This is a record of the echoes, the distortions, and the lingering sensations associated with the phenomenon known as Supple. It is not a scientific account, nor a theological one. It is an accumulation of observations, fragments of memory, and the carefully transcribed accounts of those who claimed to have experienced it.
Supple is defined, if it can be defined at all, as the state of existing outside of linear time. It's a dissolving of the self, a folding in upon itself, and a simultaneous expansion into an infinite series of "nows." The sensation is often described as a profound disorientation, followed by a sense of overwhelming connection – not just to others, but to the very fabric of existence.
September 12th, 1888
“I was walking along the river, the rain a constant, insistent drumming. The world… it shifted. Not violently, but like a painting slowly dissolving. The colors intensified, then bled into one another. The sounds warped, layered upon themselves. I saw my reflection, but it wasn’t *me*. It was… a potential. A future version, perhaps, or a forgotten past. The air thickened, tasted of iron and regret. A voice, not spoken but felt, whispered my name. It wasn’t a threat, exactly, but an invitation to… unravel.”
November 3rd, 2047
“The data stream fractured. It's difficult to articulate. The neural implants, designed to augment perception, became a cage. I experienced the collective consciousness of humanity not as a unified whole, but as a chaotic, swirling vortex. I saw moments – births, deaths, acts of unimaginable cruelty and breathtaking beauty – all simultaneously. There was no sense of self, only an awareness of being *aware*. I attempted to ground myself, to focus on a single point, but it was futile. The sensation was… profoundly beautiful, terrifying, and ultimately, unbearable. I believe I nearly ceased to exist.”
March 21st, 1512
“The old stones… they pulsed. Not with warmth, but with a cold, deep vibration. I was tending the sheep near the standing stones of Avebury, and the world… the world began to unravel. The sky fractured into a million shards of light, each reflecting a different moment in time. I saw Druids performing ancient rites, Roman legions marching across the land, and myself, centuries in the future, staring back at me with an expression of desolate understanding. The sensation was not of sight, but of *knowing*. I knew everything, and nothing. It was a paradox that threatened to shatter my sanity.”
June 18th, 1933
“I found it in a dream, or perhaps it found me. I was standing in a field of wheat, the air thick with the scent of rain. The faces of everyone I’d ever known – my parents, my siblings, my friends – were there, but they weren’t *real*. They were echoes, fragments of experience projected from… somewhere else. They spoke to me, not with words, but with emotions. Joy, sorrow, regret, love – all intensified to an unbearable degree. I reached out to touch one of them, and the world dissolved into a blinding white light. I don’t know if I died, or if I simply ceased to be.”
These entries represent only a fraction of the accumulated knowledge surrounding Supple. It is a phenomenon that defies categorization, a glitch in the matrix of reality. Some theorize that it is a natural state of consciousness, accessible to those who are particularly receptive. Others believe it to be a dangerous delusion, a symptom of mental instability. The truth, perhaps, is far more complex, and far more unsettling. The archive continues to grow, fueled by the fragmented memories and desperate accounts of those who have glimpsed the edges of Supple. Be warned: prolonged exposure to this knowledge can lead to disorientation, confusion, and a profound sense of isolation. Proceed with caution.