilhelm instructed TEABOT-12 to withdraw a tŏng of recipe 7522 pu-erh from the tea humidor.  Then he returned to his work, reviewing his list of political donations.  American campaign finance and election laws were so deliciously quaint.

As soon as he could break free, Wilhelm went to meet with Scripture.  Along the way he stopped to admire an especially large and old longyou flowering plum that he'd had flown in at great expense from Yunnan Province.  It probably violated some precept of feng shui to essentially prefabricate the garden, in addition to building something so demanding of water in the middle of a desert, but Wilhelm hadn't let that bother him.  Walking over a gently curving stone bridge, Wilhelm stepped onto the piney island that was the foundation of the pavilion.  TEABOT-12 was just getting to the "The Dragon and Phoenix in Auspicious Union" portion of the ceremony, so Scripture should actually be getting to drink his tea any time now.  It was kind of jarring to watch TEABOT-12 perform.  More android faces would have to be commissioned.  Rutger Hauer couldn't fill every niche.  Wilhelm waited until TEABOT-12 flipped the cups and Scripture started to drink before speaking.  He took advantage of the interval to wirelessly activate TEABOT-12's integrated recording functions.  The recordings would be analyzed both digitally and by a staff of humans after the meeting.  You never could be too careful when it came to manipulation.

"Good day, Scripture.  I apologize for the delay.  I trust it was not too inconvenient.  What brings you to my humble home away from home?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:01, Wed 10 Aug 2011.

Scripture was an oddity.  Clearly possessed of great power, but too preoccupied with notions of spirituality and theology to exercise it.  Active, personable, but detached in a way that allowed him to silently contemplate the world around him for nearly an hour without showing even a hint of irritation.  Possessed of a deep insight into the thoughts and motives of others, but often lacking the simple etiquette to say hello before delving into topics most would rather avoid.

Without preamble, Scripture looked up when he was spoken to and asked "Hell Kraken, are you happy as you are?  You have so much, yet have lost so much..." He wore a puzzled expression on his face as he looked at the exosuit around Hell Kraken, though it quickly was replaced with a contented smile as he sipped at the tea in his hands.

A look of mystification passed over Wilhelm's face, though the only outward sign of this puzzlement was a brief bubbling of the fluid behind his suit's faceplate.  He had thought that Scripture was here to talk business, not to socialize.  He considered the Terat for a moment, trying to divine the point of his visit from his appearance, before speaking.

"Why would I be unhappy?  I've built all that you see and more with my own two hands.  I've lost nothing.  I didn't think this was a social call, though.  What do you need?"

Wilhelm's first thought was that Scripture must be gunning for a favor.  Various Terats were always hitting Wilhelm up for favors:  a place to hide after some misguided stunt had gone horribly awry, the newest technological thingamajig, occasionally just concert tickets.  Distracted by work, Wilhelm hadn't kept an eye on the Opnet news outlets, so he didn't know if anyone had perpetrated some atrocity big enough that it would need Scripture's direct involvement to clean up.  He ran a quick search on Krakle Trends to see what was running hot on the Opnet in order to get up to speed while waiting for Scripture's response.

Jeremiah seemed quite confused at the question.  "What do I need?  I'm not sure I NEED anything my friend.  What I want is for our kind to fulfill our destiny, and become something transcendent, assuming our place in union with God.  But that path is difficult, and full of loss.  Looking at you I see one who exemplifies our journey with all its rewards, pains, and dangers.  You have great gifts, but your body is alien to you, still becoming.  You live as a testament to nova superiority, but are still enmeshed with human society.  You have gained so much, earned so much, but are still unsure of the path ahead.  As are we all, though some fear to admit it, even to themselves."

After a pause for thought Scripture continues, earnest eyes staring penetratingly at the man he came to visit.  "I came here for insight into our condition, for understanding of your perspective, and perhaps to provide counsel if you felt a need for such.  If this is unwelcome, I will leave of course.  But I feel your journey has much to offer the rest of us."

"Sorry.  Force of habit.  There are precious few reasons why anyone comes out here that doesn't have need of my resources."

Wilhelm could smell a sermon coming on.  Metaphorically speaking, of course.  He couldn't smell anything except his tarry secretions unless he extended a tentacle outside his suit.  At least Scripture wasn't as bad as Delorimier as far as evangelizing was concerned.  Still, Scripture advocated the existence of some greater meaning, a goal, a destination, something that separated novas from baselines.  Such a belief was so much mumbo-jumbo.  There were only two categories of things in the world, the living and the non-living.  The one thing that separated the two was the procreative impulse, the will to grow, spread, seize, and become predominant, the will to remake the environment in one's image.  This impulse was not divinely inspired.  It didn't come from some higher plane of pure knowledge.  It was simply in the nature of the thing.  The sky was blue and life reproduced itself.  If Wilhelm was enmeshed in baseline affairs, it was for this simple reason.  Nova, baseline, cat, bird, bacterium, and everything in between all shared the same motivation.

"We will not agree on these things, Scripture.  I've been around this world and traveled the depths of space.  I looked and looked, but saw no God there.  As far as purpose goes, mine could not be clearer.  I become more with every one of my children that I send out into the world."

Wilhelm rested one grasper on the shoulder of TEABOT-12 before continuing.

"It is the same for all of us, and for the baselines, and even for the least of viruses.  Every specific body strives to become master over all space, to extend its force, to thrust back all that resists its extension.  But it continually encounters similar efforts on the part of other bodies and ends by coming into union with those of them that are sufficiently related to it.  Thus they then conspire together for power and the process goes on.  That is all there is."

A smile graced Scripture's face as Kraken's words drew to a close.  "I should make it clear that I do not require any agreement.  Diversity strengthens us, both our small group, and novas as a whole.  And while I could easily argue my views with you, explain that God is not found outside, but rather within, that was not my purpose in coming here.  I'm far more interested in your perspective, and the potential it holds to help our newest members struggling with their becoming.

The smile on his face was slowly replaced by a contemplative frown. "I feel that the simplistic views of Geryon, Leviathan, and many of the others that are more outwardly divergent from humanity do not provide sufficient diversity to those seeking to understand themselves.  And while the ultimate goal of the teragen is forging one's own path, it is clear that at the beginning role models and mentors are key to finding one's own path.  Those coming to us with divergent physiology tend to gravitate toward Geryon and the other oppositional voices within our philosophy, and in part this is simply because they feel kinship with others who are also different.  I feel that you embody another perspective that could enrich the lives of these individuals, and am thus compelled to understand you to the best of my abilities."

"If you wish to understand then you have to see that there is no difference, fundamentally, between Geryon, Leviathan, and myself.  Nor, for that matter, between Geryon and the Mathematician.  Just, perhaps, a lack of creativity on their part.  A lack of patience.  A lack of tolerance for risk.  An unhealthy sort of ambition."

Wilhelm's grasper whirred and rotated, one finger extending forward and opening into a scoop.  Leaning down, he scooped a divot from the topsoil outside the pavilion.

"Look.  A mixture of sand, silt, clay, and assorted organics providing soluble nitrogen, potassium, phosphorus, calcium, sulphur, magnesium, and various trace elements.  Nothing more.  Yet, at its root, all you see here is created out of the need of each plant to assimilate more of this stuff and more of that water and more of that sunlight into itself and thereby become greater."

Wilhelm pointed to the lake in the middle of the garden and the sun above before gesturing to Scripture to follow him.  He walked about the garden, stopping on occasion to inspect a leaf here, a stem there.  A dwarf Seiju elm growing on a pitted and cracked rock.  A blanket of kudzu growing up one side of a wall.  A large trembling aspen.

"You wouldn't know it by looking at it, but this elm is sixty years old or so now.  It saw the atomic bombing of it's home country.  It might last another two hundred years.  I'm told it will never get much larger than this and it doesn't produce much in the way of seed.  Careful pruning, defoliation, and the precariousness of its position, you understand.  A pretty thing, but ... dead in a way."

"You've seen this in the wild, yes?  "The Vine that Ate the South", they call it.  They spend millions of dollars every year trying to eradicate it.  Dozens of gallons of herbicide an acre, hacking at it with machetes, even toxic fungi.  I keep a few goats around that keep it well trimmed.  They seem to have a stomach for it.  Tough in its way, but it's got no backbone.  If this wall wasn't here it wouldn't grow well at all."

"Have you been up to central Utah before?  There's a stand of these trees there, all a single organism, each tree sprouting from an interconnected underground root system.  They call it Pando, I believe, "I spread" in Latin.  It covers a hundred-odd acres, weighs something over six thousand tons, and has been growing for eighty thousand years.  It hasn't seeded since the last ice age, though.  The soil's too poor.  That's the reason it sends out runners, as it turns out."

"If the conditions in this garden were slightly different one of these plants might rise to dominance.  Even the elm might be the last plant standing if I were to suddenly send away the gardening-bots.  It needs very little, after all, and it has that rock quite thoroughly colonized.  I would hardly fault the elm for triumphing in the end.  But the garden is so much more ... interesting with all of them competing for soil and water and sunlight, don't you agree?"

Scripture looked down in quiet contemplation as Wilhelm spoke, only to burst out in laughter at the end of his explanation.  "My friend, I agree more than you know!  You say there is nothing greater, but you just described such a thing in wonderful detail.  Ah, and you say there is no difference between you and the others, but you are so very wrong.  It goes beyond intellect or creativity, it understanding they lack.  Even Pedro, with his great mind, is blinded by the world; you and he see the same thing, but you perceive a vibrant whole, a greater interaction.  Pedro sees a grand equation, but somehow doesn't see the greater meaning in that, though perhaps one day he will."

Scripture maintains his ebullience as he stands walks the garden, smiling at what he sees laid out before him.  "But you didn't want to discuss this topic I recall.  Suffice it to say that we have more common ground than you know, and that your story and perspective will be quite helpful to those new to our cause.  May I quote our discussion here?  I am thinking of writing down words of guidance for those new to the organization."

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Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
I assume this thread will be closing out here, based on the contents of the OOC thread.  If there is any further wrapping up necessary, it could probably be handled in one of the focus threads.

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"Quote whatever you wish.  Words cost me nothing so I give them away freely."

Wilhelm summoned TEABOT-12 and had it fill a snifter to three-quarters capacity with the tea, the remainder of the snifter's capacity being taken up by a nice XO Calvados from Wilhelm's cellars and a bit of fennel.  Perhaps tea liquor wasn't exactly traditional, but the apple brandy added notes of caramel, vanilla, and cinnamon that Wilhelm found interesting.  He extruded a Teflon straw into the snifter so that he wouldn't set fire to the glass.  The drink wasn't quite the right temperature.  Wilhelm couldn't exactly warm a snifter of brandy with his cold, metallic grasper after all.  This was a disappointment.  Perhaps he could design a heated grasper?

Wilhelm realized with a start that he'd been talking with Scripture on autopilot for several minutes as he'd designed a specialized brandy grasper in his head.  The conversation looked to be nearing an end.  At least Scripture seemed satisfied by the meeting.  Wilhelm didn't know what sort of trouble the Terat might raise if he got upset with someone, but he'd plenty of troubles already without adding more.  It was good to see a meeting end without him heaping more problems on his plate.

"I expect we both have much more to do today.  If you've found what you were looking for I won't delay you any further.  If you end up publishing something, though, forward me a copy, if you would.  I do try to keep up with these things."