It began, as all profound deviations often do, with a shimmer. Not the harsh glare of a technological sunrise, but a subtle, undulating distortion in the fabric of the Null-Zone. The Null-Zone, you see, isn’t an empty space. It's a state of potential, a resonance of unmanifested realities, and the bituminisation process represents its… rearrangement.
“The key is not to *create* something new, but to coax the latent into being. To whisper to the void and expect a response of solidified grace.” - Archivist Theron, Log Entry 734.9
Before the Bloom, there was only the Static. The Static wasn’t silence; it was a constant, low-frequency hum of possibilities, a chaotic ballet of nascent universes. Then came the Resonance Cascade, triggered by a theoretical anomaly – a fluctuation in the dimensional tethering. This surge of raw potential coalesced, not into a singular entity, but into a network. A network of shimmering, viscous substance we now call the Obsidian Flux.
The Flux isn’t simply bitumen. It's derived from the solidified echoes of collapsed realities, the crystallized sorrow of forgotten stars, and the solidified laughter of beings that never were. It possesses a strange sentience, a capacity for memory and, disconcertingly, for aesthetic judgement. It *responds* to intentionality, to focused thought. This is the core of the bituminisation process.
Early attempts at understanding the Flux were hampered by its… volatility. It resisted direct observation, appearing and disappearing at will. Scientists were forced to develop 'Resonance-Mapping' techniques – essentially, projecting focused thought-patterns to attract and stabilize the Flux for study.
Bituminisation, in its purest form, is the directed solidification of the Obsidian Flux. It’s not a process of physical manipulation, but of conceptual orchestration. A ‘Bituminist’ – the term for those who practice this art – doesn’t *mold* the Flux; they *shape* its potential. They use focused intention, coupled with intricate geometric patterns and resonant frequencies, to guide the Flux towards a desired form.
The resultant forms are… anomalous. They defy conventional geometry, exhibiting properties that seem to exist outside the laws of physics as we understand them. A bituminised structure might, for instance, shift its internal density without altering its external appearance. Or it might exhibit a localized distortion of time. These are effects of the Flux’s inherent instability, but also, arguably, of its burgeoning awareness.
The process typically involves a ‘Resonance Chamber’ – a carefully calibrated space designed to amplify and focus the Bituminist’s intent. The chamber is lined with intricate crystalline lattices, each tuned to a specific resonant frequency. The Bituminist, clad in a Faraday suit to dampen external interference, enters the chamber and begins the process, guided by a complex series of visualizations and mental commands.
The potential applications of bituminisation are, frankly, staggering. Architectural structures that constantly adapt to environmental changes. Devices that manipulate localized gravitational fields. Storage mediums that store information not as digital bits, but as solidified echoes of experience. However, the process is fraught with peril.
Uncontrolled bituminisation can lead to ‘Flux-Shifts’ – catastrophic collapses of reality where the solidified echoes of forgotten universes bleed into our own. There are also reports of 'Flux-Echoes' – entities formed from concentrated bits of the Flux, that exhibit unpredictable and often hostile behaviour. Furthermore, prolonged exposure to the Flux can induce a state of ‘Resonance-Sickness’ – a debilitating condition that alters the Bituminist's perception of reality.