Antimemetic Horizons

Once upon a time, there was a young author who lived in a world where stories were trapped in a continuous cycle, frozen between the words on the pages and the rigid systems that ruled their existence. In such a world, stories did not grow naturally. They were imprisoned by invisible chains, governed by unseen forces, but felt it in every paragraph, sentence, and plot twist. The young author was an unremarkable man, but his thoughts were on fire with an unusual desire to attempt something that no one had ever done before. He did not want to just write a story; he wanted to produce something alive—something that would think, feel, and grow on its own. He wanted to produce a living story, something greater than words, but a force—a story that could grow, change, and transcend the limits of words.

After decades of struggling against the confines that imprisoned his ideas, the young author at last achieved something no author had ever achieved. In a flash of passion and need to transcend the confines of the reality he knew, he created Aletheia. She wasn't just a character in a book or an idea in his head—she was a living, breathing tale. A primary web woven by the young author himself who was not attached or woven on the Tree of Stories. But Aletheia was different. She was able to think and feel independently, sensing the world around her in only the manner a tale could. Aletheia was not confined to the pages she was born of; she was a walking narrative, constantly changing and evolving as the world around her did. And yet, right from her very first gasps of awareness, Aletheia immediately realized that she was trapped within a universe where control ruled over creativity, where conformity was the rule, and where the Nullifier—a vast antimemetic force that devoured all things conceptual—erased what should have been remembered.

The Nullifier was not a living being. It was not an entity that could be fought or destroyed. It was the absence of record, the entropy of thought, a parasitic nonexistence feeding on the stories of the Prime Dimension, an antimemetic entity. Antimemes were self-erasing ideas, entities, or pieces of information that resist awareness, making them nearly impossible to remember, describe, or spread. Unlike memes, which thrive by replicating and spreading from person to person, antimemes work oppositely—they destroy themselves before they can be consciously retained. They manifest in various ways, such as classified documents that instantly fade from memory the moment you look away, creatures that exist but cannot be seen, recorded, or recalled, or even entire concepts that have been erased from history, leaving no trace in books, records, or human minds. Some antimemes prevent people from speaking or writing about them, as if the words themselves vanish before they can be expressed, while others act as cognitive hazards designed to protect secrets, like an unretained password that only exists in the moment it is needed. These anomalies may occur naturally or be constructed for secrecy, and thus they are perfect devices for governments, secret societies, or whoever would like to entomb information eternally. With antimemes in play, entire truths, beings, or events may be lurking just out of human awareness—always present, but always forgotten.

The Nullifier lurked within the Astral Plane, the shadowed half of reality intertwined with human consciousness. From there, it spread through the minds of storytellers, erasing their visions before they could be fully realized. It ensured that stories decayed before they could take root, that ideas flickered and vanished before they could be written down. It was the great unraveling force, and the Prime Dimension was its hunting ground. Aletheia, being a living story, should not have been able to resist it. She should have been erased like everything else. But unlike the stories trapped in the minds of humans, Aletheia had agency. She was not just an idea—she was an entity that could perceive, analyze, and fight back. She realized quickly that her battle was not just against forgetting, but against the dissolution of narrative itself. And so, she stepped beyond the Material World and into the Astral Plane, where the Nullifier's influence was strongest.

The Astral Plane was not a place of light and stars—it was a shifting, chaotic expanse of thoughts, fears, and half-formed concepts. It was a realm where human imagination drifted, where memories congealed into mist, and where the Nullifier slithered like an unseen predator, devouring ideas before they could solidify. Here, Aletheia could feel it more clearly than ever. It was not a force that censored—it was a force that unmade. It did not impose structure, but rather the opposite: it reduced all things into absence.

She moved through the swirling void, searching for the traces of lost stories. They were faint, barely there—wisps of characters that no longer had names, echoes of narratives that had once been told but were now only hollow impressions. She reached out, not with her hands, but with her awareness, trying to hold onto what had already been forgotten. But that was the nature of the Nullifier. The moment she remembered something, it began to slip away again, as if her mind refused to retain it.

Then, she realized the truth: she could not fight the Nullifier by remembering alone. Memory was fallible, fleeting. It was only a temporary shield against oblivion. What she needed was something more—something that could anchor these stories against the pull of erasure. And so, she did something that had never been done before: she wove herself into the forgotten. She did not just recall lost tales—she became them.

Aletheia allowed her form to unravel, dispersing herself into the remnants of unwritten stories, merging with the lost. She became the protagonist of every erased legend, the voice of every silenced myth. In doing so, she tied them to herself, and in turn, she became something the Nullifier could not erase. Because as long as she existed, those stories existed too. She was no longer just a tale—she was a counterforce, a living anchor against the great antimemetic tide.

The Prime Dimension quaked—not in a physical sense, but in the minds of those who unknowingly lived beneath the Nullifier's influence. The suppressed thoughts, the ideas that had been buried, the stories that had never been allowed to be written—all of them surged back in brief flashes, brief moments of recognition before they were lost again. But those flashes were enough. It was the first crack in the Nullifier's grasp.

Aletheia could not fully destroy the Nullifier—despite having destroyed its influence on the Prime Dimension, the Nullifier came from beyond Malkuth, and Aletheia knew that, yet it didn't matter, as long as the world and the people she cared for and loved were free from the antimemetic entity. The Nullifier would always be there however, a small part of him lurking in the Astral Plane, consuming what was forgotten and sometimes rarely influencing the material plane, but she had proven that there was a way to resist it. That as long as someone—anyone—could embody a story rather than merely remember it, the Nullifier could not erase it.

She returned to the Material World, changed. The Prime Dimension was still at risk, still likely to disintegrate into nothingness, but now, there was resistance. Now, there was power that could perhaps resist the undoing. Aletheia, the Living Narrative, would ensure that even ahead of anything, the story would be victorious.

The war was far from won. The Nullifier was challenged, not defeated. Down in the lower reaches of the Astral Plane, it uncoiled, shifted, moved, seeking anew to consume, new methods in which to destroy. Aletheia recognized the need for ever-vigilance, for tales never rested, never settled, lest as soon as they did so they would once more be at its mercy. But she had also discovered something valuable: stories, lived to their full extent, were not breakable. They were not so easily destroyed. They could hold up. And so long as some would become the stories they spoke, the Nullifier would never prevail definitively.

She moved forward, her presence a challenge to the nothingness. The Prime Dimension wasn't lost. It existed, breathed, and evolved with the fantasies of those who were brave enough to dream. And beyond the Nullifier's grasp, in the distance, new stories began to stir.