Genius The Transgression/Chapter One: The Cosmos

"Nothing is going on and nobody knows what it is.

Nobody is concealing anything except the fact that he does not understand anything anymore and wishes he could go home."

-Philip K. Dick

A cosmos is not just a universe. It is an ordered universe, one bound by coherent laws and systems. These are the laws the Inspired use; these are the laws the Inspired betray. A genius is not born ex nihilo. All have some great motivation for what they do, that defines how they view the world―their catalyst―and most have a unique way of seeing the world and surviving the ravages of Mania―their foundation.

First Principles

Behold My Genius

A genius is a mortal man or woman gifted with extraordinary insight and technical brilliance. A genius is also a concept, an extra-worldly thing, a muse, an eidolon of imagination and beauty, something that alights for a time upon mortals or, sometimes, buries itself deep in the soul of a person and does not leave.

This double-truth follows a genius through life: are they extraordinary individuals gifted with a touch of the impossible, or are they mere conduits for a greater and inhuman power? This question torments many of the Inspired, and they pore over the accounts of their predecessors and propose monstrous and baffling philosophies in order to learn what they are: gifted mortals, or mere shells for the idea of genius? Every genius must ask herself, at some point, am I real? And they must discover for themselves the origin and true nature of their ideas. Are they Inspired, or are they Inspiration personified? Where do the terrible, beautiful ideas come from, if not from their own mind? Are they, in some sense, worthy of the wonders they make, or are they mere midwives for things more beautiful than they―things in some sense, more real?

As a genius grows in power and experience, traditional notions of causality and responsibility can break down, stripping that question of meaning, but many Inspired fear such a fate. Something burns brightly within them, and it can burn away who they are entirely, eclipsing their own minds with a shining thing, a divine thing, that can hollow them out and use them for their own ends. A genius instead clings to those human questions, those not-transcendent concerns. For every young genius who rails at the chains raised around his ambitions, who spits at the world for denying him respect, equipment, peace of mind, there is a seasoned wonder-worker who has discovered that those pitiful mortal frustrations, the tedium of paying the utility bill, of deflecting accusations from one's unInspired friends, of just getting out of the lab for a night and talking to frail, grubby little humans about frail, grubby human things, is all that limits the luminous thing within from burning through the back of their eyes and pouring out into the world.

Some never learn that lesson. They become Inspiration. Their fate is sad, and sometimes beautiful.

The Breakthrough

At Last I Understand

A genius' Breakthrough―the moment she stops being a normal mortal, however naturally gifted, and becomes Inspired―is often a traumatic experience, though it is rarely sudden. Over the course of weeks, months, or even years, a mortal's perspective begins to change. Ideas that once made sense become dubious, unintuitive, even suspicious, while new notions seem to leap unbidden into the person's mind. These might be dismissed as madness, if the ideas don't work, or unexpected leaps of intuition, if somehow they do, but the nagging suspicion remains that the ideas are coming from Outside, that somehow they are not one's own.

Most reasonable people, at this point, retreat from the strange revelations: they shut themselves down, force themselves to go about their day-to-day lives, and if they're lucky or determined, they won't experience a Breakthrough at all. They will live out their little lives like the rest of us. But some rush headlong toward these new experiences, while others cannot or will not escape them, perhaps seeing answers there that have eluded them before. This is how a genius is born.

The first few months after the Breakthrough are traumatic and infuriating: Inspiration, for all its brilliance, fears the light of day. Answers that seem so obvious as the genius labors by night in rented laboratory space turn to nonsense when shown to one's fellows. Many geniuses think they are going mad. Their friends almost certainly think so. Isolation and madness set in as the Breakthrough drags on: the genius is Inspired, but lacks any ability to produce something. He is not yet a maker of wonders.

The First Axioms

Pinning the Butterfly

Eventually things must change. Some remain isolated. Some Inspired are picked up by the Lemurians. There they are told the great Lemurian truth: that they are right, that everyone else is wrong, and that they are the natural leaders of the mortal world, gifted with genius to redefine the world in their image. Others go completely mad, becoming Illuminated, devoured by the light within.

The rest join that loose organization called the Peerage, the society of independent mad scientists. An established peer, or a whole collaborative of researchers, might find a lone genius and teach her how to channel her Inspiration. Others make their own independent discoveries by reading scientific and mathematical texts that are gibberish to the sane but how-to programs for the Inspired. Regardless of how he learns, most geniuses who do not go mad stumble upon the Axioms: "channels" of mad science that apply some modicum of order to the genius' chaotic thoughts, and which can be used to create wonders.

The Axioms are not reliable, by any means, let alone consistent. A genius can imagine them as knots of cohesion floating in a vast illuminated sea of Idea, little islands where things almost make sense, though the shoreline shifts fractally with every passing second. Even if a genius doesn't know the names and histories of the Axioms, she sees something solid there, a foundation upon which she can build the scaffolding of something wondrous. She is no longer a flailing half-genius whose equations are gibberish and whose projects sublimate before the eyes of her peers. She has laid claim to a system. She is now a genius in full.

Mad Scientist Population Demographics

So Who Here Is A Genius?

The Inspired really are good at statistics. So, who becomes a mad scientist?

According to Genius: A Complete Psychological Breakdown, published by Ayako Von Schreber and Bob "Doc" Sandwich in 2005, the Inspired are primarily drawn from the scientific, academic, and educational fields. It should come as no surprise that almost nine in ten Inspired work or worked in such fields: they are or were scientists, researchers, philosophers, sociologists, professors, mathematicians, engineers, technicians, medical doctors, or computer experts. Many others are drawn from related fields: Inspired populations boast many librarians, historians, field guides, teachers, explorers, mechanics, architects, and all-purpose scholars. This is what geniuses call the breeding pool, the usual "spawning ground" for new geniuses.

Of those geniuses with their origins in mortal science, about 60% came to Inspiration naturally, in the course of independent study. The rest were deliberately guided and spent time as beholden. Either this was a period of apprenticeship before the inchoate geniuses were allowed to embrace their full power, or they were intended to remain as mere servants and technicians, but grew Inspired of their own accord.

About 12% of geniuses become Inspired though they possess no particular scientific or technical background, nor formal training time under another genius. The old term for such a person was a raudus, a raw "lump" of genius. They possess no training, but they have raw talent and some kind of frantic drive that pushes them into a Breakthrough. The beat cop who sees one crime too many and decides to mess around with an armored suit, the mother whose children are menaced by mysterious underground machines and who ransacks libraries to find out how to stop them, the laborer who watches a loved one wither of untreatable cancer, and who starts asking around about "impossible" cures...all these people are geniuses for whom the Breakthrough comes first and mundane knowledge comes later.

One genius in three has a PhD or equivalent. (Two geniuses in three will claim to have a PhD or equivalent, or will put "Doctor," "Doc," or "Professor" in their names and not feel guilty about it.) This means that the Inspired population is an educated one. However, not every genius comes to her new life in the "traditional" manner of being a scientist and then going mad. Many, perhaps most, are hobbyists and come to Inspiration through those hobbies: amateur astronomers who see something they can't explain and are consumed with obsession, computer geeks whose machines start doing things that don't make sense, or graphic artists who stumble upon a color palette that produces impossible effects.

Many Inspired do not know what they are. It is estimated that between 30% and 50% of all geniuses have no idea that they are geniuses. Though many of these are noticed and introduced to the Peerage or Lemuria within a few years of their Breakthrough, some might go their whole lives entirely unaware of the larger communities in their midst. These are called lonesomes, and a genius is likely to encounter a few during her career. Most work alone; a few form isolated groups disconnected from the Peerage or Lemuria. Lonesomes are becoming increasingly rare in an increasingly connected world.

Of those geniuses who have connected with their colleagues, 45% belong to Lemuria, though that number is dropping, as Lemuria today sees few replacements. 35% are peers and belong to one of the foundations (or are rogues belonging to a collaborative made up of peers). The rest are rogues or belong to an unaffiliated program, either operating independently or in groups that have no connection to or interest in the politics of Lemuria or the Peerage.

There are a lot of Inspired, a fact that startled the Peerage when it was first discovered. Estimates are as high as one person in five thousand being a genius, though many are lonesomes with no idea of what they are. More conservative estimates make Inspired rarer, but there are still a good number of them in any major metropolitan area.

According to the available demographics, the Inspired are 56% male, 40% female, and 4% not answering to either gender identity, with those numbers equalizing slowly but steadily; male-female parity should occur around 2030 according to projections. This is an astonishing change from a 1913 questionnaire that indicated 71% of the Inspired population was male. This disparity is usually explained by the larger numbers of men in the technical sciences and other traditional sources of new geniuses. Among the different foundations, the Navigators are the most male-dominated (at 62%), while Directors, who draw more often from the humanities or "soft" sciences like sociology and psychology, have slightly more women (58%).

"Kid geniuses" aren't as common as many people think. (Though they are often as annoying as people think.) Minors make up 14% of the Inspired population, with one genius in 50 being under the age of 13. These "Wesleys" show a slight proclivity for computer science, with dimensional research also being popular.

Geniuses skew toward higher income levels, with few poor people or people in the Third World capable of affording the equipment and education level necessary even to begin the process of a Breakthrough. There are exceptions, however, to this grim economic determinism: sometimes people in desperate straits manage incredible Breakthroughs and escape their former lives in a burst of Inspiration.

Other than a touch of madness and a burning desire to create, though, geniuses today have less and less in common with one-another. They are no longer drawn from the traditional demographics of educated upper-class white males that dominated the Peerage in the 19th century. Even the traditional spawning grounds of the physical and computer sciences are growing proportionately thin. Breakthroughs now come from almost anywhere, and with the world more connected than it ever has been, a loose international community has formed among the Peerage, joining together people from all over the world and from entirely different walks of life.

Obligation

From Up Here They Look Like Ants

A genius' Breakthrough, once she has mastered his first Axioms and created her first wonders, is often accompanied by a godlike feeling of invincibility and of escape from the fetters of the mundane world. But a genius cannot escape humanity, at least while keeping his humanity intact.

Instead, a genius is bound to humanity by ties of Obligation. The genius can never again be part of everyday humanity, or return to his old life. He can never again walk among his former peers as equals, at least not without danger to himself and to them. But the genius cannot simply be a watcher. Instead he must become a monitor, a guardian of his world from both his own wonders and horrors and those unleashed by others. Often dispassionate, but never disinterested, the genius becomes a protector of common humanity.

That's the ideal, and few Inspired live up to it. Even peers are willing to use mortals as subjects, servants, and pawns, while Lemuria sees itself as their natural rulers. Those Paragons who retain their sense of Obligation are rare, especially as the pressure of finding test subjects, grant money, and a place to work grows more fierce as a genius grows in ability and Inspiration. Powerful geniuses often see themselves more as conduits for the raw stuff of Inspiration than as people who happen to be Inspired, and behave accordingly. Those acts that violate a genius' sense of Obligation are called transgressions. Too many, too often, with too little regard for their consequences, can drive a genius into true madness.

Types of Insanity

I'm Not Mad!

"Involvement with Bizarro transcends words producible by mere tongue, teeth and lips. If my lumbar ganglia could talk, maybe you'd have your answer, Barry. As for my 'position,' well, I'm not sure if such simplistic polarities as hither and yon obtain in our peculiar quadrant of hypospace. But the address of my bungalow is somewhere on the opposite side of Bizarroville from Speculative Boulevard, and diametrically across from Irreal Avenue. Sometimes late at night they sneak across the tracks, infiltrate my neighborhood, and make unusual mouth noises outside my window. It's taxing emotionally."

-Tom Bradley

A genius should get used to being called mad. Most that don't crack in their first few months learn to take it in stride, for unlike regular researchers, many mad scientists know exactly how insane they are. But a genius can slip and fall to true madness. These become the unmada. Too much Maniacal activity, too fast, can result in the genius cracking as Inspiration overrides parts of her thinking mind. When this happens, the genius becomes an unmada: the raw energy of Mania echoes her own thoughts, confirming her prejudices and beliefs. Those beliefs then reinforce her Inspiration, which produces more bent Mania, producing a hall-of-mirrors or echo-chamber effect where the genius' own subconscious continually validates her opinions while wiping away contradictory data. Some geniuses escape this fate; others revel in it.

The term "maniac" (as a slang term for the unmada) is thrown around rather casually in mad society, but it has a very specific meaning for the Peerage, and there are three sorts of unmada that generally concern the Inspired.

The first are the independent unmada, sometimes called echo doctors. Most are lonesomes or isolated rogues, vulnerable to the phantasms generated by their own Mania because they lack a model to explain their wonders. Others belong to the Peerage and are tolerated despite their eccentricities. These lone madmen are often pitied by the Peerage, and attempts are made to reach and rehabilitate them.

The most common unmada are the Lemurians, who insist that they are quite sane, thank you. But Lemuria is based on the idea that a genius' own Inspiration provides a totally accurate view of the world―that everyone else is peering through their scanners darkly, not the genius. Lemurians rationalize the obvious contradictions in different members' interpretations of the world by invoking the Archweltanschaaung of Lemuria, which states that each Lemurian's worldview really is true, but that a "higher" truth maintains them all...or perhaps will maintain them all at some future point, when the Lemurians' work is completed. The details of the Archweltanschaaung are unclear to all but devoted students of Lemurian epistemology.

Many Lemurians spend their lives, like Aquinas reconciling Aristotle and the Church, finding "occult" compatibilities among different Lemurian philosophies. The Lemurians, in the end, are thoroughly cracked, but they have created a system that allows them to function, for all their cruelty and madness. Most geniuses who become Lemurians join them―or more accurately, are recruited by them―within the first few months after their Breakthroughs, Some seek them out so that their broken visions might receive validation; others are granted the "truth" by a Lemurian who discovers a lonesome teetering on the edge of dangerous madness. There is the occasional trickle between the Peerage and Lemuria, but this is negligible: most Inspired remain on one side of the fence or another for life.

The Illuminated are not fooled by Mania: they are Mania. The Illuminated have been consumed by their own Inspiration. That alien light burns away their personalities, leaving nothing but a swirling vortex of Mania and alien logic. It's estimated that about 20% of all fall to Illumination eventually: 10% more or less immediately and 10% over the course of their lives. Most of the latter are Lemurians, but no one is entirely safe. An Illuminated becomes "genius," rather than remaining an individual genius. As a mad scientist succumbs to Illumination, raw Inspiration swallows up the genius' personality. He becomes something amazing and terrible, entirely devoid of human feelings or thoughts, a mere conduit for the deranged energy of genius as it floods into the world. The Illuminated are dangerous and magnificent, transcendental mathematical intellects wrapped in the guise of mortal flesh, their actions unpredictable and dangerous. Whatever motivates the Illuminated, they are often as beautiful as they are cruel, capable of composing grand and monstrous projects, as Maniacal light from another world spills from their eyes.

The Consensus

I Still Remember The Scorn of My Peers

Two geniuses in every three come from some kind of "scientific" background, and one of the first things they learn is that, after their Breakthrough, they can never return to their former lives. Their mere existence disrupts research, clouds statistics, and makes a mockery of the scientific method. A genius is not a scientist; a genius is a wonder-worker whose miracles are technological in nature. Because of this, the life of a genius is a lonely one. Other Inspired can be allies, but are more often competitors for the same meager resources. Mortals can turn a wonder into a pile of scrap with a moment's handling, and the insightful nature of those mortals geniuses most want to associate with―fellow scientists and thinkers―merely hastens the process of disintegration. Those mortals who have embraced the genius' worldview, her beholden, embrace it with such feverish devotion and faith that, whatever their other merits, they are no more than echo chambers for the genius' thoughts.

So the Inspired walk a lonely road, isolated from their assistants, often conspiring against their fellows, and risking ridicule from the general public, unable to return to their own lives; sustained, it seems, by the burning light of Inspiration alone.

Collaboratives

I'll Trade You "Buy Groceries" for "Clean The Zombie Trap"

About half of all members of the Peerage are independent, working on their own or perhaps with a few beholden. They are not necessarily hermits, but they lack the ability or interest to cooperate with other geniuses. Some are engaged in work that is too esoteric or dangerous for anyone else, while others are just not very sociable. Their connections to their foundation is through correspondence and the transfer of money, research data, and resources.

Other geniuses band together in groups of three to ten, pooling their resources in a collaborative. This grants them a measure of protection against both the dangers of their chosen careers (orphan wonders, pissed off Lemurians, the Illuminated, furious mobs) and from the moral, psychological, and economic dangers of being a lone researcher. Funding for non-mad science is cutthroat enough, but trying to scrounge up money for wonders is a tangled mess, as Inspired draw on their trust funds, struggle to find regular jobs to pay for laboratory space, and plead for grant money from the foundations and fellowships that hold the purse strings of the Peerage. It's vicious business, and a collaborative allows its members to trust at least a few of their fellows.

Collaboratives are usually metropolitan in extent, though modern technology and super-science has resulted in the appearance of entirely digital collaboratives. Feuds between collaboratives are considered poor form in the Peerage, but they can get vicious, especially if two collaboratives lay claim to the same mundane source of funding and neither will back down.

No One Is In Charge

Much of Earth's scientific history is due to subtle manipulation by Lemuria. It is unclear how much control this group had, and it has become increasingly obvious that Lemuria had far less influence on the development of the mortal world than they often boast. But what is clear is that for centuries―millennia, perhaps―they kept a rein on the progress of science, mad and otherwise. Their program for the development of humanity, the Race History, stamped out innovation and development wherever it appeared, replacing it with developments spoon-fed to humanity by the Lemurians. Free geniuses were converted or killed.

This system never worked perfectly, and by the 17th century it had begun to unravel. Lemuria took centuries to die, and it fought for every second of life, crushing intellectual revolutions that threatened to destroy its hegemony. But new ideas swept across the world, and the Lemurians could not hold them back. Their techniques grew more severe and unyielding, their philosophy more intransigent, and when they moved to "set back the clock" in a series of wars that would have left humanity a burned-out shell, the free Inspired were moved to action: they confronted the Lemurians in open battle, chased down and killed the Secret Masters that controlled them, and ruined the careful planning behind the Race History. By the middle of the 20th century, humanity was free...and no one was in charge.

No one is in charge now, either. That, say many Inspired, is why we didn't get the future with the flying cars and the "televisors" and the moon bases: those things were in the works, all set for the Lemurians to hand them down to us like manna from heaven, and we were supposed to accept them and let our betters maintain them while we lived our happy, comfortable lives. But Lemuria got its ass kicked, and has your life ever been comfortable? It hasn't, say many in the Peerage, because humanity is off the rails, free from control or intellectual extortion.

So no one is in charge of humanity, mundane or Inspired. We've been forging our own path for fifty years―or 500 years, depending on how you count it. It's been a terrible mess, but it's been our mess. There are no Secret Masters, no answers hidden by centuries-old secret societies―well, not anymore―no Golden Age in the past, no Utopia in the future, no free rides, no easy answers, and no one at the wheel. It's just humanity, some of whom can create fifty-foot-tall robots, trying to get by.

And No One Has Any Money, Either

But Lemuria didn't just curl up like an entomologist and die. One of the bitterest truths of mad science is that Inspiration doesn't pay the bills, and even as the nastiest parts of Lemuria―the eugenic breeding programs and the deranged race theories and the monstrous power games―were being put to the sword, the Peerage realized that Lemuria offered an invaluable service: it provided a screen for mad scientists. The Lemurians had entire networks and cartels dedicated to keeping geniuses safe and supplied.

Even after the destruction of Lemuria, these organizations remained, and the Peerage lacked the personnel and expertise to replace them with its own people. So the Lemurians persisted as administrators and support specialists for those rickety networks.

Picture the Registry of Motor Vehicles. Not the real one; picture it like something out of a caricature of a Libertarian's most fevered nightmares. Now add Stalinist-level paranoia, the bitterness of a lost war, and staff it by people who believe―literally believe―that the Earth is flat, or something equally bizarre. And many of them can whip up a pack of flying monkeys to tear out your eyes inside fifteen minutes. That's Lemuria today. And they hold the purse.

Want to hold down a job better than "sales rat at the electronic store"? Do you want to teach? Do you want grant money? What about―Fermat help you―tenure? Then you need to talk to Lemuria. Foundations and collaboratives can help a little, but when things go wrong and a genius' need is dire, for the "I need five kilos of selenium right now" and for "I need an advance or they'll cut my power and spoil the cryonics," there's Lemuria. It's a rotting hulk riddled with bitter failures dreaming of past glory, but its supply catalog is second-to-none.

And it's not easy to escape Lemuria. A few geniuses make do in their parents' basements, cobbling together whatever they can from stolen components. A few have trust funds or other forms of wealth that might last for a time. The lucky ones can manage a steady supply of resources, such as tenure or a lucrative government job, but even then, one slip and the genius is revealed as a lunatic, a crank with crazy ideas whose inventions break down every time they're tested. Lemuria is always waiting.

The Monorail of Broken Dreams

Mania is the energy of Inspiration; if Inspiration is the generator, Mania is the electricity. But Mania is a strange phenomenon. It is not generated by geniuses alone. Instead, all kinds of mortal thought can generate low amounts of Mania, with scientific or mathematical thought generating more, and the sort of thought one might call "revolutionary" (politically, scientifically, ethically, it doesn't matter) generating the most.

Mania windfalls occur during times of revolutionary scientific development, especially when an old idea is rejected and supplanted by a new one. These "Maniac Storms" have two effects. First, they birth new geniuses, as regular scientists (or just normal people with a touch too much curiosity) grow obsessed with the new revelations about the world. Second, they generate manes, which are places, things, and even creatures birthed from pure Mania.

When dreams, plans, and revolutions appear, or when they break down in neglect and failure, Maniac Storms sweep across the world. The twentieth century was practically one big Maniac Storm, and no one knows if it's over. (Brief periods of peace, such as immediately after World War Two and the Vietnam War, were shattered by events as momentous as Sputnik and the computer revolution.) These storms leave the world littered with bardos, false realms brought into existence by their own disproof. Bardos and the manes within them feed on Mania, and even the most hopeful, Utopian bardo either decays into nothingness or finds some way, however brutal, to steal Mania from the real world.

Genius in History and Legend

"3. And Jesus made of that clay twelve sparrows, and it was the Sabbath. And a child ran and told Joseph, saying: Behold, thy child is playing about the stream, and of the clay he has made sparrows, which is not lawful. And when he heard this, he went, and said to the child: Why dost thou do this, profaning the Sabbath? But Jesus gave him no answer, but looked upon the sparrows, and said: Go away, fly, and live, and remember me."

-The Infancy Gospel of Thomas, Roberts-Donaldson Translation (Second Greek Form)

The history of Inspiration is shrouded in myths, tall tales, and botched attempts at time travel. What is clear is that there have been geniuses for nearly as long as there has been civilization. The oldest orphans―wonders whose creators have disappeared or died―were found in Irem in the 1980s and dated to around 2500 BCE, and rumors of even older Egyptian orphans and ones of unknown origin are common. Wonders have been found from ancient Egypt and China, Babylon, Mesoamerica, and the Indian subcontinent. The remnants, no longer functional, of Greek, Roman, Persian, and Medieval Muslim wonders are common collector's items among the Inspired, and many orphans from the Renaissance and early industrial period are still in working order, and treated as status symbols by powerful geniuses.

It is also clear that very few of history's great philosophers, savants, and scientists were geniuses. The Inspired are characterized by an inability to express their ideas in universal and comprehensible terms that shape the technological development of the world. Of history's great scientists and thinkers, only Leonardo da Vinci, Nikola Tesla, and Robert Hooke were certainly geniuses. (If reports are to be believed, da Vinci was a rogue who opposed Lemuria, Nikola Tesla was an Etherite, and Hooke belonged to the Invisible College.) Cases have been made for a number of other thinkers having been Inspired (or beholden), including Hero of Alexandria, Paracelsus, Gottfried Leibniz, Benjamin Franklin, Lady Ada Lovelace, Josef Mengele, Amelia Earheart, Philip K. Dick, and countless others, but evidence for these claims is spotty at best. No one involved in the Manhattan Project was a genius or a beholden, almost certainly: the Peerage and Lemuria both watched every scientist involved very closely for fear of what horrors contamination with Mania could cause. In general, history's greatest scientists, from Lavoisier to Darwin to Einstein to Turing, were defined by their ability to communicate universal concepts about the world in clear and unambiguous language to the majority of interested and educated human beings, a feat that very few geniuses are capable of replicating, and a task that would not interest most of them even if they could.

History before the Italian Renaissance―Inspired scholars favor the arbitrary date of 1452, the year of Leonardo da Vinci's birth―is largely obscured by Lemurian propaganda. Early history appears mostly to have been one of relentless Lemurian control, with independent geniuses being either entirely local or, if they made contact with their far-flung peers, suffering destruction at the hands of Lemuria. Tantalizing hints of exceptions to that rule, such as rumors of the Syntaxis League during Alexander the Great's Empire, and the Scholars of Contradiction who were said to have spread across and outside the Muslim world during the 8th century AD, remain elusive. Lemurian records during ancient Rome are extensive, but contradictory, with clear and believable accounts of everyday life mixed with impossible nonsense and murky parables. Many peers consider Rome the origin of Inspiration, but this is incorrect. If Inspiration has any single origin point, it is India; the traditions of genius likely spread from India westward shortly after the death of Alexander the Great. The East may have had a separate Inspired tradition originating in China, though many scholars cite ancient trade in secrets and technologies between Egypt and China as evidence of a fundamentally Mediterranean origin for all Inspiration.

Due to this murkiness, history (as opposed to legend) really starts with the Renaissance. The rapid spread of knowledge resulted in too many mortal mechanics, philosophers, and experimenters for Lemuria to monitor, and countless Breakthroughs. Improved roads led to better communication, and in no time, it seemed, there was a community of Inspired chattering eagerly with one-another, and not interested at all in Lemuria's promises or threats. A similar thing happened in China at nearly the same time. The Lemurians, fearing an ascendant and organized Inspired population in China, ruthlessly annihilated almost all traces of that society.

Their work was so thorough that by the mid 17th century, not even their name was known.

But Lemuria had neglected (comparatively backward) Europe, and geniuses had spread everywhere―and worse, mortal thinkers had gotten all sorts of ideas into their heads, something that had not happened as extensively in the East. Attempts at repairing the damage with promises or violence proved futile, and Lemuria was forced to activate the next phase of its Race History early.

The result was several centuries of failure for Lemuria, interspersed with spasms of genocidal violence: every time Lemuria focused its efforts on eradicating the Peerage, mortal thinkers made new discoveries; every time they tried to drive the clock back in the mortal world, free geniuses spread and prospered. The loose alliance of free Inspired continued to grow in power, despite constant pressure from Lemuria, until, in the 20th century, Lemuria began an open war that resulted in its near-total defeat.

The last half-century has been bewildering for geniuses, whatever their political allegiance: there used to be something to "push against," a plan that could be embraced or ignored or even harmed, but there isn't a plan now. The Peerage flailed about for a time, directionless. It took the development of the Internet to change that.

Estimates of the genius population before 1990 or so guessed that one person in a million was a genius, giving a total world genius population of a few thousand. That was wrong: once the Inspired got online, superior communication allowed for a revised estimate: there were, probably, at least a million geniuses out there, and many of them wanted to talk to one-another. The Internet was a revolution, and it continues to be so: there are now a million Inspired online (though many probably have no idea what they are), with estimates of the total genius population being anywhere from twice to ten times that. Since the arrival of the Internet, the life of a genius has changed considerably: the days of laboring in isolation are over, unless a genius chooses to live that way, and while funding and lab space are always at a premium, a genius now knows that a community of peers is no farther away than the nearest connection. How this will ultimately change Inspired society is still uncertain.

Fundamentals

Sometimes it seems like the modern world is all about brand identity. The ancient one was, too.

Even if it doesn't matter―especially if it doesn't matter―it's important for humans to have tribes, to divide themselves into us and them, and to maintain nested dolls of familiarity and distance. A genius might be walking around with an entire universe in his head, but he's still a human being and possesses the same needs and impulses as any other.

But the foundations―the divisions of the Inspired―do more than just give geniuses a team to root for. They provide a set of core assumptions that a genius needs to not go mad. Foundations provide axioms as well as Axioms, setting the genius on the path to understanding Inspiration, Mania, Obligation, and the wider world into which she has emerged. Further, each foundation offers a clear focus and identity. This is part of a deliberate effort by the Peerage to help a new genius quickly find a place and a purpose before she succumbs to one form of insanity or another.

The Artificers are the tinkerers, the kitbashers, and the compulsive builders and fiddlers. They focus on mad engineering. The least likely of the peers to possess a formal scientific education, Artificers are nonetheless gifted mechanics, architects, roboticists and (increasingly) computer hackers. Anything that can be torn apart and rebuilt delights the Artificers. An old but loosely-organized group, Artificers are united in seeing the creation of the new wonders as primary: theory and application are secondary concerns to the unfettered joy of creation.

The Directors see themselves as the peers' organizational head; the other foundations' opinion on this matter are mixed. Directors study mad psychology. Among their numbers can be found Utopian visionaries, malevolent hypnotists, techno-voyeurs, diabolical masterminds, benevolent despots, and powers behind many thrones. This foundation possesses a sinister air―other geniuses imagine smoke-filled back rooms and secret meetings―but newer Directors are more interested in managing research teams than ruling obscure foreign nations.

The Navigators are travelers, explorers, and adventurers, as willing to use wonders as to create them. They are students of mad physics, producing hideous energy weapons, vehicles of all sizes and purposes, and dimensional gates. Navigators might be soldiers of science, crime-fighting guardians, or twisted researchers who explore the far reaches of space and time. Their origin in the fires of the Last Invisible War gives them a militaristic cast that can trouble the other foundations.

The Progenitors are the youngest of the foundations, having recently undergone a bloody and horrific purge. Their focus is on mad biology: transplant surgeons, cloners, animal uplifters, toxicologists, and genetic researchers make up their ranks. The organization preceding them was annihilated after the rest of the Peerage discovered the extent of their corruption; the reformed group is intrigued by self-transformation and by becoming the philosophies they embody.

The Scholastics are philosophers and questioners, as interested in what Mania is than what it can produce. The oldest extant foundation, these proud descendants of Europe's Invisible College focus on mad philosophy, from cutting-edge mathematics and experimental philosophy to the darkest, most ancient secrets of long-dead occultists. Younger Scholastics view themselves as trickster-figures and take on the guise of Loki, Coyote, Prometheus, Lucifer, or other light-bringers, demiurges, or riddlers. Older Scholastics find the younger generation's penchant for riddles and games insufferable, twee, or even blasphemous.

The organization for each foundation is loose and non-hierarchical, which was the intent of the original organizers of the Peerage: they wanted to escape the cliquishness and power-jockeying found in the Inspired salons of Europe and replace them with egalitarian orders that anyone could join.

Instead of ranks and hierarchies, each foundation instead offers an organon: a book (or, nowadays, a series of downloadable files) that contains useful information about the foundation. This is enough for a new genius to master his first Axioms. It also provides valuable information about regular science and technology, and―most importantly―how to convert that information to the development of wonders. The foundations are intended to give the genius a loose sense of belonging and gives him a go-to point for questions, while not stifling him with protocol and an oppressive sense of membership and obligation.

Despite this loose organization, each foundation is riddled with internal divisions between young and old, tradition and revolution. Even mad scientists have their traditions and their customs, passed down from the earliest days of the Peerage, and as the generation that cast down Lemuria gives way to a new, mercurial group, raised in a technological landscape that 20th century peers could only imagine, the tranquil edifice of the Peerage is starting to crack. Lemuria's baramins are structured differently, with a stricter hierarchy and more ideological trappings. Their groupings―Atomist, Etherites, Mechanists, Oracles, and Phenomenologists―are based on when and where the genius thinks mortal society went wrong. They offer no organon, but rather direct tutoring in the philosophies and doctrines of the baramin.

"The Word EARTH indicates One, Entity or Singularity, but Earth is not an Entity, for the Half of Earth seen from Space cannot exist without the Opposite Half NOT SEEN - existing only as opposites with a plus & minus zero existence. As an Entity, the Opposites will cancel each other out to nothing. Teaching that Earth is an Entity equates to a Doomsday induced by Educaters upon Humanity. Earth is not a Singularity, it is composed of Opposites."

-Navigator Organon: "Introduction to Skafoi" (aka "Time Cube Volume 1 of 36")

The Nature of Inspiration

There Is A Pattern In This Chaos

"I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth."

-Umberto Eco

Ideas come from somewhere. At least the big ones do. Even the most staunchly rational peer recognizes that there is something extraordinary at work in the making of wonders. A thing outside the genius, that transcends mortal ideas of brilliance and talent, is born when a wonder awakens for the first time and stares down at its creator with eyes of smoky agate or photosensitive titanium alloy. An Inspired is nothing without Inspiration, and Inspiration is greater than any mortal mind.

But what is it? What is Inspiration? Geniuses throughout history have tormented themselves with that question, developing philosophies, theories, and incomplete, lurching models to account for all the phenomena that Inspiration gives rise to. Over the years, those Inspired that comprise the Peerage―the society of free geniuses―have produced five foundations with philosophies to explain the nature of Inspiration and to guide new geniuses through their first hesitant experiments.

To the Artificers, Inspired who delight foremost in the creation of new wonders, the universe in which we live is broken, or sick. Once, it worked perfectly, a single, vast organism. But something wounded it, ripped it apart, flinging scraps of broken life across a dozen realities and leaving howling voids between them. But so perfect was Creation that the disparate organs still function: this physical world, the world of mechanical law where people live in skins of meat, still works. It works so well, in fact, that mortals can construct explanations for how this maimed world functions. The genius, however, sees the whole picture: the physical, the psychical, the statistical, mathematical, and teleological; she sees it all at once, and those are her laws, not the half-truths and shadow-answers of mortal science. A genius performs True Science, as if the cosmos were whole and healthy. What she does looks impossible to mortals, but only because they can only see a single cell of a far vaster organism.

Directors, with their focus on social interaction, see Inspiration as the “big lie.” A genius, the Directors say, has learned the science of "tricking" the universe. Modern Directors invoke the principles of quantum mechanics: the uncertain nature of the universe means that, for very small scales of space and time, the impossible happens with troubling frequency. And like particles and antiparticles appearing simultaneously out of a common nothing, the genius' deranged inner state and the mad things he produces exist for a time before falling back into mundanity. Inspiration is the art and science of bringing those impossible things from the quantum world into our own macroscopic world, and greater Inspiration allows the genius to maintain her wonders―and her own perilous, half-mad existence―for longer periods of time. There is no final cheat; there's only keeping the ruse going for just a little longer.

To the Navigators, Inspired who are as interested in using inventions as conceiving and building them, there is a sort of existence even in non-existence. "Existence" is merely another property, they say, like "being green," and things that don't exist still possess properties, not as a sort of play-on-words, but literally. It doesn't matter that Darth Vader isn't real, right? He's still evil. So it's no surprise that impossible things happen all the time: a bit of genius, to break down the barriers between the real world and the infinite reaches of the Not, and a person can call the impossible into the possible realm. It's not easy, and it's definitely not safe, but it can be done. And impossible things are not limited in such mundane ways as those things that make up the World That Is. They can be contradictory, deranged, beautiful, and meaningful: they can be wonders, things that should not be, in a world all too cluttered with Stuff That Just Is.

To the Progenitors, those geniuses obsessed with growth and change, Inspiration is the result of "sheer force" between what is true and what is false. Their flexible minds embrace the paradox of Inspiration: a genius is Inspired because he can do the impossible, and since he can do things impossible in this world, he is Inspired. Little glitches in mind and nature, in the world within and the world without, add up, and at times of great internal and external stress, spiral out of control. "Impossibility" itself is a sort of power, and that power can reach a critical mass, and ignite like a new sun. When it ignites, a genius is born.

To the Scholastics, geniuses who see idea and concept as paramount, Inspiration is the manifestation of a more pure universe, a realm of Idea, as it struggles to enter this dark world. There are things in that realm of Idea, living concepts, "intelligences" of a sort, and they are curious. Not malevolent―though their intrusions can be destructive―but determined to enter. Yet they cannot survive in our ruinous world, no more than a human could survive at the black bottom of the sea or in a poisoned wasteland. Instead they have found a halfway point in mortal thoughts, "piggybacking" in minds and (now) in computer code. Some minds, the Scholastics say, are special, somehow uniquely formed, and around these minds, for a time, those beings of Idea can live for a time in our world, as the wonders a genius creates.

While each Lemurian baramin has its own ideas about the nature of Inspiration, Lemuria as a whole rejects the idea that they could be blinkered, incorrect, or insane. Today's Lemurians, like today's Directors, often invoke quantum principles to explain Inspiration. Lemuria says that the natural state of the universe allows multiple overlapping realities to exist, but that the crude and unInspired observation of regular mortals disrupts this natural equilibrium, forcing a single interpretation on the world. Geniuses, by contrast, are freed from this mundane limitation by their more refined intellects and can entertain multiple explanations and even realities at the same time―their observations do not "collapse the wave-form." This means that, for a Lemurian, her interpretation of the world―theories, wonders, and all―is correct, at least locally, and that attempts to contradict her opinions on the matter are not so much the result of competing ideas, formed logically, so much as a direct assault on the integrity of the Lemurian's worldview, an assault put forth for ideological reasons. For a Lemurian, communication is violence in a very real sense, as other ideas threaten to destroy the uniqueness of her perspective and replace it with the bland homogeneity of mundane humanity's singular interpretation of the world.

Are any of these ideas correct? It's impossible to tell. The foundations' notions of Inspiration serve to ground a new genius, to help form a model, however incomplete, of what has happened to him; most Inspired pay only nominal attention to the core theory of Inspiration put forth by their foundation. But just having some kind of a model―rather than believing that the rest of the world is mad and they alone are sane, as the unmada do, or caring nothing for mortal reason like the Illuminated―sustains a genius through the first difficult months of his new existence. Those who fail to form some kind of model―any kind of model that moves beyond "I must be right and everyone else is insane"―with which to understand their experiences are prone to madness and psychological disintegration.

The Laws of Mad Science

"Do not keep saying to yourself, if you can possibly avoid it, 'But how can it be like that?' because you will get 'down the drain,' into a blind alley from which nobody has yet escaped. Nobody knows how it can be like that."

-Richard Feynman

What if every failed theory, every idea that didn't pan out, every forgotten and cast-down concept could live again? Because they do, in the mind of a genius, and they come into the world through the hands of a genius.

To one of the Inspired, every failed and aborted idea is a chance to touch the impossible, and by using those broken equations, those contrapositives and ruined fancies, and channeling Mania through them, she can create miracle-machines. Lemurians believe that this proves their theories, and every Lemurian clings to one or more views of the world that gives power to its Inspired believers. Wrapped up in their own brilliance, they see the answers before them, plain as day, and are unable to acknowledge how and why their ideas fail when separated from Mania. The Peerage, by contrast, drills its new members in one idea before all others: what a genius does is not real. What a genius thinks when creating a wonder―those strange twisted equations that rain through his mind like confetti―aren't real, they aren't true, and even if they were, the genius has no way of knowing if they are, no external vantage point, neither the capacity nor, ultimately, the desire for objectivity needed to explore the potential truth of such ideas. A peer must learn to use those dead and unborn ideas, rather than be used by them. This is the peers' lesson to their own: mad science is mad, and believing oneself sane is the deepest form of madness.

Mania is unpredictable and produces what geniuses of a theoretical bent call "non-repeatable phenomena"; events that, while they certainly happened, cannot be repeated in a controlled environment, thwarting all attempts at research. Nonetheless, the Peerage has organized a few laws of mad science that provide general guidelines for what the Inspired encounter. These laws are designed to guide a thinker away from Lemurianism and force him to accept one of the Peerage's most important axioms: that geniuses are fundamentally different from sane scientists, and that attempting to engage in scientific-as-such behavior will lead to Lemurianism and/or madness.

The Law of Broken Theory (aka Popper's Little Secret)

Geniuses are not scientists and once a genius catalyzes he will never again do science as he previously understood the practice. His Mania makes that impossible. Geniuses aren't clear what Mania is, but it's clear that the stuff gets into a genius, changing his perspective and disrupting how he relates to the world. In short, it drives him mad. Not the full-on delusional insanity of an unmada or Lemurian, or the alien psychopathy of the Illuminated, but Mania changes a genius enough that he is no longer in sync with the rest of humanity.

This law comes in strong and weak forms, and different peers favor different interpretations. In the strong form, favored by more traditional or mystically inclined peers, what geniuses do is literally impossible by the laws of this universe. They concern themselves with higher―perhaps transcendent―laws, and by the standards of mundane reality, they are wonder-workers in a literal sense, able to do the impossible.

Geniuses who favor the weak interpretation, by contrast, say that geniuses' wonders still conform in some sense to the laws of physical reality, but that the corollary conditions of Inspiration still bar a mad scientist from sane research. Science―science as an enterprise, the thing that gave us the atom bomb and penicillin and square watermelons―requires a number of elements for it to function: trust, communication, and skepticism are all vital components. The Inspired struggle with all three, meaning that as a body, geniuses can't engage in "science" as an activity.

Regardless, it's not as simple as geniuses being regular scientists with unique perspectives. Geniuses deal with non-repeatable phenomena and with deep weirdness, and reliable research is extremely difficult for the Inspired. When a genius uses a theory about the universe to build a wonder, her hypothesis might remain internally consistent, but it will also face competition from other hypotheses that are apparently equally valid. For example, let's say a Progenitor builds a healing machine based on her ideas of Orgone Energy. The genius tests the machine, and it 1) works and 2) confirms the genius' hypothesis about how the universe works. But then another genius comes along with a device that functions in precisely the same way, but he based it on completely different principles. He's muttering something about "quantized life force." But his principles are also consistent. Neither theory can be falsified with reference to experiments run with the other genius' wonder, yet both theories are, obviously, inadequate to explaining the true nature of the phenomenon, which allows both the Orgone Healer and the Quantized Life Energy Healer to exist. And if the two geniuses reconcile their theories ("seen from a ninth-dimensional perspective, quantized energy looks like Orgone Energy; the transformations become mathematically trivial"), a third genius comes along, and her healing machine uses nanomachines that have no place in either theory...

The Science Is Science Law (aka the Anticlark Corollary)

Geniuses can no longer engage in traditional scientific research. Nonetheless, they are not "wizards." They do not do "magic." That is, what they do conforms at least in part to what sane scientists would recognize as the laws of physics, and is not entirely a product of the genius' peculiar internal state. Even geniuses who have a strong interpretation of the Law of Broken Theory recognize that wonders can't just pop into existence, fueled by will and desire. No genius can just wave a magic wand and make wonders happen. Even very old wonders―ones built centuries or millennia ago―function in ways that seem recognizable as technology.

A flying machine built by a Song Dynasty Taoist who believes in the five Taoist elements will still fly, and it will fly *based on modern principles of aerodynamics*, even if it also conforms to other, weirder laws. Even if a wonder circumvents or ignores physical laws, such as using some kind of anti-gravity technology to fly, a wonder never flatly ignores the laws of physics. A genius can't just build a wooden bird, dump Mania into it, and expect it to fly because it's "enchanted." The Inspired are miracle-workers, yes, but they're also technologists. There are principles at work behind what a genius does, even if they apparently lack consistency and repeatability, and even if a genius can't figure them out.

The Black Box Law (aka Goldblum's Diatribe)

Due to the nature of Inspiration, a genius can never know exactly how even her own wonders work. Her theories might have remained consistent so far, but that doesn't mean that the next experiment or test-flight won't reveal a new glitch that could not possibly have been predicted. When she builds a wonder, a genius deals with principles well beyond anyone's current understanding―possibly beyond anyone's possible comprehension―and this leaves her open to all sorts of baffling and dangerous phenomena.

This means that geniuses can never be certain of exactly what they are doing. Their ideas might be nonsense that are coincidentally correct this time, under a narrow set of circumstances that the genius has witnessed. Just because a coin comes up heads five times doesn't mean both sides are heads, and with Mania, the same rule applies if the coin comes up heads a million million times. Some geniuses postulate that Mania provides a path-of-least-resistance from the genius to a wonder, allowing the genius to formulate a hypothesis that will get him just far enough to create a functioning wonder, though the hypothesis breaks down immediately upon applying it to other situations.

The Mere Mortal Law (aka Gilligan's Rule)

Regular people screw up wonders. No one's sure why this is so, but mere mortals have a near-miraculous ability to damage mad science, destroying it or causing it to run amok. If they get their grubby little hands on a wonder, they'll break it and it will explode or eat them. Geniuses don't know exactly why this happens, but every genius knows that letting a regular person near a wonder is like giving revolvers to monkeys: only hilarious from a safe distance. Scientists (sane ones) are included here as mere mortals, and they can be even worse: a group of trained scientists know just how to fiddle with a wonder in a way that will cause it to break down. This further alienates a genius from regular humanity: she cannot communicate her ideas to her peers, or even show off her creations, without risking disaster.

Gilligan's Law, coupled with the Black Box Law, explains why a genius can't just build a teleporter and market it for three easy installments of $19.99 on her Website: a mortal who gets his hands on a wonder will break it, and due to the nature of Mania, every mortal who messes around with it will break it in a unique and uniquely horrific way. Attempts to predict what will go wrong are impossible, and will probably just make things worse.

The Obvious Truth Law (aka Mulder's Lament)

While mere mortals will screw up a wonder something fierce, there is no cosmic principle or conspiracy at work that relates to wonders or Inspiration. A mere mortal can see a wonder and she will not forget the experience. There is nothing in a wonder that "clouds men's minds" or that will cause them to grow confused. Wonders show up fine on cameras and videos. There are no vast conspiracies to hide the truth from regular mortals. In fact, the vastest conspiracy out there, Lemuria, wants to make regular mortals aware of their brilliance.

The nature of Inspiration, instead, remains hidden because wonders are not repeatable and testable. A regular scientist who handles a wonder will break it, and if she doesn't break it, she's already well on her way to becoming a genius herself (or at least a beholden). The only results, then, are that a mortal will mess up the wonder (possibly killing herself in the process) or will turn into a beholden or genius and join the ranks of the Inspired, which in turn insulates her from regular people.

Catalyzing

Geniuses do not know what they are, and this torments them. Is a genius a mortal touched by something transcendent, or is he transcendence itself, a mathematical icon given form and temporality in the body and mind of someone who was once human? What is the "genius"? The man, with his unique gifts, or the spirit, that takes up residence in the cramped and fleshy home of a mortal mind? Many peers torment themselves over these questions, for there are no clear answers. A genius' Breakthrough is a traumatic experience that can wipe away sections of memory and radically change parts of a new mad scientist's personality; for every one of the Inspired who catalyzed gradually, her mundane concerns slowly transforming over the course of weeks or months into Inspired conceptions, another experienced a Breakthrough like a lightning-stroke that wiped away consciousness and intellect and left mind and spirit utterly transformed.

Every genius catalyzes in one of five ways; poetic geniuses say there are five sorts of angels or daimons that can descend from on high to inhabit a mortal mind. This psychic spark is both a human mood or impulse, such as anger or curiosity, and a resonant archetype larger than any single human. In the moment between "mere human" and "more than human," the walls of reality crash down and a new light shines behind a genius' eyes, but there is still humanity there, stripped, perhaps, of its individuality and subtlety, but undeniably mortal. Rage, hope, sorrow, jealousy, curiosity: one of these defines a genius so completely that it served as a bridge between the mundane and Inspired worlds. This catalyst defines a genius' behavior, and also defines his Obligation. When morality and sanity fall away, when Illumination gleams like a poisoned star in the genius' mind, he turns to his catalyst, which is his one inseparable link with humanity. While a foundation is more a statement of function than metaphysical intent, and even a Lemurian's baramin is as much procedure as it is philosophy, a catalyst is an internal and unchanging reflection of a genius' thoughts during the Breakthrough that carries through to the rest of his life.

A genius' catalyst does not change: it is stamped on his soul forever, linking a mortal brain to an Inspired vision. A genius' catalyst usually has precedent in his mortal days. A Grimm, a genius of rage, was probably an angry person before the Breakthrough, whether he fulminated and ranted whenever something went wrong or merely carried himself with quiet, carefully-leashed fury. Klagens, who catalyze in sorrow, are often sensitive, troubled souls throughout their regular lives. But the catalyst also needs an event, an initial injection that sets it to transforming the genius' brain. Even if the event is the same or similar for two geniuses, something must happen to open a door in a mortal mind. A young army technician might see one brutality too many, and lash out with hate and coherent light. An astronomer one night sees something impossibly beautiful off the rings of Saturn, something that never appears again, and grows obsessed with knowing what it was. An animal behavior researcher watches her laboratory burn, her animals running past her feet, and vows an unspeakable revenge against those who doubted her work.

Catalysts aren't social groups. The geniuses in a town who catalyzed to dreams of a brighter tomorrow don't sit down every Friday over tea to make plans. There's every chance, in fact, that they disagree and can't stand one-another. A catalyst is a personal transformation, and is not often shared with others. In fact, only since the 1950s have the divisions received formal scrutiny and analysis; before that time, geniuses were linked with angel-like beings to reflect their inhuman mental state, and connected with the planets of European astrology. (It was a clumsy relic of a system, usually ignored by both peers and Lemurians.) Whether defined as the five catalysts or as a motley assortment of metanormal "overminds," these groups are real psychological phenomena for geniuses, simultaneously reflecting a mad scientist's humanity and her distance from her fellows. In dire straits, a genius can view her catalyst as a blessing, as the only thing that keeps her clinging to humanity, even if that contact is based on hate or on some desperate, paradoxical need for simultaneous vengeance and approval. However, a catalyst also permanently opens a genius' mind to the magnificent horror of Mania, which defines the unique trajectory of her madness. Each catalyst front-loads a Derangement into the genius' mind. This Derangement is always gained first when a genius gains a Derangement for any reason, and it is lost last if a genius works to improve her psychological stability. Insanity plagues a mad scientist, and as her grip on reality slips through malice, negligence, and a rejection of her Obligation to her fellow human, she begins a downward spiral grimly predetermined by her catalyst.

But a catalyst is more than a steward of a genius' sanity and a harbinger of her madness. The first door that opens in a genius' mind reveals truths and possibilities he never before considered, tainted and illuminated by the mood of her Breakthrough, but nonetheless invaluable in its clarity. Each catalyst provides a new genius with a favored Axiom, closely linking a mad scientist's newfound knowledge to his state of mind.

Grimm

The Catalyst of Fury

Nickname: Asuras

Traditional Planet: Mars

You will pay for what you've done

The pious recall stories of God's wrathful messengers, wreathed in darkness and fire, sent to punish the wicked. From the heartlands of civilization spring stories of banishing angels with flaming swords, of furious Asuras whose anger and passion shake the Heavenly Mountain. Wherever their names are mentioned, these creatures are seen as more than human but less than gods, and lit from within by a fire that cannot be quenched. Some are righteous, and seek their own brutal sort of justice; others are merely brutal, and visit devastation upon the mortal world. All are defined by the fury felt during their catalyst.

A genius who breaks through in rage and fury is a Grimm, and is stamped forever by that initial, primal anger. This might be a vicious hatred for mundane humanity, or a noble fury at the injustice of this cruel world, or a more personal hate, but it is always terrifying, and Grimms are rightly feared for their uncontrolled rages.

Origins:

Grimms are often born amidst violence, either personal or cultural. A country in the grips of revolution and war will birth Grimms, as will places plagued by unfairness, inequality, and great suffering. In more civilized places, Grimms catalyze through personal fury: threats to lives, livelihoods, or families, or merely seeing the injustice of the world every day until they dream of stopping it. Grimms are, of all the catalysts, most likely to come from outside the breeding pool, the result of a mortal trapped in an impossible situation who is forced to fight back.

Many Grimms are furious and temperamental throughout their youth and adolescence. Moody, dangerous, often irrational, they become soldiers, police officers, and brutal overseers. A life of discipline and service tempers some future Grimms, though their rage always burns beneath the surface. Grimms are the most likely geniuses to come from a military or combat tradition, though many come with extensive technical training, as pilots, cyber-crime specialists, or military engineers. Others seem never to learn, and find themselves trapped in low-prestige, high-stress technical jobs in their chosen field, working as EMTs, code monkeys, and construction workers. The least stable fall out of the technical world entirely, or never focus on those pursuits, and drift through life as unstable low-level criminals and violent thugs, though often ones so smart they never get caught.

Not all pre-Grimms are simply angry. Many are righteous, and channel their anger through their moral beliefs. Fulminating preachers, crusading lobbyists, and idealistic―if ruthless―lawyers are all likely candidates for this catalyst, and in safer parts of the world, where social violence replaces the physical sort, these Grimms are more common than the physically violent Whatever their origins, Grimms are aggressive, smart, and unwilling to accept the cruelties of the world without doing something about them.

Breakthrough:

Asuras are often hands-on people, and they are the most likely than other catalysts to rise up through the ranks as Beholden. But few are simple thugs and leg-breakers, and many are frankly brilliant, though shackled by a rage that prevents them from progressing as far as they should. The Breakthrough often removes that handicap, not by removing the rage, but by focusing it so keenly into the pursuit of mad science that a Grimm cannot help but grow in power and wisdom.

Few Grimms catalyze simply by beating a man to death in a back alley, though that's sometimes how a Breakthrough begins: a sudden, horrible act of violence, followed by the realization on the part of the pre-genius that she is too smart to get caught. This violence need not be physical: ambitious scientists or scholars might realize that they can crush their opponents in debate with tactics so brutal no one questions them, while lawyers and preachers discover they can sway people as if by the sound of their voice alone. They're cheating, these new Grimms realize. They're breaking the rules, and there's no one there to stop them. From that it's a short, fast plunge, either into catalysis or oblivion.

Not all Grimms catalyze through an active desire to fight back. Some are survivors of brutality and insanity, sometimes at the hands of other Inspired. These Breakthroughs can take a long time to develop, as an Asura cultivates rage, hatred, and intricate plots for revenge. A girl whose family burns to death in a house fire caused by an insane arsonist might work carefully through most of her twenties before unleashing bloody retribution against the arsonist and against the corrupt and incompetent police and firefighters who did nothing to stop the killer. Another pre-Grimm might swallow years of torment and bullying at school, only for his tormentors to watch their chances at an Ivy League college slip away amidst digitally-planted accusations of malfeasance.

A Grimm's Breakthrough is not simply about revenge, however. A Grimm's catalyst shows her that her act of vengeance was not merely about her and her enemies were not just the ones in front of her. She sees a larger world, one dictated by strength and weakness, power and helplessness, honor and injustice, and chooses to embrace that vision. Many Grimms describe religious-like transformations, as if an Angel of the Lord descended from On High and set itself up within (or instead of) the frail and fallible human soul. Those Grimms who come from scientific fields describe a falling away of the world's vagaries, a severed Gordian Knot that frees the genius to act with clarity, certainty, and purpose.

Motivations:

Many Grimms temper their fury with justice. Whether that makes them honorable vigilantes or homicidal purifiers depends on how much the genius' idea of justice diverges from her community's. While a Grimm is as smart as any other genius, they favor direct solutions that bring overwhelming force to bear on a problem. Those that can master their impulsive nature can become deadly, patient planners, waiting for just the right moment to strike.

Grimms don't live based on an abstract vision, like Hoffnungs, nor on a belief in their own unappreciated superiority, like Neids. This can make them seem grounded, despite their tempers. While a Grimm might fly off the handle and get into trouble, if given a chance to plan, Asuras are rarely swayed by sentimentality, paranoia, or any desire except to see the job get done.

Collaboration:

Within a collaborative, Grimms can offer direct but clear solutions to problems. They make effective "mid-range" planners, leaving grand visions up to others, while preventing the collaborative from getting bogged down in pointless squabbles about details. Their moral purity―however it manifests―brings dynamism to a stagnating collaborative, while providing focus and direction to one that's too diffuse and disorganized. Grimms can be exploitative and cruel, but they can also inflame the passions of their fellows and drive them forward.

Favored Axiom:

Katastrofi, the Axion of Destruction. No one levels a city block quite like a Grimm, and nothing says "I am angry" like a sizzling ray gun the size of a Buick Skylark.

Derangement:

Irrationality. A Grimm's first Derangement always leaves him twisted with fury.

Training:

Grimms gravitate toward aggressive Skills, and many focus on Resistance Attributes to survive their harsh lives. They are hard, tough, and no longer willing to suffer. Those that focus on vigilante justice often train in Investigation (to track down their quarries) and Intimidation (in case physical deterrence is inappropriate). Since many begin life in a rough place, they can lack the Social Merits that other geniuses take for granted, making up for that absence with an impressive array of Skills designed to keep a person going when outnumbered and outgunned: Athletics, Drive, Medicine, and Streetwise. Their irascible personalities can make Grimms difficult to get along with: many have poor Social attributes, and may prefer the company of wild places to that of man; non-urban Grimms pay particular attention to Animal Ken and Survival, allowing them to get by when not supported by their fellow man. "Firebrand" Grimms, by contrast, can come from careers in religion or lobbying that require impressive Social Skills; these simple personalities sacrifice Mental Attributes for Presence and Composure. They might not be stupid, but they are direct and uninterested in subtlety. Most Grimms, whatever their origin, develop an interesting selection of combat skills to survive the scraps they get into, and may focus on Brawl, Firearms, or Weaponry, usually depending on what sort of wonders they built with their knowledge of Katastrofi.

Those Asuras who let their anger get the better of them before their Breakthrough have few Social Merits. Most are poor, with few Allies or Contacts. Even those who began life acclaimed and influential may lose it after their Breakthrough, becoming insular and strange, abandoning their old connections and forging new ones―which takes time. Physical Merits, by contrast, are common, and may be geared toward a Grimm's Breakthrough. A Grimm who was poisoned by a political rival but survived through determination and mad botany might have developed Toxin Resistance, while one who spent his Breakthrough chasing criminals across the city's rooftops may have Fleet of Foot.

Concepts:

Sadistic vigilante, quiet security specialist, terror of the school board, guardian of the innocent, high-pressure company manager, passionate antiquarian orator, ex-military tech specialist, plague lord, politician with a dark secret

I am nanometers from perfection and no longer answer to any mortal authority. They weren't there for me and I won't waste time helping them as I rise asymptotically toward the ultimate virtue. Every corpse I leave should be one less investigation to make, instead of one more open case. But I'm not here for human justice any more. When you see the Paolenti penthouse burn with white fire and the dreams of serpents, you'll know that, and so will every other man-mask-wearing machine-demon in this city. They'll never love me for the things I've done, but I never asked for love. Only for perfection.

Stereotypes:

Hoffnung: Things only get better in one way, and "wishing it were so" is not that way.

Klagen: Your cowardice is a veil, not a shield. You cannot even protect yourself, let alone fight back.

Neid: "Injustice" is a bit broader than "things that make me sad." Everyone's in pain, not just you.

Staunen: I think I would have understood you, once. There is something amazing out there, but I cannot remember what it was.

Hoffnung

The Catalyst of Vision

Nickname: Principalities

Traditional Planet: Jupiter

We won't have these problems when I...RULE THE WORLD!

When some far-seeing scientists reach their Breakthrough, they catch a glimpse of the world As It Could Be. Buoyed with hope of making the world a better place (for their definition of "better") they set to work, filled with frantic energy, to achieve their vision. From honorable captains of industry who work to place a fusion-powered car in every garage, to lunatics eager to replace "undesirables" with pliant robot slaves, the Hoffnungs dream of a world fundamentally changed by the fruits of their Inspiration. The tradition of the Hoffnung goes back millennia, to the glorious beings who were charged with the caretaking and transformation of nations and kingdoms, and who determined the course of their governance, science, and religion. They were the daimons of Greece, China's emissaries from the Celestial Bureaucracy, and the early Christians knew them as the Principalities, the guardian angels of tribes and nations.

Cities have burned and risen from the earth because of Hoffnungs. They have affected the mundane world more than any other catalyst. Psychological analysis of figures recent and long-dead reveals Hoffnung traits in some of the most influential geniuses, from the founders of the Invisible College―foes all of Lemurian oppression―to the mad vivisectionists and fantastical sociologists who encouraged the growth and spread of Nazism.

Hoffnungs see the world through the lens of history, whether they're Aristotelians or Marxists, whether they're awaiting the Machine Singularity or some kind of techno-gnostic Second Coming of Christ. To a Hoffnung, everything is in motion, and not blindly, but toward a future that they can help bring about.

Origins:

Geniuses of Vision often think big before their Breakthroughs. They are politicians, reformers, dreamers, and futurists, obsessed with what's coming. All hold a picture of what they want the world to be. Hoffnungs may or may not be wealthy, but most are influential in one way or another: those that aren't powerful lobbyists are passionate orators, dedicated civil servants, or just very good at arguing for their ideas on the Internet. Few come from desperate straits, as people in those environments are more interested in day-to-day survival than the transformation of the world.

A Principality is the most likely of all geniuses to receive direct, deliberate training from an existing genius. These Hoffnungs are often gifted mundane scientists in whom a genius sees the spark of future brilliance. Others might start as beholden who are trained (often brutally) to escape their master's worldview and to find their own. Many Hoffnungs, regardless of their precise origin, are heirs to some other genius' legacy. One might work to fulfill the dreams of her dead mentor, to wipe out the Ubermensch infestation of Antarctica, while another surpassed and supplanted his teacher longer ago and now works to transform the world's economy from the CEO chair of one of Europe's most powerful technology companies.

Breakthrough:

Passionate scions of power and privilege, often already aware of the Inspired world before they catalyze, Hoffnungs often experience the least traumatizing catalysts of all geniuses. Few speak of their old personalities being "replaced"; upon their Breakthroughs, most still seem very much the person they were, with the same ambitions and the same vision, though that vision is often purified through their contact with the light of Inspiration.

Those mortals who are not first cultivated by another genius usually experience a gradual Breakthrough as their understanding of the world broadens. They see answers that were murky before, they see solutions that they never thought possible, and at last, they see how they can change the world, through machinery or political will, and so catalyze. These Hoffnungs, especially the non-scientific among them (many preachers and advocates) can quickly destabilize after their Breakthroughs when they realize that, due to the nature of Mania, they will be unable to effect their changes as easily as they had hoped.

Motivation:

A Hoffnung is defined by hope for a better tomorrow―whatever they call "better," of course. Their attempts to transform the world define them. Hoffnungs are, of all geniuses, those most determined to make their wonders "work" for regular people, and they are often the most proficient at creating objects of mundane science and technology. Whether building wonders, messing around with mundane technology, or looking to "adjust" human society to make it more amenable to the genius' vision, the Principalities are always defined by what they are doing, at any given moment, to make the world they imagine into reality.

Once Inspired, a Hoffnung often works to understand the underpinnings of Mania and how it relates to human interaction, in a desperate quest to escape the fetters of Havoc. This process can be dangerous―both physically, since Havoc is not to be trifled with, and psychologically, since it can lead to believing that one's wonders should work―but it also makes Hoffnungs some of the foremost experts on Havoc, and gives them a firm grasp of the principles behind it, and how to avoid it.

Collaboration:

Many geniuses think Hoffnungs join collaboratives so they can get other people to work on their projects. This isn't entirely fair, but there is some truth in it. Hoffnungs rarely cooperate with their fellows, with the exception of "multigenerational" Hoffnung clans created by a long line of genius-cultivators, and even those groups are prone to self-destruction―not to mention being weird and intellectually incestuous. Instead, Hoffnungs seek out other geniuses whose values and dreams don't differ too much from their own, or who lack the sort of ambition that defines a Hoffnung. In these groups, a Principality can feel at home, working on her grand projects while not stepping on anyone else's vision.

A collaborative with a Hoffnung always has an excellent source of new plans. Geniuses can benefit materially and scientifically by following in a Hoffnung's wake. A Hoffnung's ambitions can get her (and the rest of the collaborative) into trouble, but it can also offer a group direction, energy, and ambition.

Favored Axiom:

Metaptropi, the Axiom of Transformation. Principalities are masters of changing the physical world, bending it to conform to what they want to see.

Derangement:

Narcissism. Even the kindest Hoffnung, deep down, believes that he is entirely right and correct, making him dangerous to those who cross him.

Training:

Hoffnungs want to change the world, but they can take almost any approach to doing so. Their polemics make Expression a common and useful skill. Those that want to change human behavior are adept at interpersonal interaction, with high Social Attributes along with good scores in Socialize, Persuasion, and Politics. Hoffnungs who want their wonders (or something close) in every home focus on high Crafts or Computer scores and Social Merits like Allies, Fame, and Status. Those Hoffnungs who trace their lineage back to older members of their catalyst often benefit from inheriting a Laboratory, and may still have a Mentor.

Not all Hoffnungs are benevolent dreamers: those that want to twist the world into conformity with their deranged imaginings emphasize Manipulation, Intimidation, and clandestine skills like Larceny and Subterfuge. Many monstrous visionaries―and a few extropic idealists―are experts in Medicine. The more aggressive masterminds often keep groups of beholden on retainer to intimidate and silence enemies.

Not many Hoffnungs are physically oriented, though some prefer to change the world one ass-kicking at a time. These crusaders rarely possess the sadism of Grimms―though their clinical precision may offer little comfort to their victims―but they learn many of the same Skills: Investigation and Intimidation to learn what they need, Drive to cover ground, Larceny and Stealth to get in unnoticed, Brawl to teach someone a lesson, and Firearms and Weaponry, to make someone into a lesson.

Concepts:

Cold fusion researcher, deranged medical eugenicist, acolyte of the Singularity, guerrilla revolutionary, post-Y-chromosome feminist, ruler of a hidden Utopia, (virtual) town planner, cybernetic-replacement addict, guy who's really excited about fluoride in the drinking water.

You've seen it on the billboards and the trash-strewn alleys, amidst the halls of the powerful and in the tenements of the desperate: the Change. It's coming, and soon everything will be different. Our world will transform itself―in fire, if necessary, in blood, certainly―and be reborn, fresh and new, to gaze out on the universe with innocent and wondering eyes. And I am the herald of that Change. So forgive me if I cannot hear your words or your screams. They are too small. Do you hear the mayflies screaming tonight? Neither do I.

Stereotypes:

Grimm: Punching the broken computer does not fix the broken computer. Repairing the broken computer fixes the broken computer.

Klagen: It doesn't do to feel sorry over this death or that atrocity; you must feel sorrow over the entire structure that allows such horrors to unfold.

Neid: There's a reason that everyone thinks you're crazy. It's because you haven't yet shown them how right you are.

Staunen: Stop staring slack-jawed and get to work; Utopia isn't going to achieve itself.

Klagen

The Catalyst of Loss

Nickname: Cassandras

Traditional Planet: Venus

No, you fools! You'll doom us all!

Mad scientists, like many other people in the World of Darkness, have often lost something dear to them: a loved one, a family, a childhood dream. This loss can result in a sorrow so deep that it transforms the scientist utterly, leading to a Breakthrough in pain and regret. Whether the genius then wants to reclaim what he has lost (resurrecting his dead wife, restoring the toppled government of his homeland) or merely works to prevent such tragedies from happening again, he has become a Klagen.

Creatures of sorrow and compassion, Klagens resemble Buddhas more than angels, walking through a world so defiled that the only answer is to weep. They are also harbingers and doom-sayers, seeking to avert whatever catastrophe drove them to catalyze. Different Klagens warn humanity about everything from global warming to the Malthusian population bomb to the shadow-stealing AIs from the future, with varying degrees of success. For this trait, other geniuses have referred to them as prophets, oracles, Jonahs, and harbingers, but today their most common nickname acknowledges the Klagen's often frightening prophetic accuracy, while recognizing the frequent failure of their warnings to be heeded. They are the Cassandras, moved by a godlike awareness to speak out against the common doom rushing toward humanity.

Origins:

Klagens are the least likely of all geniuses to bear seeds of their catalyst before the tragedy that defines them. They may be sad, thoughtful people, but others are equally likely to be exuberant, full of life, and passionate―though rarely is a pre-Klagen abstractly disinterested in human affairs. But despite this common thread of being connected to humanity, Klagens come from all walks of life. They don't start off angry like Grimms or cultivate jealousy like Neids.

Mad doctors are more often Klagens than any other catalyst, since there is so much potential for tragedy in the healing arts. Even Klagens who begin in other fields can experience a desire to study medicine after their Breakthrough. But people who will become Cassandras come from nearly any walk of life, since tragedy can strike anywhere. Some are construction workers and machinists who lose friends to accidents, mismanagement and plant closings (often caused by their own failures; catalyzing mortals who can blame someone else more often become Grimms or Neids). Others are researchers who watch friends grow obsessed with studies that eventually destroy them―some Klagens almost seem like echoes of another would-be genius, annihilated during their Breakthroughs―while others grow obsessed with their own studies, only to wake up one day and realize that everyone has left them, and all that remains is their work. Comparatively few Klagens come from outside the scientific community, however; most regular people faced with tragedy move on, or fall to despair; few see a solution or a way to stop those tragedies from happening again.

Breakthrough:

Cassandras are born in sorrow. This might be either a personal loss or general sorrow at the state of the world, but most often it is a combination of the two: a terrible loss that the burgeoning genius suffers that sheds light on one of the greater tragedies eating away at the World of Darkness. This loss is sometimes the genius' own fault. It is not often violent―violent tragedy leads more often to the creation of Grimms―but it is often sad, often pointless, a tragedy that reveals the underlying cruelty of the world.

Klagens are in fact slightly rarer than other catalysts, since the quiet contemplation necessary to catalyze as a Klagen matches poorly with the frantic Mania coursing through a new genius' brain. A Klagen's tragedy and her transformation must align just right: an aerospace engineer whose secret love gets dragged screaming into an air intake might instead catalyze as a Grimm (someone else is at fault), a Hoffnung (I can make sure this sort of thing never happens again), a Neid (someone planned this to ruin me), or, in all likelihood, not catalyze at all. The genius' tragedy must occur at the very cusp of a conceptual breakthrough. Perhaps the secret love feared the Klagen's growing obsession with the new technology, and foolishly snuck in to run her own tests. Betrayed, but not vengeful, the aerospace engineer catalyzes in sorrow and regret, but also sudden understanding: a way to perfect the engine, to give the tragedy meaning.

Motivations:

The nature of a Klagen's loss determines her subsequent behavior. Some work to reverse the tragedy that befell them, while others try to prevent their fate from befalling others―possibly against their will. Other Klagens begin their Inspired careers peculiarly directionless, even fatalistic. Faced with strange new abilities, many retreat into bewilderment, wondering what to do with their ruined lives.

But Mania doesn't let them rest. The visions always come: plans to undo the damage they've caused, dreams of how to take away pain and sorrow and despair, and most of all, an overwhelming urge to warn others about the doom that rushes toward them. This prophetic, often futile doom-saying―a Cassandra complex―defines Klagens, who are haunted by the failures of their past and nightmare images of the future. This constant dread and despair can drive a Klagen insane if she is not careful, goading her into irrational, hysterical behavior.

Collaboration:

A Klagen can provide grounding and stability for a collaborative. This isn't to say that the Klagen's job is always to say, "I don't think that's a very good idea," but once a room has three or more mad scientists in it, there are a lot of bad ideas that get thrown around. Someone whose sorrow grounds her Mania can be invaluable in preventing horrible ideas from turning into horrible misadventures. Klagens are also the most adept of any catalyst at analyzing the perspective of individual humans. Where a Hoffnung can focus on society, a Klagen can study the behavior of people in all their ugly uniqueness, giving a collaborative alienated from humanity a glimpse into the soul of the sane world. A collaborative, by contrast, keeps a Klagen active. Too many Klagens sink into despair and inactivity, drowning in regret or paralyzed by dreadful apocalyptic fantasies; a dynamic, energized collaborative can give a sorrowing genius purpose, direction, and motivation.

Favored Axiom:

Exelixi, the Axiom of Restoration. Many Cassandras work to prevent the horror that befell them from ever happening again, or if it does come, to reverse those effects.

Derangement:

Depression. Klagens are naturally prone to misery and all-consuming despair.

Training:

Klagens come from backgrounds that see great suffering. Many are ex-military or former doctors, with the Skills to back up those origins. They are often gifted, possessing high Intelligence or some other Attribute, but prone to moral failings that imply a feeble Resolve. Cassandras that come from technical or blue-collar positions, such as auto-mechanics and construction workers, often have excellent Dexterity, Intelligence, and Wits, while those who saw their political dreams destroyed can be highly influential speakers when they find the motivation.

With so many Klagens coming from the medical world, Medicine is a common Skill. Others see the world of the metanormal and supernatural as the quickest route to healing the damage they've caused, and become masters of the Occult, while others try to escape humanity entirely for a time, and learn self-sufficient Skills like Survival and Animal Ken. Those that fall out of society completely become the wandering mad, their street-level experiences reflected in Skills like Brawl, Larceny, and Streetwise―though few Klagens remain in this state for long.

Concepts:

Disgraced software engineer, geneticist who made a fatal error, unwitting creator of monsters, shack-dwelling crazy person, prophetic ecoterrorist, fallen trophy wife, nihilistic politico, scholar of genocide, hollowed-out social worker.

When I was in high school my teacher told me that there are more people alive today than have ever lived. Don't worry: she lied, then got cancer. (Not my fault.) We live atop a mountain of corpses. The Earth is swimming in humans, above and below the ground, so when I see you trying to raise the dead, I'm torn. On the one hand, I recognize your despair. On the other hand, do you really want to spend the rest of the week fending off a zombie apocalypse as the Earth vomits up her dead? AGAIN? Come on, man, think this through: every time you try this, we end up fighting zombies. I hate zombies. Just put the syringe down.

Stereotypes:

Grimm: Rage just makes more hurt. Reflect on what has hurt you; that will stop it from happening again.

Hoffnung: We can hope for small victories, maybe. Revolutionary change is beyond the reach even of Inspiration in this awful world.

Neid: The terrible truth is that no one cares about you enough to hate you.

Staunen: What childish whimsy, to pretend to see "beyond" the horrors of this world. In truth you just ignore them.

Neid

The Catalyst of Banishment

Nickname: Wyrms

Traditional Planet: Saturn

Scoff at me, will you? I'll show them! I'll show them all!

When some genius is ranting about how they made him a laughingstock, but soon she'll have her revenge, chances are she's a Neid. Breaking through in shame and to the scornful laughter of others, the Neids maintain their ties to humanity by burning with spite and jealousy. This choke-chain nonetheless binds them to their fellows: as long as a Neid desperately craves the approval of her peers (even in their final moments), she remains sane.

Neids are probably the most common mad scientists; they certainly make up a large percentage of Lemurians, and even among the Peerage, there is an irresistible lure to embrace jealousy, spite, and hate. By many standards, especially those that concern the Inspired, geniuses really are better than regular mortals. They're smarter, more gifted, more capable of pushing themselves. And mere mortals often do hate, resent, and fear the Inspired and their creations. But being a Neid is more than reacting to the scorn of one's peers. Neids seem almost like magnets for scorn and derisions, and their entire personalities are defined by jealousy toward those who have what they want, and hatred for those who would attempt to tear them down. Some geniuses view Neids as the most insane of all, but Neids often surprise others with their lucidity. Look at humanity, they say, hungry for blood, twisted with hate, wanting to destroy more than to build up. Neids don't fear that people hate them; they know people hate them, and they have the sense to protect themselves.

In previous centuries, Neids were strongly associated with the demons of selfishness and envy. They were Satan the Dragon, and also linked with reinterpreted Norse myths of Loki or the drakes who guarded treasures. Catholic theologians classifying Leviathan as the demon of envy sealed the connections between Neids and Satanic, draconic forces, and Neids have ever since been referred to as Wyrms―behind their backs, of course.

Origins:

Neids are the most likely of all geniuses to have been part of the traditional breeding pool. Many belonged to cutting-edge research groups and saw something none of their peers could see; others were trapped in safe but mediocre scientific careers until one day Inspiration hit. All, of course, suffered during their Breakthrough, usually leaving trails of broken friendships and destroyed reputations. Despite their origin, almost no Neids remain in science after their Breakthroughs; while some geniuses can fake legitimate research, the Banished are often too bitter and resentful to remain amidst the consensus.

Of all geniuses, Neids are also the most likely to go crazy well before their catalysts. This madness is subtle, at first, and usually begins either as skewed reasoning or paranoia. Skewed reasoning quickly results in a decline in the pre-Neid's job performance; this, especially if it's coupled with claims of "miraculous" results (caused by stray Mania as the genius begins his Breakthrough), results in resentment and pity from the budding genius' peers. Those Neids that catalyze first through paranoia often do excellent work, but they become increasingly afraid of sabotage or theft, that someone is trying to destroy or steal their research. Even if this is the case, as a pre-Neid grows more paranoid, his behavior becomes increasingly erratic and dangerous.

Breakthrough:

A Neid's Breakthrough often begins with a scientific marvel: a cold fusion generator, a cloned human, a car that runs for days on a teaspoon of gas. They're not quite wonders, but they're incredible. Of course, they're also held together with Mania, which is notoriously unstable, and the inevitable collapse is often enough to bring a proto-Neid right over the edge into screaming, cackling Inspiration.

Even those Neids who do not arise from the breeding pool often create something new and extraordinary, which might be anything from a get-rich-quick scheme to a perfect plan for reinvigorating the parish. But madness comes just as quickly, followed by jealousy, suspicion, and the scorn of others. It's the alienation, not the technology, that makes a Wyrm: the realization that people will take what the genius has created for their own selfish ends, or worse, that they'll laugh and call the genius a fool for what she's done. The device, the creation, is not a true wonder―usually. It's merely a prop around which a Neid spins a narrative of deceit and contempt that will bind her, forever, to the rest of humanity in a sick, abusive relationship based on exploitation and betrayal.

Motivations:

More than anything, Neids want to demonstrate the truth and worth of their convictions. Whether this desire is directed at their old colleagues or to their new peers, Neids need to demonstrate their capability and vision. Those who were mediocre scientists before their Breakthrough are especially eager to show how Inspiration has transformed them. For some Neids, this motivation is based on simple jealousy or insecurity, and an urge to gloat after proving everyone else wrong. But not all Neids are so small-minded and insecure: others want to raise their former peers up to their level, to spread Inspiration as far as they can, to show their old colleagues what a gift, and what a curse, genius can be.

Neids are also intrinsically suspicious. They hide secrets from all but their closest friends (if they have any), use ciphers and riddles to conceal the true meaning of their words, and plan to be treated as horribly as one human being might possibly treat another. When their survival is at stake, the desire to share and to justify falls away, replaced by an overwhelming, almost atavistic need to avoid theft, betrayal, and victimization.

Collaboration:

Wyrms have a bad reputation, but it's important for other geniuses in the collaborative to realize that Neids aren't any crazier than anyone else hanging around the water cooler at the laboratory. A Neid suspects the worst from everyone, and while this can be dangerous if she can't drop her guard at home, it's invaluable when vetting an external agency. Is the crazy cat lady down the road a threat? A potential ally? A Lemurian spy? An Illuminated cannibal? Or just a crazy cat lady? The Neid can find out; they're paranoid, but their paranoia gets directed more often at real than imagined threats. Neids are also fiercely loyal to those they can trust. That, coupled with their suspicion of outsiders, can cement a group together like nothing else, especially one in hostile territory or with few other friends or contacts.

Favored Axiom:

Epikrato, the Axiom of Control. At the end of the day, if they will not listen, the Neid will make them listen.

Derangement:

Suspicion. Neids are prone to paranoia, jealousy, and constant fear.

Training:

Wyrms are often the most security-minded of the Inspired, focusing on acts of subtle retribution: Computer, Investigation, Stealth, and Larceny are areas of particular focus, and most Neids favor Subterfuge over other Social skills. Generally, Neids prefer the oblique approach.

Many Neids are brilliant, and even those that were mediocre scholars before their Breakthrough feel their intellects transformed by Mania upon becoming Inspired, meaning that most favor Mental Attributes. Many Neids make poor Social specimens, though, with arrogance, suspicion, and sheer orneriness limiting their ability to make friends and influence people. A few Neids, though, keep their bitterness well-hidden, and are often masters of Manipulation, but few of the Banished have much Composure; the slightest hint of rudeness can send one careening into an insane rant. Whether a Neid is physically-oriented varies greatly; most come from academic or technical fields, which makes it unlikely, but the few non-scientific Neids who appear are often tough and physically capable, and others see fitness of body as an important adjunct to fitness of mind.

Despite their frequently limited Social abilities, many Neids have old contacts and favors owed that give them an impressive collection of Social Merits: Allies might be rare, but Contacts, Resources, and especially Status are all very common, and even Fame is not unheard-of; at least one infamous Neid even has a late-night radio show where her rants about the government destroying her research have made her a local celebrity.

Concepts:

Paranoid hacker, pyramid scam victim, tale-telling Ufologist, neurotic security consultant, calculating mastermind, betrayed researcher, ex-CEO holed up in the woods, jittery cat burglar

First let me tell you that human beings without mathematical souls are transparent to God and thus mean nothing to Him. So you ask, why does God (who is the Equation) care about window-souls? He doesn't, but the Devil, whom I define as our negative thoughts, does, and directs window-soul humans at us to destroy us. These humans think they think and feel, but they are without the highest Number and their feelings are only our self-doubt. Destroy your self-doubt, be free of their hatred. Or destroy them, and be free of your self-doubt. Vengeance is time- and space-symmetrical, like any good equation.

Stereotypes:

Grimm: Anger is good, but ask yourself, what right do you have to be angry? That's right: you deserve to be angry because they hate you, and they've taken away what you love.

Hoffnung: Alright, "make it better." I can get behind that. But you need to know who wants to make it worse first.

Klagen: Other people get hurt all the time. Why can't you see the pattern in it?

Staunen: Yes, it's a candy-coated wonderland, isn't it? The cosmos has its boot on your throat, and you're admiring the shoelaces.

Staunen

The Catalyst of Curiosity

Nickname: Grigori

Traditional Planet: Mercury

Oh, the things I have seen...

There are rays of light even in the World of Darkness. The Staunens have found them and want to share them with the world. Their Breakthrough involved a moment of superlative wonder and near-religious awe at the cosmos or some aspect of it, and that starry-eyed amazement never truly left them. This does not make all Staunens decent people, of course―what fills a genius with wonder may fill a normal person with horror and disgust―but they nonetheless carry a spark of amazement with them wherever they go.

Quintessential explorers, Staunens work to tear down the veils that hide the truth from our eyes. This makes them both terrifying and magnificent: their curiosity itself is an affront to the established order, an enemy of tranquility and decorum. In their hunger to know, Staunens most epitomize the mad scientist, ripping away falsehoods to reveal the hideous truth behind the lies we tell ourselves.

Before the rise of modern psychology, popular conception linked geniuses of this cast with the Grigori, the watching-angels of Cabbalistic mythology. This mythological designation reflects an element of the Staunens that is not clear from the simple German term: psychologically, many Staunens seem fit only to watch, to analyze, and to record; their attempts to interact with the worlds they see can birth nightmares and chaos.

Origins:

The Staunens saw something before their Breakthrough and it consumed them. Most Staunens were hobbyists: not full scientists, but not rank amateurs either; they were explorers, tinkers, and investigators. Seeing something new and strange, whether in the flicker of a telescope or the scrolling lines of computer code, they grew hungry for more. Staunens not drawn from the breeding pool are often investigative journalists or private investigators who stumble upon something too weird to dismiss but not quite horrifying enough to bury behind fugues and night-terrors. They might never even see what they hunt, whether it's an immortal Ophidian who controls the town's mayor or a secret spawning-ground of electronic manes. Instead, the fascination itself is what drives these amateur sleuths and mystery-seekers.

Breakthrough:

Of all the catalysts, the Staunens often experience the least traumatic Breakthrough: any horror they experience is often postponed until they gain sufficient talent and insight to answer the questions they've unwisely raised. Proto-Staunens in the scientific community may operate on either the cutting edge of their fields or in the historical trenches, uncovering forgotten twists and turns that could have utterly transformed a field of knowledge. Whether forging ahead or digging into unexplored crevices, they fall deeper and deeper into mystification and bewilderment. Eventually the fascination reaches a critical mass, turns into obsession, and results in the genius' Breakthrough.

Not all Staunens drift leisurely into a broader world. Others are dragged there in a flash, exposed to things beyond their ken or comprehension, then left abandoned in the cold light of mundanity. Whether they're astronomers or farm hands, geneticists who watch secret words appear in DNA or kids who realize the neighbor's dog talks to Jupiter at night, they've seen too much and now they can't go back. Some just blunder into enlightenment, while a few get introduced by other geniuses, eager to crack open a fresh new mind, but for these Staunens, their breakthrough and the time afterward can be traumatic and confusing as they work to see again what opened their minds.

Motivations:

Consumed by curiosity, Staunens spend most of their time looking for new ways to sate it. They plunge from one project to the next, seeking answers at almost any cost. This can make them dangerous, but also useful: other geniuses can hitch their own work to a Staunen's frantic investigations. Some Grigori focus on a single question for years, or perhaps even their whole lives: What is the nature of death? What is the origin of the universe? Just what the hell is in this puzzle-box I got for my eighteenth birthday? Others leap from project to project, letting Inspiration push them along like a muse as they explore one mystery after the next, often leaving chaos and turmoil in their wake.

Collaboration:

Staunens are prone to obsession, which can be dangerous and isolating. A few have been found rotting in their seats beneath the observatory's telescope or dessicated and decayed in front of still-glowing computer screens. Collaboratives are a great way to avoid dying alone and forgotten, and they are also sources of new perspectives. Too many Staunens find themselves staring at the same patch of space or time, day after day; other points of view are vital to give the genius a new perspective and allow him to escape the doldrums of repetitive analysis. The Grigori are also useful to the rest of the collaborative insofar as they provide a distraction from the mundane. Most other catalysts are focused on the human condition; Staunens, by contrast, focus entirely on the extraordinary. This can make them cold, strange, and alien, but it can also give other geniuses in the collaborative the lofty perspective they sometimes need. When a Hoffnung's plans to change the world fall apart or a Neid chokes on bitterness and spite, the collaborative's Staunen can help them escape the disappointment of the human world for a time.

Favored Axiom:

Apokalypsi, the Axiom of Discovery. The Staunens are often desperate to see more of what they first glimpsed, and Apokalypsi grants them that.

Derangement:

Fixation. Grigori are prone to minute obsession with things no reasonable person would find engrossing.

Training:

Staunens are often more like "pure scientists" than other catalysts, exploring the world for its own sake. They often study Computer and Science more than Crafts, and they are the most likely to study the Occult. Those that seek out the weird and extraordinary have a variety of Physical Skills like Larceny and Survival, while Staunens who began their careers as journalists or investigators usually possess Investigation, Politics, and Subterfuge.

Catalysts of curiosity often result in a more stable personality than with other mad scientists, granting higher Composure. Those Staunens able to articulate their amazement at the world often possess blazing Presence. Staunens without Social Attributes are also common, though; these often possess staggering Intelligence and Wits to record and make sense of observations, as well as high Resolve to survive weeks or months of repetitive study for little reward.

Many Staunens let their previous social engagements melt away upon their catalyst, meaning that Social Merits like Allies and Fame are comparatively rare. In contrast, Staunens often have excellent senses and memories, making Merits like Eidetic Memory common.

Concepts:

Forgotten stargazer, cryptid-hunter, bright-eyed theologian, cartographer of mysterious places, obsessed genealogist, manipulative social engineer, lucid dreamer

I'm afraid I don't see things like you do. I mean it: I'm afraid. What if the things I find beautiful drive you mad? What if they hollow you out like clever little squirrels getting nuts for the winter, except the nuts are your eyes, and winter is, I don't know, maybe the Rapture or something? And I'm just smiling while your face gets ripped apart because I think it's beautiful? These things worry me sometimes, when I'm not not looking at the night sky. So I spend a lot of time looking at the night sky, and not looking at your face and thinking about squirrels.

Stereotypes:

Grimm: Some people mistake blind fury for a sense of true justice. There is justice in the world, but beating up polluters like you're Captain fucking Planet isn't what it looks like.

Hoffnung: The world is magnificent as it is, not just as you want it to be.

Klagen: Sorrow is a local and ultimately futile feeling before the majesty of the cosmos.

Neid: There is more to Heaven and Earth than your endless, insufferable whining. I have heard the song of the universe, and it's telling you to shut up.

Other Catalysts:

There are rumors of other catalysts based on other kinds of societies. One catalyst, said to have existed in China before Lemuria's eradication of their Inspired society, focused on a sort of enlightened embracing of the universe-as-it-is. Another concentrated on an Inspired mastery of one's place and position in the complicated social strata of those societies. The catalyst of "Enthusiasm," triggered by a genius touching the Godhead during his Breakthrough, shows up in rumors and legends. Nonetheless, almost all known geniuses belong to one of the five catalysts listed above.

The Core Axioms:

Those Axioms tied to the catalysts―Apokalypsi, Epikrato, Exelixi, Katastrofi, and Metaptropi―are sometimes called the "core" Axioms, and are considered easier to learn at their basic levels than the others, since they are tied directly to states of mind.

Language:

How come catalysts are in German, Axioms are in some first approximation of Ancient Greek, and foundations are English, while terms like "genius" and "manes" are very bad Latin, and other words are drawn from Buddhist and Hindu philosophy and languages like Pali and Sanskrit? Because the lexicon of mad science was standardized at different times. The most general terms are the oldest: The Inspired of ancient Rome were referring to themselves as "genii" and speaking of manes, penates and lares (beholden), and other terms as early as the 2nd century BC. These terms, still used by Lemuria, indicates that Lemuria held influence over the Eternal City, though the Lemurians themselves insist that they arose in India many centuries earlier. Most of the Indian terms are in fact more recent additions, appearing in the 19th century. While there is some evidence that Lemuria originated in India, those records were wiped out centuries ago; a new Indian tradition was "rediscovered" during the Victorian era.

Axioms were standardized in France during the late 18th century. The original versions were, in fact, in French (Découverie, Domination, Métamorphose, Nous, Progrès, Ravage, Sanctuaire, Vaisseau), but some argument with English geniuses, coupled with the accidental resurrection of Pythagoras, led to the Peerage adopting a Greek standard. The French names are often still used on some official documents in the Peerage and by French-speaking geniuses.

German scientists fleeing the Nazis helped standardize the philosophies of the Inspired, which they labeled catalysts. Using FREUDIAC, a primitive cogitator built to replicate the personality of you-can-guess-who, they deciphered the philosophies and motivations behind several leading Nazi geniuses, either convincing them to defect or laying the groundwork for their destruction. After the war, Inspired all over the world used FREUDIAC's A Guide to the Psychology of the Exceptionally Gifted as their model for understanding catalysts, making the German terms household names.

The foundations popped up in different times throughout history, though the standard organization of five groups, each with specific names and "brand identities", arose in the days before the Great War, at which time the term "the Peerage" was officially adopted. (It had seen unofficial use for over a century.)

Language among the Inspired is loose. Sometimes it's the Peerage, sometimes the peers. The singular for terms like "manes" is a little wonky, but who studies Latin anymore? Since most geniuses can't even agree that "genii" is an acceptable plural, these arguments will never be resolved. Geniuses with nothing better to do still argue about names now, and the arguments are as heated as any argument you might find on the Internet about, basically, nothing of consequence.

---

Marquadt stared at the man for a long time. The man wore a flannel shirt and was wearing two big Timberland boots, and was carrying a third, and he was looking real hard at a Christmas display. His breath frosted the glass, he was so close.

I laughed, because Marquadt had been so grim for so long, and said, "So, what do you think? Time traveler, or escaped mental patient?"

I had never met either, so I was eager.

"No," Marquadt said. "He's not from here. He's learned to fake it, though. He's learned to make sense of the patterns of color and light that his eyes say he sees, to process the vibrations we call sound into a rude model of an external reality. He's even learned the hardest trick: he can pretend that effects follow causes, that things happen for a reason, that there's some kind of sense to this world."

"What is he?" I asked, feeling tense, "and how do you know?"

"A visitor from some other type of reality, some place where things don't work like they work here. And he's been here for a long time."

"How can you tell?"

"Because after a while, I got that good at...pretending." Marquadt sighed and rubbed his gloved hands. "I was trapped, somewhere. There were things like lights and colors, some other sensations that my brain processed as well as it could. Enough trial-and-error and I understood it was real. Poor bastard...It was so hard, pretending that any of it was real, rather than just a bunch of impressions in my dying mind. I'm still not sure it was real, though I made friends there...I think. And when I came back, I realized that I couldn't tell the difference between things that once mattered to me."

He looked through me. He wasn't seeing me, I realized. He was seeing a collection of sense-impressions: the gray oval of my face in the dim light, the way my hair formed a halo between me and the neon sign at my back. He was seeing a bunch of shapes and colors, and forcing himself to put them together. It tired him, I knew, always having to view me as a person.

"Don't worry," he said then, looking at my furrowed brow. "I'm pretty sure you're real. And if you're not, well, there's no reason to be rude. Let's talk to this guy."