The term “Ciceronic Rejecters” isn’t found in any conventional historical record. It surfaced, initially, within the fragmented data streams of the Chronarium Nexus – a theoretical construct designed to archive and analyze the echoes of temporal anomalies. These anomalies, often described as ‘Resonance Fractures,’ were localized distortions in the fabric of reality, primarily centered around the city of Ciceron, a metropolis swallowed by the Silent Tide millennia ago. Ciceron, you see, wasn’t simply lost; it was…unwritten.
The first documented instances involved individuals – mostly archivists and ‘Temporal Echo Hunters’ – who experienced a profound disorientation, a sense of being simultaneously present and absent within Ciceron’s ruins. They reported vivid, fractured memories, not their own, but fragments of lives lived within the city’s final days. These weren’t simple flashbacks; they were immersive, unsettling encounters with what felt like the residual consciousnesses of the Ciceronic populace. The Chronarium detected heightened energy signatures – dubbed ‘Resonance Bleeds’ – radiating from these individuals.
“The Bleeds are not memories, not exactly. They are… echoes of potential. The city never truly ceased to exist, only to shift into a state of perpetual near-existence. The Rejecters are drawn to these shifts.” – Archivist Theron Volkov, Chronarium Nexus Log 784.3
The prevailing theory, supported by increasingly complex simulations, posits that Ciceron’s destruction wasn’t a singular event, but a cascading collapse of timelines. Each attempt to understand, to ‘fix’ the anomaly, only seemed to exacerbate the situation, creating further branches and distortions. The Rejecters, it appears, are drawn to these fractured timelines, becoming anchors within the chaos.
The echoes themselves are described as intensely tactile. Rejecters report experiencing the sensation of cold stone beneath their feet, the smell of rain on metal, the murmur of conversations in a language lost to time. They often report a profound sense of loneliness, a feeling of being utterly and irrevocably out of place. The most disturbing aspect is the subjective nature of the experience. Each Rejecter perceives the echoes differently, influenced by their own psychological biases and, disturbingly, by the dominant emotional state of the 'echo' they encounter.
Analysis of Resonance Bleeds reveals a correlation between the severity of these experiences and the ‘temporal density’ of the affected area. Ciceron, saturated with the chaotic energy of the collapse, represents a pinnacle of temporal density. This explains why the phenomenon is almost exclusively localized to the city’s ruins.
“It’s like wading through a sea of lost voices. Each one screams a different story, a different regret. You become a vessel for their suffering, a conduit for their final moments.” – Temporal Echo Hunter Elias Thorne, Chronarium Nexus Log 912.7
Furthermore, the data suggests that the Rejecters aren’t simply observing the past; they’re inadvertently *participating* in it. Subtle alterations in the Resonance Bleeds have been detected after prolonged exposure, indicating a feedback loop – the Rejecters' presence actively shaping the echoes, creating new branches within the temporal stream.
The long-term effects on Rejecters are devastating. Prolonged exposure leads to a state of ‘Temporal Dissolution’ – a gradual erasure of the individual’s sense of self. Memories become fragmented, identities blur, and ultimately, the Rejecter ceases to exist as a coherent entity, merging completely with the temporal stream. The Chronarium has implemented strict protocols to limit exposure, but the allure of Ciceron – the promise of understanding the ultimate mystery of existence – proves too strong for many.
There are whispers, of course, of individuals who have embraced the Dissolution, who have willingly become one with the echoes. These ‘Unified’ Rejecters are considered a greater threat than the unstable, fragmented ones, as they represent a potential pathway for the collapse of reality itself.
“We are not explorers, not seekers of knowledge. We are parasites, feeding on the dying screams of a forgotten city. And ultimately, we will become the screams.” – Unidentified Chronarium Security Log (Post-Incident 487.2)
The final transmission from Elias Thorne, shortly before his own Dissolution, contained a single, chilling sentence: “Ciceron remembers, and it wants to be whole again.”