Violet, Black, Red

Link to article: Violet, Black, Red.

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{{The following documents have been recovered from a datapack captured by the __Project Aidita__[[footnote]] **Translator's Note:** A CN-branch Canon Hub which introduces interaction between multiverses. [[/footnote]] Office. This document seems to describe a color paradigm shift phenomenon on a single individual. Below are these transcribed records.}}

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+ ###10aec2|**I**##
+++ 1900 A.D.
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----

It's at that time I firmly believed that the **VIOLET** is the origin of everything in the world.

Can you understand it? Both the verdant grass of spring and the ripe fruits of autumn originate from the initial tremor of faintness and rapidness. It is in this tremor that violet is involuntarily arising. The colour deemed "noble" can be found in Phoenicians' chaplets, exalted robes of Carthaginian kings, and the glazed tiles from fabled China. In which maybe just slightly deeper outside where ordinary mortals can never look into, flowing violet is everywhere. They are dancing gracefully beyond the reach of Newton's band of light, like fireworks that bloom only in our dreams.

I can, however, //witness// them within those digits, variables and constants. These spirits dwell at rainbow's end, beckoning to me from the opposite side of the negative biquadratic doorway. And yet, I have never really met them. Whenever Kirchhoff's fire ignites the purest object which can be rarely seen, the band which these items //should// exist is always stuffed up with darkness of fruitlessness. Can you understand? It's just a cup of Scotch whisky mixed with cigar smoke, where there is nothing but a wisp of a phantasmagoria that anaesthetises the ectoplasm.

But I know that they must be there. I will pursue them.
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+ ###f6c430|**II**##
+++ 1896 A.D.
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----

**RED** is disappearing from my vision. Maybe there shouldn't be so much red in the world, or maybe it's all in my head? I don't know about that.

It is generally accepted that red is the light that goes hand in hand with warmth. The shimmering light on the candelabra, the campfire by the bay, and the non-imaginary sunlight that shines equally on everyone. They are all glimmered with an inviting scarlet. It's just that despite the bright red and something beyond that is indeed undulating in the flames, some kind of instinct told me that they shouldn't be so bright.

Well, which color could remain undiluted under such a frightening exponential decay? the //displacement//, often called written destiny, is the iron law proclaimed by the gods that excludes the seductive red, the bright red, the vivid red and some other hues from the feast of colors. In Kirchhoff's private garden, however, red grows stubbornly, no matter how brilliant the luster might be. It's a hard, peeling spot on the bar of a bistro, or a stain that can't be wiped off the streets of Munich. It torments me day and night, and those attempts to escape it by closing my eyes prove useless.

I think this is not a hallucination. I'll set the fabricated red on fire and reduce it to blackened embers in the dazzling colored light.
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+ ###1661ab|**III**##
+++ 1911 A.D.
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I just want to complain that I'm so fed up with stupidity. The purity and sanctity of St. Dido's violet has been thrown to these dogs. This is even deemed to be a //catastrophe// -- My goodness, they would rather believe that Chimera rules the world than admit that the truth behind everything is just so simple and perfect. 

Look, the shimmering spirits are there. They're laughing out loud at people's shortsightedness, shallowness, and the slightest hint of deep-seated fear. In my recent attempts, several different omens appeared. A tiny light-violet ray was sparkling where almost everyone thought there should be nothing. Though the light is so fragile and fleeting, I saw the aquamarine waters of the far eastern Mediterranean. They are there, smiling at our devotee who is thirsty for discovery.

I will complete my pilgrimage. I will reach the paradise of the virgin violet, no matter how.
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+ ###fa7e23|**IV**##
+++ 1911 A.D.
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----

Flowers and applause mean nothing to me.

Frankly, I just want to get out of here, out of this hell of interlocking goblets and flattering flattery. The swaying glass of Burgundy Red projected an annoying bright red beam into my lens then through my optic nerves, sending the primal shudder into my perception. Candlelight flickered above me, long blood-red carpets below. Everything was a //mistake//, and even the very fact that I had come here for those ridiculous formulas was a complete //mistake//.

I closed my eyes and tried once more to push these things out of my mind. To my delight, it worked for the first time. Red faded into brown, chestnut, and finally pure darkness with the descending exponential curve. I enjoyed the peaceful moment.  I was surrounded by the mesmerising scent of rubia and sappan, which gradually gave way to the fresh scent of purple perilla, rosemary and parsley. I must say, this can really relax me.

I would try that //ritual// again. I've never trusted it more and I'm sure it will reward me.
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+ ###813c85|**V**##
+++ 1919 A.D.
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----

I did it! That's the ideal curve!

The violet is so bright that even the St.Vincent's green is hidden from the brilliance of sacred violet. I can see the colour beyond the iridescence hidden by Newton. They, the colour much brighter than violet, are the splendour of divinity. They are trembling, as the piling Fibonacci rainbow dyed with overflowing neon, then reaching out to eternity on a short and wide band of light.

I looked out the window. The heaven of London is violet. Solar is violet lunar eclipse. Cloud and water are violet stairs and ladders. Stars are winking at me, telling me of the many mysteries that lie beyond the violet. Huh, James Hopwood, you gave it all up //there//. Can you appreciate this spectacle? The tiny arc of iridescence may well be the phantasmagoria that pities the loser.

......

I pray to the violet vessel. I will ascend in the iridescent violet.
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+ ###de2a18|**VI**##
+++ 1928 A.D.
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----

Well, that's it. They disappeared into that spot, just as I expected.

Bright red is indeed the lie of the past, or the constant illusion inside everyone's eyes. //He// was wrong, but somehow right. The jumble of theories had no //realistic// validity whatsoever. Red is the misconception only belongs to cold items in the unheated twilight. In the blazing daylight, the crest displacing towards the uncanny jasper, along with the half-decayed light, have taken away the old glory of red.

The August sky is so bright, right? Needless enthusiasm should not exist. Effectless thinking should not exist. Meaningless light should not exist. Everything will evolve into eternal tranquillity in the midst of this hot sun.

......

I chant to the crimson heart. I will descent in the colorless red.
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+ ###1a6840|**VII**##
+++ 2004 A.D.
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----

{{"It is important to note that Wien's Formula accurately predicts blackbody radiation in the short wave band, but underestimates it in the long wave band. Conversely, the Rayleigh-Kings formula, which is an efficiency estimation of radiation intensity in the long wave band, but approaches infinity in the short-wave band. That's what we often referred to as the 'Ultraviolet Catastrophe' -- You don't need to memorise these two formulas, just know how to calculate with them."}}

{{"Here are some interesting facts. Wilhelm Wien, the German scientist who derived Wien's formula, died of hypothermia in 1928. The Englishman John William Strutt, aka Baron Riley, died in 1919 of an immunological disease caused by exogenous electromagnetic waves. Of them all, however, mathematician James Hopwood Kings lived the longest -- he lived until 1946, during which time he wrote several popular science articles".}}

Lingering summer is always annoying. This is especially true of the Radiation Optics course, which has been scheduled for 8 a.m. since the beginning of the semester. Unfortunately, even though I'm sitting in this classroom and listening to the lecturer, the content of the course is slipping through my cerebral cortex without leaving a trace. Outside the window, the ceibas and magnolias are swaying their green leaves. This, of course, can only make me more sleepy.

{{"Our group's research is also a bold challenge to the Planck formula. Although we recognise that the Planck formula for blackbody radiation is undoubtedly mathematically perfect, the plain interpolation solution used to form this formula in the mid-range of the spectrum fails to find a counterpart in the material world for the apparent phenomena. Therefore, our team suggests that all  previous methods of observing blackbody radiation in the mid-visible band are somehow flawed, leaving an extremely large peak in the blackbody radiation intensity curve between 500nm and 600nm unobserved. If you want to track the progress of our research, you can visit Arxiv for ......"}}

{{**"Professor! Princeton has replicated our findings! They also observed the green spot!"**}}

Suddenly, some shout interrupted the lecturer's eloquent speech, shattering the drowsy atmosphere in the classroom. He must be the lecturer's favourite student, I suppose. Our lecturer seemed to be quite accomplished in the field he teaches and is well known both at home and abroad. Although I don't know the significance of this, he seemed extremely enthusiastic and ran out of the classroom, leaving dozens of his students, including me, in the classroom.

Of course, none of this makes sense to me. All I need now is just a nap at my desk. A cool summer breeze blows through the classroom, the green deciduous trees outside making a refreshing rustle. What a wonderful early autumn day, I think.
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|author=Sharia Vanilla
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> **Original Article:** https://scp-wiki-cn.wikidot.com/violet-black-red
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Violet, Black, Red

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