The Tautology Book Three: Interregnum

For My Son

Joshua

The Tautology

BOOK THREE: Interregnum

Matthew A. Giesinger

Copyright Matthew A. Giesinger 2013

Published at Smashwords

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If a house is divided against itself, that house cannot stand.

Mark 3:25

Chapter 1

I awoke in the morning, at six, next to Leah, my wife, in the Prophet’s suite. She was still sleeping softly, her chest moving up and down next to mine. I got up quickly and had a shower before dressing in a clean officer’s uniform. I wanted to catch Thomas, my primary contact and the Prophet’s military attaché, before he disappeared into the briefing rooms and arenas to work with the other members of Unit 45. Today was the day that Bill, my mentor, was supposed to be extradited for terrorist crimes and treason. I had hoped that if I could catch Thomas early in the day, I might be able to find out the specifics of the extradition arrangement. I had long harboured the hope that there might be some way to derail it, or perhaps even at this late stage delay it.

I left Leah asleep, wistfully hoping that her dreams were somehow more comforting to her than the day would be. I closed the door softly behind me, but discovered immediately that the Prophet had left a guard outside the bedroom. This wasn’t surprising to me, but my awareness of the Prophet’s suspicions had been perhaps obscured by his generosity over the recent weeks.

The Prophet has asked me to take you to the morning briefing, the guard said immediately.

Taken aback, I did not respond immediately, but the guard took it in stride and directed me to follow him.

We boarded the elevator which immediately hummed into action, sending us deep into the complex, first down, and then horizontally, until we stopped at the appropriate floor. The guard stepped off the elevator, and I followed him, first to the right, through a security door, and then down a long hallway. At the end of the hallway, the guard activated a security lock, which buzzed and released the door.

John, I heard Thomas’ voice.

I stepped into the briefing room, which was already occupied by Thomas and the Prophet’s advisors.

Henry stood up, but did not speak.

Harold stepped forward with a smile on his face, extending his hand.

Good morning, John. I hope you had a good rest.

Of course, the Prophet has been very generous.

Excellent, John. Take a seat.

I sat down next to Harold at a long table, while Henry sat opposite me at the far end of the table. Thomas was standing in front of a digital screen, the kind used for graphical demonstrations.

John, Henry turned to me. We’ve invited you to this briefing as a courtesy. The Prophet has made it very clear to you that you are welcome here. We would very much like you to understand that we are hiding nothing from you. Today’s extradition is a matter of necessity, nothing more. We do this not because it is easy, but for the greater good.

I considered my words very carefully, cognizant of the possibility that I might reveal my darker thoughts.

I appreciate that Henry. I will be honest with you, I do not understand the necessity of the Prophet’s decision, but I am not in his position, nor do I have his responsibility.

That’s fair, Harold replied, But perhaps this will assist you in understanding us better.

Thomas, why don’t you start over for John here, Harold said.

Thomas nodded.

The Prophet’s extradition is to occur at midnight. It was our intention to limit the necessity of military incursion into our territory. As such, we have suggested a neutral exchange point north of the Free State.

Thomas directed my attention to the digital screen. He brought his hand over an area, which caused a faded image to reappear.

We’ve chosen a point just beyond our borders in Northern Utah. The NAU has required the exchange take place in a rural area due to concerns about the entrenchment of paramilitaries. As such, it is to be a desert transfer.

We’ll be travelling light, with about eight men of Unit 45. Mr. Franklin will be taken in a utility vehicle to the drop off point, with his escort. We will wait until the appointed time. The NAU has indicated they will be sending an armoured unit of JSS soldiers. Mr. Franklin will be shifted to their vehicle and we will depart.

Harold turned to me. It’s very simple, John. Nothing fancy. Just get the job done.

Now, Henry interrupted, I want you to forget any thoughts you may have about stopping this. The decision has already been made. Bill has been one hundred percent cooperative in this, so you must accept his decision. Whether you agree with us or not, he is onside, which means you must be to.

Henry, Harold interjected.

I’ve said what I need to say, Henry replied as he crossed his arms.

Continue Thomas, Harold said.

Now, in the event of a military attack, we will be keeping our military on stand-by. We don’t anticipate a threat from this unit, but with all the uncertainty surrounding the election we want to be sure.

Do you have any questions? Thomas asked.

I have one, I replied.

What is that?

What happens if Yuheile tries to intercept you?

Thomas didn’t reply right away, he seemed to look for guidance from Henry.

That won’t happen, Henry replied irritably.

Why not?

Because we have the assurances of the Prime Minister. We have Rob and Unit 45 monitoring the JSS network twenty-four seven.

But what if Rob is wrong?

Rob is never wrong, Henry snapped.

I held my tongue, but as the seconds passed I realized that my question had struck a chord with Harold.

I think it’s a reasonable question, Harold said.

I’ve already been through this with the Prophet, Henry answered back.

And what did you tell him? Harold replied.

I told him it was an impossibility. Rob monitors the movements of Yuheile and his vanguard. We would know if they left the NAU.

In my mind I knew what Henry was saying was true, but my suspicion made it difficult to resist the desire to question him. Rather than be impertinent, I held my tongue.

Mr. Franklin will be loaded into the vehicle at 8 p.m. We should be at the drop off point by mid-night, right on time.

I shook my head, but Harold seemed to be focusing on Thomas’ explanations.

What about the rest of my friends? Will you release them after Bill has been moved?

Of course not, Henry replied. They must remain until we know the outcome of the election.

What does the election have to do with it?

As long as Yuheile is a threat, you must remain.

Why?

No one answered the question, but I already knew the answer.

Because I’m your weapon?

Harold spoke. John, it’s nothing like that. We don’t want to have your group travelling back to militia territory during a war. You must understand that.

I thought this was the ‘Free State’.

During times of war, every state has to circumscribe the freedoms of its citizens, Henry said.

We’re not citizens, I snapped.

Dissidents then? Henry retorted.

Harold interjected. Enough. John has enough on his plate right now. Just let him worry about his wife and his friends. This will all be over soon enough.

That’s what I’m afraid of, I snapped.

Silence filled the room, but I could tell that Harold was the only reason that Henry hadn’t turned on me. Harold gestured for Thomas to continue.

Once the exchange has taken place, we anticipate that the Prime Minister will announce that she has taken Mr. Franklin into custody, the effect on her approval ratings should be automatic. She’ll win the election and Yuheile will fade into obscurity.

I shook my head, but held my tongue. I stood up from my chair.

Is that it?

That’s it, Harold replied.

I turned and made my way to the door.

You wouldn’t be thinking about sabotaging our exchange, now would you John? Henry said without looking at me.

I didn’t answer, but Harold spoke for me.

John was invited to this briefing by the Prophet himself. If you have an issue with his instructions, then you should speak to him, not take it out on John.

Henry sniffed.

I’m leaving now, I said.

Thomas made his way toward the door and opened it with a key card. I pulled the door open but Thomas prevented it from slamming shut. As I stepped into the hallway, he followed me.

John, Thomas said.

I stopped.

You can’t blame Henry and the Prophet for what’s happening. Bill did this, not us. What did he think was going to happen when he started killing people?

I didn’t turn around.

We lost the war, I replied. That’s what Bill said to me.

What war?

I kept walking toward the elevator without turning back.

Once in the elevator, I directed it to take me to the arena where I had been advised I could practice my invocation of the Logos. But Thomas stopped the door from closing and stepped onto the elevator beside me.

I’m afraid you still need an escort, Thomas said.

I’m going to your arena that’s all, I replied.

Just the same.

The elevator shifted into motion, and I listened in silence as its vibrations passed through me, focusing my attention as I prepared to reach for the Logos.

The elevator stopped and the door opened. Ahead was an observation room which looked out over the arena. Thomas joined me in the observation room and unlocked the arena gate. Once it was open, I stepped down the stairs to the ground level which was about fifteen feet below the observation room.

The arena was about the size of a football field, with a gray spongy layer on the floor, no doubt designed to cushion a fall. Thomas followed me down the ladder and stood a few feet behind me. Once on the floor, I pulled the top off my uniform and threw it behind me. The instant it hit the floor I released my consciousness, which extended out from my fingertips invoking the living flame.

The blue flame hissed and sparked as it grew in size and ferocity. I released it and it grew, larger and larger, far beyond anything I had attempted before. By the time I reined back, and the rebellion set in, it was twice the size of a man and at least as brilliant as a distant star.

Through the dialectic I could feel Thomas’ fear, which echoed through the vibration in the room into me.

The flame began to fight me, and it took all my strength to prevent it from consuming me. But it felt my strain, and it pushed harder, coming closer and closer to my face until I could feel the heat of its breath.

The sweat on my brow began to drip down my face and onto my neck, but it was only the absence of fear that quieted the great blue light, an absence created by the boundless calm within the social dialectic. Behind me, I could hear Thomas exhale in relief as the light began to drift further from my face. But once it had, I released it again and it began to grow in size.

Again, I waited until it was near twice the size as it had been, as large as a utility vehicle, its center so bright that everything else had the appearance of shadow. And again, it came at me, this time drawing so near I almost thought that it would strike me. But this time, it wasn’t my strength that reined it in, it was a recognition that I had given it more strength than I could withstand, and it no longer desired to devour me.

It was a strange feeling, but in that moment, I felt its consciousness, looking back at me without eyes. And I knew that I had created something intelligent, something truly dangerous.

My first instinct was to take back the light, draw it back into my consciousness, but for some reason I relented, for some reason I cannot explain, I relaxed, and released it.

The flame began to move away from me, first in one direction, then in others, until it seemed to stop, when it was about fifty yards away. Each movement which drew it further from me seemed to end at about the same distance. It wasn’t that I was preventing it from departing; it was that it had reached the limits of its own courage. I began to understand that although it was indeed intelligent, it was still a child, and it feared as a child.

In that moment of understanding, the fear that it had tried to create through its rebellion, which I had used the dialectic to deflect, dissolved beyond the calm, so that I no longer needed the dialectic to be free of it.

It is born! I shouted.

Thomas seemed to take encouragement from that and drew alongside me.

What happened? He asked.

It is still a child, I replied simply.

Thomas smiled.

What are you going to call it?

It needs no name, nor do I.

The Prophet will be pleased, Thomas answered.

In the distance, I could see the flame beginning to test the limits of its boundaries, but as it breached them, the flame began to shrink, and then it understood that I was its father.

Immediately, it returned to me, stopping just so that its heat did not touch me. Its light seemed to pulse as it rested nearby content with its comprehension.

Now, you must follow me, I said.

I began to walk toward the far end of the arena, and it obediently followed me, its movements smooth, no longer erratic, but calm and serene. When I had reached the other side of the arena, I looked back to find Thomas waiting at the other side. The flame obediently rested near to me. I formed in my mind the intentions that I had for it, and it obeyed, moving fluidly across the arena to Thomas, stopping just as it had in front of me.

I’m going to need something to practice with, I shouted.

Thomas cupped his hand to ear but did not understand.

I made my way back across the arena and joined Thomas next to the flame.

I need a target to practice with.

Would a military vehicle do? We have some old diesels we don’t use.

Sure, I answered.

Thomas nodded and returned back up the ladder to the observation room. It was about fifteen minutes before he returned. On the far side of the arena a door opened and an old Humvee appeared driven by Thomas. The vehicle drove halfway across the arena where he parked it and climbed out.

Immediately, I directed the flame toward the vehicle, which was slightly smaller than it was. Thomas had to leap out of the path of the great blue orb, which passed right through the vehicle, leaving nothing but melted metal and glass.

My God, Thomas shouted.

The flame returned to my side, and I could only describe its motion as ebullient.

Thomas darted across the arena toward me and stopped only briefly to speak.

The Prophet needs to see this, he said and vanished up the ladder to the observation room.

I knelt down on the arena floor to wait, using the time to subside into the calm of the dialectic. The flame seemed to feed off of my calm, and its pulsing became gentle, its vibration soft and fluid.

The minutes passed quickly, but I guessed that a quarter hour had passed by the time that Thomas returned with the Prophet and his advisors. I could feel the Prophet’s irritation at being summoned by Thomas, but from Harold I could feel only curiosity mixed with excitement.

Let’s see it, the Prophet said impudently.

We need a new vehicle, I replied.

A new vehicle? The Prophet snapped.

Thomas stifled a laugh and vanished back up the ladder.

I knelt back down on the floor which irritated the Prophet and his advisors. After a few minutes of waiting impatiently, the Prophet returned to the seats located below the observation room. As I sat resting, I could feel his mood changing from irritation to genuine interest. By the time the Humvee drove into the arena, he was standing and already making his way back to where I sat.

I stood up.

Thomas climbed out of the Humvee, nearly leaping to the side, half expecting the blue flame to consume it the very next instant. But this time, the flame rested patiently and did nothing.

Why isn’t it doing anything? The Prophet asked.

I didn’t answer him.

Well? Henry said.

I’m sorry, it doesn’t like you, I lied.

What do you mean it doesn’t like me? You control it, make it do something.

It isn’t that simple, I said. It thinks, Prophet. It feels.

So what?

Perhaps it knows what your intentions are, I began. Perhaps it doesn’t want to be a weapon.

The Prophet seethed. It took several minutes for him to regain control of his emotions. When he did, he turned and walked away.

Thanks for wasting my time, he shouted.

The Prophet left the arena with his advisors without saying another word.

Thomas remained standing next to the Humvee, half expecting the flame to consume it. But when the Prophet left, I released it, and it enthusiastically darted across the field and liquidated the Humvee in a fraction of a second.

Thomas began hooting and hollering and by the time he reached me he was totally out of breath.

What happened? He managed.

It changed its mind.

It can do that? He asked.

I guess so, I answered.

Now, I began, Let’s see if you can do another trick.

I knelt down on the floor and focused as I had the night that I had transmuted the flame into a coffee mug, but this time focusing my thoughts upon the Humvee that the flame had liquidated.

The seconds passed, and I felt an immense and incredible pain, but I subsumed it with the dialectic, and the flame’s exuberance began to subside as it became smaller and less vivid. At last, with a pain so great that I felt it through the dialectic, it formed into the shape of a Humvee but glowing as metal in a flame. Slowly, the metal began to cool, the red replaced by charcoal black.

Incredible, Thomas mumbled.

I moved forward toward the Humvee and felt it, and it felt as it should. But when I tried to open the door, I found that it would not. And the more I looked at its interior the more I discovered flaws in the vehicle. Outwardly, it had the appearance of a Humvee, but all the details were missed. It had no glass, no moving parts, nothing that would make it operable.

It relies upon my intentions, which rely upon my knowledge, I began thinking aloud. I don’t know how to build a Humvee. I don’t know how all the pieces fit together. And so neither does it.

Well, it’s still incredible, Thomas added.

I would have to learn how a Humvee is constructed to replicate one, I mused.

The instant the realization set in, I released the energy back into the Humvee and the flame returned.

Well, good-bye little flame, I must see if Leah wants some breakfast, I said.

The flame seemed to understand, and so I drew back my consciousness and the flame extinguished as if suffocated by the absence of air.

I hope it doesn’t feel pain, I said as I made my way back toward the observation room.

Thomas appeared to be thinking, but once I had put my shirt back on he caught up with me.

I was thinking John. You said it’s still a child. What happens when it grows up?

I didn’t answer him, but I didn’t have to. We made our way silently through the observation room and boarded the elevator. As it began to hum, Thomas spoke again but this time with the calm of the dialectic evident upon his face.

I’d say your concerns are well warranted, Thomas spoke quietly.

There is too much we don’t know, I answered.

I agree. The Prophet will need someone to temper his enthusiasm. This ability could prove as valuable as he believes.

I finished his thought. But it could also be as catastrophic as I fear.

Thomas didn’t speak again, and it was unusual for him to speak so candidly with me, so I didn’t press him.

The elevator took us back to the Prophet’s suite where Thomas and I parted ways, him travelling back to the Operations Center of Unit 45, while I returned to the bed where Leah still slept. I spent the next half hour watching her sleep, her pale face looking beautiful but pained. Even in her sleep, I felt her sorrow over losing Bill, who was like a father to her. By the time she awoke, my stomach was rumbling for breakfast.

Unfortunately, today the Prophet was not in the mood to provide us with a special breakfast, and so we ate quietly and quickly in the cafeteria in the concourse. By the time we had finished, it was nearing eleven o’clock. Leah was to spend the afternoon with Tabitha, getting up to speed on living as a woman in Wasatch. Tabitha had taken Leah under her wing, and Leah had enjoyed learning about the little things like jewellery, make up and clothing. Leah had lived such a restricted life with the militias that something as basic as a bath was new and exciting to her. The children were being tended to by Sherah and Mary, which gave her a great deal of time to spend enjoying the Free State.

I had wanted to visit Dr. Eldritch and Rob before Bill was extradited, to get an update as to their progress. Leah and I parted ways in the concourse, where I boarded the elevator. The humming of the elevator relaxed me until it opened to the Operations Center. I stepped past the guards, who by now knew my face well, and down the stairs to Rob’s office.

The Operations Center was active as Rob’s staff analyzed the ongoing data stream. Once I had reached his office, I looked in to find him pouring over a computer pad, as usual. As I stepped into the office, Rob looked up, but I could tell from his expression that he was tired. He didn’t speak immediately, instead lowering his gaze to the pad again. I sat down across from him as I waited for him to speak.

There’s something strange happening, he barely whispered.

What do you mean?

That’s just it, he continued. There’s nothing.

Nothing?

"Well, over the past few months, because of the election, we’ve seen a change in the JSS behaviour. There’s been greater security checks, a larger number of intersections with the populace, you know, to impose deference. We understood that it was necessary for Simon to redirect the populace toward the Gilchrist camp. But now, it’s as if the election isn’t taking place."

How do you mean?

Well, he took another computer pad and showed it to me. This is what the JSS were doing a year ago. He picked up another pad and handed it to me. This is six months ago. And finally, he handed me the first pad. This is now.

If someone hadn’t told me that this last pad was from today, I would’ve assumed it was last year’s data.

Maybe it’s because Gilchrist is expected to win the election, I suggested.

No, with the election less than three weeks away, I would expect the JSS to buckle down harder, to make sure the result. But that’s not what the data shows. By this data, it appears that they’ve gone back to business as usual.

Do you have a hypothesis?

Rob shook his head. I’m trying to put it together but I have no idea.

Have you told the Prophet?

What would I tell him? I still don’t know what I’m looking at.

I shook my head. Rob’s face turned from exasperation to chagrin.

It could be nothing. But it could be significant.

I wish I could help you but I don’t have any idea.

It’s a pity we don’t have intelligence from inside. You certainly would be a useful spy.

I laughed.

Perhaps someday, I smiled.

How has Dr. Eldritch been coming with his countermeasure?

Rob put the pad down on the desk.

You mean for the Logos Machine?

Yes, I replied.

It’s a tricky one. From what I understand, the big snag he’s reached is that he can’t find a non-lethal solution. It would be different if all he had to do was kill the flame, but he has to do so without killing everyone in eyesight. Try suffocation, if he sets off an explosion of sufficient size, the flame is extinguished by the absence of air. But an explosion of sufficient size would kill anyone within 500 meters.

At least he’s making progress, I answered.

I heard about your ‘training’ with the Prophet. This ability of yours sounds promising.

Did Thomas speak to you?

Yes, Rob nodded.

Then I hope he also expressed to you its drawbacks.

Yes a weapon with a mind of its own is a dangerous thing.

I hope the Prophet sees it too.

Rob was dismissive. The Prophet is impatient but he is not stupid. He would never support a weapon that could threaten what we’ve built here.

Is Dr. Eldritch honestly thinking about using the Logos Machine on others?

It’s the Prophet’s decision, Rob said simply.

And what if it turns out to be as dangerous as I fear?

Then we’ll know soon enough.

Rob left a long pause, and I didn’t seek to break it, content with allowing our words to sink in.

Thomas has made a lot of progress, Rob added.

Yes, he appears to be learning quickly.

I didn’t notice the changes at first, but now I do. Sometimes he answers my questions before I ask them. It is disquieting.

He needs to learn the boundaries of the ability, I began. Just because you can listen, doesn’t mean you should.

Well, Thomas appears to be using this ability quite frequently.

I shook my head, but contained my disquiet with this revelation.

I worry that he has begun to see himself as inquisitor, Rob added. He’s been arranging court marshals lately, alleging disloyalty to the Prophet.

I leaned forward, attempting to contain my surprise.

Court marshals? On the ground of disloyalty?

Yes, a few of my men actually. Something about sympathies to the NAU.

I grew angry, but didn’t speak.

That is unacceptable, I added.

Well, you might want to talk to him.

I will, I assured Rob.

Rob nodded in satisfaction.

There was something else I wanted to show you, Rob began.

I’ve been involving some of Wasatch University’s neuroscience department in our work down here. Your insights have provided us with a new direction to our research. And we’ve made some startling discoveries.

What do you mean?

"Well, these electromyographic readings that the JSS monitor appear to serve two purposes. We noticed that muscle utilization is reflected in the readings, and as you suggested, these readings correspond to deferent encounters. What’s interesting is that our Dean of Neuroscience, Jeffrey Erdell, has suggested that they play a role in memory formation."

It appears that these postures, a collection of electromygraphic readings for different muscle groups, are forming memories, or rather linking memories to specific activation levels of specific muscles.

But what’s the significance?

The theory is that social memories may be linked to muscle group activation. When a person replicates a certain posture, it activates areas of their brain related to memory formation and recall. We call them myograms. Memories preserved by muscles.

Interesting, I replied. How is it important?

"Well, we know the JSS have ways of manipulating people’s memories. So that got us thinking, maybe deference by effecting a person’s muscle activation, and restricting their postures, could also be altering or at least producing a kind of set of memories, that get recalled when the postures are replicated."

You’ve reminded me of something, I began as I strained my memory. "One of my trainers told me that deference gets preserved in muscle memory."

Yes, Yes. Rob nodded. That would be consistent with the theory.

It’s too bad the JSS don’t have neurological data or some other way of monitoring the brain’s activity, I answered.

Well, not even the JSS have mastered the technology necessary to fully manipulate the human brain. At least, we hope they haven’t.

We’ve noticed some other interesting things, he added.

By all means continue.

We’ve been trying to develop a deeper understanding of the relationship between the dominants and those like you. And we’ve noticed a striking pattern.

"The social dialectic produces a predictable effect whenever it enters a certain social system. The effect it causes is one of emotional fragmentation, which is visible in the data because of the skin conductance, heart rate, and parasympathetic activity of NAU citizens. What we know is that this fragmentation manifests as reduced social interaction and a breakdown in the social hierarchy. But once the one like you leaves the system, dominants will then enter the system and re-establish deference."

"When a social hierarchy develops complex and inefficient social roles based upon ideological or other grounds, making it more difficult to modulate due to internal factors, the social dialectic dissolves them. And then the dominants return and impose deference by forcing compromises between the members to produce a system that reflects JSS norms."

The social dialectic creates the mess and the dominants clean it up, is that it?

In a way yes. But is quite interesting to see in the data.

Another interesting thing is that it appears that the dominants will adopt the postures of the one like you who has left the system. These changes in their behaviour are temporary, but it appears that this may be how they re-establish their dominance.

By imitating the postures of the one with the dialectic?

Yes, exactly.

That’s reminds me of something else my trainer taught me.

"We’ve also been following the behaviour of those who the dominants encounter in closed environments like buildings. It appears that apart from the obvious reactions to dominance that are clear in the data, individuals also look for social outs to release social tension. Places like windows and doors, and other places that people can use to leave an environment, appear to possess special significance in their system. Individuals will tend to reach a resting state in certain places. They will then return to this same place, intentionally or not, each time they return to a resting state. We’re beginning to see that we can map social locations to the body rhythms of citizens due to these patterns. If the JSS impose deference while the person is in their resting state, it dislodges them from it and they cannot return to it, forcing them to look for a new location for the resting state. In other words, deference appears to be linked to social locations as well as postures. Likewise things like cell phones or other objects people carry such as watches are frequently used by them to dissolve social tension. These things appear to carry deference."

Also, we’ve found that the rate of encounters between dominants and citizens follows a curve that mirrors the economic growth. So, at times of high economic growth, the JSS are much more active.

It sounds like you are making a great deal of progress, I replied.

Well, it’s all very interesting, but it doesn’t explain this data, Rob concluded.

I nodded.

In the next room, I could hear Thomas speaking to a member of Unit 45. Rob noticed my gaze.

Please, come back anytime, he said as he returned to his computer pad.

I thanked him and left the room. Thomas noticed me enter the Operations Center and ended his conversation. As I approached, he directed me to join him, and we quietly left the Operations Center on the elevator. Thomas directed it to take us to a briefing room so we could speak in private.

We left the elevator and returned down the quiet hallways of the complex until we reached the same briefing room that I had attended earlier with the Prophet’s advisors. Thomas took a seat at the table, and I joined him.

I sense you wanted to speak to me about something, he began.

It’s about the dialectic, I said.

Yes, what of it?

Well. I’ve taught you a great deal about the JSS’s methods. But I had no idea how quickly you were progressing until today.

Is there something wrong? He asked.

I’m afraid that while I’ve been teaching you all the strengths of the dialectic, I’ve neglected to mention the drawbacks.

What do you mean?

The dialectic has a power of its own. That power impacts the way that you think about yourself and about others. The more frequently you draw upon it, the more you will find it infiltrating your thoughts and emotional processes.

I’m not sure I understand.

I’m not sure how simply I can explain this, I paused. What I am trying to say is that the dialectic is a power and like any power it is corrupting. It wants you to use it, to control others, to dominate others.

I understand you concerns, but I am quite capable of controlling myself, Thomas replied.

It’s just that I’ve heard that you are using the ability in a kind of policing role.

Who told you that?

Rob, I replied.

Rob is just upset because he’s losing staff members. It’s understandable, he’s short staffed now, and he’s upset.

The problem, I began, is that if you use this ability to police other’s minds, you become little different than the JSS.

"I can