Within these walls resides the Chronarium, a repository not of physical artifacts, but of echoes – fragments of timelines that fractured and dissipated. It’s a place born from the confluence of theoretical chronophysics and an almost obsessive dedication to preserving what can no longer be truly *seen*. We don't collect objects; we collect impressions. The air itself vibrates with the residue of decisions unmade, loves forgotten, and futures that never arrived.
Our methodology, dubbed “Resonance Mapping,” is predicated on the idea that time isn’t a linear progression but a complex network of interconnected possibilities. Each event generates a ripple – a distortion in the fabric of temporal energy. These ripples, if properly contained and analyzed, can reveal glimpses of alternative realities. We utilize devices - the ‘Chronometers’ - to amplify these resonances, projecting them as shimmering distortions within the layers. The echoes you see aren't merely visual phenomena; they are condensed representations of emotional weight, causal chains, and the sheer probability of existence.
The core of a Chronometer is the 'Aetherium Core,' a synthesized crystal capable of receiving and modulating these temporal waves. It’s rumored to be grown from solidified paradoxes - an unsettling prospect, even for our most seasoned Temporal Analysts. The Aetherium doesn't *record* time; it *experiences* it, albeit in fragmented bursts.
Currently, we are attempting to stabilize Echo 691-Theta, which appears to be a localized distortion around the moment of a single, intensely regretful decision made by a medieval blacksmith. The sheer density of emotional energy is proving extraordinarily difficult to manage; Chronometer 4 is experiencing significant fluctuations.