The world was material—at least, most of the parts that could be perceived were material.
Electromagnetism gave rise to one another, flames surged upward; even things that seemed to possess no physical form either depended on matter or constituted a special form of material existence.
Even so-called Spiritual Entities and souls might perhaps be regarded as as-yet-unknown forms of matter, governed by natural laws beyond current understanding, waiting for someone in the future to incorporate them into a unified system at the right time.
But "information," or "knowledge," was an exceedingly vague concept.
It depended on matter, manifesting through material states and differences.
In theory, wherever material differences existed, there was information. From ink marks on paper and the grain of rock to base sequences in genes, all objectively preserved information.
Yet as something dependent on matter, information itself had no physical form. It could neither directly affect the material world nor persist independently. From one perspective, it could be said to "not exist," or rather, to be a "potential existence not yet revealed."
An unread book already contained information on the material level, but only when a reader's consciousness intervened was it endowed with thought and value.
It could neither be classified as matter nor reduced to an activity of consciousness. Rooted in matter, yet returning to consciousness, it stood at the boundary between the two.
Never having existed, yet everywhere.
Kraft had always been a flexible materialist and a supporter of epistemological optimism, believing that there were only things not yet discovered or understood in this world.
Even the absurd and bizarre Deep Layer had failed to fundamentally alter his worldview. Instead, it had broadened the scope of his knowledge.
That was why the shock he suffered now was all the greater. Living knowledge overturned everything he had