Yuan Quotes

“Anything intelligent always looks for its source—it’s the oldest law of the universe.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“All living creatures always sense what heals their woe—a code in their subconscious.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“He frowns. How unusual for a monk to frown or to think needlessly! Yuan shields his mind. His eyes closed in deep meditation. A ninety-nine-year-old monk who mastered time and desires shouldn’t let little thoughts infect his inner quiet.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Mastering time isn’t about stopping time, rather, slowing down its effects. Though in the last decade, he has let his dark wavy hair fade and wrinkles grow near his eyes. Even a line or two is visible on his forehead. He sits on a cliff now. His toned torso half-covered in a dark, plain shawl. His chest swells in flawless, mathematical rhythm when he breathes.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Mastering time isn’t about stopping time, rather, slowing down its effects.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Yuan smiles. Subtle stirs in the prana field eke from the forest, spreading, constantly tapping his ground. At first, they’re few, then more, but not countless. Nothing around him is countless, not while he is in focus. The stirs, caused by light footsteps, grow stronger.
Something is different today: blood and a whimper.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Yuan opens his eyes. White rabbits wandering all around, poking him, touching him, rubbing their noses at his feet, or merely exploring the thick grass, ignoring his presence. As if showing their appearance alone is enough of a favor. Yuan sees the tiniest rabbit struggling to reach him. One of its legs wounded, and a dark rotten feather sticking to its body. The feather smells of death. There must be a dead bird somewhere.
Dead bird! Why didn’t he smell it earlier? Yuan, removing the feather, stretches his hand towards the rabbit. It hops on, sensing the burst of healing energy. All living creatures always sense what heals their woe—a code in their subconscious.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“These days, the word Source is coming frequently, ever since that man asked to meet.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“He skims through the speech he prepared (for the 50th Independence day):

… Before the Apocalypse, the system gave us a goal, forcing us to exhaustion at the end of the day. We had no time to look inside. The system was a slave-reproduction module where we thought we were free. With time lost, we lost our only chance of final evolution at the end of our one life …

… The system succeeded, enough to turn talents into machines, warriors into lazy citizens, knights into faithful slaves, writers and artists into pets and trophies. They succeeded, and they laughed. But not after the Apocalypse. Not after the War. We fought. We lost many, but we won through evolution. Now, things are different. Now things are better …

Bullshit!—Yuan stops at this point. Too many lies!
Nothing has changed.
Nothing is better.
How can a monk with a voice lie? Moreover, a war hero favoring the Apocalypse—too dark! What was he thinking last night?

“Delete all of it,” he mutters sternly.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“… The system succeeded, enough to turn talents into machines, warriors into lazy citizens, knights into faithful slaves, writers and artists into pets and trophies. They succeeded, and they laughed. But not after the Apocalypse. Not after the War. We fought. We lost many, but we won through evolution. Now, things are different. Now things are better …”
― Misba, The High Auction

“... You cannot force adventure on everyone, Ruem. You can’t implant wisdom.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Yuan frowns. Nothing should interrupt a Sufi Raag. His frown disappears soon after. A monk must never lose control over his emotions. Not even the deaths of thirty-seven seemingly-pet, rare animals can make him lose it.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Focusing his mind, he searches for any sign of death in the forest. But nothing. Prana diminishes with death. He won’t know if the dead bird is far away.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Uncertainty—not for food or shelter, but for life. Fear of death. Fear of living alone.
He was a child back then. Him and Ruem.
“Win your fear, and you’ll evolve.” Their Master’s voice lulls the Monk in his mind.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“I think, my boy, it’s not time that is limited either. If one wants to evolve to the next level, one has plenty of time. So, lack of time or indulgence isn’t the true obstacle,” Master said once.
“Then what is the true obstacle?” asked Ruem.
“Ego.”
“Ego? You mean the idea of self?” Yuan asked.
“No, not those complex ideas of self or I, rather the pure ego. The ego that tells you, you’ve evolved enough; that you’re the most superior creation already. My boy, you never think of evolving to the next level because you believe you’ve reached it. You believe you’re in the final level of cognitive evolution already. But you are not. There’s always another level.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Pico,” Yuan mutters.
“I’m listening, Yuan,” Pico’s voice resonates in the library.
“Was backing away cowardice?”
“About your old research?” Pico begins, “No, you weren’t a coward. Everything needs caution. But Ruem was taking great risks. Risking one’s own life in the war field is not the same as risking the lives of millions. Even if the goal is good.”
“Do you think his goal was good?” Yuan asks.
“Cosmic energy is the Source, the fabric that forms the universe. Now you, humans, call it prana. You learned to absorb it by being willing to absorb it. It evolves you, yes. Your mind and your body are designed for this purpose, true. I can’t deny that it could bring a greater good. But, theoretically good. Ruem, however, his idea is dark; it’s always been dark. Artificially forcing people into evolution is risky.” Pico explains—now it’s not Senior or Junior anymore. Now they both are one. For that, each of them had to face a small death. A death of the individual, yes. But for the both, it’s a new life, a connected life. A whole life.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Time.
Time was and always has been the door. The time that school, work, and social gatherings couldn’t take after the Apocalypse. Distractions ended. Thoughts began. Then thoughts stopped, too, and the universe entered. The true power came during the long nights. Sometimes while watching the stars, sometimes, fearing the lightning and thunder. Sometimes, accepting the energy the universe pushed through their navel when their stomach growled. Soon, no religion or ritual told them to fast, yet they were fasting. Deliberately. The door opened. Secrets came as they inhaled the cosmos, the prana, and not just the air.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Yuan hears the animals hundreds of meters away—the ones with hooves running while the pawed ones hunt them. He also hears the birds chirping, the leaves rustling, the waterfall roaring, and the wind speaking. Yes, speaking. Not every High-Grade voices the wind or hears it speak. But he does.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Removing the thought about the rotten feather, for now, Yuan calms his core, inhaling prana—the source energy from air. The animal’s wound healing. All the rabbits turn their necks now, watching him. At last, he deserves attention. They run to the Monk; jumping; climbing along the layered folds of his dark shawl; settling on his lap, thighs, and shoulders; competing with one another for the healing energy; seeking a share of the purity coming from the highest possible evolution in the universe. A monk’s purity procured through strict abstention won’t stain. Even a dead bird’s foul feather can’t tinge it.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“He senses his energy, the prana, vibrating, looking for a release, either as a subconscious beast or as a conscious creator.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Your plan will backfire. People aren’t ready for this. I’ve seen it. They prefer being blind, living life the way it is, waiting for an end, playing their little life game. And they want to play it safe. You cannot force adventure on everyone, Ruem. You can’t implant wisdom.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Are you going to visit your pets?”
“They are not pets.”
“I think canceling meetings and visiting five-hundred-and-sixty-seven pets isn’t a good idea. Ren wouldn’t call it profitable.”
“They are not pets.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Privilege exists not to be stored in a locker,” Yuan says.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“As a private joke, he and Ruem recreated their master’s voice, installing it in Pico’s AI three decades ago. Now their own master’s voice—the master who trained them both—says Ruem isn’t a human. “You’re judging humans. One of your creators, no less,” Yuan says, half-informing, half-praising.
“I’m repeating what Ren said.”
“Stay here,” the Monk says, leaving Pico near the waterfall.
“Are you angry because I said Ruem is not a human?” Pico asks.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“The universe loves irony. The things you think you’ll never do are the things you end up doing in time.

“Just make peace with them,” Master used to say.”
― Misba, The High Auction

““Yuan, what if death is the key? Will we know everything, all secrets, all answers after we die?”
“Maybe,” Yuan replied then, wanting to avoid the topic, not admitting he’d been thinking the same thing for a while. At that time, everyone thought of death, at least several times a day, just as people pray at every dawn and dusk.

“Give me your word, Yuan,” Ruem then said, suddenly.
“What word?”
“That if you die before me, you’ll try your best to send me signs or a message. You’ll tell me what’s beyond.”

Yuan only stared after what Ruem had said. He couldn’t say what if there was no beyond, what if it’s all empty, what if it’s just a dark void after death. He couldn’t answer, seeing Ruem’s blue eyes. Now that he remembers, the Mesmerizer had blue eyes then, before they turned red.

“I give my word, Yagmur. If I die first, I will tell you everything I find, even if it requires me to come back after death,” Ruem promised. “If the beyond exists, that is,” he added.

That day, Yuan gave his word too, and the word still remains. Someone truly evolved never breaks his word. Not even in death.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“Monday night is actually Tuesday evening in the Arabic calendar since Arabic day begins with sunset. ‘The secrets of Tuesday’s darkness, coinciding with stone hard and deceased animals hurled at a human territory …’ The words he read decades ago now bloom in his memory. It was in a book from Ruem’s collection. How can he remember it so clearly?

Why does he remember it? Why now?”
― Misba, The High Auction

“What should I use for a fake speech then?” Pico Not-Connected-To-Its-Source says from the car’s speakers.

“I gave you the most accurate Literature Understanding Intelligence,” Yuan says.

“That’s for book reviewing and suggesting you titles, not for making up a fake speech,” Pico protests. “I’m not connected to—”

“Find something from my last fifty years of speeches. Be useful. Never bother me with Independence-Day speeches again.” Yuan silences the line. This time his voice sounds a bit cold, scratching the line of anger. Just a little. Perhaps, the death of thirty-seven rarest animals on the planet shouldn’t keep you calm after all. Even if they are ‘not pets’.”
― Misba, The High Auction

“I think holding Yuan is going to be increasingly important as China becomes as fertile as The Americas in terms of the global business landscape.”
― Hendrith Vanlon Smith Jr, CEO of Mayflower-Plymouth

“Late, as usual,” the Mesmerizer greets. “Were you meditating at every crossroad, Monk?” His eyes hidden beneath his hat.”
― Misba, The High Auction