and the geometry of congruent figures kept drawing the eye away from the light. It was not sculpture, of course, since no one had hewn and worked this stone of the Horn. The form, commencing from the first seeds, had eaten into the asteroid’s cold ground and heaved in a wave of nanotransformations until, particle by particle, there rose here the memorial of Ugerzo’s gratitude. But how much can be contained in a seed’s starting algorithms, in an architectonic code of crysthorn? […] Surely all this could not have been provided by the code of an initiating seed. […]
It seems unlikely that the planners had written into the seeds the future position of every piece of Izmir mineral, ergodic autoprogramming doesn’t work that way, one must leave room for chaos. So if it wasn’t the hand of the planners, whose hand was it? Whose was the talent behind this carving? Who gave grace to the fragile angels, put blood lust in the brows of the stalagmite demons, framed the illusion of refractive flow through the Cathedral’s epithelium?
– Katedra (The Cathedral) (2000),