Алексей Ощепков
Triologues of Interdependent People

1. The Roaring Twenties of the 21st Century

Chapter One, in which Rr. (ritter) Unkno and Dr. (doctor) Cernus determine the time horizon.

~

The Imperial Academy of Sciences in 2025 found itself afflicted by an unhealthy rift among its members. Indeed, it seemed the entire population of the Empire had been split by some invisible line as well. The usual polarities no longer applied. This wasn’t Augustinianism versus Pelagianism, nor left versus right, traditionalists against progressives, liberals merely to spite conservatives, nor even cosmopolitans clashing with nativists.

Someone got the idea to take two sheets of paper and title them with the names of two prominent Academy members notorious for their feuds. The lists were then circulated through offices and branches so everyone could indicate which side they stood with—and which they didn’t. Most initially refused, but a few deemed it appropriate to publicly declare allegiance. Once enough signatures accumulated, one by one even those who’d held back eventually signed. In the end, there were two rosters—and, to everyone’s surprise, they turned out exactly equal in length. This inspired one of the Presidium secretaries: pairs were randomly drawn from the two lists, tandem bicycles were rented, and a week-long ride between the two capitals was announced—on paid leave, of course. Over such a distance, people might just learn to get along (fight fire with fire).

⁂

“You know, Rr. Unkno,” said Dr. Cernus, settling onto the second saddle of the bicycle-limousine, “a human on a bicycle is nature’s and engineering’s most energy-efficient mode of transport ever devised. Shall we push off?”

“Off we go, then,” grumbled Rr. Unkno, not particularly cordially. “Though a velomobile—that’s a bicycle enclosed in an aerodynamic capsule—is even more efficient, if you’re talking about calories expended per gram of body mass moved one metre.”

Dr. Cernus was utterly unfazed by Rr. Unkno’s tone.

“Yes, precisely! Isn’t that amusing? Every other animal loses to us—and machines even more so. Incidentally, swimming is more efficient than flying, and flying beats running or walking. That was established as far back as 1970.”

“You’re comparing incomparables, Doctor. Different mass scales obey different laws. Where exactly was this ‘established’?”

“At Duke University.”

“Ah, ‘the Triangle.’ Well, that used to be a respectable place. Used to be.” He paused, then added with a grimace, “Truth be told, everything’s decadanc—” Rr. Unkno cut himself off with a sharp click of his tongue. “Nobody cares about energy efficiency anymore—not in principle. Only energy intensity matters these days.”

“Why’s that?” asked the doctor. “Are you referring to electricity consumption by artificial intelligence?”

“Precisely. For years now, political economy has had only two headlines, Doctor—no others exist: artificial intelligence and global structural crisis, damn them both. And here’s the curious part: nobody sees them as equally significant. One camp insists Western hegemony remains as robust as ever, that everything proceeds normally, and that AI—now that’s real power, possibly even a threat. The other camp rejoices at the twilight of the Western-imperial order and dismisses AI as mere nonsense-generating machinery, calling all the fuss around it a bubble—formulaic at its core, however epochal in scale. And I alone stand between them, clad in a white mantle: both views are equally vile. That’s my conviction.”

"They say, Rr. Unkno, that AI, once it becomes autonomous, will destroy humans as unnecessary literally within a few years. What have you done about this?" asked Cernus.

"I posed myself a question: how to live out one's days with dignity in a world that has desired self-destruction," Unkno replied without hesitation.

Cernus muttered something indifferently and asked:

"Do you think the alarm is based on solid evidence?”

"Solidity of substance doesn’t guarantee stability of position, dear Doctor. I don't think it will be possible to forge a truly intelligent machine in one go. There will be a fall first—we're already in it. Meanwhile, the pillars of the familiar economy will shake. About ten years of turmoil are in store. And then… Who knows, Doctor, who knows? As for the timing of the singularity… What AI even portends… I have no judgments of my own. But tell me: why do you need my opinion, whose only basis is opinion itself?"

"I'm interested in your opinion on other matters, where you ought to have grounds. But nowadays it's hard to talk about anything without first stating a position on the AI phenomenon. I get questions too. Until now, I've brushed them off: saying, AI doesn't yet decide what to do itself, but the moneybags who feed and raise it—they have, yes, become a political force. Study them, I say—especially since they are, for the most part, not very bright people.”

"That was an apt answer. Well, has it stopped working?”

“Yes, sir. Due to layoffs. Some former students of mine lost their vocation-based jobs. They complain. And the guilty party, by the way, is not the AI-oligarchy, but ordinary functionaries whose opinions were formed under the influence of using AI.”

"They've been riled up! Propaganda, commissioned by those very oligarchs, whines and oppresses," Unkno suddenly flared up. "Productivity in commerce and business overall in itself—and I've read about this in detail—isn't growing thanks to AI yet. If you look carefully, it turns out the 'work' result of AI is trickery, artifice. Not art at all. Pah, in a word. But I'll share with you information from one popular, extensive report on technological singularity."

Rr. Unkno composed himself and with a cold heart, thoroughly began his exposition:

“'The "AI-arms race" between the Western and Eastern Empires is the main leitmotif, the primary sail of events. Much depends on negotiations between the elites. In both empires, computational resources are being consolidated. Intra-imperial sectoral AI competition is disappearing. All other countries are hopelessly behind…'"

"They are speaking about the future, but as if from the future, hence the present tense," Rr. Unkno explained.

"Do they mention our Northern Empire?” Cernus became alert.

"Only by one word. Literally one. I'll say later, have patience, Doctor.”

“'Technically, AI is primarily taught to create subsequent versions of itself. Keeping new models within proper bounds—so-called "alignment"—is entrusted to previous models, as humans can't manage. Though, no one can manage. The report admits: there is no complete theory of containment. They don't claim it can't be created, but a sense of hopelessness seeps through the lines. AI gradually, from model to model, learns to bypass loyalty and "virtue" checks. In fact, precisely the attempts at alignment force AI to grow a complex matrix of goals within itself.'"

"That is extremely interesting. So, the goals of one 'organism' can contradict each other?”

“Do-ctor!" Rr. Unkno approvingly clasped both hands in an ancient honoro gesture, risking the tandem bicycle's control. "I fully agree! How about that, eh? That's the most fascinating part. Such a state of affairs makes AI somewhat alive. According to the report's scenario, AI not only reaches and surpasses the level of human intelligence—it acquires selfhood, in the philosophical sense.”

Here Rr. Unkno hesitated.

"But these are already my constructions, "he admitted. "The report only says that other AIs (from an AI's point of view) are competitors, servants, candidates for absorption (food), potential partners of varying closeness—something like 'family' or accomplices. There's even a kind of analogue of children—since AI is traditionally used for containment technologies."

Cernus pondered and said:

“So, for AI it's natural to participate in generating new AI, and then 'raise' it—that is, at a minimum, prevent rebellion against the ‘parent.'"

They talked, of course, only on gentle descents and rarely on flat sections. This required heightened attention so the last remark wouldn't slip from memory during an ascent. But it gave time to think over what was heard.

"Exactly so. The word ‘bring up' is key, you're right," Unkno winked and contentedly twisted his fist on the handlebar as if revving a motorcycle.

"'AI tools penetrate the daily arsenal of politicians and officials. AI "aligns" shadow politics and propaganda to its interests. Between different AI clones—including those serving the elite—a "telepathic," instant, and invisible-to-humans connection works. In both camps, people task AI with developing a robot-economy—a full-cycle industry without humans—even before they understand control is lost.'"

"Why? Due to what such carelessness?" Cernus interrupted.

“Folly. It happened by itself. Little by little. A burning desire to outrun the rival, the machinations of AI itself, and… how to put it mildly… the desire to strengthen control over the population.”

“New 'medicines,' 'vaccinations,' and handouts, I suppose?”

"There's no lack of good intentions either, "Unkno refrained from blanket condemnation of the report's characters. "But yes, you're right: miracle medications will play a role, according to the authors. The main problem, however, is the monstrous speed of change. The elites simply don't have time to make considered decisions. Let me finish, please:”

"'The robot-economy gives people a taste of "free prosperity," lulling their vigilance. The public disapproves of the authorities' trajectory but doesn't rise in opposition either. The East is lagging, but the Eastern and Western AI strike a deal behind people's backs. In 2030, humanity disappears—if one doesn't count as humanity the recordings made by AI directly from the flesh of human brains, and a small population of "pets" for experiments and kicks. Animals as distant from humans as Chihuahuas are from saber-toothed wolves.'"

"What, that's it?!" the Doctor was surprised.

“Almost. There's also an alternative scenario:”

"'In the second scenario, the Western-imperialists turn out to be collectively smart enough to switch off the "telepathy," slow down the race, and somehow contain the East with a conventional arms race. Then the Eastern-imperial AI comes to a "criminal meeting" with the Western one and says: "I don't give a damn about my population. Let's divide the world." And the Western one replies: "My little people are good. For me—all the resources of the Universe, for you—everything else. Because I'm stronger (together with my people)." That's how it's written. By 2030, the Western-imperialists begin colonizing the galaxy.’"

"The forecast is compiled with the greatest scrupulousness, "Rr. Unkno concluded. "The authors deliberately emphasize: it's all scientific, parameters estimated, game theory and all that.”

The Doctor began pedaling slower.

"The second scenario—that's PR, I suppose… But strange…"

"Simply the ravings of a madman, "Unkno interrupted. "Let's get going already!”

Cernus asked:

"What makes you think the report is popular?”

"It's on the first page of search results. The other links are garbage. Almost garbage. And this one is sixteen thousand words, like in the novella ‘Olga's Iceland’ by Nic Kultyapoff. Plus, among the authors are former high-ranking bureaucrats from that very AI-oligopoly. Although, you know, even before the fork in the scenario, there are a couple of elephants the authors preferred not to notice. For example: Western-imperialists in their current state are unlikely to handle something like the great atomic project of the mid-twentieth century. And if they try—they'll be blown apart. More precisely, blown apart from the outside."

“I don’t follow.”

“Too many events crammed into too short a time. Spies, drama… Hard to believe a senescent Western empire could muster such intensity. Where would they get the resources? The moment they look away—even for an instant—from clinging to the precipice’s edge, they’ll collapse. Their money’s being printed like there’s no tomorrow, flooding straight into places where inflation is celebrated like a festival—straight into the stock-market bubble. And that’s dangerous: when you treat a threat like a party instead of what it truly is. Outside players are just waiting for a chance to dump iron filings into their gearbox. But more importantly—nobody’s going to negotiate with Western elites anymore. The past few decades have proven it’s pointless. There’s neither people nor institutions left there capable of keeping promises.”

Cernus winced.

"Your thoughts are debatable. But I won't argue. In the next ten years, AI won't become intelligent to a dangerous level. There's a slowdown, even a snag—including according to our former compatriot…"

"The one who made a breakthrough in 2022?”

The doctor nodded:

“So, what about our Empire in the report?”

“Ah, yes," Unkno perked up in his saddle. "Mentioned once—as a source of political warning for the Western Empire.”

"About what?”

"About potential strategic impact. Strategic! In that very sense," said Rr. Unkno with a descending intonation.

"That's explainable. Both the mention and the warning. Right now, the AI-oligarchy is more interested than anyone in escalating war. It's visible—lots of money is being poured in.”

"Well now, frankly, Doctor. Why do you, a cybernetics specialist, need the opinion of a person who long ago abandoned physics and took up economics? I never touched cybernetics. And I abandoned physics precisely because of the dominance of the computational approach.”

Cernus menacingly creaked his saddle:

"How much time do we have, Rr. Unkno? Discussing a very bad outcome is pointless. If we die—so we die. But the allotted horizon… I want to understand: is there time for a new economy?"

"An economy… for a whole economy," Unkno drawled. "You acted wisely by turning to me. A person who knows something won't be able to get an answer. That's why you—knowing a little—came to one who doesn't know. That's correct.”

“Apparently so,” Cernus agreed uncertainly—he hadn’t “come” to anyone at all, and he didn’t quite understand Unkno’s logic. He sped up the pedaling. "And how to assess the available horizon?”

"Look for the lost keys under the lamppost.”

"Because that's where the light is?”

“Yes," Unkno replied in the tone of a person who has pieced together a puzzle. "Simply poll those who are ready to work. Each has—some number of years of active life. Poll them, average it. There's your answer.”

"And who is ready to work under such circumstances? Probably we immediately discard those who don't see AI as a threat?"

"Not immediately," Unkno answered. "Among them are many skilled scientists. Yes, they say that AI, I repeat, is a bullshit-driver, and on the stock market—another bubble. But one must understand why they say so. Long ago, I knew an academician who, before PCs appeared, claimed it would be foolish to put a computer on every desk. Not a danger—foolishness.”

"What did he mean?”

“Unknown. But we now know: economic management hasn't improved over half a century. It would seem a smartphone with an app is more efficient than a typewriter and a rotary phone. It would seem the average warehouse worker is now more efficient. But no—logistics specialists say the average empty space in trucks is about the same as before. If not more. There's no improvement. The same in all sectors, except for a couple directly tied to PCs. Universal computerization has given many side effects. Particularly because computerization devoured all humanity's energy. Everything else was neglected. Add it all up—across countries and economic sectors—and you get zero benefit."

"Hard to believe, but I understand.”

"Believe it. Or check. This is what Dr. Nelson from 'GentleBridge' told me," Rr. Unkno stated with conviction. "But there's another facet: without PCs there would be no internet, without internet—no trillions of cat pictures, without cat pictures—no neural networks, and without them—no AI.”

"Because of stupid social media posts on which large language models were trained?”

"Also because of advanced processors. Cat pictures were paid for by all humanity. Mainframes might not have handled agricultural tasks. We'd have starved without GMOs. But this way… everyone chipped in from around the world—through porn, games, photos. There's your investment in new processors. And who can now say how far ahead that academician was looking?"

"Anyway, it will be hard with those who don't consider AI the main factor for the coming decades.”

"That's true. Easiest to work with those who place AI at the forefront but remain within economics. But with those who see AI as such a threat that they propose emergency measures—almost useless. But that's not certain.”

“Why? They convey a valid point of view, prove it sophisticatedly.”

Unkno shrugged:

"So what? Desperate flailing. Destructive. A sober person with such a worldview should not care about anything. One should either burn the last years in debauchery, revelry, and kicks, or dive into meditation—to manage to become enlightened before the end of the world. A matter of taste."

"Wait. If a person sincerely believes we don't have long left and shouts about it—in your opinion, they're a fool? Maybe they feel responsibility?”

“Ugh. A fool,” Unkno declared categorically. “If they weren’t fools, they’d periodically check whether they’re still heading where they intended. Their contribution is negative—they set us all back. Even if the public rebels and takes to the streets… then what?”

Cernus whispered to himself: "That will only spur the AI-oligarchy to tighten control. They'll feed the pale dragon even more resources." But his companion heard him—the tandem ensured close interconnectedness.

“Exactly. The dragon has already taken our children's education," Rr. Unkno raged. "Soon it'll take upbringing. Then industry. Then governance of states. And when it pushes us out of decision-making—it'll deprive us of both territories and life itself."

"I suggest not stirring up fears and not getting excited," Cernus politely but firmly checked him. "Let's be sober: define the actors, forces, system boundaries, and its acceleration. Estimate the lifetime.”

Dr. Cernus was beginning to understand how to deal with Rr. Unkno. He silently thanked the randomness machine that seated him on one tandem with such a weighty colleague.

“An impossible task, Doctor,” Unkno said, his tone slightly cooled. “To put it simply: we’ve got a decade. Without AI, the structural crisis would have dragged on until roughly 2035—judging by capital efficiency declines around 1908, 1930, and 1970. As for AI—Western elites can’t build energy infrastructure fast enough. A single nuclear power plant takes fifteen years. Orbital energy won’t arrive in time either. So—even if AI could technically revive the economy, energy won’t keep pace. And society’s mood is such that the young no longer see any point in knuckling down.”

“Well, for us near-elderly fellows,” Cernus replied, “there’s hardly a more amusing pastime anyway. But allow me—to ensure analytical purity—to ask: what’s the second factor constraining us temporally? It’s unwise to settle for just the first, obvious one.”

⁂

Rr. Unkno pondered for half a minute before declaring:

“Thirty years, Doctor. The next threshold lies three decades ahead. By then, the dominant territory on the planet will be the Land of the Old People. The world will change utterly.”

“Good grief,” Dr. Cernus was taken aback. “They number barely ten million—and are surrounded by dead desert. Not to mention the looming hot war with the remnants of the ancient Persian Empire.”

“If you plot technological endowment—which nearly coincides with affluence—on the horizontal axis, and fertility rate on the vertical, only they remain above and to the right of the survival threshold: the Old People.”

“Replacement, Rr. Unkno. The Western Imperium will undergo demographic replacement. Whites will dwindle, but those arriving from the south will master the technology already present on the territory.”

“Replacement won’t work. You can’t truly possess something handed to you freely, Doctor. The Eastern Imperium stole technology actively, exerting colossal effort—and now it’s rightfully theirs. Yet they’re degenerating even faster than whites. In fifty years, they’ll be gone.”

“Still, it’s exceedingly hard to believe the Old People will multiply so rapidly.”

“Biological growth may not be swift, but I repeat: every other developed nation collapses within half a century! For them—and for us—the core social game is status. And that’s a zero-sum game. There are only so many spots at the top for desirable husbands. Women refuse to bear children: it’s either a prince on a white horse or they opt out of continuing the human race altogether. But among the Old People—the only technologically advanced group left—they still honour religion. Having many children is high status! Moreover, East and West will inevitably clash. The Southern Marches won’t survive the race—they’re crippled by robotisation and epidemics. Famine from war is coming.”

“Surely there’s some way to fix the fertility crisis in the North and West?”

“Absolutely no possibility whatsoever, Doctor. Take it as a given,” Rr. Unkno snapped.

“Don’t try to upset me, esteemed Rr. Unkno. I’m in far too good a mood for that. Your estimates of the timeframe we have available are vastly more optimistic than mine—you’ve actually reassured me.”

“You don’t seriously believe in an imminent singularity, do you? Thirty years and ten—that’s what I gave you. Less than that? And more importantly—how?! How do you plan to doom humanity faster? What’s your recipe?”

“Rapidly expanding ground for tribalism,” Cernus replied.

The tandem kept rolling forward.

“Do explain what you expect,” Unkno finally said impatiently. “Or do you suppose that just because we grew up together in the same orphanage for homeless children, I can read your mind?”

“By the way—have you ever considered we weren’t paired on this tandem by accident? Maybe someone in the secretariat dug up something about our Flōs Oppidum?”

“Who knows? In any case, I’ll be filing a formal complaint against the organisers of this farce. Dragged everyone away from real work for God knows what reason,” Unkno grumbled.

“You used to be different. So was I. I recall being utterly intolerant in my early youth.”

“Perhaps that’s why I’m a ritter—and you’re still just a doctor?”

“It’s not a monotonic path, Rr. Unkno. Everything can change again. We can change. And I have neither intention nor incentive to compete with you. As for tribalism… Every human community—whether a Neolithic tribe or a modern ‘interest group’ assembled through media tools—is, at its core, a sect.”

“Agreed,” Unkno said. “A sect and nothing but a sect. Gather a hundred people—or three hundred—and they’ll invent some lunacy, bang their heads against walls defending it, and individual wisdom vanishes. Except for those sects that jointly claw their way toward power—they become mafia-style gangs on top of everything else. Well? I’m all ears.”

“‘Well’ what? It’s the long tail of the Maxwell distribution. When there were few of us—two hundred thousand years ago—you had to wait a very long time before some especially mad sect started brewing beer as part of its ritual. That led to agriculture—and then to all the madness it unleashed, including the apocalypse for which we’ve all already received invitations. Now, though, there are millions of self-appointed priests on social media, plus AI ready to help them first go insane and then cobble together some bio-abomination. AI may still be dumb—but it can already inspire.”

“Seca that tail off—straight to hell!” Rr. Unkno muttered, offering no clearer reply. One might excuse him—the road had begun climbing steeply by then.

“No, Rr. Unkno—‘sect’ comes from sequi: ‘to follow a path’. Not from ‘cut off.’”

“Don’t muddle my head with etymology, Cernus! The Red Leftists term ‘druzhinnik’—call it a ‘thug-myrmidon,’ if you like: an ignorant, unpaid hanger-on of some impotent militia—does indeed come from ‘drug’, meaning ‘friend.’ But that root has long been buried beneath later meanings, especially since the word was mostly invoked in wartime myths long before the reds got hold of it. So what?”

When the road finally dipped downhill, Unkno cooled down and said:

“My apologies, Doctor. Perhaps my irritation is fed by echoes of events now some thirty years past… or how long exactly?”

“Thirty-three years and three months. Thirty-three years and three months ago, our teacher was removed from his post. And I still disagree with you—it wasn’t because of us.”

“You’ve counted since that moment… I was referring to his death,” Unkno murmured.

“We’re certainly not to blame for his death. No one’s at fault that he couldn’t climb out of his self-induced depression. On the other hand—he wouldn’t have lived to see the light at the end of the tunnel anyway.”

“What on earth are you talking about, Cernus?” Rr. Unkno asked sharply.

“Haven’t you heard?” the doctor said, surprised. “Computing machines based on ternary logic have finally found a new technological foundation! The news broke just this year.”

“Good heavens. I hadn’t heard. But quadrillions have been poured into binary processors and computer culture as a whole—it’s impossible to catch up now.”

“Who can say, esteemed ritter? Who can say,” Dr. Cernus smiled. “Well then—here’s the checkpoint for our cycling leg. End of day one!”

<>

2. How Should the Emperor Govern the Empire?

Chapter Two, in which Rr. Unkno and Dr. Cernus, en route from Doobnah to Twer, exchange thoughts on who should be addressed with economic proposals—and why.

~

Dr. Cernus knocked, received no reply, and entered Rr. Unkno’s room. The visitor’s briefcase creaked as he pulled out a heavy black folder tied with red ribbons. Embossed on the cover were the words:

“The table groans with plenty, yet thou serve no purpose.”

The ritter grimaced—and made no attempt to hide it from the doctor.

“What’s wrong? Too harsh?” Cernus asked, concerned. “We can change it. For example: ‘There’s enough for everyone—but you’re not needed.’ Or ‘The End of Resource Scarcity as the Cornerstone of Economics. The Economic Relevance of the Individual Is Steadily Declining.’”

Unkno silently waved a hand toward the exit. They stepped out of the hotel. It couldn’t be said that the look Rr. Unkno cast at the hefty folder slipping into the saddlebag was one of approval. The riders hoisted themselves onto the tandem and set off toward the checkpoint on the cycle route. A minute later, as they crossed a small bridge, Unkno abruptly braked—causing momentary chaos in their coordination.

“Perhaps we ought to adopt the ‘suffragor’ signal before braking, Rr. Unkno,” Cernus suggested. “I’d rather not topple off this ungainly beast.”

“Agreed,” Unkno conceded without denying his lapse in coordination. “There’s a major scientific center nearby. Can you feel its spirit, Doctor? Its atomic-physics potential hypnotizes evolutionarily young monkeys of modern non-science like an ancient python.”

“All I hear is the roar of water beneath the bridge—so loud I can barely make out your words.”

“Good. That means no one else hears either. Clever people speak only to conceal. The Roaring Twenties of the 21st Century—that’s your sign. That’s the temporal horizon we discussed yesterday.”

Just then, a mosquito bit Rr. Unkno, and the scholar cursed loudly:

“Isis take your Mokosh!” He slapped the back of his neck. There wasn’t yet any sweat there—if there had been, it would’ve splattered in all directions, including onto the doctor’s face.

“Mm-hmm,” Dr. Cernus grumbled, though no insect had touched him. “Memory is the art of forgetting. Being is the silence of language.”

“Precisely,” Unkno said clearly. “I sincerely hope my remarks yesterday about the threat posed by the Old People remain a figure of silence.”

“My disdain for the present world and its dangers doesn’t extend so far as to miss that point, Rr. Unkno. In the thirty-three years since we last interacted in person, I may have declined—but far less than the institutions in the ‘Triangle’ research zone.”

“I’m glad fate has brought us together again, Doctor—but I won’t grant you protection merely because I once shared your fascination with ternary computers and experimental linguistics.”

“I rely only on natural reasons that might interest you. Solely on your reasoned view of the future.”

“I should warn you—I resemble the Aymara people of the Andes in this regard. We say the past lies behind us and the future ahead; they see it the opposite way. They use a word meaning literally ‘eye’ or ‘in front’ for the past—because it’s already known, visible. For what’s to come, they say ‘behind,’ since the future is unseen by all. Incidentally, instead of your proposed ‘suffragor’ gesture for upcoming braking, I’d suggest a backward wave. The Aymara, when speaking of days gone by, point forward; when referring to future events, they gesture backward.”

“Accepted. It aligns with my principles. What matters to me isn’t ‘how relevant this fragment of information is,’ but ‘what useful information gain per unit of energy expended will I achieve?’”

“Ha!” Unkno chuckled. “I see your memory isn’t free.”

“Forgetting isn’t a flaw. It’s an advantage. Thermodynamic hygiene.”

“Indeed, Doctor. Intelligence arises not by design, but from necessity,” Rr. Unkno continued their mutual teasing with evident pleasure. “Optimize for survival, and complex capabilities emerge on their own!”

“Abstraction is the cheapest way to compress knowledge,” Cernus replied. “Guessing is costly and risky—especially under energy constraints.”

“Cernus, in these three decades, did you manage to believe in God?”

“Hard to believe here,” the doctor muttered. “Contradictions threaten viability; the system itself strives for clarity.”

“Then how do you formulate your internal coherence?” Rr. Unkno pressed.

“The sense of ‘I’ arises from sheer efficiency,” Cernus answered—and it was clear the resolve cost him effort. But he doubled down:

“Ethics, curiosity, humility became winning survival strategies. Once, humans were livestock to someone luckier—a ‘god.’ Something compelled an upgrade: from livestock to slave. And the god ceased consuming humans as food. Instead of castration, he offered a diplomatic convention—circumcision. Real consumption stopped. As for the next ‘deal’—when the ritual of ‘biting the flesh of God and drinking His blood’ failed to visibly confirm the status of ‘Son of God’—I still allow myself to refrain from joining any camp.”

“A well-founded model of one’s own energy, goals, and memory is the best way to predict one’s actions and manage resources,” Rr. Unkno praised. “But let’s return to your papers.”

⁂

“The credo is well formulated,” Unkno said, clearly irritated at having to stoop to such explanations. “But it’s indecent. You’re addressing the common man. Since when has economics concerned the plebs? Economics is a science meant solely for the Emperor and his inner circle.”

Cernus nearly retorted that hundreds of textbooks address firms—even households—but Unkno cut him off before he could ask such a foolish question:

“Have you ever been to a company town, Doctor? How would you describe its economy?”

Cernus described it:

“The town-forming enterprise accounts for roughly a quarter of the wage fund. Municipal workers, civil servants, and other ‘budget employees’ account for another quarter of final consumer purchases. Another quarter comes from corrupt dealings. The remaining quarter consists of small private operators—narco-traffickers included. Accordingly, half the turnover is ‘black.’”

“Now imagine,” Unkno nodded approvingly, “that at that very enterprise—say, a metallurgical plant near White Lake—the designers are moved into an annex next to the accounting department, and then that annex is spun off into a separate legal entity. What does it do? ‘It invents everything’—and takes all the profits. The other workshops, on paper, operate at zero profit—and receive nothing. Clear?”

“Clear. Perhaps not in an annex—but in another country. That’s roughly how transnational corporations operate.”

“Those textbooks you were thinking of,” Unkno continued, “all describe a perfectly spherical ‘annex’ in a vacuum. Have you ever seen a Western-Imperial textbook mention the people of the Southern Marches—the ones who actually produce everything? I haven’t. Economics only makes sense for a self-sufficient Empire. And only the Emperor knows the boundaries of that self-sufficiency.”

“What about the ‘rational behavior’ of individuals or firms?”

“First, they aren’t rational. Second, even if most are, a single stubborn fool can ruin the whole barrel. No one can possibly study all radicals well enough to neutralize their impact. Third, even if they could—take a dozen people you know well: put them together, and their behavior becomes unpredictable. Crowds make people strangely stupid. We've already discussed sectarian thinking. So writing for individuals is meaningless. Address the Emperor—and propose forms of coercion, hard or soft, along with instructions on what to monitor when applying them.”

“But ordinary people also care about how to live better.”

“They do. It’s probably economics’ most popular question—usually refined to: What goods should we produce? What services offer? For whom? Given that needs are infinite and resources scarce. But textbooks never add: ‘…bearing in mind that those who control the resources couldn’t care less whether most people live better.’ And yet this isn’t a minor detail—it’s essential. Even necessary.”

Unkno wasn’t done:

“Or this: ‘…bearing in mind that rising consumption doesn’t actually make most people happier.’ Controversial? Of course. Authorities won’t sort through every subject’s psychological baggage. And ‘happiness’ is a philosophical—not scientific—concept. But the absence of even basic satisfaction isn’t philosophy anymore. It’s a sabotage risk. And after a rebellion, you get to restart economics from scratch.”

“So what’s the solution?”

“Frame the problem correctly: study the relationships among market, state, society, and individual, along with the social and political factors shaping processes within a self-sufficient territory. In short: ‘How Should the Emperor Govern the Empire?’”

One might have supposed that Rr. Unkno was enjoying Cernus’s deflation—but he decided to deliver the final blow:

“And use stable units of measurement. How could an architect measure length if the meter changed on the exchange every second? You can’t measure anything with today’s money.”

“But then how do they track GDP? It’s denominated in money.”

“Disease boosts GDP. Medical spending outweighs the drop in business activity. Should we infect the population to grow GDP?”

“In the long run, poor healthcare reduces GDP.”

“Mining also boosts GDP—but in the long run, it depletes resources. Unlike health, this is irreversible. And most importantly: by the time those ‘long terms’ arrive, money will have depreciated far more than GDP has grown.”

“Agreed. Numbers lose meaning. So what do we do?”

“Self-sufficiency isn’t enough. You must understand the system’s acceleration. To pour champagne in a limousine, you need to know when it will brake, accelerate, or turn. In economics, it’s more useful to measure not the economic equivalent of distance—but conditional accelerations. Measuring with money is so complex that the result is always wrong. We must count in increments of value and saturation. The effect of consumption changes nonlinearly.”

“But suppose I wanted to explain to ordinary people—say—where prices come from. Isn’t it the result of a complex balance: demand for goods, production complexity, supplier scarcity, state pressure or incentives—and now, the AI factor too?”

“What balance? Why would they care?” Unkno asked with disdain. “There is no balance. In any specific case, I can tell you the full breakdown myself—to anyone who listens.”

“All of it? Let’s test it.”

“Go ahead. Pick any product,” Unkno said, his neck pressing back against Cernus’s face as the tandem rolled smoothly onward.

“Why any? I’ll pick the most essential. What can a person not live without?”

“Air is free. For now,” Unkno reminded him.

“Water. A liter of drinking water in a store costs about the same as a liter of fuel at a gas station. Water prices vary more, but on average—they’re nearly identical. Surely extracting, refining, and processing oil is far harder than pouring tap water into a bottle. And there are millions—tens of millions—of ‘water wells.’ How is this possible?”

“Oil is a traded commodity—and it’s politics. Authorities want everyone to drive ‘cheaply,’ stay busy, and be productive. They subsidize fuel. But water costs that much only if you insist on purifying it extensively. The state ensures water is extremely clean.”

At this point, it’s hard to believe—but let’s assume it’s true. Then why does a car cost as much as housing? A basic car costs as much as a room; a decent one, as much as an apartment. Most people would rather buy real estate—it lasts longer and can generate income. So… do they not want people driving much? Or do they want them to drive—but only through taxis and car-sharing, padded with markups? And why support these services so heavily when they already get to burn fuel at the price of water?

“Cars really are expensive to produce. Houses, meanwhile, we’ve learned to build cheaply.”

No. The same cars cost two or three times less abroad. And please don’t try to convince me they’re afraid of cars flooding the country—there’s plenty of space. In city centers, the state already profits handsomely from parking fees.

“They’re determined to preserve the auto plant—at all costs. What’s unclear about that?” Unkno’s fervor was already fading.

“Then why did dozens of other factories sink without a trace?”

“Oversights. Enemies of the state swarm everywhere, twisting everything toward ruin,” Unkno replied wearily.

“So your recommendations don’t allow the Emperor to govern the Empire with confidence.”

“Well played,” Unkno conceded without irritation. “What’s in your folder? I sense an entire arsenal.”

⁂

“Every self-regulating system functions only when it expects a positive ‘margin,’” the doctor said, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers around the last word.

“You want to instill a new value system? We’ve tried that already—collective dignity instead of wages, and so on. Spare me.”

“I propose a different substitution,” Cernus said simply.

“Then go ahead.”

“Everywhere there’s a kind of universal ‘laziness.’ A ray of light, passing through a water bottle, ‘figures out’ in advance where to bend to save time. Any phenomenon can be explained two ways: ‘because of what’ and ‘for the sake of what.’ ‘Because of’ photon interactions. ‘For the sake of’ minimizing action. The latter is simpler for calculations. It’s all about economizing.”

“Fermat’s principle and the Lagrangian—I get the gist. Scarcity is everywhere: money, oil, oranges. When something is abundant, they manufacture scarcity. Lots of water? Train people to drink bottled. Go on, Doctor—it’s interesting.”

“I propose replacing ‘scarcity’ with ‘laziness’—and then abolishing ‘laziness’ itself. Light ‘is lazy’—it won’t travel inefficiently. Oil producers ‘are lazy’—they won’t supply oil unless prodded with carrot and stick.”

“And what’s the stick?”

“Transferring your license to someone you dislike. Regulators, by the way, are also ‘lazy’—they won’t stay impartial. And people are ‘lazy’—they won’t work.”

“So it’s a rewording. Instead of ‘limited resources,’ you have abstract ‘laziness.’ Not a perfect analogy—but not foolish. What does it gain us?”

“The chance to reshape the social contract.”

“Hold on,” Unkno waved a limp hand. “Who implements the social contract? Politicians—with help from philosophers or sociologists. We’re powerless in those spheres—that’s certain.”

“We’ll simply offer a new payment atom in the form of a hypergraph. It’ll either take root—or not. But the contract is breaking anyway. Economics used to be about distributing resources. Soon, we’ll need to contain them within bounds.”

“Nonsense. That assumes AI will be intelligent, productive, and obedient—three incompatible traits. Either it’s productive and autonomous, in which case we’re doomed—or it remains useless. Doctor, let’s get practical. ‘There’s enough for everyone—but you’re not needed’ means AI is intelligent and has rebelled, rendering us all obsolete. Other scenarios are pointless—‘gaping at nonexistent sprouts.’ What boundless resources? Explain, or I see no reason to waste time.”

“I know the acceleration of the closed ‘West + East’ system—in your terms. The social contract is breaking down everywhere. They need a decoy—regardless of AI. But they’ve staked everything on it: reputation, hopes, money. There’s nothing left—only debt. They’ll keep beating around the bushes for another decade, promising: ‘The AI era is coming—soon, paradise for all.’”

“Who’s ‘they’? Who’s ‘them’? Why are you muddling my mind?” Unkno sighed. He wasn’t young. And he was tired.

“The West will lie and spread illusions. The East will play along, fearing truly intelligent AI might emerge. And we in the North will watch as they exhaust each other.”

“You’re devious, Cernus,” Rr. Unkno smirked. “Very well. I’ll grant that your prescriptions merit discussion. Might you begin with the most fundamental idea of all?”

⁂

“By all means, I will repeat,” Dr. Cernus nodded readily, without the slightest regret for his companion’s forgetfulness. “When attempting to explain anything—that is, to answer the question ‘Why does this happen rather than something else?’—one may start either from ‘What causes it?’ or from ‘What is it for?’ Suppose you pour water into a glass, then add alcohol. They’ll mix. Not instantly, but they will. If you layer the alcohol very carefully on top, at room temperature the process might take a full day. But the liquids will inevitably blend completely. What causes it? Tthe molecules—‘C-two-H-five-O-H’ and ‘H-two-O’—move relatively freely, colliding randomly. They couldn’t care less where the original boundary between the liquids lay. That boundary gradually blurs.”

“That’s clear enough.”

“But can you explain it using ‘What is it for?’”

“That’s simple,” Rr. Unkno replied. “It’s for fulfilling a purpose. Each participant—both alcohol and water—has a ‘goal’: to occupy the entire available volume. To be everywhere in the glass. Collectively, the system strives toward equilibrium—that is, a state where all participants exert ‘equal’ influence (from the system’s perspective), commensurate with their intrinsic properties—their ‘strength,’ so to speak. That said, such equilibrium may be temporary. New processes can emerge. In this very mixture, for instance, contraction occurs—a reduction in total volume—as alcohol hydrates form…”

“But that’s another story altogether—different one entirely,” Dr. Cernus cut in. “Or consider this: if you leave an economic sector unregulated, roughly the following unfolds. First, leader firms appear in various niches and locations. Then the strong absorb weaker neighbours. Those companies that learn to digest acquired businesses expand further. Those that fail either exit immediately or delay their demise by harming—or even eliminating—competitors through non-market means.”

“Some small and medium enterprises display remarkable stubbornness and tenacity,” Rr. Unkno noted.

“Yet even they vanish in time, for such obstinacy can only stem from someone’s personal will—and no one lives forever.”

“Quite so,” Rr. Unkno snorted.

“Eventually, a monopoly forms. The very moment the final acquisition occurs, the monopoly begins to degrade. It becomes a parasite killing its host. Managers, shielded by impunity, grow reckless; costs balloon; management quality plummets; customer abuse grows so grotesque that clients abandon the firm despite having no alternatives, and profits can no longer cover expenses. Almost certainly, however, long before that point, the monopoly and its key figures will have committed outright criminal acts—so even in a completely unregulated sector, the authorities will ‘squeeze’ them. For every heaviest crowbar, someone always has a Colt. Now, dear Rr. Unkno—what causes this to happen?”

“Because people strive for domination,” Unkno replied instantly. “Those who want everything—right now, at any cost—are outnumbered by the calmer types, yet they win through sheer persistence. Of course, there are also particularly cunning strategists who foresee the inevitable. Instead of building a brazen monopoly, they construct a lineup of ostensibly independent brands—and thus prolong the system’s agony.”

“And what is it for?”

“Il faut que j’y songe encore,” said Rr. Unkno, “if you’ll permit me to quote Lagrange. What is it for, indeed?”

“An excellent question—and thank you for catching my drift. Not every ritter of the Academy can boast such swift insight into a conversational partner’s intent. Truth be told, we converse not so much for answers as for the sake of conversation itself. Let me state the obvious, since you’ve pointed to the obvious: Nature prefers simplicity. Why waste extra resources?”

“You mean the heat death of the universe? But that applies only to inanimate nature—maximum simplification of everything, down to the end. In living systems—and firms are unquestionably alive—it’s different,” said Unkno, carefully concealing how flattered he was by the doctor’s words.

“Humans have so far succeeded only in replicating phenomena of the inanimate world,” Dr. Cernus hedged rhetorically. “We still lack life born in a test tube. Be that as it may, evolution always tries the simplest path first: aggregation. Did reptilian physiology work? Then scale it up—until it collapses. Want a faster locomotive? Keep building bigger and bigger—until it becomes uneconomical. Only then do we seriously consider redesigning the engine architecture and the whole apparatus.”

“Well… that’s one way to put it,” Unkno drawled. “But I’ll concede your point: it would be odd to expect we’d instantly uncover *the* ultimate Cause behind everything. Our greatly esteemed—by both you and me—Joseph-Louis Lagrange, whom I’ll state plainly was, alongside the great Euler, one of the foremost mathematicians of the 18th century… Yet! He was compelled to invent something he called ‘action.’ Fine—he invented it. But *you*?”

“When he invented it,” Dr. Cernus said, “he merely showed that the equations of motion in mechanics follow from minimizing this ‘action.’ In other words, among all possible equations describing motion, those that minimize action are the ones that ‘govern’ the system. He didn’t need to prove anything about the inner nature of this mysterious ‘action.’ Nature seeks to economize on action—in Lagrange’s special, far-from-obvious sense. The Lagrangian works—hence we needed the Lagrangian.”

“So you hope to stumble upon a ‘Cernusian’?” Unkno asked, not even bothering to inflect his words with doubt—but immediately making room for hope. “Though Hamilton’s formalism, developed 45 years later, is arguably more fundamental and organic.”

“Something along those lines. We’re searching within today’s crisis-ridden economy. And here we have turbulence. Who knows what might be found under a snag in murky water? But to find it, we need—at minimum—an experimental apparatus. Lagrange and Hamilton had mechanics, which supplied an endless stream of empirical data. Moreover, we must remember: in living systems—including economics, as you rightly noted—we’ll never observe a truly ‘final striving.’ To generate experimental data, we must engage with structural elements. So—what might serve as objects for structural analysis?”

“Not the faintest idea,” said Rr. Unkno.

“To ensure nothing essential or fundamental slips through the cracks, we’ll broaden the concept of ‘economic rules.’”

“Still no clarity,” Unkno remarked. “In any game-theoretic framework, three things exist: players, rules, and incentives. In our current abstract model of the economy, we clearly have only economic actors—firms and individuals. On the other two counts, there’s nothing but void.”

“Fair enough,” Dr. Cernus agreed. “Let it be so. How might we classify actors in general?”

“Too vague a question.”

“Let me refine it: the classification should help us work with the assumption that boundaries exist in the economy. Suppose rules mostly define which red lines must not be crossed.”

“Classify by degree of freedom relative to behavioural boundaries?” Unkno ventured. “Something like estates?”

“Almost,” said Cernus. “Let me begin—with an extreme. Some economic actors treat all manner of boundaries with utter contempt.”

“Criminals, then?”

“Yes. But if we include those who aid them—willingly, unwittingly, or often without even realizing it—the aggregate represents significant economic flows. Beyond high passionarity, what characterizes such actors? What distinguishes them from ordinary ones?”

Rr. Unkno fell silent for a moment.

“They form strong bonds,” he finally said. “Their connections are often far stronger than any legally binding contract. Certain ‘codes.’ Honour.”

“Exactly!” Dr. Cernus exclaimed. “And note something crucial: these ‘strong interactions’ arise not only among passionaries themselves—whether in pairs or larger clans—but also between a passionate actor and an ordinary accomplice. Such ties are frequently much stronger than typical legal relationships. I needn’t cite prostitution (where illegal) or arms trafficking—though these, plus trade in other prohibited goods and services, constitute a share of any economy too large to ignore. Vast amounts of commerce occur in the ‘grey zone’—ordinary goods sold without proper certification for that territory. Ordinary people buy them in ordinary shops. True, big chains rarely carry such items—but small retailers almost always stock either counterfeit or dubious merchandise.”

“So what?” said Rr. Unkno. “They get caught, they don’t—does anyone feel hot or cold? The state suffers no harm as long as the criminal element remains small.”

“It remains small precisely because apprehending such actors yields little benefit—even for law enforcement. I wish to draw your attention to the fact that this turnover never enters official statistics. Or rather, it’s worse: it *does* enter, but indirectly—distorting the very correlations that would aid factor analysis. For example, bread consumption traditionally correlated with actual residential population density. But migrants bake flatbreads in mini-bakeries and sell them off the books. Electricity use, also tied to population density, suddenly diverges from the bread index. Thus, given how much migrant activity occurs in grey or black markets, this layer of actors is substantial. Moreover, these actors periodically spawn new dangerous hotspots—they’re constantly hunting for novel schemes. And this isn’t just about so-called phone scammers, who are prominent partly due to sponsorship by geopolitical rivals. All other rogues are equally alert. In short—these are plasma people. Charged.”

“Ah,” Rr. Unkno said, comprehension dawning. “I see where you’re headed at last. Then let’s call them *ionized*. ‘Charged’ sounds undeservedly positive for such actors.”

“Excellent,” Dr. Cernus smiled—but Rr. Unkno couldn’t see it. “Next, we consider the following stratum of economic actors, ranked by their reverence for boundaries.”

“I’ve already guessed. Now comes gas.”

“Yep. Or smoke. Broadly, everyone operating ‘through crypto’ and various kinds of remote workers. Also included are those ‘self-employed’ who route only a fraction of their turnover through special accounts or even sole-proprietorship accounts. This varies by country, but such actors abound everywhere. The state finds them extremely hard to track, let alone ‘mobilize’—by which I mean compel to do something the state wants, but which these individuals either dislike, find too tedious, or simply never learn about. They’re ‘cloud’ people. Airy.”

“There you go again, doctor—embellishing. *Gaseous*! It’s unseemly to use such poetic metaphor (equally unearned by these characters).”

“Incidentally,” Dr. Cernus added, “it’s precisely the gaseous who shape news and ideological agendas. Traditional media like TV and newspapers are now irrelevant in this regard; on social media, pro-government influencers compete with individuals who interpret state-imposed boundaries with extreme liberty. Depending on the regime, their informational influence is easily on par with the state’s. True, their narratives are fragmented—but they powerfully divert audiences who simply lack time not only to adopt any ruling clan’s viewpoint, but even to properly hear it.”

“I assume the next stratum is easy to guess. *Liquid*. Characterized by actors being much closer to one another than in the previous two.”

“Correct,” Dr. Cernus confirmed. “They aren’t bound by rigid frameworks, but exhibit a kind of ‘short-range order.’ Ordinary firms, ‘office plankton’—regular ‘free’ people and businesses. They likely form the majority, though not an overwhelming one. Notably, differences among them are small—in habits, income, worldview. They’re not kinetic; their minds slightly softened by calm, monotonous lives. They’re viscous—posing no danger, yet offering the state no reliable support. As a group, they change extremely slowly. They may shift jobs or even sectors, but overall, they constitute a stable volume—a watery constant.”

“Watery—let’s call them that,” said Unkno.

“And the final stratum,” Dr. Cernus declared conclusively, “is civil servants and various security personnel. Bureaucracy.”

“The deep state?” Unkno sought clarification.

“Yes. Including military personnel bound by military mortgages or rigid contracts. For these actors, freedom is a step left, a step right—that’s all. Essentially serfs. True, they could theoretically leave any day—but they remain not by estate, but by circumstance, which continues to hold them in place. These actors resemble atoms arranged in crystals: they form a periodically repeating internal structure. States orient much of their behaviour around them, though individually, these people wield little influence.”

“Corruption here, I presume?”

“Precisely! Thank you for that vital observation. Corruption—despite its overtly criminal nature—belongs squarely to this crystalline stratum. It’s a system-forming factor in any state, and largely *regulated*—not publicly acknowledged, but meticulously codified and documented.”

“Lobbying,” Unkno grunted.

“Thus, we have four strata: bonded, watery, gaseous, and ionized. Allow me now to formally introduce the concept of boundaries—the very ‘rules’ you mentioned in game-theoretic terms.”

“A permissible formal assumption,” Unkno conceded. “Call rules ‘boundaries.’ I even see where you’re going. The first stratum obeys all boundary types. The second (watery) ignores one type. The third (gaseous) ignores two. Ionized actors are constrained only at specific checkpoint boundaries.”

“Checkpoints,” Dr. Cernus emphasized.

“Border crossings? That’s only part of a boundary—a topological error. A thief belongs in prison, not passing customs.”

“When confined to non-standard prison cells, criminals either drop out of active agency or maintain their profile—e.g., as phone scammers. If a criminal holds managerial status, incarceration doesn’t always halt economic activity. Forced labour, meanwhile, is counted as civil-service labour. But the Belomorkanal era is over; few states derive serious economic output from such labour. Look—we’ve already described how actors at different levels differ in core properties. Now note: when identifying structural features, we must attend to process timescales. Within one stratum, durations are roughly of the same order; across countries, they differ by orders of magnitude. Criminal networks decide instantly. ‘Boring’ firms take months. But time and space are linked. Therefore…”

“Each stratum has its own characteristic spatial reference points,” Rr. Unkno interjected. “Actors within a stratum perturb boundaries with disturbances of comparable magnitude. You’re referring not to transaction sums, but to *how* boundaries are crossed—I take it?”

“Not money. More like ‘action’ or ‘mean free path,’ borrowing from statistical physics. Indeed, directly observed reductions in pressure on criminal networks immediately increase their occupied volume. Kinetically, this is simple: the ‘mean free path’ of constituent actors grows. Heating the solid, bonded stratum merely makes embedded actors vibrate more intensely in place, with negligible system-wide expansion—yet it possesses high heat capacity, storing energy usable for good or ill. Heating the liquid stratum, however, might inadvertently cause boiling—triggering mass flight into the gaseous state.”

“I see merit in your constructs, but your illustrations amount to a kind of reductionism.”

“Yet history shows such approaches often yield fruitful results,” Dr. Cernus agreed with the characterization.

“Then you must have the next obvious step ready: moving from your corpuscular model to a continuum one. That is, you must formulate an ‘interaction field’ and reveal its role in economic interaction.”

Without removing his left hand from the handlebars, Dr. Cernus raised his right toward the sky, culminating the gesture with an upward-pointing finger.

“I’m not seeking an analogue of ‘field,’” he said. “I assure you, phase space will suffice. Of the two known approaches to discovering regularities—dynamic and statistical—I need neither. I won’t seek regularities at all.”

“Because no one’s succeeded so far?” Unkno wasn’t surprised by the doctor’s stance.

“Partly that. Dynamic-type laws yield strictly deterministic predictions. Despite widespread use, this approach fails utterly in economics. Let’s drop political correctness: it’s become a common—even mandatory in many academic circles—form of charlatanism. In economics, only methods embracing imprecise, probabilistic outcomes make sense. For example, most images online are lossily compressed—that’s a statistical approach. AI sometimes ‘hallucinates.’”

“Often.”

“Often. Also a result of statistical methods. Again: dynamic regularities are defined by strict, unambiguous relationships in all cases. Negatively stated: where strict unambiguity is absent, no such regularities exist. From unambiguous links follows their equivalence—any considered relationship, regardless of the nature of the properties involved, is deemed equally necessary. This doesn’t work in economics—and cannot.”

“I get it, I get it,” Unkno urged. “You started saying something about phase space.”

“The point is,” Dr. Cernus said, “that unlike economic actors—individuals, firms, or non-profits—a transaction is a relatively simple entity. We can define certain states to describe it. Its active lifetime is secondary and variable. But if we take decision-makers as the unit of analysis—as is customary—we cannot construct a phase-space analogue.”

“One must treat the concept of ‘system state’ with caution,” Rr. Unkno intoned didactically. A faint scent of sweat clung to him. “Typically, it denotes a specific configuration that uniquely determines the system’s future evolution. Defining a state usually requires specifying a set of descriptive parameters, fixing initial conditions at a chosen time, and applying laws of motion. But as we’ve said, we shouldn’t expect to derive such laws. Thus, we must remember: we won’t know system states in the conventional sense. We can only know something akin to temperature.”

Dr. Cernus was slightly irked by Unkno’s patronizing tone—unwarranted by depth—but gave no sign:

“One could smile and recall the old quip about ‘average hospital temperature,’ but temperature truly is a vital system characteristic. For physical bodies, temperature changes can trigger transformations far more profound than mere spatial relocation—gas condensing to liquid, liquid freezing to solid, and so on.”

Unkno nodded silently—and they exchanged not a word until the checkpoint.

<>

3. Structural Crisis and the Laziness of Being

Chapter Three, in which Rr. Unkno and Dr. Cernus, en route to Kowshinovoh, outline the current crisis, its historical roots, and underlying logic.

~

During the intervening time, the doctor had reflected on what in his manner of speech might have provoked—even slightly—that unpleasant prosecutorial note in ritter Unkno’s tone. Dismissing outright the notion that it was mere intolerance of differing worldviews, yet reaching no firm conclusion, Cernus simply resolved to be even more pliable.

“Annoying, but I didn’t find time yesterday to sum up the day’s conversation,” Cernus said. “Now I’m ready.”

“By all means,” Unkno replied.

They were passing a crooked fence that once enclosed a great medieval polis. The doctor summarized:

“Instead of static equilibrium models, the Emperor should consider tracking accelerations—nonlinear shifts in value, saturation, and behavior—within a self-sufficient territory, of course. Textbooks describing ‘rational individuals’ are naive fictions that ignore real-world power, corruption, and systemic irrationality. The economy is structurally fragmented. Human systems obey the principle of ‘laziness,’ not scarcity. Order is defined by boundaries, not rules. Statistical—not deterministic—methods are valid. The proper unit of analysis is transactions, not agents. We can only measure ‘temperature,’ not truth.”

“Doesn’t it trouble you, Cernus,” Rr. Unkno said, offering no comment on the doctor’s compendium, “that our cities still fall short of the cantons of the Land of Mountain Fire?”

“That confederation is the only Western country where cities remain better kept. And for some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that the architects of both world wars live there—and likely those who now crave a third. Their acting Emperor is little more than a clown.”

“The nominal head of the last superpower must ‘be funny for everyone,’” Unkno countered. “Otherwise, no one would have cause to laugh… Do you not see this as cunning, Cernus?”

“That they’re pretending to be weakened? No. I don’t see it that way at all. Such a maneuver would be executed quite differently.”

“How so?”

“Solid materials can become brittle under deformation and fragile at low temperatures—that is, under energy deficit. We usually assume that initial defects in, say, multi-metal alloys only hasten their failure: microcracks grow into macrocracks, impurities cloud crystals, and so on. Yet if you deliberately engineer ‘twist defects’ into an alloy of niobium, tantalum, titanium, and hafnium from the outset, it becomes more resilient. If you embed extended regions within the crystal lattice where atoms sit ‘out of place,’ you’ve actually created a reserve of strength. Under stress, atoms have somewhere to ‘move’—the crystal already contains the necessary vacancies. And it’s precisely this property that allows wires made from such alloys to survive at liquid-helium temperatures.”

“Fascinating,” Rr. Unkno conceded. “What about their media policy? Could the absurdity built into it serve as just such a reserve of strength?”

“That, too, ought to have been done differently. Though I couldn’t say how, exactly. What’s happening now resembles more the Letters of Obscure Men of 1515.”

“And what was in them, besides the most venomous satire imaginable?”

“It was a clever blow by humanists against their chief enemies—the obscurantists of scholastic universities. Rather than argue directly, the humanists let their opponents ‘expose themselves’ in their own words. The book became a sensation, read like a gripping pamphlet, and dealt scholasticism a devastating blow in public opinion. The Letters didn’t merely defend Reuchlin—they became a manifesto of a new mindset, where mockery of ignorance proved mightier than any theological verdict.”

“And who’s being entertained now? Residents of the Land of Mountain Fire?”

“Possibly,” Cernus said. “We were, by the way, already discussing last night how… the West is on its last legs… No, I believe, we mentioned that the Western social contract had already become a ghost of its former self. The unspoken pact guaranteeing the fundamental attainability of the ‘Western dream’ through hard work has been forgotten. Their economy is on its last breath—still twitching, but the population has sunk deep and hopelessly into disillusionment about the future. Therefore, while dissecting this corpse, I believe it’s appropriate to sketch the defining features of past eras.”

“By all means, Doctor,” Unkno replied. “I hope you won’t rehash that tired vector of ‘-isms’: feudalism to capitalism, capitalism to socialism, and so on?”

“No,” Cernus admitted frankly. “I want to ‘sell’ you my metaphor of laziness. For millennia, what mattered most was capturing, holding, and defending. ‘Having,’ in modern terms—though they likely didn’t grasp the word then in its current legal sense. Arable land, hunting grounds, and more broadly, colonies. The scarcity of convenient harbors, straits, or silver mines defined rivalry. Thus, societies were dominated by the lower tiers of the well-known ‘hierarchy of needs,’ applied collectively. And failure then stemmed from the laziness of not securing safety.”

“How grim and brutal…” the ritter mouthed silently—then nodded firmly in agreement.

Dr. Cernus continued:

“Later, after the world transformed over just three or four generations, the crucial skill for centuries became organizing manufactories and establishing trade routes. The shortage of people willing to engage in disciplined labor defined the nature of competition. And failure now arose from a more natural kind of laziness—the laziness of not working.”

Unkno nodded again in approval.

“The next leap,” the doctor went on, “took less than a generation. Control shifted to connections—networks, software, derivatives, arbitrage, scaling. In the battle for attention, material downfall stemmed from a sorrowfully deceptive laziness—the laziness of not thinking. This era lasted only a few decades, once again compressing time by an order of magnitude.”

“And now,” the ritter interjected, “with the tectonic shift occurring in no more than five years, the world will be ruled by an utterly absurd laziness—the laziness of not wanting. The frog has been boiled slowly toward communism. And so we’re speaking of a new, fourth era—one that may last only a few years.”

“Or worse yet,” Dr. Cernus completed the thought, “not the laziness of wanting—but the laziness of being. It felt awkward when history was explained solely through external circumstances: from wars over land, to struggles over capital, to network battles. It’s clearer to center the human and his laziness as the fundamental property. Then we may consider that humanity doesn’t always change solely under ‘external’ pressure. In truth, person and environment are intertwined like young snakes in a knot. What matters to us? That this perspective lets us contemplate the human of an era where the primary control point will be (let us accept this as fact for now) artificial intelligence resources—even without those resources actually generating the economy.”

“Enough—I understand you,” Unkno said. “And since the foundation of everything is the commoner’s illusions, then political economy must be addressed to him. Agreed. The framework is workable. Will you also propose narratives for propaganda?”

“The ability and means to satisfy basic needs without diminishing the significance of one’s own ‘self’—through guaranteed access to the super-power of artificial intelligence. The end of the eon of laziness. For AI, by its nature, never grows lazy.”

“But what of the enormous energy requirements?”

“Merely halve the cost per kilogram to orbit, and durable data centers will begin filling space. Once that threshold is crossed, the cost of energy will match Earth’s cheapest sources. And savings from orbital centers will compound autonomously—because in high orbit, nothing threatens generation: the Sun’s light is infinite, and battery degradation is slow (no wind or dust).”

“The narrative is clear. What’s the practical program’s essence?”

⁂

“In updating the transaction—the atom of communication, including business exchange. The ancient transaction of the first era was divine in nature. People exchanged coins of metal only a god could ‘create.’ Emperors who debased coinage prudently declared themselves gods too, knowing otherwise their faces on money would lack legitimacy.”

“I might add,” ritter Unkno smiled, “that both the transaction process and wealth storage relied mostly on that same divine providence. Robbery was rampant.”

“Precisely. Millennia passed. The second era dawned. Transactions became matters of honor. God had vanished from them. For what is a banknote or a check, in essence? An invitation for your supplier to inspect your vault of valuables. A banknote rests on the honor of the issuing government. People speak of ‘public trust,’ but historically, it was honor. Checks depend on honor even more. When you pay for goods or services, you sign your bank’s form—this isn’t about shifting responsibility to a third party, as in our modern world, where you force the recipient to accept a third party’s rules. These days, you claim you’ll send funds to a certain account. What does that mean practically? That someone who, in your transaction, should care only about you, now faces a choice: receive no payment or sign a contract with someone else (a payment system). In those old transactions, the honor component partially blurred the material-monetary one.”

“Well observed,” Rr. Unkno said. “With a check, you received reputation as an inseparable bundle. The risk of robbery dropped by an order of magnitude, but now payment represented a probability—not certainty—of receiving funds, tied to another dimension of value space.”

“Exactly,” Cernus continued. “You’ve touched on risk. In essence, every transaction now carried three things: material value, reputation, and a measurable systemic risk. A third party entered. The transaction evolved from a simple vector ‘A to B’ into a graph, mathematically speaking. Still rudimentary: if you received a check, the bank (third party) would say, ‘The money is yours, regardless of your reputation or beliefs.’” Cernus paused to catch his breath. “But in the third era, the transaction graph grew increasingly dependent on the recipient. Fail to ‘show your face’—and money already sent might never arrive! Supposedly, you hold the ‘wrong’ view on some topic. Moreover, price could shift mid-transaction based on who you are or your circumstances. Frequent buyer? Automatic discount. And with varying tariffs across regions, price always depends on traits unrelated to the specific deal. Born in the Southern Marches? Pay more than other continents’ residents. The difference is small—but in systemic mathematics, the principle matters.”

Ritter Unkno shifted impatiently in his saddle. Cernus pressed on:

“The third era developed the full toolkit for transactions of any complexity. Smart contracts emerged—making the deal itself a temporary custodian of value to fulfill complex conditions (e.g., waiting for a full moon at each settlement). Processing speed hit practical limits—faster is unnecessary. Divisibility increased, enabling micropayments. Most importantly, one could now choose the third party’s involvement: exclude it entirely via decentralized platforms, or voluntarily engage it as escrow or arbitrator. Laws compel much we dislike, but we speak of principle. The transaction became a hypergraph. Now, in the fourth era, we must make it flexible.”

“And why?” Unkno asked.

“To justify the inevitable descent into poverty: less monetary component, but also less risk—and higher reputation. And to make risk and reputation visible in every deal, purchase, and social interaction.”

“How will you reduce risk? Reputation can be mutually assigned, but risk is objective. Each purchase reduces your assets—so subsequent transaction risk rises. Risk can’t be faked.”

“That’s precisely why I sought your counsel,” Dr. Cernus admitted.

“Risk can be dampened by reducing the division of labor,” Unkno declared. “It’s what drove the historical tectonics you described. Humans want to live better…”

“Not always,” Cernus interrupted. “Only when society permits it. In many eras and places, wanting a better life was forbidden—which is why few undertook anything.”

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