Had the erectors of that stone finger in this quixotic location simply found themselves one block short? Thus one of the construction crew, who happened to be a devotee of romances, used a book and a roll of newsprint and a manuscript continuation of those first two tales, as wadding to stuff into the vacant central space. And perhaps all the masons involved were romancers, since it's a romantic endeavour to rear a column of stones in a desert where it can only serve as a landmark to itself alone! Besides, as I say, at least three hands were involved in composing the third volume.
But now consider: if the first two printed books are "true", then the third book cannot possibly be true. And vice versa. Yet if the third book alone were true, how could it have been written? Most of it would have lacked foundations (much like the obelisk!).
Only the final section of The Book of Being strikes us as familiar in its portrayal of our world. On the other hand, all of the persons in this last part—barring one or two minor figures—are already established in the first two books.
And what of the section written in the second hand (and second person), entitled "All the Tapestries of Time"? Perhaps here we have a curious and cavalier attempt to connect the first two volumes with the reality of "The Rose Balloon". Perhaps this part was scribbled by one bored, though ingenious, stone mason whilst the construction crew sheltered in their tents during freak sandstorms. Let us imagine this author comparing notes constantly with a rival mason and would-be romancer who was busily scribbling the final part during those same storms. Both of them took as their starting point two genuine romances of the period. The first had been printed as a proper book. The second had been issued more cheaply—or more popularly?—on newsprint. And of course a partial continuation already existed in manuscript alone; which they happened to have with them in their tents. From which fact, do we deduce that a third mason was the original author—but he had run out of steam, and cared so little for the final product that it was left abandoned inside the obelisk as makeweight? Or that the masons feared they would die in the desert, and felt so proud of their collaboration that they sealed it inside the stones for safety?
Perhaps this is the explanation of The Book of Being. [1]
As to the content of the first two volumes, what can one say? Except, to begin with, that in many respects our ancestors viewed the world upside-down! Thus the Tambidala River flows "down" to the north. Knowing only one river, they didn't feel the need to give it a special name; but being the only one, it was the norm. Now that we're acquainted with the other major rivers on our planet—all of which flow otherwise, from north to south—we would phrase this differently.
Secondly (and more important) through no fault of their own our ancestors were taboo-stricken; and being great romancers into the bargain they often thought mythically and metaphorically when treating taboo topics.
Thus the "black current" is a picturesque metaphor—a myth— used to express certain inhibitions which were programmed into us originally; which were built into our two core societies (on the east and west banks of the Tambidala) when this world was first colonized, as a way of ensuring our survival along lines presumably different from those of our mysterious mother world.
Likewise the "Godmind" is a myth representing our designers.
Likewise the epidemic of forgetting when Godmind and "Worm" first battled (an earthquake of the mind which is echoed later on by the final scribe's "Pause") reflects the spore-derived amnesiplagues which caused chaos at widely separated epochs in our consequently tattered and fragmented history.
Such examples could be multiplied.
Yet curiously, as myth these texts aren't as heroic in sum as one might expect of ancient days. They also mock themselves, especially when the final "stone-mason scribe"—in the process of purging the story of false infinities—chooses to make Yaleen marginal and submerged, rather than some hidden ruler of the world cloaked in disguise. Perhaps what we witness here (and elsewhere) is transitional myth: the withering of myth into ironic fancy in face of early industrialization and science.
Finally, "Ka-space" is a myth for some hyper-reality or dimension, as yet unforeseeable by us—through which the original starship must have flown.
Might not "Ka-space", as envisaged by the Yaleen author, seem a dangerous myth today? One which might bring superstition back into the popular mind, to oust our rational sciences? How can we contemplate Ka-space when our greatest dream is to launch a puny ship, our best, to the world next door—on a journey of many years? Ka-space would dwarf our efforts.
Yet the imagination needs uplifting. Joy is not to be sniffed at. So therefore let these three books be printed out of our own resources, and enjoyed.
— 'Mistress Charmy-Chateline, Guild of Boats & Spaceships (advised by Savant Perse-Kirstoj
Watson, Ian - Black Current 03 Page 19