Chaos Theory

Chaos theory, refers to a field of mathematical study which explores the behavior of dynamical systems which are sensitive to initial conditions. Small differences created within those initial conditions, such as those due to rounding errors in mathematical computations, may cause outcomes that are widely divergent from those otherwise expected. The effect of a small change at one place in a nonlinear system which may result in large differences to a later state is known as the butterfly effect. The end result of which would be chaotic systems that render long-term predictions impossible to guarantee the results of. This has applications in philosophy, economy, physics, engineering and biology.

Chaos practice refers to the actions of an enigmatic demi-god who sprang from nowhere noticeable, came into being in a way no one who can be asked readily is quite sure of, and is around for no discernible purpose. Small differences created by him within initial conditions, such as flinging fish into the air and cursing their existence, may cause outcomes that are widely divergent from those otherwise expected The effect of this change at one place in a nonlinear system which may result in large differences to a later state is known as the dragon effect The end result of which would be very large, winged creatures impossible to guarantee the actions of. This has implications in philosophy, economy, biology, war, cattle rustling, slavery, bloodshed and general mayhem.

The effect of such a change, without getting quite so specific, however, would be much the same as in Chaos theory. If a small change were made in a nonlinear system, such as the Api system, it could result in an inability to predict the future outcome of the past.

This is not such a big thing, to the average man, who, after all, is born at point A in his time line and wishes to make it to point B, which is where he expires, and nothing more.

The Visionaires of the tribe of Zenobia view this as more than a little bit of a problem, as do all other Zenobians, for long has it been established that the quality of one's ability to predict the future outcome of what will be past events is what mark's one out for roles of leadership. In fact, it has been so long established and so widely accepted as a mark of what makes a man something more than he was before that the Zenobian people now consider it a right of passage into manhood.

There are, thusly, far less men being created in Zenobia, which means there are more women leaving their traditional Zenobian tents and moving out of the desert to marry other men and dwell in a very non-Zenobian fashion, leaving behind weeping parents and many aged-looking, sexually frustrated Zenobian boys.

Zenobian boys do not deny Chaos, as some have the habit. They firmly believe in his existence. They simply do not like him.

“Why can't he flog himself off to some other planet? Or, at least stop mucking about with portals and time lines?”

The two questions, above, were first uttered by the Grand Visionaire Perumba the Umpteenth, who was very worried about his chances of ever retiring and returning to his original name of Nick Geraldudton, which he hadn't liked so much in his youth but had since begun longing for with a mighty burning passion.

Finally retired, years past his prime, Nick relaxed into obscurity, but, his questions lived on in tapestries, philosophical debates and at parties where Chaos attended, but, did not dance; choosing, instead, to sit in dark corners, scowling at people who insisted on quoting obscure desert dwellers.

The questions became, after a time, the battle cry of the Zenobians, who, to their shame, began to send boys, sometimes arthritic and infirm boys, out to fight a man's fight. This battle cry having proved to unwieldy, it was shortened to the less cumbersome, “Why can't he flog himself?”, which made no sense to their enemies, but, managed to frighten them even more so as a result.

Their enemies did not know to whom the Zenobians referred, but, if he were interesting as to hold their attention, even during the midst of heated battle – and if he were so inured to pain that the Zenobians were forced to flog him until they quivered with exhaustion, as their enemies believed was the cause of their quivering – then he must be a fiercesome opponent, indeed! None wished to best the Zenobians, lest he, whomever he was, came to their aid. Thusly did the Zenobian boys prosper on the fields of battle, gaining for themselves much treasure and many slaves, including the occasional comely female who would gladly marry a Zenobian boy and be a wife that was somewhat a laughingstock to other Zenobian women, rather than remain a slave and be forced to cater to those women, instead.

It was these conditions in which the Zenobians lived and loved, and as they went about their existence, news came to them from afar off, of a land of verdancy, and in this land a capital city that glittered with prosperity, which was ruled by the Emperor Gracile with an iron glove.

It became known to them that this Emperor Gracile was installed upon his throne by none other than Chaos, himself. So it was that Emperor Gracile, without so much as raising a disdainful eyebrow in their general direction, found himself at odds with the entire people of Zenobia.

This did not worry the Emperor overly much, for the Zenobians were few and far off, and he had bigger fish to fry, closer to home.

It did, however, worry the Queen quite excessively, she being of Zenobian birth. It left her knowing not where to place her loyalties. This also did not worry the Emperor Gracile, as she was a small woman of delicate temperament and not likely to be doing anything so foolish as attempting to right some imagined wrong done to her people or flee from his iron-gloved grasp.

It was something of a surprise to him, then, when the Queen stabbed him in the heart and fled back to her desert home.

“Why , my dear?” he gasped, watching her walk briskly toward their chamber door.

“It was nothing personal.” she replied. “It is simply that I shall bear you a son.”

This seemed like an odd reason to stab a man, before the labor pains set in, and so he gaspingly informed his formerly adored wife. “I have loved you better than all the others and I have forgiven you the indiscretion.” he managed to moan forth, past his trembling, whitened lips.

“I have committed no indiscretion!” exclaimed the Queen. “This is your son.”

“It is impossible.” answered the Emperor. “Chaos has assured me ..”

“Chaos can assure anyone of whatever he pleases. This is your son. He will not be put to death out of your petty jealousy.”

Then, the Emperor Gracile understood. His wife thought he would kill this by-blow child of hers, and so she attacked first, to save her own flesh and blood.

“I never would have killed him. Kept him in the tower, mayhap; yet, you could have gone to see him and be a little happy.” he said. Which, though it sounded cruel, was really quite generous, for, if the child was the product of illicit union, it should be dispatched with immediately upon birth.

“You don't understand, still? He is your son!” she replied, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I think you believe that.” said Dave the First, the Emperor Gracile and right-wise ruler of Ordem.

“I do.” she sighed.

“Then it is true. You are a mad thing” he replied

“No I am only a faithful wife.” she rejoined. Stepping back over and kissing him goodbye, she continued. “I have loved and always shall love you, despite that you do not listen well to women-folk. I, however, must protect your bloodline, even from you. If you live, do not seek for me, for I shall not be found.”

Then she was gone and the Emperor Gracile lay dying, alone, and wondering what he had gotten himself into, after all.

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