The theory that winter, as consciously experienced, was not real, goes back to ancient indigenous people of Eos who believed the darker solstice existed as a dream or illusion. In Cybele, physicists referred to the matrix, grids, simulation and hologram. However, it is important to note the Holographic Winter was not simply a generated image; it consisted of an apparently diverse structure of either varying intensity, density or profile. The recorded meteorology of the season was able to change as the position and orientation of the viewing system changed in exactly the same way as if actual weather was still present, thus making the associated snow and freezing temperatures appear hyper-focused, over-saturated or unnervingly expansive.
Physicists of Cybele soon discovered the depth and multi-dimensionality of meteorological reckoning was not the only remarkable characteristic of the projection. After initial attempts were made to divide the Holographic Winter by month or week, each fragment was still found to contain the full scope and weather violence of the season. Even if the sections were divided again, by day or hour, each piece was always be found to contain a smaller but intact version of the entire winter.
The "whole in every part" nature of the seasonal projection provided physicists of Cybele with an entirely new way of understanding organization and order. For most of its history, the continent labored under the bias that the best way to understand a physical phenomenon was to dissect it and study its respective parts. The Holographic Winter taught them that some principles in the may not lend themselves to this approach.
Various rogue sects of Cybele took these revolutionary beliefs further and insisted that within the Holographic Winter, even time and the continent itself could no longer be viewed as fundamentals. Because concepts such as location break down in a projection in which winter and weather violence are never truly separate from anything else, even considerations such as topography and temporal space would also have to be viewed as mere projections, albeit of a more complex order. To these break-away sects this suggested that given the proper tools it might be possible to someday reach into the seasonal projections of each continent and compose a one, true meteorology from their long-forgotten core.
On this continent, what passes for winter is still another approach to traversing eternity, the angles and occasions are the same every year, the snow stays till it's see through, the birds are frozen stiff or fragile as flashbulbs, flapping back and forth like scatter points in the sky.
It's all a test of makeshifts and means, each hour is primary colored and coming apart, every second is a knot, a callous, bone proud and in the proper place. They say the same thing over and over, the amount of information that can be stored in a season is not proportional to the season, but to the area that bounds that seasons.
Still, I wake up and take my mason jars outside. I spent the projection collecting the scarcest kinds of cold air: avalanche vapors, first-born frosts, cobweb winds. In the beginning I dated them, but by now the division of days has begun to break down, blur together. It's like there's a pulse behind them, a pulse that points to another projection entirely.
Still, I don't argue for precision, a horizon, a preceding composition, I know this is just the weight of winter here. It's a wide enough way to say the same thing every year: just because one projection stands next to another projection, it doesn't necessarily mean you have two projections, you can't define dust if it's all dust.
You can't recover the center of winter, if all you have are calendars of winter.
On this continent, what passes for winter is still another approach to traversing eternity, the angles and occasions are the same every year, the snow stays till it's see through, the birds are frozen stiff or fragile as flashbulbs, flapping back and forth like scatter points in the sky.
It's all a test of makeshifts and means, each hour is primary colored and coming apart, every second is a knot, a callous, bone proud and in the proper place. They say the same thing over and over, the amount of information that can be stored in a season is not proportional to the season, but to the area that bounds that seasons.
Still, I wake up and take my mason jars outside. I spent the projection collecting the scarcest kinds of cold air: avalanche vapors, first-born frosts, cobweb winds. In the beginning I dated them, but by now the division of days has begun to break down, blur together. It's like there's a pulse behind them, a pulse that points to another projection entirely.
Still, I don't argue for precision, a horizon, a preceding composition, I know this is just the weight of winter here. It's a wide enough way to say the same thing every year: just because one projection stands next to another projection, it doesn't necessarily mean you have two projections, you can't define dust if it's all dust.
You can't recover the center of winter, if all you have are calendars of winter.
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