Expert Advice
The Seeking, or Scattering, as it is called in the old Imperium, is the exponential multiplication of human possibility. The Tyrant of old, whatever the judgment that we may pass of him, made his goal plain in his memories. Survival of humankind means humankind needs to explore toward infinity until it cannot be controlled, dominated, or reined in with power or prescience. What delights, what darkness lurks in the corners of the Universe? Human potential is the only limit. We must expect resources, knowledge and talents of all kind to be available in great abundance. We call the Mentat's dilemma the following question: are all these powers long range or short range? Is the infinite universe an endless collection of isolated clusters of incredible human diversity, barely interacting? Or are there powers that spread across untold distances and influence, even if not directly, Humanity as a whole? The Tyrant's design points to no one being able to influence humankind's development and direction since Siona's blood came to be. Is the Tyrant right? What were the limits of his vision, and did he lie to us on purpose?
- THE NEW MENTAT HANDBOOK, CVII EDITION
"Master," the plain voice rang in his years as something familiar. "Master," repeated the small pale-skinned figure in front of him, thin arms, thin body. "Do you remember?"
Scytale-quater dropped the knife on the ground. It was an ancient thing he had held. He could feel it. For a long moment, he had been fighting Muad'Dib, the emperor who had killed him millennia ago. It only had been an actor, a Face Dancer, of course, but the violent fight, the will to kill, the gut-wrenching struggle had tore a piece in his self, unlocked the serial memories inside him once again, like entrails dropping down his inside, like a logjam giving sudden way to the flow. He stumbled, leaning on the wall for support; his balance lost as a bottomless depth of experiences that had just opened like a crevasse inside his soul. Ages passed in a blink.
"So I have died," he whispered. A pause. "...and I am back. But, " he looked deep into the Face Dancer's eyes, eyes coming into focus, "I do not remember how I died. You, whom do you obey?"
"Master Scytale, I serve at Master Zoel's command." said the Dancer's plain voice.
"I have never known a Master named Zoel."
"And so my Master begs that you meet him. He commanded me to say: Brother reborn,"
"Brother of old" replied Scytale, recognizing the old ritual.
"Brother anew," responded the Face Dancer. "And now that we have followed the norms, please come. All will be explained."