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at 3am on august 2nd, while in a fugue state from excessive amounts of xenoblade chronicles 3 gameplay, i sent the following message to a discord server: "inb4 riku is alvis pulling an elaborate prank"

yesterday i saw a tweet about a reddit post about someone positing this exact same crack theory, and i decided it was a sign.

i have no further excuses or explanations to give. take this. it's yours now.

:)

In each and all of the stories, there is a boy and there is a sword.

The method of acquisition differs: in a certain story the sword takes the boy first, though through a series of events it is then both taken up and cast away by another hand of little consequence. Whatever the particulars, the sword holds the boy who once again holds the sword, until the sword becomes a metaphor. The sword has always been a metaphor, except for when it is not.

In another story the boy takes the Blade long before he learns that the Blade is not necessarily a sword, is not necessarily a weapon at all. The Blade thinks it is a sword, but the Blade does not understand that the semantics of the assertion are a form of bias. If the Blade is the sword then perhaps the boy is the sword as well. Such would depend on the decisions they make together. The Blade, after all, requires one to drive it.

If Origin is the confluence of these two complete stories, the annals of which contain many and many and many scores of further untold sagas, then it would stand to reason that in this world, in this stopped time of the silence before the collision, there ought to be a story about a boy and a sword.

This story is not his story. There is a story in which he belongs--there is a story in which he did belong, that he has long, long since outlived. It has drawn to a close, its final footnotes penned, the loose threads of any note braided and woven in. Yet what use is a story that will be remembered by none?

In this story his name is Riku.

In this story there is a sword before there is a boy--in all of the stories the sword comes before the boy, to be precise, and yet it feels-seems different that in this one the sword is created of conscious compliance with the law of Origin.

Fittingly it is dubbed the "sword of Origin". The sword of the logic of the worlds recorded in the great ark; the sword being the lever to set it back into motion.

One of the levers, pulleys and wedges and ramps. Again, the sword is a metaphor.

But a metaphor is a title is not a name, and so--drawing upon the ancient wisdom of one of those archived tales, in which six hearts and one (the division, of course, is also a metaphor) joined to forge the true sword--this sword will be named "Lucky Seven".

His name is Riku, and his nation is Keves. A single drop of water that has travelled down a long and winding vine. All that is left of a world created in a box by a thing that was created in a box.

This is not the story he knows because the story he knew is over. The stage remains, but the audience has all gone home and the players have all died. If there is anyone returning to hear that story, they will be sorely disappointed; there are three tellings, all in all, and that ought to be enough for anyone.

One would believe.

Yet who but the watcher may decide when the curtains are drawn?

There is a perpetual, endless watcher in this perpetual, endless now, and he knows because he is not the watcher. He has been the watcher.

Not in this story.

The act of viewing is participatory. Because he cannot abstain, it must be true that he is not the watcher.

Whether the watcher is a hedonist, or perhaps a critic, or perhaps an archivist--fluid identifications depending, of course, on biased response to the presented subject matter--the show must play on. Compulsively, it must be played on. It is the nature of stories to be witnessed; it is the nature of information to be recorded.

If he cannot be a watcher (and he is not a watcher; the audience of this story desires its endless repetition, this asymptotic reality, while his will lay within the motherboard of Origin) then he must be an actor.

It has been some time, of course, since he has had a part to play, had to concern himself with the efficacy of his presentation, the modulation of his delivery. Better to reduce the size of his spotlight. Add to the comic value. Suitable methods for deflection; he does not want to be studied in critical analysis. Scholars had argued enough regarding his original story, even if scholars do not exist in this one--given that children are born only to die young, die before once developing a mind for contemplation--and it is logical to believe that the theatre audience of the now is not quite sympathetic.

And so.

In this story his name is Riku. And he is--

Line?

He prompts his expansive memory for something suitable.

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