Bản chép lời đầy đủ của Ep4 | Desert Reflections

of the stars, doomed to repeat our inevitable fate. Come on, either, stop building castles in the sky, get your head of the clouds for once, focus on what's important and lies ahead. Use this time to reflect. What is it about clouds that make us see objects in them? Do they even have a true shape? Are they merely blank slates upon which we project our deepest wishes and desires, only then to see them go poof into a puff of air? Easy, come, easy go, I guess. The silver lining is that, at least for a moment, we get to possess that things will never have in this life, and better that than ever at all, that large round one looming at the edge. It can't be no swear air so clearly, the figure of a face, the delicate features, soft eyes, puffy cheeks. Button knows it's almost too perfect for this world. The face in the cloud my mother's mother. She looks so peaceful up there, not going anywhere, and just drifting wherever the wind takes her, and smiling down at me from above. Why did the stars have to take you so soon? Mom? It's just a child. He needed you, your gentle touch, your soothing voice, your warm compassion. How cool this world can be? First, father slain, leaving you behind with no one by your side. Then after childbirth, you gave your life for mine. Not a single day passes where I don't wonder how things might have been different only you were still here when I was growing up. What kind of life we could have had together, you and me in a little house on a small plot of land. We wouldn't have had much, but we wouldn't want for much either, And time i'd learned to be strong like you, I'd even become a great hunter. Every day you'd wait for me to come home with a daily catch, and would have a big feast to send off the night, celebrating life and giving thanks. We had each other. Maybe instead, under your watch, I'd become a great scholar, a man of letters. I'd make you proud. I'd secure us room and board in an ivory tower and some far off land, and spend my day studying the meaning of life and learn why bad things happen to good people. Or I'd give up the material world altogether and become wise in the matters of the heart and soul, and show us the true way home. No matter how the story unfolds, we'd have our time and the sun together as mother and son. But of course that mad Tyr and Nakasha back home, had to take our life away. She contended father to death, and that killed you. Still in the room, I felt your heartbreak. I felt umber possess you, possess us, And I'll never forgive myself for taking from you what you could not have yourself life. I guess I'll never know the whole truth. Just left a piece together, tattered tales and dreams. I guess that's for the best life of pain and suffering, worse than peaceful death. If only there was a miracle cure, in a way to turn back time, If only I could start over, I'd find a way to save you or trade your life for mine? Now while I have left or fading memories, and this amulet the painful reminder

of what was taken from me, my mother, what took her away Umbrah and I returned to free Imperia. Tell me will there be anything left to save? Either way? I'll see you soon, so tired of fighting. In the end, I'll be the one to sing to you. Don't be sad, don't be blue. I'm the bird who will worry for you, and it'll carry us both to sleep. I know it's a foolish thing to ask, but if you can somehow hear me up there, Mom, can you send me a sign to let me know you're listening. A single tear drop rain down from your clouded face on this hot day would be more than enough, some proof so I know you're still here, watching over me from high above, before you float away and I lose you again forever. Are you okay? Something in my eye? I'm good, I'm good. I'm good. Let's just keep moving. I always viewed these travel days as a pleasant yet unfortunate drain on productivity, But now that we've cut the idle chatter, I suppose I'm finally free to focus my mind on more substantial matters. Let's see where to begin. Maybe I'll remap our route to optimize travel time based on prevailing wind patterns. By re orienting our trajectory to travel with the winds at our backs and eliminating trudging against headwinds, we could reduce air friction caused by dragon saves several minutes an aggregate travel time. On the other hand, that's rather inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. We'll get there. While we get there, Surely there's a cause more deserving of the attention of my unbridled intellectual brain power. I know. Perhaps all mo over the theorem, I've been tinkering with the deterministic theorem of quantum mechanics. If you could isolate the initial stage of a quantum system down to the atomic level, then theoretically you could track the development of the system over time. All you'd have to do is work out the position and momentum of the atoms during the system's initial conditions state, which is technically impossible unless you interpret the system as a series of waves instead of particles. Then, utilizing a wave function, you can capture the complete information of all possible probabilistic momentum and position potentialities, effectively transforming the probabilistic function into a model that's intrinsically deterministic. And once you solve for the beginning and end state superpositions, the opportunities for practical applications are endless. I'm thinking reconstitution, intensibility, teleportation, who knows what else, eurega. But again, on the other hand, successful implementation of these applications would require overcoming the impediments of widespread coordination and the lobbying of key personnel, and upon universal acceptance of my theorem, I'd be viewed as an acclaimed pioneer in the field, expected to make countless appearances and accept a multitude of awards. I'm not ready for that level of commitment, at least not just yet. There are infinite possibilities for what I can accomplish. I've never had so much concentrated time to think and be alone with my thoughts. I can't wait to unlease this newfound mental energy on the world. That is, once I identify a topic suitable for study, where to begin, something weighty, something meaningful yet manageable, really there's nothing too big or too small in scope, as long as it's of the utmost importance. I bet there's some mystery that's been right in front of us the entire time, just waiting to be solved, that once we see it will be in odd how we could have ever missed it in the first place. But what could that be? I know, I'll start by analyzing the very desert environment we've been traversing. What's out here with us in these sands? Any moment now it'll come to me, think logo, Think ah, what's the use? There's nothing out here but sand, miles and miles of insignificant sand. Who even knows where the desert begins and where it ends, or how many grains of sand are even in this place? Surely that number is incomputable, though maybe if the base counting unit was larger than a singular grain, that problem could start to be addressed. A better inquiry than is how many handfuls of sand is this desert comprised of. That's certainly a non inconsequential improvement as far as solving this dilemma goes. And I don't say that lately. They're a handful of sand much more reasonable. Huh. It does also beg another perplexing question, how many grains of sand make up one handful? Clearly, the amount of sand in my hand is greater than a singular grain, no doubt about that. The heft, shape, and volume all make that very clear. I'd venture it's even ten thousand times greater number than the amount of a singular grain. But say I were to remove one grain of sand from the pile, that leaves nine thousand, nine hundred ninety nine grains of sand remain. Or set another way, these nine thousand, nine hundred ninty nine grains of sand now comprise the handful, an irrefutable deduction, now bold as I may be. If I were to remove a second grain from this pile, I'm left with nine thousand, nine hundred ninety eight grains of sand, categorically still by all counts and measures, a handful of sand. Hypothetically speaking, and strictly, as an exercise, dare to take away one more grain of sand, nine thousand, nine hundred ninety seven grains now remain. If nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety eight grains of sand were a handful, and you're removed a single grain from the pile, no material amount of information has been lost. Therefore, I propose that nine thousand, nine hundred ninety seven grains must also be classified as a handful. Deriving the base level axiom, the rule is as simple as follows. A handful of sand minus a single grain remains a handful of sand. Taken to its logical extreme. If I were to keep removing grains of sand one by one from the pile, then that must mean a single grain of sand is equal to a handful. How can that be? It's, by definition a logical contradiction. The very foundation of deductive reasoning has been shattered. At what

point on an infinite continuum does one definite article give way to another? If no single point exists, then the ramifications are limitless. Day becomes night, past merges with future, and life is death. Then the only conclusion that follows is that every part of a system, at every level, is equal to the entirety of the system itself. Consider the implications on a cosmic level. If one can't distinguish between a grain of sand and a handful of sand, how can one make sense of the universe Applying the same handful to grain principle. The universe is made up of galaxies, which in turn are comprised of solar systems, which themselves consists of planets that are populated by civilizations that divide out into societies made up of people like us, made up of us. That means we are the universe experiencing itself. It's all here in these grains of sand. The answer in the palm of my head. The entire universe is nothing but a logo. Sorry, the sand in my hand made me sneeze sand hand? What are you talking about? The desert sandy universe of the cosmic continuum or never mind? You should be using this time to think and reflect. Stop playing with sand and find something more meaningful to occupy your mind. Sure ether, I'm working on it, and like the eye on your amulet, I'll keep my eyes open for inspiration. My amulet, the eye of imperiod. What do I make of it? How is it that the one thing keeping me safe from umbra? It's the one thing holding me back from seeing through the lines and finding out the truth. It can't be right, can it? How would I think that? That's crazy? Talk? Complete another nonsense. Those words must have been umbres they have to be serious, and Logo could read my thoughts right now, they'd want me can find They knew how much I longed to return to Umbers in a realm. How learning I find her call, They'd think I'd lost it for sure, Uther has finally gone off the deep end. Now I must be wrong. Why does it feel so right? How come? Every time I take off my amulet and enter the intra, I feel like I'm on the verge of learning some great truth, discovering an unknown insight into our existence, and gleaning a deeper meaning of life. But I never quite get there, do I? Sure? Sometimes I feel close, like it's only barely out of grasp, that if I could just reach down deep enough, I could nearly touch it. But the end, it always slips through my fingers and they come up short, and I'm left chasing shadows, with no real form, void of any realization or new awakening, with nothing to show for my troubles but regret and disillusion, and worse, the vague feeling that I'm slowly losing some part of me. And yet some part of me, some crazy, twisted, messed up part of me, knows that it's simply because I haven't gone far enough, but I'm nowhere near the limit. I have to keep pushing past the brink and journey into the deepest recesses and darkest corners of my mind. And only by traversing the depths of my soul will I one day reached the bottom and break through to the other side, and there will find it, that undeniable truth, finally crystallized, something to make sense of it all, to reveal to me my true self and make me whole and give meaning to my life. But these days I can't shake the feeling that I'm not going in the right direction anymore, like I'm just a tourist in my own body, simply passing through. I'm traveling through this desert. My mind is flying through hyperspace, and I don't know if I'm getting any closer to where I was heading, or if I'm just falling further and further into this bottomless black pit of self. And I don't know anymore if I want to know which way is up. Maybe that's just how the world is. There are some things we'll never know, and though we look for answers, we're destined to always be searching, finding nothing but endless questions and did things get so bad? Where did I go so wrong? Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve any of this? How come this is my life? But there's nothing there, no answer, no purpose, no meaning, no end. On the other hand, there are things in life we somehow intuitively know, even if we can't understand why we know them, Like how a newborn cries at the sight of a predators shadow despite having never seen its face before. Fear primal, fear of the unknown, the dark silence, oblivion of what lurks just beneath the surface. It's instinctual. Or how about love, how an infant comes out of the womb knowing it's safe in the arms of its mother. We may never find answers for these unprovable truths, but their knowledge is wisdom we already possessed with them. Or maybe the greatest folly of some truths is that there's no one to believe them, not even yourself. For all I know, this journey i'm one has no end. There won't be any milestones of growth or deeper understanding. I hope for enlightenment, but will be left in the dark. How can I even be so sure that any progress I think I've made along the way isn't really just me refusing to acknowledge that I've gone down the wrong path? Could I accept the truth if it was right in front of me? They call Umber the master of delusion? But I can't tell any longer where either ends and Umber begins. I thought I could explore Umbra's intrat free of cost, that I had nothing to lose. But that's not true. After all, I have been losing my sanity, my health, my faith, myself, and now unlost. I feel Umbra's hold over me growing stronger every day as my descent into the interest deepens and I fall further and further under her command. Is this the unthinkable truth kept for myself? That I'm going mad? That maybe I've already gone mad? But this truth has always been my destiny, hasn't it? Since the day I struggled into existence, born to a mother, damned by Umbra and bound to suffer myself a tangled web. I've been mortally wounded since birth. I'd be lying to myself if I said there was any other way for me my whole life. I've known it in my whole life. I feared it. It was only a matter of time until

I lost myself to umbra completely. But I'm no longer scared of that time, because I fear that moment may have already passed. The others have no idea how deep I've fallen. I wonder if I really do. For all I know, I could be leading serious and Logo farther and farther into the dark night of her abyss, taking him straight into her tramp. Surely they have better sense than me and won't be tricked so easily. Guess I won't know for sure. Well, I I suppose the deeper and deeper you fall into umbre, the harder it is to distinguish the truth from a lie. That's the curse of going mad, isn't it. That's the blessing of going mad, isn't it? You can no longer tell just how mad you've gone, the paradox of madness. The matter you are, the more warp your logic and deluded your reasoning, So you convince yourself that you and only you, are in possession of some secret, undeniable truth. In reality, the truth couldn't be farther away, And who can tell you you're wrong. When you're up as down, left as right, and black as white, untenable leaps that once required mental gymnastics to reach are now level ground. From there, you'll ditch your old beliefs in a heartbeat and start swearing by the impossible, like the moon is made of cheese, or that you're already dead and the world is controlled by a secret society of top hat wearing gophers conspiring to dance the bung on your grave. Don't encourage your behavior. Are but our silence agreement? I'm sorry, you're right logo. I was overcome with a spontaneous fit of hysteria, That's all. You won't hear another sound out of me until dark, Promise good. There's that sound again, the hum, a tritone interval followed by the rest of it, our peggiated diminished chord. I've heard the sound of myriad of times before in the desert, but on a still afternoon like today, the hum's mooteeth most strikingly pierces through the background clutter. What kind of entity could be responsible for emitting this strange hum? It's impossible to place one thing's for certain. Whatever it may be, it's not local to the desert's natural acoustic ecology. I wonder if the others hear it too, though it harmonizes rather well with the external desert environment, so I wouldn't be surprised if it's virtually imperceptible to the untrained ear. Come to think of it, I never paid it much attention before, But in stark contrast to how physically dreadful this desert can be, its soundscape is actually rather comforting. Ah. Underlying this sonic environment must be a bevy of unique sounds, each contributed by independent actors possessing a distinct acoustic signature, that by chance collectively come together to form this euphonious desert symphony. I wonder if I can isolate the diverse sources responsible for the various rhythms and harmonies. Perhaps if I fully immersed myself in their sounds, I can localize their respective origins. AH. The serene chirping of desert locusts their signature staccato a love song for the ages. With his mating call, the male attempts to court the female by rubbing his hind legs together to produce the effect, in essence sending her an auditory smooch from across the dunes. Judging by the sounds intensity, there are only a few of them, present a good sign as locusts are typically solitary insects, but are prone to large groups swarming when agitated. For our sake, let's hope they keep singing their sweet sounding melody. I wonder what else is out here overhead? The dust chorus of the sing song bat a multiphonic melody of squeaks, squawks, and squabbles as they take flight, indicating that niffall will soon be upon us. The bats call out an harmonic duet as they communicate with one another. When a bat has located a food source or identified a potential threat, it'll alert the colony with a high pitched shrill. In turn, the colony responds in kind to spread the news or sound the alarm. What a special treated it be. If only I could listen in on the sounds of their echolocation used to navigate and hunt in the dark. Unfortunately, it operates on a frequency just outside our auditory threshold for hearing, so I'll have to focus my eavesdropping elsewhere. Ah, the wind's vibrant breeze Mother nature's own call of the wild, capable of rustling the leaves on the highest tree branch and moving the clouds themselves with one mighty breath. No noise from a mere creature can match the ethereal beauty of her soul and what range. In an instant, the wind's temperament turns from the gentle whisper of an airy zephyr floating down from up above to the guttural roar of a merciless gale forcefully swirling a fierce desert sandstorm. She remained calm while we walk her dunes, and finally, the missing piece of the puzzle, the sound of the shifting sands beneath our feet, a constant deep crunch caused by the movement of our boots, our own contribution to the complex acoustic ecology. With each step we take, we shape the very desert soundscape, reaching our ears In truth, analyzing its component pieces does nothing to demystify the desert symphony I'm hearing. How is it possible that each voice operating independently sings a unique tune with respect to tone, pitch, volume, and duration that not only minimizes acoustic interference with other nearby vocalists, but seamlessly harmonizes in sonic union. It almost seems too perfect, as if the entire thing has been coordinated by some omniscient composer, maybe decoded at a lower level. The notes in these sounds carry some deeper message beyond the pleasant nature of their melodies. If I could find a way to decipher these seemingly random groupings of notes, perhaps I'd unveil a hidden language of sorts. After all, what we perceive as sound is really just vibrations traveling through the air and acoustic waves. Hypothetically, I wonder if you were to map the shape of the waves whether you could start to understand the information contained within. Then, with a powerful enough converter, it might be possible to use the sound waves to

develop a common tongue and even converse with the environment itself, not unlike how a satellite dish receives and transmits information in the form of electromagnetic waves the satellite dish. Funny, how ether and serious don't even know what a satellite dish is. Yet that's what they've been hired to retrieve, or is that why they've been hired to retrieve it? I wonder what plans the agency has for the satellite dish. Who might they be trying to communicate with? Logo? Where are you going with this? You know that information is classified for a reason. Life would be so much easier if only everyone had antennas in their head and all communication was conducted through direct broadcast, with no figurative expressions or colloquialisms to obscure language. We'd be left with clearly transmitted messages. Maybe then people would finally understand me and I in turn them. The irony is some of the most important things in life can't even be expressed in words. They have to be experienced to be understood. Something I'm still learning, like the relief you get from the first drop of water on a hot desert day, or the sense of wonder that washes over you and taking in a sunset, or that warm, fuzzy sensation you feel after a tough day traveling in the dunes, knowing you'll be okay because your friends are by your side. There it is again, the hum shoha ha um, the hum catchy tune, isn't it h hum m h nothing? Carry on walking ah h h Armadillo desert skull poor little fellow, not even armored shell enough to survive desert element. But Serious no weep for fallen friend. This not end of path for animal Armadillo passed from physical realm to spirit world. Everything has spirit, not just people, an animal, tree, rock, river, All have life force, make up world's soul hum and all die. One day ev'n ancient river like great snake, reach stage when it starting to slow. Come day when river carry last rock, tributary pay last offering and water reach ocean. Final time, River's bed turn'd to muddy grave as water run dry and river complete cycle of life. Soon fertile soil near river turn barren, and roots of plants begin to rot. Where once was life now is death. Where once have water now hath drought. But this not end of path. One day heavy rain come and from dry channel now stream borne flow through valleys and canyons, River current come back in arms of old carry on life for next generation. Serious No. Even though Serious Clan no longer here in physical realm, with Serious Clan spirit live on, Serious feel Clan energy around him. Big chazooka hot headed warrior in clan, now live on a soul of mount fumus in homeland, ready to erupt as volcano Noble Jedessa healer to ill her soul among waterfalls. If energy and life to fallen, Vdias grand Seer, knowledge and way of stars and spirits. Now keep watch above as great Cloud. Clan spirits live on in all of nature in rays of light, shine down on Sirious attacked and guide. One day when Serious grow old gray with many years, Serious to return to land. Serious body break down, make soil fertile for new growth. Under dirt where Sirius lay nourish seedlet and young saplings sprout from ground. After many season, sapling grow into strong wise elder tree. Number of rings in thick trunk and branches that touch clouds. Trees, big leaves give shade to tired creatures searching rest trees. Flowers bloom fruit to feed creatures hungry bellies. In time, give rise to rich lands, nurture new life. Serious soul live on through tree a spirit of forest, like ancestors before. When Serious cross into spirit world, Serious reunite with clan's people. They're together again at last. Serious joint arms of brothers and sisters and rejoice in cycle of life. But Serious soul no belonged to a spirit world. While Serious alive here in physical realm Ether logo needs serious and here sunrise to sundown Ether logo Our serious clan serious either serious is howling of the sunset? Does that mean our vowe sis is officially over? Think so think so help ring on the night cloud tear cycle of lion precipitation. Finally, I'll get out my rain injured. Up ahead, There's a cave where we can keep dry for the night. Come on last one Bear Roger Wood pop rainfall at sunset. Wow, you heard me? You're still here. InterQuest created by Michael Freiberg, a production of iHeart Radio and Astro Media Executive produced by Michael Freiberg and I Hear Radio. Co produced by Adam Raimundo and Chelsea English. Sound design and mixed by Dennis Denbeck. Music by Trey Toy. Performances by Matthew Brissard, Ether, Mike Leibovitz, Serious Mike Kaplan Logo, Lucy poul Umbra, Director and head writer Michael Freiberg, Writers Tom Delgado and Will Julian, Story editor Chelsea English dialogue editor jay Anne Wang. Additional music Matthew Blanca Foley Post. Read fullcast and crew in the description. Find more podcasts from our radio on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts.