The Tinfoil Hat Crowd

spookygibberish:

Lovis is the world, and is shaped like a flat spring. Its form is that of a great, stone blood vessel which holds air and heat within, and endless, icy ocean without. From the surface of the world, actually its interior wall, its curve appears straight, hence the ‘flatness’ of its shape. Those with a mind to understand it for a long time assumed it was a toroid, but if one follows the sunpath along its curve, one will never see a familiar landmark repeat, as far as anyone knows, the world is an endless tunnel through an endless ocean, and it crosses through itself endlessly. 

Gravity created by the vast mass of ocean beneath and outside of the world, and pulls towards the ground which wraps around the sky. Air clings to the walls, and thins towards the center. The interior-most point of the sky, the sunpath, is either airless, or has air so thin and frictionless it might as well not exist. Suns run down this path like cars of a train, or marbles down a chute. When a sun passes over, its own gravity acts against that of the ocean, and gravity on the whole is weakened. This effect is too slight to notice casually, but very sensitive and finely tuned clocks operate by detecting the slight shifts in gravity over the course of the day, which also varies by season. A season is nothing more than a sequence of particular suns, and there are three kinds. The suns of the red season are small, dim, and bring cool weather and higher noontime-gravity, since they do less to pull against the force of the ocean. The suns of the white season bring scorching heat and lower noontime-gravity, and the yellow season is intermediate. A year is a sequence of somewhere between 536 and 554 suns, give or take, and does not always have the same length or order of seasons. The turning of a year is determined by the passage of a massively large and ominously green sun, and the exact length of a year is not known until it has concluded. In academic circles, it is commonly held that the varying length of years and seasons are calibrated to some particular effect. What this effect could possibly be, and what intelligence is doing the calibrating, are topics of debate as contemporary as the line of suns is endless.

The suns bake the land into desert and dust, scatter the spores of the gods, and churn the wind with their immense convective heat. Because the world’s surface is dry and thin, it tends to crack, ripped open by its own spinning and flexing, and should it crack too severely, the ocean would press up and through, drown all life, and snuff out the suns. The cracks in the world are filled by the bodies of great metal gods, those born from the sun-shed spores.

(via theorigamiphoenix)