A note on elevations here. All of the five rooms The Musician explored last night seem about the same size. Only the one with the monster actually sits on the seafloor, the other four being suspended by cables above it. The lower rooms in the two sets of two here seem at about the same elevation. But the higher room of the foreground set, the one containing the rotating spherical composite called “Anonymous Anxiety”, is about a half-room elevation *below* the level of the sea, while the comparative room in the other set, white as opposed to black as well, is set almost exactly halfway *above* the sim’s sea level. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that black represents types of fears here, and white is liberation from fear, or at least the ability to peer upwards from underwater concerns. I personally couch this in my own terms as Jasper (dark) and Newton (light).
It’s time to move on from these rooms. The Musician walks a ridge toward the center of the sim. Two stalks of bull kelp grow from it.
Looking around, he understands there’s a parallel ridge to his left of about the same height and length, with a small dip linking the two. Looking at them from above, he feels like they’re closing off the just visited rooms from the rest of the sim, somewhat similar to how Ear Canyon is separated from the remainder. Compartmentalization — he can dig it.
On his inworld map, he spots another avatar somewhere over to his left. He doesn’t want avatar interaction tonight — would rather explore the mysteries of the sim in privacy. So this steers him right for now.
He crosses the dip between the ridges…
… seeing that it turns into a deeper canyon ahead. Is it the same place he found the glass jars before? Is this the heart of the matter? He decides to wait for a revisit and keeps going straight.
So what is center? Well, for LEA11 it turns out to be that huge layered structure The Musician has already noted. Center. A place to work out from. He reexamines the object, walking all around it this time. He peers inside from above. Basically a circular or cylindrical interior, it seems. The top of the object just grazes the surface of the water. The Musician feels the artist is again making a statement with elevation.
He takes a look above water again. There a still a good number — *seven* to be exact — of structures at least poking above the surface yet to be explored, but none as white as the room already visited half in and half out of the sea. Again, the large, central object is not one of these.
The Musician decides to fly above, then drop inside the central structure, landing with a thud inside. He checks his guitar for damage — everything’s okay. He peers up, wondering how the interior could be a circle at the bottom and a square at the top.
Squaring the circle: a mathematical curiosity but with a deep psychological component. According to ancient alchemists, it is the uniting of opposites — male and female, black and white, good and evil — under one “impossible” rubric. Is the artist of LEA11 an alchemist? It must be so in some way.