Writing: Motherland of Exiles: Tempus Recta
by Beauchamp Art
Extract from the work in progress project, Motherland of Exiles.
Those that remember the history which was, prior to the Event, the only history that could have been, were those that, despite all probability, would have lived in both that, and this current version of events, and from whom it was possible to gather much of what is known about that civilisation through the looking glass. They bare the memory of that world, and alongside a few artefacts and record materials, a reasonably thorough archive had been established. Nevertheless, some finer points are still much contested, as are the many ‘what ifs’ posed as to the nature of a converse presence, particularly with regards to the nature of causality, and whether the Dawn of this age was inevitable. If so, then the rewriting of history had to occur for mankind to progress on the axis of time to this place in the universe – a most peculiar, and potentially paradoxical, problem to resolve. Yet, to exist as humanity does in it’d Flatland, it’s perspective of trajectory along dimensions imperceptible are difficult at best, impossible in all likelihood.
Yet branches of many a family tree remained much the same, and environments such that in what was and now has been share more commonalities than differences. Here, Rome did fall but it’s empire remained strong in the Land of Angels, the Britons grew strong, infused with the blood of their Romantic forebears and the ripest of the northern European tribes. When the corruption of the old Rome, it’s warring factions undemanding and spreading too thin across the nation-less provinces about it, the Empire remained unconquerable in the island state. So far-fetched does anything but this seem to the majority of the citizens of this world that to consider otherwise, should they ever do so, would be wholly unfathomable.
The citizens of Camulodunum like all those of the Metro State know their place, with their society and their world which exists as both the wall of the Castra, and the unflexing fortress of the mind. There is only one world, one history, one people and one State, all others are false, imposters and to be vanquished from thought and reality. Scorched earth is the only way by which the people of this new age can grow, for it is all they know and all they can know with any possibility of understanding. This is not to say the alternate history which has been gather thus far is to be censored, far from it. Like all archive and library materials that are wholly public, but of no interest to the population. Such erogenous mates are entirely irrelevant to their lives and they have no desire, motivation or need to know of them, though are never unable to access and gain knowledge of their existence, should they wish to do so.
Nevertheless, despite the aforementioned unlikelihood of a person being born whose place was paralleled in another time, such instances may still occur. Though with increasingly less frequency the further is progressed form the Incident that cause the divide, descendents of those schismatic souls are most commonly found outside of the Castra, the extra-Metro inhabitants, whom are not subject to the more rigid genetic engineering and screening process used to produce the population in the civilised cities, are far more likely to bare the traits and echoes of memory from beyond the scope of this reality. Some of whom, amongst the more superstitious of the Precarari and Decimari population (those of whom are cognisant enough to process their complex contradictory mnemonic activity, but whom cannot comprehend their role in its entirety) refer to these individuals, arguably fool-heartedly, as ‘Prophets’, despite the ironic titling of those that see the past and another version of the present with such a name which more accurately describe one who communes with a deity whom may be visited by images of the future.
But they, nor anyone thus far has had eyes that could.focus on the future. For that to be so, ever miniscule factor, down the quantum arrangement of every subatomic particle would have to be understood and factored in with absolute clarity. Thus far, no man nor machine has even vaguely approached this possibility – even predicting the weather still proves problematic, and by contrast such a forecast is but a feint feat.
It is looking to the past which, for now, requires more thorough consideration to understand the present. Moreover, given the oddity of the severed and overlapping time lines which result in the current predicament, even knowing how every star in the sky shifts and ever blade of grass grows would not necessarily produce and picture of the future any more accurate than a hypothesis grounded in intense inspection of the world more holistically. The nature of Consiquentialism is as chaotic as it’s alternative namesake would suggest. It’s not simply a matter of butterflies and hurricanes, but which and when.