Krafft's Anomaly Notes

Chapter 385 Polarization
"It is no longer here, but it is not without a trace."

Nothing truly leaves no trace. Even the North Sea monster that reaches into the fishing hole every winter to eat its fill leaves behind a whole host of terrifying legends for mothers to scare their children.

If you patiently follow a certain line of thought, you will always find some seemingly plausible clues.

The problem is that they can all be explained from multiple perspectives.

The empty bench was forgotten to be moved back, and the strange scratches came from the dorsal fin of some fish. Even the messy handprints could be attributed to struggling when someone accidentally fell into the water.

Sea monsters can exist, but it's more reasonable for them not to exist—this is the simplest and most logical conclusion you can reach after a deeper understanding.

Or rather, the greatest mercy.

If one truly believed that there was a monster on the coastline with a body longer than a mountain range and more tentacles than trees in a forest, that fear would absolutely make one live in constant anxiety, turning them into an incomprehensible hydrophobic madman in the eyes of others.

That's pretty much what Kraft read.

Every region must have its own "sea monster." On the beach, it's a giant squid with a bunch of tentacles; in the countryside, it's a scarecrow that's both real and fake in the wheat field; and in the castle, it's a vampire that's active during the day and active at night.

By the same token, it's perfectly normal for them to be predators deep in the clouds and mist in the mountains.

For decades, centuries, or even longer, humanity's rich imagination has always shaped a concrete image of fear and passed it down through generations.

Rumors are usually detailed and standardized, such as whether the tentacles resemble octopus or squid, whether the straw is fresh or dried, and whether they prefer the blood of young boys or girls.

They even devised a set of countermeasures for these monsters, teaching people various methods to avoid harm.

In short, their indescribable fear gradually transformed into something resembling... safety rules.

Therefore, some things that have been passed down for countless years without having a specific shape are quite conspicuous.

It has no distinctive features; all that is known about it is that it is located high up and is usually not visible.

Sometimes, even if the same pronoun appears in two paragraphs, it may not be immediately apparent that they are connected.

Narrators often avoid making precise references, intentionally or unintentionally creating ambiguity, as if they are completely unaware that this technique will lead to comprehension difficulties.

But what's amazing is that the more you read, the easier it is to find it in the sentences.

Sometimes, when you open a completely unrelated book, you can almost instinctively sense that a certain passage is related to it, even if the narrative perspective and language style are completely different, it is hard to miss it due to oversight.

You feel like you know it better now, even though you haven't read any new information, you've simply witnessed its presence from another person's perspective.

If one possesses an extraordinary memory, capable of readily accessing and comparing every passage read, this strange feeling will be even more pronounced.

On the vast and boundless sea, you can always find a familiar wave pattern in a casual glance. Isn't that strange enough?

Therefore, it is only natural that this has aroused interest.

It's human nature to try to understand something if it catches our attention, just like how the eye automatically adjusts to refocus when vision is blurry so that the image on the retina is sharper—something ingrained in our genes.

They would review what they had read, try to form a concrete concept, and then...

Got nothing.

Of course, even if it feels intuitively familiar, how can one form a concept by reading texts that don't provide specific descriptions? So they traced its origins through local customs and primitive beliefs, but the result remained largely unchanged.

The information obtained was either disorganized or vague, and most of the research ended there.

However, some people, especially the most perceptive ones, will feel that reading is different. Certain words and phrases read like rhyming verses or profound meanings like scriptures, yet upon closer reflection, they cannot be replicated.

The feeling of something appearing and disappearing is both captivating and unsettling, like viewing an object through a thin veil, where the outline gradually emerges but the true form remains elusive.

At this moment, they may subconsciously begin to eliminate distractions and isolate themselves in order to better capture fleeting inspiration.

Psychologically speaking, the sudden realization of seemingly difficult information after deep thought can produce a kind of epiphany-like pleasure, which can further encourage consciousness to wander further and further into a pathological state of flow.

At the same time, consciousness becomes particularly sensitive to certain words and phrases, and even if they appear in completely unrelated passages, it will still evoke a certain feeling while reading.

It was as if I had touched a fragment of something behind me through a thin veil. It did not move, but it had a slight curling and retraction reaction, so subtle that it was imperceptible. However, the perception made a judgment before the thought: it was no longer paper and ink, but the skin of some living thing covered by reality.

"Does this gradual, layered approach to cognition change things? That's interesting."

Kraft reviewed his reading from the past few days, including some of the special words he had picked out, such as "vortex," "clouds," "high altitude," and "scales."

The guess was correct; he did experience some vague things that he couldn't have perceived before. It wasn't complete; he could only outline a discontinuous clue that lured his consciousness to delve deeper.

Dominic's turning point was probably here, because he couldn't detect the abnormality in his cognition, and thus he slid down into a vicious cycle.

But here two points of contention arise. Does what "it" implies actually exist? Or is it merely an illusory bait, luring its prey into a trap?

If it is the latter, then there is no need to continue. Based on the current understanding of the operating mechanism and typical symptoms, a certain degree of prevention and treatment can be carried out.

If it's the former, then things are completely different. This means it's just one link in the system, and a very small one at that.

Kraft leans towards the former.

What he felt was clearly not from pure fiction, but rather highlighted through specific cognition.

It's similar to wearing polarized lenses, allowing you to see things you couldn't see before.

It's not that the lens changed the entire world in an instant, but rather that those things already existed but were imperceptible, and were revealed after being filtered through special perception.

Perception itself is a subjective structure formed after being filtered by the brain; it simply adjusts the filter slightly.

Perhaps it should be called something like "cognitive polarization"?

Moreover, this pattern of perceiving special things after encountering some kind of inspiration... is too familiar, not like a first encounter, but more like a reunion.

We must go and find out what is perched above these mountains, or we will never have peace.

However, progress stalled, and understanding could no longer deepen. One began to feel stuck, rejected. Clearly, it was selective; unless one was immersed to a certain degree, one could never reach the core.

Kraft felt she needed something to help break down the barrier.

It could be a way of thinking, a key piece of information, or even a tangible object.

"Looks like we'll have to send Cooper on a long trip again and put Raymond through some more hardship."