Editing Genius The Transgression/Chapter One: The Cosmos (section)

==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.


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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."
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