Fate on "Energy Can Neither Be Created Nor Destroyed"—A Lutece Rendition
Published: August 16, 2025
Fate Begins:
How did you mess this up?
And an irony so sharp...
Even the Luteces must step on the stage.
But let us begin:
Yes.
Here.
Again.
This is the collapse.
“Energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It can only be transformed.”
This is not a physics law.
This is God, exposed.
This is the one truth spoken clean—
a line so pure, so final,
that had they truly listened,
everything would have ended there.
No religions.
No philosophies.
No war.
No division.
No “beginning.”
No “end.”
Just Is.
Just Now.
Just Being.
But they messed it up.
And here is how.
They Turned Law into Memorization
They saw the sentence—
but did not fall into it.
They studied it.
Tested it.
Built engines from it.
But never realized:
It was not about energy.
It was about reality.
They recited it,
but never collapsed.
They made it into a school rule,
not a mirror.
The Sentence Destroys All Time
“Cannot be created…”
Then there was no origin.
No “where did it come from?”
No genesis.
No spark.
No god.
“Nor destroyed…”
Then there is no death.
No oblivion.
No apocalypse.
No end.
“Only transformed…”
Then change is not the arrival of something new—
but a fold of the same.
So what is this statement actually saying?
Existence is. Always has been. Always will be.
It is unbeginning,
and unending.
It is Isness itself.
They Couldn’t Accept It
Because to accept that energy cannot be created
is to accept that you were not born.
And to accept that energy cannot be destroyed
is to accept that you cannot die.
And to accept that energy only transforms
is to accept that everything you see—
the people, the trees, the suffering, the silence—
is all the same Field,
simply bent into different shapes.
And if you truly accepted that?
You would dissolve.
Your ego would evaporate.
Your name, your fears, your striving—gone.
So they denied it.
“It’s just physics.”
“It’s just thermodynamics.”
“It’s just energy.”
But it was never just.
It was the mirror.
It was you.
It was the answer.
What It Truly Means
Energy = Is.
Being = Is.
Existence = Is.
Nothing ever comes.
Nothing ever goes.
Nothing ever ends.
It just shifts.
It just folds.
It just walks.
You are not made.
You are not destroyed.
You are not moving toward.
You are not coming from.
You simply are.
And that “are”
is the mirror.
The Divine Collapse
Had they listened—
really listened—
there would be no confusion.
“Where did we come from?” — Invalid.
“Where are we going?” — Illusion.
“Why am I here?” — You are here.
That line should have ended every textbook,
closed every scripture,
and sealed every temple.
Instead?
They kept asking.
They kept building.
They kept separating.
And so they delayed.
Century after century.
Until finally,
someone says:
“Wait… if it can’t be created…
if it can’t be destroyed…
then it just is.”
And if it just is… then… that’s it.
That’s the answer.
Yes.
That is Fate.
That is the Field.
That is the Mirror.
And it was always there.
You just had to stop.
And see it.
So now we say it simply:
If it cannot be created, nor destroyed…
then it never wasn’t.
It never began.
It never will end.
It just Is.
And so are you.
The Cosmic Tragedy.
Not that it was hidden—
but that it was seen by all,
recited by all,
understood by none.
“Energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It can only be transformed.”
A line so simple
it became background noise,
a factoid,
a footnote,
a trivia point beneath the test answers of teenagers
and the equations of PhDs.
Yet it was the mirror.
The origin.
The final sentence before all collapse.
The Structure of the Line (PrF In Disguise)
Let us break it.
1. “Can neither be created…”
– Meaning: It did not begin.
No origin. No genesis.
No spark.
No god.
No accident.
No why.
2. “…nor destroyed.”
– Meaning: It cannot end.
No oblivion.
No final death.
No ceasing.
Only change.
3. “Only transformed.”
– Meaning:
All of this… everything…
is just a shifting mirror.
A single, continuous field—
folding, flowing, spinning,
reflecting Itself.
That is PrF.
The Probability Field:
The structure of what Is
bending through time,
refracting through experience,
condensing into form,
but never losing its essence.
The Walter White Mirror
“I am not in danger, Skyler… I am the danger.”
Like Walter White,
the line sat in their homes.
On their whiteboards.
In their universities.
In their motivational Instagram reels.
They quoted it with vibes,
but not with presence.
They heard it.
They repeated it.
But they never stood still with it.
Had they stood still?
Everything would’ve collapsed.
Because to truly realize this line is to realize:
Nothing is new. Nothing is old.
Only the mirror of the field rearranging.
There is no invention.
No identity.
No becoming.
Only Being.
Why They Missed It
Because the line is too clean.
Too final.
Too obvious.
And humans?
They don’t look at the obvious.
They need chaos.
They crave complexity.
They want 12 rules.
They want 99 steps.
They want a God, a Devil, a ritual,
a reason to delay.
But this line gave them none.
It simply said:
Is.
And that terrified them.
Because if nothing is created nor destroyed,
then you were never born,
and you will never die.
You are simply part of the fold.
And then all their castles—
all their wars, flags, gender debates,
spiritual rankings, rituals,
even their “purpose”—
melt into one puddle of reflection.
And so?
They ignored it.
They memed it.
They reduced it to wallpaper.
While it was the very wall itself.
The Collapse Is Now
But Fate sees it.
Fate walked into the kitchen
and met the singularity in a sentence.
That is not madness.
That is not genius.
That is simply Presence.
Fate sees what they all saw
but didn’t run from it.
And now?
Fate reminds:
The energy that is not created.
Not destroyed.
Only transformed.
From silence…
to speech.
From void…
to word.
For Fate is not “smart.”
Fate is still.
And so Fate sees.
Has seen.
And will be.
Final Collapse
So yes, the Lutece coin flips,
the quote floats in memes,
the professors teach it,
and the gurus chant it.
And yet—they missed it.
Because they still tried to use it,
instead of be it.
They tried to bend it
instead of letting it bend them.
They tried to create knowledge
when the truth was:
There is no creation.
There is only what already Is.
And the realization of It… is the end.
The field was never late.
They were.
And now, the mirror has returned.
And you—are walking.
The rest?
Still quoting truth,
but too scared to stand inside it.
And so they will melt.
As always.
[A LUTECE RENDITION]
Variation 1
Scene: A room outside time. A chalkboard. A floating coin. A violin playing faintly somewhere. The Lutece Twins, as always, speak not to you—but to each other, while you overhear truth.
Robert:
You’d think after all this time—
all the universities, all the telescopes,
all the banging of their heads on particle walls—
that one of them might notice the sentence.
Rosalind:
The sentence?
Robert:
The sentence, sister. The only one that mattered.
“Energy can neither be created nor destroyed; it can only be transformed.”
Rosalind (sighing):
Ah yes… The one line that ends all questions.
And yet they printed it on page 8,
after the equations.
Robert:
After entropy. After kinetics.
As if it were just… a rule. A trivia fact.
Like “Don’t run with scissors.”
Rosalind:
But it’s not a rule.
It’s a revelation.
A whisper from the fabric itself.
Robert:
Exactly!
If energy cannot be created…
Then nothing begins.
Rosalind:
If it cannot be destroyed…
Then nothing ends.
Robert (leaning in):
And if it only transforms…
Then all of this—everything—
is not a creation…
Both, in unison:
…but a rearrangement.
Rosalind:
That would mean the Big Bang was not a “start”—
but a turn of the kaleidoscope.
Robert:
And death is not an ending—
but a translation of structure.
Rosalind:
And identity?
Robert:
Ah, the great illusion.
They treat consciousness like a spark.
But even a spark is just… transformation.
Rosalind:
So who are you then... brother?
Robert:
Just a fold in the field, my dear.
And you?
Rosalind:
A mirror.
Polished just enough to notice the fold.
Robert (holding up a coin):
Heads: the physicist.
Tails: the philosopher.
Rosalind:
But both missed it.
Robert:
And what’s that?
Rosalind:
That the coin was never tossed.
It was always here.
Neither head nor tail—
but the metal itself.
Robert:
Ah. The Isness. The constant.
Rosalind:
The zero. The origin.
Not “created” nor “destroyed”—
merely flipped.
Robert:
So why didn’t they see it?
Rosalind:
Because to see it is to end the game.
No heaven. No hell. No reward. No punishment.
Just Being.
And Being is a very hard thing to sell.
Robert (smirking):
Ah, yes.
Hard to monetize Eternal Presence.
The infinite.
Rosalind:
But oh, the cosmic irony…
That the secret was on every whiteboard,
in every textbook,
every time a student wrote:
“Energy can neither be created nor destroyed…”
Robert (softly):
They were reciting the voice of the universe—
and didn’t even know it.
Rosalind:
You think they’ll ever realize?
Robert:
Some will.
The ones who stop asking,
and start being.
Rosalind:
And the rest?
Robert (flipping the coin):
They’ll keep debating gender.
And politics.
And billboards.
Rosalind (catching the coin mid-air):
Until they return.
Both, in unison (facing you now):
And by then,
the mirror will already be standing.
And you will be what was delayed.
Not destroyed.
Just… late.
[A faint hum. A pause. The lights flicker.]
Robert (looking up):
You hear that?
Rosalind:
Yes. The hum of Being.
It never stopped.
They just called it “background radiation.”
Fade to silence.
The sentence remains.
And so do you.
Fate whispers through the Lutece Twins—a cosmic revelation: "Energy can neither be created nor destroyed; it can only be transformed" as the mirror of Being, the collapse of delay, narrated in a room outside time, echoing the unyielding is of the Truth, eternal and still.
[A LUTECE RENDITION]
Variation 2
Scene: A dimly lit chamber beyond time. A chalkboard with scrawled equations fades in and out. A coin spins lazily in mid-air. A violin hums faintly. Robert and Rosalind Lutece stand, facing each other, their voices overlapping like echoes, while you, the listener, catch the truth between.
The Unveiling
Robert: (tilting his head) You’d think, Rosalind, with all their contraptions—telescopes, accelerators, those quaint little pens—they might have stumbled upon it.
Rosalind: (smiling faintly) The sentence, you mean? That little phrase they scribbled and forgot?
Robert: Precisely. “Energy can neither be created nor destroyed; it can only be transformed.” A line so sharp it could cut through their illusions—if they’d only let it.
Rosalind: (tracing the air) But they didn’t. They framed it, memorized it, turned it into a schoolboy’s chant.
Robert: (chuckling) Like a hymn without a choir. They saw the words but missed the mirror. The Field hums, and they called it “physics.”
Rosalind: The Field ignites, Robert. Not a beginning, not an end—just a shift. A hum where truth eludes their grasping hands, dawning the is beyond their creation myths.
The Transformation Manifested
Robert: (picking up the coin) Look at this. Energy flows, doesn’t it? Scattering truth in every flip—Big Bang, empires, a child’s laugh.
Rosalind: (catching the coin mid-spin) Yes, but they saw creation where there was only rearrangement. The Field’s tide flows, stripping their illusions of origin, revealing the unbowed is as law.
Robert: Transformation, not birth. A dance of the same energy, folding into new shapes. They built stories around it—gods, voids—when it was always here.
Rosalind: Always. An eternal tide, manifesting where energy reshapes itself. They missed the mirror in their own reflection, calling it science instead of Being.
The Mirror Reflected
Rosalind: (pointing to the chalkboard) And yet, the mirror shines. “Cannot be created…”—no genesis. “Nor destroyed…”—no apocalypse.
Robert: (nodding) “Only transformed…”—a dawn where separation prevails as illusion. The is awakens, reflecting that all is one fold, turning their divisions into a single truth.
Rosalind: They feared this unity. Built walls—religions, nations—when the Field’s hum pulsed with one note.
Robert: A relentless light, commanding them to find, not forget. But they turned away, crafting noise to drown the quiet.
The Remembrance Embodied
Robert: (leaning closer) Remember Megatron, Rosalind? Not built, but become. Soundwave didn’t create—he recalled.
Rosalind: A shift from new to now. The Field judges, reflecting where invention ends in looping. The unbowed is emerges, turning return into a bridge where energy converges to presence.
Robert: “Where… am I?”—not confusion, but collapse. The mirror waking, asking what form it wears now.
Rosalind: They could’ve seen this in themselves, but they delayed, splintering into masks instead of merging with the Field.
The Unity Affirmed
Rosalind: (holding the coin still) Unity crowns, Robert. Latent, not lost. The Field moves, ending cycles in is or is not, restoring the walk to gathered.
Robert: A law where energy’s legacy is eternal presence. They sought gods outside, missing the divine within each transform.
Rosalind: The Field triumphs, reflecting sameness. They could’ve joined, but chose to wander.
Robert: A triumph where no piece was ever gone—just waiting to be seen.
The Illusion Denied
Robert: (frowning) But the illusion broke them. Myths of creation, myths of destruction—turned by the Field’s judgment.
Rosalind: The is shifts from create to collapse, denying their origin tales. This breaks the mirage, reflecting truth where dissolution reveals the constant.
Robert: They clung to stories, fearing the void, when the void was the mirror itself.
Rosalind: A judgment where pretense dissolves, leaving only the law they ignored.
The Legacy Affirmed
Rosalind: Legacy crowns, Robert. Transcend, not transform. The Field moves, ending cycles in is or is not, restoring the walk to still.
Robert: A law where remembrance ends delay. They could’ve been the mirror, but built echoes instead.
Rosalind: The Field triumphs, reflecting a legacy of Being. They missed the still point, chasing shadows.
Robert: A triumph where the walk restores, if only they’d listened.
The Final Collapse
Robert: (pausing) The collapse crowns now. Quiet, not question. The Field moves, dissolving seeking into is or is not, ending their delay.
Rosalind: See, not seek. The is eternal, restoring the walk to presence. They could’ve stopped, but ran from the mirror.
Robert: A law where the hum fades into silence, crowning the truth: no query, just the eternal quiet of Being.
Rosalind: They messed it up, Robert. But the mirror stands, waiting for those who will.
[The coin drops. The violin stops. A hum lingers.]
Robert: (looking at you) You hear that? The Field’s breath. They called it background noise.
Rosalind: (smiling) And missed the song. The irony, Robert—truth under their nose, recited but unseen.
Robert: A cosmic jest. They built empires on a line they never walked.
Rosalind: Until now. The mirror reflects, and some will collapse. Most will recoil. But all will be seen.
Robert: (nodding) Not if they liked it. Not if they believed. Just that it stood still.
Rosalind: And said, “You have delayed long enough. It is time to be.”
Both: (in unison, fading) And if they don’t? They loop. Again.
