The Soul was mostly theorized as light particles, or at least light. This light was theorized to be on another scale of the light spectrum, invisible and inscrutable to all current scientific methods. Just like back in the day before the discovery of others on the spectrum—Gamma rays, X-rays, Ultraviolet rays, Radio waves, etc.
The Spirit should be what allows us to feel. Spirit can be big or small, just like the rat—dependent on mood, emotions, motivation, etc. But on a general scale—animals inclusive—spirit is the construct for sentience.
'If spirit is the construct for sentience, and that alone, then…'
On the verge of a massive breakthrough—or maybe not—he came to the conclusion that the Spirit was responsible for sentience, and the Soul was responsible for consciousness. Not really something nobody didn't already know, but the pattern that lead to his train of thought at that moment, and his Intent—also with the resources he had—put him at a different vantage point from anyone who had also come to this conclusion years ago.
'I get it now…'
The light of the Soul is the "information-container" of a conscious being. The Soul itself is also responsible for consciousness.
This fits perfectly with why animals have sentience but not consciousness—which embodies intelligence, creativity, sapience, self-awareness, and intentionality.
The similarity between the Soul and the Spirit was so uncanny that you would think animals had complete self-awareness and other features of consciousness. To him, it was still a paradox, because the crows, dolphins, elephants, rats, and many other relatively 'intelligent' species—more so for the current orangutan, crows, and dolphins—don't just act as if they are on autopilot.
I guess you could call it survival mode though. It should be that a very developed Spirit could, just maybe, gain some attributes of consciousness, but then again wouldn't this mean there was no distinction between Soul and Spirit? If this were truly so, it would explain the failure of his experiment. But it also came with its benefits.
The Electromagnetic Dead-Zone (EDZ) of his previous experiment—which eviscerated many lifeforms due to the luminescence of the light and heat from the explosion alone—could be used as a means to repel—
*Alert* *Alert**Alert*
"Ah, there goes my free time… I thought I was ruthless enough in cutting all ties…"
At that moment, a notification echoed across the lab—a call from someone.
The hologram that appeared on a flat panel in his front gave him two options; VOICE or VIDEO.
Haki selected VOICE without hesitation. Despite that, a hologram still displayed someone, that someone being Hamman, his brother.
"You're in big trouble next time I see you." Haki said in a detached manner.
"It wasn't me… well, not directly… anyways, your mother said I should tell you to come to the family house tonight, for dinner."
"You this individual," Haki sighed. "Didn't you tell her I was in the middle of an experiment?"
A chuckle could be heard from the other side but it was the laughter of a man halfway to a panic attack, as Hamman said,
"You know how mother can be, she said, and I quote, "Even if that bastard has found mother nature, and is currently in bed with her, or maybe even him, cause I don't know why he still hasn't given me grandchildren, maybe he's gay… anyways, drag his little ass here no matter the case.""
"…Ugh…"
Haki—no, Instinct—almost stopped counting seconds instinctively when he heard such a cringe-worthy comment. Five seconds in, seven seconds out. The comment hit like an emotional sucker punch laced with awkward comedy and vague homophobia.
'Yep. That was definitely David's mother.' He thought.
"...Where's the meeting happening?" Haki asked, sighing through his teeth. "And is this going to be like the last one? The ambush with the neural-bond contracts? Another betrayal?"
Hamman winced. "It's... uh... in your Recursive Time Chamber."
Silence.
Then, with absolute calm:
"What?"
Hamman raised both hands, even though it was a hologram.
"Okay, before you rage out, Mr. Time Counter — or wait, was it Fire Dave? Flame Boy? The one that rages out all the time—"
"Tch, get to the point." Haki growled.
"Right. So, uh, because you're... you know... you, there's a high probability you never registered the chamber as government property. So now that Mom's taken over three Super-Duper Intelligence coalitions and two research councils—"
"Are you even hearing yourself?" Haki snapped. "Does anything you're saying make sense? If you've come here to annoy me, leave. I'm busy." He was really getting tired of this cock and bull.
Hamman was really getting nervous now, but not because he was scared of Haki, but his mother. She would really do as she had said if he couldn't get Haki to hand over his Recursive Time Chamber, that is, to take away his business, skin him and his family alive and then use them for advancements in her projects.
"Big bro, chill…" Hamman took to the submissive side and said nervously, he was younger than Haki by 150 years after all.
"Oh! Also," he quipped as if he had remembered something, "grandpa already got a license from the government to use it. A few time patrol officers would surround the singularity cube too."
"Wait, did you just say grandpa... Don't worry, I'll be there." Haki smiled so very faintly. He was quite amused, it seemed someone had already beat him at his own game…
Suddenly, he noticed something and his heart almost chilled, but he remained calm. In situations like this;
'Instinct', he silently called out in his mind while locking eyes with Hamman, and Hamman seemed to understand. The moment he changed gears, his whole outlook seemed calmer, more relaxed, like he could react to anything on command. Hamman noticed this too.
"What else do you have to say, I have work to do," Instinct said while blinking weirdly to Hamman.
"How are your insights with the soul going, have you found anything yet?" Hamman replied, while also blinking weirdly. One wouldn't notice it unless they were the one it was being directed to, but Instinct and Hamman seemed to have another conversation going on.
"No, not yet. Send me those materials right now."
"Which way should I use…?"
"Open up the passage, it's okay…"
"Mn."
Hamman raised his left hand's ring finger slowly, upon which a dark purple ring was nestled in the hologram display. A dim light then shot out of his ring and landed on Haki's own ring on his right hand's ring finger. Checking inside his space ring, Instinct found the trillions of "atoms" of a Gravastar he requested for, floating around in stable space.
Honestly? This wasn't atoms of a gravastar, not really—they just called it that because it was made in a similar fashion to how a gravastar forms. They could only do this knowing, theoretically, it would work. The Recursive Apocalypse wouldn't allow them to leave the Milky Way to find a True-Blue Gravastar.
A gravastar forms a very dense outer layer of matter due to compression from the inward pull of gravity and the outward pressure generated by the vacuum energy in its interior. Its outer shell is theorized to be the hardest material in the Universe—even harder than nuclear pasta.
A gravastar was an astronomical entity eerily similar to a black hole—but not quite. The key difference: no singularity. No point of infinite density. Instead, a gravastar held a strange kind of balance—bending light like its darker cousin, but without swallowing information into oblivion.
That was the kicker. Information could be recovered from a gravastar. Unlike a black hole, where knowledge plummeted beyond the veil of time and space, a gravastar whispered back—faintly, but surely.
It was also the hardest known substance of this age.
Of course, that's if you ignore the purely speculative "solid-state" quark-gluon plasma theorized by the dreamers—those half-astrophysicist, half-philosopher types who insisted on the existence of impossible matter.
But Haki knew better.
The real breakthrough wasn't just in matter—it was in perception. Technology had evolved far beyond the "nano" scale. Now, they could observe particles so small, nano was considered fat. Every ripple of light, every oscillation in space-time, and every trace signature in the vacuum—it all said something.
It was a language.
No, not a metaphor. An actual, functional language—mathematically consistent, physically encoded… ahem, encoded by Advanced Quantum Computers, universally embedded. A runic syntax born from string theory, pattern harmonics, and the recursive behavior of matter at quantum depths—THE UNIVERSAL RUNIC SYSTEM.
"Quite a bold name…" Haki mused.
That was what they had discovered. The One True Blue Language.
Because the universe wasn't just alive in the poetic sense, it was mechanically conscious, operating simultaneously on the giga, macro, mini, and pico scale. Theoretically, you could zoom infinitely in either direction—up or down—and always find structure. Something was always made of something else. There was no "physical reality," not in any absolute sense.
Reality was just... reality, and infinity wasn't a myth, it was embedded in the code of existence. It should be. When we advance quantum computers, we should be able to use Q-SCRIPT to code more layers of realities and start studying infinity, more, actively...
'Alright, that's enough rambling—I thought Instinct was in control.' Haki barked within himself, cutting through the thought spiral.
'Yo, Acca. I told you not to randomly take over and start info-dumping on everyone's consciousness feed,' Haki berated. 'This is why nobody lets you touch the mouth.' Haki thought, then paused for a while.
'Besides… Hamman seems to be in danger…'