Technologies of Miracles

You saw how Ariadne won the tender for Reality. But do you want to know why the old system collapsed in the first place? Here is the secret report on the Synchronization Tower Incident, after which the Auditor realized: it is time to change the protocols.

"Technologies of Miracles: How the War for Reality Began" (Prequel to the story "Contract for Reality")

There were three departments in the Bureau of Metaphysical Stability, and they hated each other. Their headquarters was located not in a building, but in a “node” — a point where several probability lines intersected.

Today, sirens wailed in the node. On the main projection screen, the Synchronization Tower — the spire responsible for weather stability in the sector — flickered like a bad video signal.

— It is fracturing, — stated the Director, looking at the three department heads. — Reports.

Master Hieronymus, head of the Department of Ritualistics, spoke first. He was gaunt, clad in heavy robes embroidered with lead thread. He smelled of ozone and dried herbs.

— It is an “exploit”, — he creaked. — An old vulnerability. The Tower’s Architect used “lunar granite” on a foundation of “solar quartz”. Conflict of materials. The system cannot process the paradox and is devouring itself. But I can fix it.

— How? — asked the Director.

— I will “trick” the system. Witchcraft technology is the use of its own blind spots. I will introduce a third component into the fracture point — mercury mixed with blood. The system will perceive this as a new, binding variable, and temporarily “forget” about the paradox. It is a dirty, but quick patch.

— Accepted. Proceed.

Hieronymus and his team in ritual masks descended to the base of the Tower. They drew symbols, burned herbs, and poured mercury into the cracks. The Tower stopped flickering, but the ground around it darkened and cracked. All grass within a hundred-meter radius withered.

— You transferred the corruption! — roared the Director, looking at the screen. — You didn't fix the vulnerability; you just redirected it into the foundation!

— Such is the price! — snapped Hieronymus. — Witchcraft has its price. To create something, something must be destroyed.

— Unacceptable, — intervened Magister Eleanor, head of the Department of Will.

She was the complete opposite of Hieronymus. No rituals. A short haircut, a strict suit, and a “focusing lens” — a crystal attached to her temple.

— Witchcraft is crutches, — she cut in. — It digs in material garbage. Magic is a technology of direct administration. We do not deceive the Reality Code, we write it.

Eleanor walked out to the square in front of the Tower and raised her hand. — The Tower is not stone. It is an idea, — her voice rang out. — And now I order this idea to be stable.

She did not utter spells. She formed an intent. It was a pure command sent directly to the “console” of reality. [SET: ATTRIBUTE_STABILITY = 100%].

The Tower froze. The cracks stopped growing, the flickering ceased. But Eleanor did not lower her hand. Sweat rolled down her forehead.

— Magister? — asked the Director over the comms.

— I... am holding it, — she gritted out. — But I didn't fix the paradox. I just applied force to it. It is like forcing a stone to levitate by screaming at it. The system is fighting me. As soon as I withdraw my will, the Tower will collapse. My technology is coercion, and it requires constant energy.

— That is not a solution either, — the Director rubbed his temples. He looked at the third chief, who had remained silent until now. — Ariadne?

Ariadne, head of the Department of Harmonics, or, as others contemptuously called it, the “Department of Miracles”, was not even looking at the Tower. She was studying probability graphs on her tablet.

— What is the matter, Ariadne? Are you not going to do anything?

— I already am, — she replied quietly. — Hieronymus is trying to “hack” the system. Eleanor is trying to “force” it. They both consider reality an enemy. But I treat it as a system that is desperately seeking equilibrium.

— And?

— The paradox of “moon” and “sun” is not an error. It is an unbalanced equation. It doesn't need a patch or a hostile takeover. It needs an answer.

— What answer? — the Director asked impatiently.

— The system has already generated it, — Ariadne pointed to the screen. — But the probability of its appearance is. That is almost zero. My technology is not to create something. My technology is to take this almost impossible scenario and make it the only inevitable one.

Ariadne closed her eyes. She did not order and did not deceive. She resonated. Ariadne found the “request” of the Tower itself — its original purpose, “to serve harmony”, — and amplified it. She sent not a command into the system, but a request for self-correction.

Nothing happened.

— Is that it? — Hieronymus sneered.

At that moment, Eleanor, holding the Tower by force of will, cried out and fell to her knees. 

— I can't!

The Tower swayed.

And in that same second, a peregrine falcon dived out of the clouds. This was strange — birds never flew into the “node”. It flew so fast it seemed like a dark lightning bolt. In its claws was a small twig. 

Flying over the very spire, the peregrine falcon released its claws (probability). The twig fell and, caught by a whirlwind (probability), landed exactly in the main crack connecting the “lunar granite” and “solar quartz” (probability).

It was a twig of Star Ash. A symbiote plant that fed on paradoxes. The twig instantly took root. They dug into both stones, and a pure silver light ran along them. The paradox was not suppressed. It was harmonized. The Ash began to absorb the conflict of “moon” and “sun”, turning it into pure stability.

The Tower shone with a steady light. The cracks vanished, merging into a new, living structure.

Ariadne opened her eyes and turned off her tablet.

— What... what was that? — whispered Eleanor, rising from her knees.

— Technologies, — Ariadne shrugged, heading for the exit. — Just different approaches.

She stopped at the door and looked at her stunned colleagues.

— Witchcraft seeks “bugs” in the system. Magic writes “commands” in it on behalf of the administrator. And a miracle... a miracle simply presses the button “Restore system to ideal state”. It doesn't break rules. It finds the most elegant, improbable, but already existing path to harmony and makes it inevitable.

She smiled.

— Magic screams: “Levitate!”. And a miracle finds that single current of air that will catch you anyway, and simply nudges you into it.