Ω / Ʌ

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Here, I will be building the foundation of that world piece by piece;

its systems, characters, incidents, and hidden structures.

This includes:

worldbuilding and system architecture

character files and psychological profiles

incident reports and timeline fragments

visual references and symbolic elements

incomplete scenes and exploratory writing

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This is not a finished narrative.

It is the process of understanding one.

Some entries will be structured.

Some will be fragments.

Some may contradict earlier assumptions.

That is intentional.

This archive exists to preserve ideas before they disappear.

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Navigation will primarily use the following tags:

#veil

(system architecture, mechanics, authority structure, deletion logic)

#ohm

(resistance network, hidden infrastructure, preserved data)

#character

(individual profiles, psychological structure, behavioral patterns)

#incident

(specific anomalies, disappearances, timeline disruptions)

#setting

(physical locations, environments, and spaces where events occur)

#worldbuilding

(societal structure, history, political and technological context)

#fragment

(incomplete scenes, experimental writing, emotional or narrative moments)

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Not everything that disappears was ever gone.

03-29 [18.085 words]

04-19 [51.195 words]

Status: Unindexed / inspiration material

Source: personal notes

Related Entity: Eloy/Themis

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Authors Comment:

(DRAFT FROM MARCH)

The following entry is based on a personal note written a few years ago.

It does not represent a direct one-to-one mapping to any character.

However, it reflects the divergence between Eloy and Themis, their respective alignment with paternal authority and the conditions under which attachment and expectation become intertwine

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Fragment:

I keep wondering whether it’s my dream or his.

Am I doing this because I want to

or because I know he wants me to?

The problem is;

I think both are true.

At the same time.

I keep thinking about my sister.

We were raised under the same pressure.

Same expectations.

Same father.

And still, we turned out completely different.

“Like day and night,” grandma said once.

That doesn’t surprise me.

She fits into the world easily.

She has friends.

She moves through people without hesitation.

She knows how to stand her ground.

I don’t.

But I was good in school.

Good at university.

Good at the things that mattered to him.

That’s where it becomes complicated.

The comparisons.

The ones he makes.

The ones we make ourselves.

And I don’t understand them.

If we come from the same place,

why are we measured as if we don’t?

But it works.

Not loudly.

Not violently.

Subtly.

And that’s enough.

It destabilizes me.

Because I love her.

And despite everything...

I love him too.

That’s what makes it difficult.

Not the pressure.

The attachment.

It’s not unconditional.

Maybe he can’t do that.

Maybe he never learned how.

He sat down with me once.

Told me I should continue.

That it would be a waste if I didn’t.

That I could be the only one in the family to “become something.”

Become something.

Become something.

Become something?

What does that even mean.

If she left university...

does that make her nothing?

If I stopped...

would I become nothing too?

What am I

without performance?

The strange part is:

I did enroll.

Not just because of him.

I like studying.

I like learning.

Analyzing.

Writing.

But also...

because he said it would be a waste if I didn’t.

And that’s his way of saying

he believes in me.

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Conclusion:

Choice and expectation

It’s kind of a mess honestly lol

My notes are this chaotic mix of German and English; half sentences, fragments, things that only make sense in the moment. Sometimes a scene starts in German and slowly drifts into English haha

But even though I sometimes slip into English automatically, I can actually express more in German.

Not even just because it’s my native language... it just feels… more precise somehow?

But in the end, I want a proper bound version in English.

The German version feels more personal.

That one’s for my mom.

I build the skeleton first.

Then the body.

Status: Personal Annotation / Partial Disclosure

Visibility: Limited

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Okay… I think it’s time for a different kind of post.

I’ve said this a few times already, but just to make it clear:

This blog is an archive.

Not finished work.

The story itself is set in a world where AI has reached a point where people no longer know what is real and what isn’t.

Evidence becomes unreliable.

Records contradict each other.

People can be fabricated.

Histories can be rewritten.

At some point, that kind of instability becomes a problem; legally, socially, structurally.

That’s where VEIL comes in.

A state-level verification system.

A framework that determines what counts as real by validating data, events, identities.

Or at least, that’s what it claims to do.

This blog exists inside that world.

That’s why everything here is written in this “archive” style.

It’s intentional.

I’m not trying to sound robotic.

I’m writing from within the system I’m building.

It helps me think.

It helps me stay inside the logic of the story.

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I’m also going to stop using reach-based tags.

I originally hoped to find people to talk about writing with, and I did meet a few really kind souls here.

But I’m not interested in having to defend myself or my work because someone scrolls past, doesn’t read, and decides it must be AI.

If someone thinks that, that’s fine.

They can scroll.

But I’m not going to optimize my process for visibility if it means constantly explaining that I am in fact a real person writing my own work.

So this post is for the few people already here.

Or anyone who happens to find it and actually reads it.

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I don’t usually like sharing personal things like this, but maybe it helps explain how I write...

My name is Lyss. I’m 27.

I think very visually.

Extremely visually.

I can recall scenes almost like images.

I can lucid dream.

I build things in my head in detail.

But translating that into language has never been easy for me.

When I speak, I often have to construct sentences internally first.

Almost like compiling something before it can be said.

Writing gives me the time to do that.

That’s why I like it.

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I also come from an academic background.

I completed both my bachelor’s and master’s with a 1.0.

During that time, I worked on research projects, academic texts, and publications.

And for the first time, the way I think and write didn’t feel “off”.

It was valued.

I almost stayed in academia.

I had opportunities to continue… research, publications, a PhD.

But mentally, I couldn’t do it.

Still, the way I work never changed.

So now I treat this story almost like a research project.

I build structures.

I test ideas.

I connect systems.

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Another big influence:

I love manga.

I draw myself.

And my favorite is Death Note.

At some point, I got a bit obsessed (in a good way).

I analyzed it deeply … structure, themes, character logic.

Just because I wanted to understand how it works.

Tsugumi Ōba’s interviews about his writing process were especially interesting to me.

That’s where a lot of this started.

I created a character and placed her into that world as a thought experiment.

Not really as a typical fanfiction…more like:

“What would happen if…?”

From there, it evolved into something original.

Same tension.

Different system.

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And that’s where VEIL comes from.

I was thinking a lot about how society shapes what we believe.

We trust institutions.

We trust media.

We trust visibility.

We assume something is true because it is validated somewhere.

So the question became:

What happens when that validation is centralized?

Not just influencing reality,

but defining it.

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Anyway.

That’s what this blog is.

Not finished work.

Not content.

Just a structured way for me to think, build, and explore a system and the people inside it.

If anyone reads this thank you

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A small note about echoes.

When I first started writing this story, I didn’t actually plan to include echolalia as part of Themis’ character.

But at some point he simply… had one.

And the more I thought about it, the more it felt strangely fitting.

Because echo is already a central concept in the story.

Later in the narrative, Themis becomes something like an echo of VEIL itself.

VEIL acts. Themis reflects it. Reveals it. Repeats its patterns until other people start to notice them.

So in a way the thematic echo of the story also appears in the way he sometimes uses language.

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What is Echolalia?

Echolalia means repeating words or sentences that someone else has said.

But it is not just mindless repetition.

Every echo usually serves a function.

There are different kinds of echolalia.

Immediate echolalia happens right away.

Person A: “Do you want coffee?” Person B: “Do you want coffee?”

The repeated sentence can give the brain a moment to process the question or prepare an answer.

Delayed echolalia appears later.

A sentence might return hours, days, or even years after it was first heard.

These echoes often come from:

• conversations • films or books • memories • phrases someone once heard

A common example is when a child repeats a sentence from a cartoon in a completely different situation.

For instance, a child sitting in a car might say:

“I see something you don’t see and it’s blue.”

The phrase might come from a TV show like Peppa Pig, where the characters play this game while riding in a car.

But the child might not actually be trying to start the game.

Instead, the sentence functions as a chunk of language connected to that situation.

What the child may really be communicating is something closer to:

“We are in a car right now.” or “I’m riding in a car.”

In this case, the phrase carries the meaning of the context in which it was learned, even if the literal words suggest something else.

Some people learn language in chunks.

They first learn whole phrases or sentences, and only later begin to understand the individual words that make them up.

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Why Echolalia Happens

Echolalia can serve many purposes.

For example:

• buying time to process a question • helping to organize thoughts • using familiar phrases as a sense of structure or safety • expressing emotions when forming new sentences is difficult

Especially delayed echolalia is often closely tied to emotions and memories.

Echolalia is also a normal part of early language development in children up to around age two.

It can appear longer in people with delayed language development.

But it can also appear in very verbal or highly articulate people, where it becomes much more subtle.

In those cases it might look like:

• recurring sentence structures • borrowing phrases from books, films, or conversations • repeating familiar conversation patterns • silently repeating phrases internally

At that point it often looks more like a personal language style rather than obvious echolalia.

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Echolalia and Themis

Themis can speak very clearly.

But language works a little differently for him.

Often he has to retrieve sentence structures first before responding. If no suitable phrase exists, he sometimes needs more time to answer.

And sometimes he simply chooses the answer that is easiest to produce, rather than the most complete one.

His echolalia is rarely immediate.

Instead it tends to be delayed, and it often reveals something about his emotional state.

Hikari notices small signs.

Sometimes he seems slightly irritated by his own echo, as if he knows it appeared automatically. He might blink a little too long.

Wait a moment.

And then continue speaking as if the echoed words never happened.

Early in the story he often tries to ignore it.

Later, he stops fighting it.

One of the most important moments happens on the transmission tower.

There, he repeats something his mother once said.

He says it while looking at Hikari just a moment too long.

It is the first time the echo doesn’t seem to annoy him.

Hikari might think the words are borrowed.

But somehow they don’t feel borrowed anymore.

They feel like his.

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Echo

And this is where the idea became strangely fitting for the story.

Because echo is not just something that appears in Themis’ speech.

It is also something that appears in the structure of the narrative itself.

Later in the story, Themis becomes something like an echo of VEIL.

VEIL acts.

VEIL deletes.

VEIL corrects the record.

And Themis responds.

He mirrors the system.

He repeats its movements in another form.

Every time VEIL changes something, a trace appears somewhere else.

A timestamp that doesn’t align.

A missing entry that suddenly has a shadow.

A correction that produces a new anomaly.

Not loud enough to break the system.

But enough for people to start noticing it.

Enough for them to begin hearing it.

Like an echo.

In that sense, echolalia becomes more than a character trait.

It becomes a metaphor.

A story about language repeating itself.

Status: Unindexed / inspiration material

Source: personal notes

Related Character: Themis

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Authors Comment:

People who eventually read my story might assume that Hikari represents me the most.

And in some ways that might even be true.

But the strange thing about writing characters is that you inevitably leave pieces of yourself in all of them.

Fragments of perception.

Fragments of thinking.

Fragments of habits.

Ironically, this little sketch from my personal notes probably reveals more clearly than anything else what Themis has inherited from me (though there is some Hikari in this as well).

So consider this something like:

an origin fragment... or a small piece of character DNA.

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Fragment

“Do you enjoy this?”

His gaze was confident, almost amused, as if he already knew the answer.

His fingers tightened around my hand.

He had already been holding it far too long.

My lips pressed together before I could stop them.

“No.”

“No?”

He sounded genuinely offended.

Hurt, even.

It clearly hadn't crossed his mind for even a second that this might be a possible answer.

“Well…”

I tried to meet his gaze, but his eyes were already drilling into mine again.

“I think I've explained often enough that I don't like being touched. By anyone.”

“Interesting.”

His eyes slipped away for a brief moment, drifting down to our hands.

“And yet you're holding mine.”

“Yes.”

My voice came out rougher than I expected.

“Because that's how you communicate.”

He tilted his head slightly. His gaze sharpened again.

“That’s correct. I need it to feel the energies.”

I nodded slowly.

Mechanically.

As if my body already knew there was no point correcting him.

Once again he had only heard the part of the sentence he wanted to hear.

“Which is why…”

He stepped closer and crouched down until our eyes were level.

“…you need to look at me now. So I can see you. And understand you.”

“You're creepy.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Something flashed in his eyes.

His grip tightened.

“So let me understand this,” he said slowly.

“I tell you that you're good exactly the way you are. That you can be whoever you want to be. That you're perfect as you are…”

He leaned closer.

“…and you call me creepy because I communicate differently than most people?”

Something inside me shifted.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

Sometimes it was better not to answer immediately.

“That’s not what you're trying to say, right?”

His eyes were directly in front of mine now.

I looked away.

He nodded, as if that confirmed something.

Then he leaned forward again.

My hand found a loose thread on my sleeve and began twisting it.

Stimming.

He noticed immediately.

I said his name out loud.

My voice sounded different than usual.

Rougher.

Lower.

Sharper.

“What?”

“Stop.”

“Stop what? I'm just looking.”

“You're staring.”

“So?”

“Stop.”

“Why?”

“Since when is not wanting something not a good enough reason anymore?”

His gaze didn't move an inch.

But something flickered in his eyes.

“But how else am I supposed to read you?” he said.

“I need that to—”

“—communicate, yes,” I cut in.

“But you’re not listening. You're just thinking about yourself.”

His other hand suddenly closed around the one that had been stimming.

If something inside me had shifted before, now it tipped completely.

His hand gripping mine too tightly.

His other hand holding my wrist.

Stopping me from stimming.

Forcing me to look at him.

It felt like someone had replaced the blood in my veins with something cold and thick.

My eyes snapped up to his.

For a moment he seemed pleased.

Like he had finally gotten what he wanted.

“Good,” he said softly. “You're looking at me now, so I can—”

His breath stopped.

I was looking at him.

But we both knew something was wrong.

It didn’t feel like he was looking at me.

I could never hold eye contact for long.

A few seconds at most.

After that the urge to look away would start building until it became unbearable.

Even he noticed something was different.

His brain was already trying to process it.

Trying to reinterpret this behavior in a way that still fit his narrative.

“You're disgusting,” I said.

“You know that?”

There it was again.

Word vomit.

His mouth opened slightly.

Now he was the one who looked away first.

“I told you I'm trying to speak your language,” I said quietly.

“And I'm very good at speaking other people's languages.”

“Even when they aren't mine.”

I lifted my chin slightly and waited until his gaze returned.

“And because of that…”

I turned my wrist until I was the one holding his hand now.

Not the other way around.

I squeezed as hard as I could.

“Let me literally hold your hand so you understand.”

His expression froze.

“Just because I speak your language,” I continued,

“doesn't mean it's the way I want to communicate.”

“You know perfectly well that I hate being touched.”

“And that I can't look at people.”

“And yet you keep forcing me to do both.”

“Apparently ‘I don't want to’ isn't a valid reason anymore.”

“And on top of that you stop me from stimming.”

I could see the gears turning in his head.

The version of me who had met him earlier that day would never have said this.

“And then,” I added quietly,

“you try to make me feel guilty when I point it out.”

His mouth opened and closed.

“Yes… but…”

“What’s your problem?” I asked.

“Did I not react like your other test subjects?”

He frowned.

His answer came far too quickly.

“I don't have test subjects.”

“…don't have test subjects,” I echoed.

He blinked.

“You haven't echoed anything in a long time.”

A laugh slipped out of me.

“That’s exactly the problem.”

“You don't listen.”

“The echo always happens.”

This blog originally started as an archive for OHM / VEIL.

The plan was to post structured pieces of the project; timelines, incident files, character fragments; almost like an in-universe database.

And I will still continue doing that.

But recently I realized something about how I actually work when writing.

I don't write stories in order.

I never really have.

When I wrote my thesis, I didn't start at page one and work forward. I connected red dots -ideas, arguments, observations- until a structure slowly appeared.

And the same thing seems to be true for this story.

So instead of trying to force myself to write the narrative chronologically, I'm going to start using this blog a bit differently.

From now on this space will also function as a kind of creative archive.

That means you might see things like:

• scene fragments • dialogue sketches • character observations • thematic notes • raw inspiration • moments that may or may not end up in the final story

Some of these posts will probably feel out of order. Some might even contain future plot elements or spoilers.

And that's okay.

Right now the goal isn't to present a perfectly structured narrative.

The goal is to collect the pieces.

I guess stories like this rarely grow in a straight line. They grow through fragments.

So this is a small shift for this archive.

A slightly more open and experimental one.

And occasionally that might also mean posting something a little more personal or vulnerable, if it connects to the themes I'm exploring.

The next post is one of those fragments.

Not a finished scene.