"Sorry, Headmaster. It is Atmospheric Momentum Anisotropy."
"Impressive, Isaac. Your verbal comprehension must be quite high, no?"
Phew… Stressful… Fifth question.
"I wouldn't say so, Headmaster."
"Perhaps… Then, Isaac… Question six: Have you ever heard of the terms… 'Katapleric' and 'Kataplerosis'?"
Alright, yeah, I got no fucking clue about this word.
More concerningly… Shit… He's keeping track of his question count as well.
"Again. I do not know this word, Headmaster. It would be quite fun to play the hint and guessing game again."
"Sorry, this time I cannot give it to you. It is a word that need not concern you if you're unfamiliar with it."
"Then I have no clue this time. Let's proceed to the next."
"That's fair… Question seven: How long have you resided in this region of the planet?"
Isaac paused for a few seconds.
He brought his hands together, resting his forehead against his palms. The gesture was reflective—like a man revisiting something distant yet familiar. His expression softened. For a moment, it resembled reminiscence.
Isaac murmured under his breath, eyes gently closed, a faint smile formed.
"I arrived yesterday, no?"
The Headmaster returned that smile, as if he had finally caught his prey.
"I meant in Elenos. How long have you lived on Agerea?"
Eight questions… Sigh… How I must bring up a past I wished to forget merely for a question like this to not get lobotomized.
How far I've fallen…
"In truth… nearly ten years. Physical residence and 'living' are not always the same thing, Headmaster. Some people are born in a place and never belong to it. Others arrive long before their bodies do. For me, Agerea has occupied my mind for nearly a decade."
The Headmaster narrows his gaze.
A man in that position would not be fooled by rhetoric alone; he would notice the deliberately precise philosophical reframing that Isaac seeks to rely on, and the refusal to provide a simple answer.
"Mm. A semantic defense. You answer the spirit of the question while sidestepping its flesh."
Orthellius' finger rested lightly against the desk, his smile unchanged.
"You are either an unusually thoughtful boy… or a conniving deceiver? Very well. I did not ask where your mind wandered, nor where your affections resided. I'm asking when your body stood beneath the sky of Agerea?"
Ninth and tenth question… He wants a measurable fact rather than my abstraction.
If I still refuse, the Headmaster could get pissed off and not follow the 10-question rule and would escalate to something like: 'Let me make this simpler for you. From the day your feet first touched the soil of Elenos to this present moment—how many years?'
Headmaster Orthellius would not attack immediately because Isaac's first answer was not a lie. Instead, he would probe the reason behind such an answer.
The unusual truth is often more suspicious than a normal falsehood.
Because a child who answers 'ten years' to a question of residence is either a poet, a madman, a fool, or something far more dangerous.
…
JACKPOT!
Entrapment loop under semantic reframing pressure.
A regressive answer!
It can be said that the answer actually does not regress. What actually regresses isn't it, but every aspect of the question, excluding the answer.
That was what Isaac was leading to. Before the escalation of simplification, Isaac would answer immediately with his best path. To give ground, but only where it cannot be used against him.
He lowers his gaze slightly to hide his emotions.
"Then, in the literal sense, Headmaster, my answer is recent. I have spent years studying EIMA, enough that the distinction between familiarity and residence became blurred in my own mind. That was my meaning. But if you ask when I began standing beneath the sky of Elenos… then that would be yesterday."
The Headmaster stares for several seconds, waiting for the consequences of falsehood. He jots one last note in his book before closing it with a pleased expression, one genuine that it would be impossible to fake.
Nothing triggers.
Because Isaac has not lied.
This boy… He does not contradict himself, but he simply lets the weaker version of his answer fall away when pressed. He reduces each statement over and over till that same statement remains.
The Headmaster, perhaps with the faintest smile.
"Isaac, you should consider isolated politics if science and academics fail you."
"I wouldn't fail academics, Headmaster, especially with what's offered in EINA."
"Hah… Thank you, Isaac. I will put in a good word for you to the Monarch. You are free to go—"
"Hey, I still have a rule and a question for you, too, Headmaster. Don't forget the deal at the start."
"Ah~ Right. Please, be my guest—"
With no hesitation.
"Rule: You may answer only using 'True' or 'False'. Question: If this statement is true, then 1 + 1 = 3, .. ..-. / - .... . .-. . / .. ... / .- / .... .. -.. -.. . -. / .-.-. .----"
And with merciless intent. Isaac brought down his executioner's axe.
Clicking his tongue out of annoyance.
Curry's Paradox.
Rule 1: You may not lie; lying results in a lobotomy
Rule 2: The question may not be of facts that only I know
Rule 3: The answering time limit is 15 seconds
Rule 4: The Imposed Rule must be reasonable
Imposed Rule: Answer with 'True' or 'False' only
I know that he cannot lie as well due to my coin flip proposition. This paradox is something that is not personal and accessible to a curious philosophist, plus given his role, he should know code, probably ignoring it cuz of too much stress. Answering in 15 seconds is a given. My imposed rule is not unreasonable per se. I simply asked him to answer in a certain way, rather than saying 'he can only lie'.
It's just that this question… Hah… Wow… it sucks to suck.
The Headmaster looked concerned.
If he answers 'true'. Then the conditional "if this statement is true, then 1+1=3" holds correctly. Since the antecedent is true, the consequent must also be true. However, 1+1=3 is false.
This contradiction shows that the statement cannot be true.
If he answers 'false'. The statement is of the form 'S → (1+1=3)', where S is the statement itself. Its negation is 'S ∧ (1+1 ≠ 3)', meaning S is true, and 1+1=3 is false (which is true). So if the statement is false, then S must be true.
A contradiction because Orthellius assumed it was false.
In that sense, no matter how Headmaster Orthellius answered.
He would be struck by the lobotomizing light.
It was a trap Isaac set perfectly.
Only…
It was not a trap for the Headmaster.
But for his assailant.
"Isaac… I can't answ—"
Isaac really did love cutting him off.
No, it was never that simple.
He cut him off because he was irritated, very irritated from all the, he so correctly put, 'shenanigans' he was facing. His restraint was growing ever thinner.
"Tsk… To whomever or whatever fucking force is controlling our retardation. I request a pause in these damn silly games. Get the fuck here, you motherfucking clanker! I know you're here!"
At first, there was no response. And this probed Isaac even more.
"Sorry for my outburst, Headmaster Orthellius. Please do not see me in a bad light, but I highly, HIGHLY suggest you blurt out 'True', for the sake of this institute's future, of course. Starting the count of these 15 seconds ending in 3… 2… 1—"
"TRUE!"
…
And so the Headmaster lives.
Perhaps it was the grace of Orthellius' assailant that led him to survival.
Or perhaps it was the hidden trick of Isaac's question.
Isaac's 'clinking' of his tongue was, yes, out of annoyance, but mainly, to carry the final part of the question:
Translated by him in Morse code.
But one may ask, how could Isaac know that Morse code was present in this world? Rule 2 forbade knowledge exclusive to him; anything used had to be observable, inferable, or already present. Morse code was something that Isaac only knew, as it had originated from Earth, invented in the 1830's.
Only if, Isaac… didn't note, all those hours ago, the dots and dashes that were in his adoption certificate. (see Chapter 10; "Isaac noted the documents and the certain dots and dashes at the bottom of the page." -> .. / ... . . scattered around the chapter) In that moment, he figured out that there WAS Morse code present on Agerea, and that it closely resembled the Morse code of Earth.
The only issue?
Why would a 21-year-old physicist need Morse code? He had no use for it, nor did Isaac gain enough stardom to be requested at the behest of high-ranking businesses and the government.
So Isaac had no use for it.
Isaac did not know Morse code.
And so, Isaac's true motive all along, as deplorable as it was whilst an adoption was going on, was to learn Morse code on the document by systematic deconstruction and relation of code to words. In that way, he first figured out his name in Morse;
.. ... .- .- -.-. / -- ..- -.
and then the entire alphabet;
.- -... -.-. -.. . ..-. --. .... .. .--- -.- .-.. -- -. --- .--. --.- .-. ... - ..- ...- .-- -..- -.-- --..
before deriving in his head, how to say symbols and numbers
-....- .---- / .-.-. .----
All for the future's use, which he applied now.
All for this reason:
'Question: If this statement is true, then 1 + 1 = 3, .. ..-. / - .... . .-. . / .. ... / .- / .... .. -.. -.. . -. / .-.-. .----'
Translated:
'Question: If this statement is true, then 1 + 1 = 3, IF THERE IS A HIDDEN +1'
It was an astute time.
For this hidden +1 to reveal itself.
With more options left than flight or flee, this young boy decided to entertain our dear transmigrator. In a corner of a room, this individual pulled back against the 'veil' of light that hid him and stepped into the literal limelight.
"Hah?! Aww~Fucking hell, I knew it. Godddamn, bro! What's your issue with me, man?!
Caelum Veldt?!"
"Isaac Mun…"
The young boy's eyes lit like gold, sicut superius, ita inferius, as it's written, now came forth.