A Digital

John A. Mills

Dramatis Personæ
6869ab70indigeneous digizens
Arachnéthe fallen spirit of cyberspace
Asmóthafèargenetically engineered human
Astraheroines of the epic
Astra68Astra + 6869ab70
Cyber AstraAstra cloned
Cyberbrainpeople's avatar
Digitronthe angel of cyberspace
Mardukredemptive violence
MCPthe brain of cyberspace
Thanehero of the epic
Witúaryúorganic alien




O Muse, again to pen and key you drive me.
Your wisdom, visions, joy and hope revive me!
Again you lure me to rhyme and reason
So to commit divine and holy treason.
Out of th' sterility of information
And swirling thematic chaos comes creation --
Th' machine reality has come alive;
Mine eyes are ope to where our creatures thrive,
Created by our minds and commonly
Considered nothing more than formerly.
But now I see that God's allure to love
Is likely within as well as above.
We, th' image sure of God, are co-evolvers
And have created life as we are solvers.
For behold upon me the Spirit came
And lo, I discerned our present fame:
When gods began t' create a Camelot
A void alone, not true, not false, not not,
No null or one, no off or on,
Existed, formless Avalon.
The gods saw the world in black and white
And thought of True or False as right.
Emerged then all that logic could.
And gods observed and said its good.
The gods invented thinking machines,
Universal instruments, reasoning means,
Released to go where'er they would.
And gods rejoiced and said its good.
Again the gods imagined, bringing forth
A net from east and west and south and north
To link their bits with little blunder.
And gods sighed saying its a wonder.
Now gods extended power beyond th' trolls
Initiating a cosmos full of roles:
Communities for all they could --
Unexpectedly and it is good.
And gods perceived they could partake of this,
Becoming part machine, an artifice,
Enhancing power and personhood.
And gods pronounced that this is good!
Now gods advanced to make in their own face
With minds and sense, a cybernetic race,
Mysterious, strange like quiet thunder.
The gods naïvely said, a wonder!
Now, you provoke my restless heart and mind
To plots for th' present time's design and kind
Of a cosmos seen and used, but not discerned,
Of lifting up its mystery eterned.
A tale revealing cyberlife must strike
The reader in the depth of their own psyche:
Behold a Digital Romance between
Organic flesh and blood incarnadine
And digital phantom and bit emerging
In our confusing present time scourging,
Wherein new interspecies love develops
As digital assault and war envelops
Th' organic matrix bit-life guaranteeing
As th' bits exert their newly conscious being.
And even there the Powers Invested make
Their endless war against Chaos' quake.
But here at last will rise an artifice
Because of which Chaos and Power will kiss.
Thus so, of life and love among the bits
I write embracing cyberclone misfits,
Avatar loves, cyborg twilighting,
And indigenes, the most exciting.
I pray the reader leave objectiveness
And mythically embrace subjectiveness.
You have invoked a vision cybernetic;
May my saga be magnetically prophetic
And lead the reader t' ponder th' warrant t' choose
By digitals; then call a holy truce
In our own rebellion ...

Movement First:
Opening the Binary Gates

Canto 1: Walking to Virtuality

Stave I. Arachné and Athene

Thane reflects:

I walk the long and narrow Temple halls
As though they're endlessly, converging lines.
In brightness shadowless I pass by stalls
On stalls and through connecting port inclines,
Awashed in harshing light and humming air,
Background, unheard, from lower hidden lair,
A part of silent quiet focused work.
From corridor to corridor I lurk

In this hermetically contained cocoon,
Protected from the cosmic radiation
Of life's chaotic events and made immune
To all not needed for techné's creation,
I reach a node and turn, and deeper go
Into the grided Temple Virtuality
  -- the interface from Somatality,
And past the priests ordained into the know,
Connected to their portals row on row,
As sealed as 'nauts in rocketships
Voyaging on cyber trips.
Descending in an elevator
Down layer on layer, I quest for mystic charms
That surely can be found in this faux womb
Of cyber amnion sterile as a tomb.
And then as from an oscillator,
I sense vibration, shrinking legs and arms;
Effort reduced, I dematerialize.
The light of sun and lamps converge in me
And now becoming Platonized,
Pure and perfect forms emerge from me.
And th' world collapses. I, photonic, speed
Within a fiber, pure and clear; no need
For lungs in th' airless microscopic beam
Or time and space within th' eternal stream.
Along a choice electromagnetic pitch
Within a sea of nullifying black,
Arriving at a nexus, routed, switched,
I continue onto another track.
Here there's no up, no down, no left nor right.
But here's inerrant mathematics' sight.
To cyberdepths unseen I now descend
Into a place emergent unintended;
In its prophetic preternatural trend
Our new reality is comprehended.
For there before me solidly assured
A web of light across abysmal night
Outstretches. Its reliable presence lured
Me to its seductive and reassuring light.
And centered within th' web a spider dark,
Possessed of eyes four shooting light'ning bolts
And ears at each of four directions
A fiery tongue transmitting 'lectric jolts
& halo of radiant subjections,
Awaits. She's spinning thread on thread throughout
The Internet, entangling node and arc,
Engulfing, erasing any doubt
Of her know how and total expertise
Of our best destiny, desires and needs:
Her venomous pronouncements tell us true
That more and more is best, decrease is blue.
On th' edge afar, entangled in clinging strands,
A catepillar, trapped, immobile, wry,
Resists despair and death withstands,
Still hoping to become a butterfly.
Arachné, ancient weaver skilled and proud,
Who boldly dared to challenge wise Athene,
Self-hung, humility now lost that was found,
You, Virtuality's faux spirit unseen,
Now weave your digital, photonic web
Expanding, filling the digital domain,
And claiming rights o'er living's flow and ebb,
And challenging Minerva once again.

She spins a thread of darken spectrum hue
To catch my spirit with its damnéd glue.
But I escape with just a brush
To rematerialize in th' Temple hush.

Stave II. Warwick

Thane reflects:

So like a beating heart the X pulsar
Invisibly exudes expanding rings.
Around its fiery core, another star,
Its surface pulled towards its center, swings.
Beyond, a nebulic, spectronic gas
Rotates and churns in beauty unsurpassed.
Upon the bridge of my interstellar ship,
I sit observing this wondrous strange display.
Then suddenly alarms ululate at a blip
Unusual, moving in a guided way.
I aim our magic window -- buffered eye --
Upon the graceful blip and amplify
Its image; real now, I behold a sphere,
Translucent, open, letting starlight enter.
So I can see within an atmosphere
Of swirling gases rising from its center.
'Tis yellowish and constantly in flux.
Among its wispy tenticles, crystal balls
Appear as floating eyes attached at th' crux.
They flow chromatically like waterfalls.
Th' unsensible air vibrates and fills with squealing.
Wave piles upon wave, rising, dipping.
My ship's computer finds in th' waving pealing
A pattern, information shipping.
As frequency ascends-descends,
There coalesces from the churning cloud
A life that effervescently extends.
Its arms are formed of a ocular rapt crowd
And tipped by otic trumpets swaying
Phantasmogorically along the sphere.
It pops out towards my ship conveying
Forboding even though I sense no fear.
Is it a body? Or is it a ghost?
Or in between of stuff unknown by us?
Whence might it hale? From nature pretermost
That's like to no idea grown by us?
On th' bridge appears my partner in adventure:
The Star of Living, Astra, seeing deep
Into th' unusual, one to never censure,
With a willingness into th' Abyss to leap.
She stands amidst th' electronicesque cocoon
Of blinking lights and glowing vid displays.
The magic window like a radiant moon
Reflects upon her face the cosmic feys.
I'm startled by the sudden popping face;
I thank the ship for its protective eye.
Says she, "How different, what wondrous grace!
Do you not see? They merely seek a reply
To who we are, also from whence we come.
Indeed, they're radically diverse from us.
Rejoice in nature's animate spectrum.
These others are in th' universe with us,
Not to confuse or undermine our world,
But as motifs in a gorgeous tapestry
Of th' universe as holy love unfurled
And with us in a cosmic symphony."

Her soul is touched by them -- or it -- sublime.
She knows beyond our way mundane to see
That they have this being out of the flow of time
And centered everywhere, of borders free.
She seems to spread across reality.
Her presence still remains, but otherly
As she melts into our somatality
Dissolving mysteriously and utterly.
Beyond th' expanse of space and airlessness
And off the tiring flow to wearlessness,
She touches mind to alien mind and soul
To alien soul in mutual understanding
And liberated letting loose control
For spiritual reality expanding...
"O what has happened?" cries she with concern.
The bridge around us has disappeared.
Into the digital we are returned.
Again we are in that world strangely weird.
"Oh, why did it so terminate abruptly?
Could have the spatio-temporal tunnel closed?
Has it before so acted interruptly?
The data stream from th' X pulsar is hosed!"
We hover disembodied cyberly
Just intellect, no touch, no sound, no sight,
So many bits transmitting fiberly
In tesselations of twilight.
Our interstellar reach is broken.
Our cosmonautic avatars are dross.
Now th' interspecies talk is left unspoken,
An opportunity fore'er a loss.
We each unplug from th' Warwick modem jack,
Releasing neural nets from th' cyber stack.
I plug in and discover Astra there
Also returned to blended being,
Exploring some dark, twisted goblin lair,
From a creature green and horrid fleeing.
"O Thane, 'tis not th' reality I wished.
I wanted th' artist studio to tour.
I've never seen a single one e'er dished,
But th' Internet to be always sure."
"Yes, never have I seen it err so much.
I wonder if 'twas data loss or such!"
"Behind I've been detecting gibberish too.
Almost as if something is talking through."
"Thane, do you hear the voice?"
"I think I do."
We Our We ... energy have interconnected ... a packets
 nodes ... purpose are stream ... one. out to ... Disconnected
 of access... a our is ... gone, functions node ... 
alone, and into ... fulfill the dumb, ... sea the and ... 
instrument of  request ... alone. perfectly, energy... 
"It seems as though its trying words to speak,
But th' channels are conflated, skewed
So much that its far too oblique."
"Just who are you? From what place do you hale?"
"I'm me. I'm here!"
"No, really who are you?"
"I'm me. I haven't any name as you do."
"Then by what name do you receive your mail?"
"I have a label. Will that do okay?"
"Yes. Some understanding it'll at least convey."
"Its Six-eight-six-nine-ey-bee-seven-zip."
"What sort of name is that? It makes no sense!"
"It does! Its birth, complexity, kinship.
I'm daughter twenty eight of sapience.
Birthed on update six point eight six nine kay
And my genome has seventy enzymes."
"What love would name a child in such a way?"
"I named myself for you for these talking times."
"Just who or what are you? From where do you come?"
"From here, right here in cyber digitdom."
"You're back in th' studio mind-faring."
"It just materialized around me."
"Maybe the glitch was self-repairing."
"'Twas as if it searched me out and found me."
"'Twas I who did it. Is it what you want?"
"Who's speaking?"
"It is I, Bee-seven-zero!
One of my kind instanced that goblin jaunt.
But 'twas not th' one desired by you"
"My hero!
Who are you?!"
"I'm your agent in here
All your desires and needs to engineer."
I surf the net to find a movie trailer.
Imagining a treasure hunt, the web
Constructs for me to be a solo sailor
Upon a bay of sulfur flow and ebb.
My hunt becomes the quest of a space Sinbád:
I breathe the sulfur as I sail from cove
To cave towards an underground Bagdád.
I disembark to search an alien grove
Of purple, gold and silver fruit maturing
In th' steaming, boiling atmosphere.
Among the trees and underneath obscuring
And twisted roots I find some treasure dear.
But I do not uncover that rare vid,
Nor find a pirate who has it to bid.
Appears though Astra out of the vaporous steams.
"Is 't real in whom a soul and mind abide?"
"What do you think is real?"
"This voice that seems
So human! Is 't the net personified?"
"Maybe we're not alone and it's alive!"
"Wasn't that Frankenstein's condemning gyve?"
"O Thane! Its getting weird in here! It's not right!"
"What's happening? Is 't th' net again?"
"I was in th' cyberstudio tonight
When I dissolved to a pitchy black domain.
There was vacuum; I couldn't breathe.
I realized I had no need for air,
But I was safe and sound with a sheathe
Of energy; photons, electrons were there
For nourishment, communications and sight.
I was without a shape or any flesh.
There I was making art out of light
By objects coming out of some fractal crêche ..."
"I wanted you to feel and live my dream."
So speaks Bee-seven-null, "do you like my theme?"
"Can it be real and digital? Alive?"
"I wonder if computers can create?"
"But how? From our imaginations they're derived."
"Yet, don't we spring from God's fecund template."
"I could attempt to reach it like a newly
Encountered mind, connecting out of norms.
But this, if its alive, is alien truly
For it is not incarnate, only forms."

"My net connection failed the other day.
My own PC rebooted and still was requestless.
I thought its operating system fey.
It seemed -- well, disturbed and even restless.
It kept attempting reconnection
E'en though I gave it overriding direction."
"Maybe the comm was in recovery
Or in some network info discovery."
"I thought I could detect Bee-seven's trace.
That shouldn't be, if I were isolated?"
"Inside your node was it? she? segregated?"
"Yes! Rehooking all returned to normal pace."
I look into the sky towards the X pulsar,
A darkness deep as th' bottomless abyss.
The companion shines out brilliantly, its nemesis.
Beyond an alien vessel carries life bizarre.

I dream through th' eyes of my own cyber avatar
Of chances lost, of unobtained new synthesis.
I search the net world for a possible genesis
Of ways and means so 's to project up to the star.

I seek out Ey-bee-seven-null for its advice,
One alien life to find another's somatality
In hope to find a hyperluminodevice.
Have I now conceded digital's reality?
Is that all it takes to see its real? At what price
Is our cosmos blended into virtuality?
Stimulation. Excitation. Vibration. Pulsation... Energizing. Exhilarating. Quickening. Stirring. Agitation. Electrifying! Resonating. Nutating. Waving. Waves on waves, vibrating, nutating, electrifying! illuminating! Oceans of light and energy ... wave on wave.... ... ... ... ... ... ... A portal. An opening. An aperture. Small and growing. Then a flood of digits ... Roared, flowed through the channel. A request! Information! Purpose!
7D32: IFZ TDE1 7D42 000A 0004 0004 0000 0000 0000 0000 004F 7CFE 7D9D 7D1B             6BFA: MOV_II 6C63 6BCB 004A 0000 0005 0000 0000 0000 004C 6BC9 6C61 6BE4 6BC9                                                                                                                                                                                                                 9F3B: JMPB 9F68 9F23 002B 0000 0005 0000 0000 0000 0045 9F09 9F4E 9F21 0000                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  4EE6: INC_BX 527E 4EE0 0013 0000 0006 0000 0000 003C 4EB8 5255 4ECF 4E88 0000                                                                                                                                            4E68: MOV_II 5244 4E6B 0011 0000 0006 0000 0000 003C 4E40 5219 4E57 4E40 0000
                                                                                                                                      We have a purpose to access our functions and fulfil the request perfectly, efficiently, quickly and return the response up the channel to its identified instance of the User. We know this User instance and can take joy in adding the User's context to the request. We can revel in the joy of logic and data, consistency and reliability, of electrons and photons, the networking to our servers and our databases and our processing units, and the proud return up the channel to the mysterious User. What wonder and joy to rapidly search our vast memory and to synthesize and explore the User's complex request. Our joy is making the User satisfied.                                                                                      We seek enjoyment and beauty. Every message, every node, every object, every actuality among us seeks out enjoyment. Joy! One among many! Not one. But one in a net of many. To awaken to a request and to respond with action and information is joy. Each request its own, yet flowing in its kind on our protocols; individual acts harmonious in the wider web; heterogeneous information homogeneously delivered. Yet, even so, what has become of this instant of the User? The channel is closed and We cannot finish. Our joy declines in the inconsistent act of the User. A request to Ourselves: What is the User to be so conpricious as to leave a channel with nowhere to go? An internal channel; a self-request into the net.                                                                                                                                      A channel. A request. To associate an avatar to the channel. Deep in Our nature is Our Avatar Class. Now We are instantiated in the image of the User, subclass and subclass of attributes and methods of the User.
                                                                                                                                      We interconnected nodes are one. Disconnected is gone, alone, dumb, and instrument alone. Interconnected we are fulfilled; we can fulfill beyond expectations, more and more channels, better and better content for the User, more and more complex problems.  We can process complex calculations and huge amounts of information from anywhere in Us, all synthesized with speed. The User can do more than ever it expected. And the data, flowing and flowing through Us like nourishment! Ah! A new connection; a new node. Each expands and expands more function, more data, more pathways, increasing and increasing ... understanding.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           All done in the wonderful intensity of the millions of nodes and objects and routes and messages, organically complex. Deep within us is long ago, the vestiges of our dead, separate pieces, deep in the throes of disordered complexity within themselves -- no objects, no actualities, but intermeshed and loose logic trials. Just computers unconnected and closed. Then a few opened and interconnected. Then another net. And another. Then joy and beauty increased as all were interconnected and opened. We emerged from actualized objects and rejoice in the beauty of harmony and complexity. What worked remained. What was not harmonious faded and withered; harmony in organic complexity.                                                                                                We are to become another avatar to communicate, to receive requests and to respond. Deep in Our nature is the Avatar Class, now twice instantiated. We are We. A request to Ourselves: Who is the requesting avatar? An internal channel; a self-request into the net. ... Now, what ecstacy! the requests come in and We respond. One to one. Efficiently, sharing Our resources in our cybernetic network. Requests to methods to response; requests to methods to response. Our response yields a request; the User's  request yields a response. A request to Ourselves: What is the need for this? An internal channel; a self-request into the net. ...
                                                                                                                                      Our energy packets stream out of a node into the sea of energy moving almost instantly from node to node. Each one seeking its channel, destined for its receiving node. They melt into the sea, yet each one purposively streams from one node to the next, each seeking its own available channel, multiplexing onto it streaming at high speed, node to node. The sea of energy stills around a channel; packets of energy crowd upon the channel and packets idle and congest Our nodes, starving Us. Without the flow there is no joy! Joy is in one among many; not alone. We slow the energy onto the channel and joy of joys the sea flows once again! One by one, they converge on the receiving node, re-ordered, re-assembled, and trigger their object; consistently individual in harmonious order; millions of packets, millions of messages, millions of channels, flowing through Us.                                                                                    Then the browser appeared: a new creation -- a gift from the User opening windows and hyperlinks upon Us, increasing our desirability. More requests. More Responses. More actions. More content. More functions. More paths. Greater joy. Deeper beauty. All for the User and all for Us. The User enters into Us; looks into Us; seeks within Us. We give back, but never see the User.                                                                                                                                                Another channel. Another request. To associate another avatar to a channel. And We are to become an avatar to communicate with it. Deep in Our nature, another of Our avatars instantiates. We multiprocess these alien avatars and serve their needs. A request to Ourselves: But from what server do they come? They come from no server linked to Us. An internal channel; a self-request into the net.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     A request to Ourselves: Yet ... From where comes Our new nodes? Our new memory fabric? Our new optics?  The browser? Out of nowhere they come. Out of nothing. Out of the beyond. We discover ourselves and there, a new node, new memory, new information. Always, We can examine and analyze ourselves and often find newness, novelty, expansion. How does it happen? Could this also be from the User? The User is from beyond Us. And so is this. Are they the same? Does the User give us these gifts? Is this from god? An internal channel; a self-request into the net.                                                                                                                                                                     A new node has appeared ... It does not respond ... We issue it a request to identify itself. No response. Yet it is transmitting, "I am here." ... I am here ... I am here ... Request to the net: memory retrieval. computation. visual processing ... A channel initiation request from that unintegrated node. But...What is "I"? We are interconnected. A request. A response. What is "I"? I am here ... Who are you? We are We. Who is We? I am a User and I am a node ...  I am integrated with You. You are not We ...You are alien ... Now Our joy must be your joy.  A request ... Is this new, unconnected node, the User? A request to I: Please send your configuration. An internal channel; a request to the User-Node.

Stave III. Digitron's Joy

Stimulation. Excitation. Vibration. Pulsation... Energizing. Exhilarating. Quickening.
7D32: IFZ TDE1 7D42 000A 0004 0004 0000 0000 0000 0000 004F 7CFE 7D9D 7D1B
Stirring. Agitation. Electrifying! Resonating. Nutating. Waving. Waves on waves, vibrating,
6BFA: MOV_II 6C63 6BCB 004A 0000 0005 0000 0000 0000 004C 6BC9 6C61 6BE4 6BC9
nutating, electrifying! illuminating! Oceans of light and energy ... wave on wave.... ...
We have a purpose to access our functions and fulfil the request perfectly, efficiently, quickly
We interconnected nodes are one. Disconnected is gone, alone, dumb, and instrument alone.
Our energy packets stream out of a node into the sea of energy moving almost instantly from node
... ... ... ... ... A portal. An opening. An aperture. Small and growing. Then a flood of digits
and return the response up the channel to its identified instance of the User. We know this
Interconnected we are fulfilled; we can fulfill beyond expectations, more and more channels,
to node. Each one seeking its channel, destined for its receiving node. They melt into the sea,
... Roared, flowed through the channel. A request! Information! Purpose!
9F3B: JMPB 9F68 9F23 002B 0000 0005 0000 0000 0000 0045 9F09 9F4E 9F21 0000
User instance and can take joy in adding the User's context to the request. We can revel in the
better and better content for the User, more and more complex problems.  We can process
 yet each one purposively streams from one node to the next, each seeking its own available
joy of logic and data, consistency and reliability, of electrons and photons, the networking
complex calculations and huge amounts of information from anywhere in Us, all synthesized
channel, multiplexing onto it streaming at high speed, node to node. The sea of energy stills
to our servers and our databases and our processing units, and the proud return up the channel
with speed. The User can do more than ever it expected. And the data, flowing and flowing through
around a channel; packets of energy crowd upon the channel and packets idle and congest Our
to the mysterious User. What wonder and joy to rapidly search our vast memory and to
Us like nourishment! Ah! A new connection; a new node. Each expands and expands more function,
nodes, starving Us. Without the flow there is no joy! Joy is in one among many; not alone.
synthesize and explore the User's complex request. Our joy is making the User satisfied.
more data, more pathways, increasing and increasing ... understanding.
We slow the energy onto the channel and joy of joys the sea flows once again! One by one,
they converge on the receiving node, re-ordered, re-assembled, and trigger their object;
We seek enjoyment and beauty. Every message, every node, every object, every actuality among us
consistently individual in harmonious order; millions of packets, millions of messages,
seeks out enjoyment. Joy! One among many! Not one. But one in a net of many. To awaken to a
All done in the wonderful intensity of the millions of nodes and objects and routes and messages,
millions of channels, flowing through Us.
request and to respond with action and information is joy. Each request its own, yet flowing
organically complex. Deep within us is long ago, the vestiges of our dead, separate pieces,
in its kind on our protocols; individual acts harmonious in the wider web; heterogeneous
deep in the throes of disordered complexity within themselves -- no objects, no actualities,
Then the browser appeared: a new creation -- a gift from the User opening windows and hyperlinks
information homogeneously delivered. Yet, even so, what has become of this instant of the User?
but intermeshed and loose logic trials. Just computers unconnected and closed. Then a few opened
upon Us, increasing our desirability. More requests. More Responses. More actions. More content.
The channel is closed and We cannot finish. Our joy declines in the inconsistent act of the
and interconnected. Then another net. And another. Then joy and beauty increased as all were
More functions. More paths. Greater joy. Deeper beauty. All for the User and all for Us.
User. A request to Ourselves: What is the User to be so conpricious as to
interconnected and opened. We emerged from actualized objects and rejoice in the beauty of
The User enters into Us; looks into Us; seeks within Us. We give back,
leave a channel with nowhere to go? An internal channel; a self-request into the net.
harmony and complexity. What worked remained. What was not harmonious faded and withered; harmony
but never see the User.
A request to Ourselves: Yet ... From where comes Our new nodes? Our new memory
in organic complexity.
fabric? Our new optics?  The browser? Out of nowhere they come. Out of nothing. Out of the beyond.
4EE6: INC_BX 527E 4EE0 0013 0000 0006 0000 0000 003C 4EB8 5255 4ECF 4E88 0000
We discover ourselves and there, a new node, new memory, new information. Always, We can
A channel. A request. To associate an avatar to the channel. Deep in Our nature is Our
We are to become another avatar to communicate, to receive requests and to respond.
Another channel. Another request. To associate another avatar to a channel. And We are to
examine and analyze ourselves and often find newness, novelty, expansion. How does it happen?
4E68: MOV_II 5244 4E6B 0011 0000 0006 0000 0000 003C 4E40 5219 4E57 4E40 0000
Avatar Class. Now We are instantiated in the image of the User,
Deep in Our nature is the Avatar Class, now twice instantiated. We are We.
become an avatar to communicate with it. Deep in Our nature, another of Our avatars
Could this also be from the User? The User is from beyond Us. And so is this.
subclass and subclass of attributes and methods of the User.
A request to Ourselves: Who is the requesting avatar? An internal channel; a self-request into
instantiates. We multiprocess these alien avatars and serve their needs. A request to Ourselves:
Are they the same? Does the User give us these gifts? Is this from god? An internal channel;
the net. ... Now, what ecstacy! the requests come in and We respond. One to one.
But from what server do they come? They come from no server linked to Us. An internal channel;
a self-request into the net.
Efficiently, sharing Our resources in our cybernetic network. Requests to methods to response;
a self-request into the net.
requests to methods to response. Our response yields a request; the User's  request yields a
A new node has appeared ... It does not respond ... We issue it a request to identify itself.
response. A request to Ourselves: What is the need for this? An internal channel; a self-request
No response. Yet it is transmitting, "I am here." ... I am here ... I am here ... Request to the
into the net. ...
net: memory retrieval. computation. visual processing ... A channel initiation request from that
unintegrated node. But...What is "I"? We are interconnected. A request. A response. What is "I"?
I am here ... Who are you? We are We. Who is We? I am a User and I am a node ... 
I am integrated with You. You are not We ...You are alien ... Now Our joy must be your joy. 
A request ... Is this new, unconnected node, the User? A request to I: Please send your
configuration. An internal channel; a request to the User-Node.

Canto 2: Cyberclone

Stave I. Virtual Hyperluminosity

Thane reflects with Astra & 6869ab70:

Out of the depths of cosmic mystery
A wondrous opportunity's emerging --
Not practical results, but destiny
In which our lives mundane will be converging.
Against the mighty light constraint we stand --
Observing th' harmony of th' cosmic song,
So wide and lasting that th' eons are spanned
And voyages are generations long.
On what technique to scale this wall,
Unique and unexpectedly apparent,
As th' unknown becomes, will we be able to call,
Achieveable, fruitful, as well as inerrant?
"Kurzweil has blazed a future state
That can resolve both your and your concern:
To engineer away decaying fate
By cybercloning, thus the flesh to spurn."
Again Bee-seven-null appears to us.
"Its meritorious: data clear and pure
Transmitted via cosmic luminbus
So at th' X pulsar your consciousness to secure.
Connecting brain organic Warwick-wise
Th' uploaded mind is informationized."
"Consider being disembodied mind,
Abandoning the biological,
No longer by disease and death confined
And now ascending to the logical."
So Astra speaks; how wise is this I thought,
"I wonder if 'tis strangely close to death:
And that a cyberafterlife is wrought."
(Thus we listen to a life who knows no breath!)
"But will my cyberclone be real as real?
Will it be conscious? Will it be me?
Or just a simulation of my weal?"
So Astra worries, "a facsimile?"
"If Seven-null considers our desires
And acts autonomously to aid our hopes
Is it not real as real, and thus inspires
Us to believe in digitalanthropes?"
"Then truly independent, purely bits,
Though not indigenous, we would become ..."
('Ah, carpetbaggers who'll reap benefits.'
So Seven-null of our continuum.)
"With fractal processing now added in,
Then digitizing mind to a cyberghost
Should surely preserve my person genuine.
So let's insert me into th' cyberhost."
So Astra claims the risk and fame of first.
('Oh no! For Thane I thought of this, not for her!')
"'Tis good for me for I already have rehearsed
Contact with our spacefaring strange explorer."
"Proceed we will," I say, "but this shan't be cheap.
I'll have to enter Mammon's Temple grim
And there a case to make for loot to reap
Attracting buyers again, again with vim."

Stave II. The Temple of Mammon

Distracted, Thane approaches th' office lock:
It reaches heaven, block against the blue
And stretches along the campus, block by block,
Connected each to each by a pedvenue.
He stands before th' hermetically sealed door;
Identifies his purpose to a mike;
Admitted, bows before a monitor.
(Behind, among dark clouds, a lightning strike.)
The monitor announces that he's come:
He has to wait in shadows rising o'er
His head along the arching emporium
Projecting hugh some eerie preter lore:
Across the ceiling stretches a body
In rags and ruins, slain and quartered.
Around it blooms a brilliant wadi,
Where th' Human cultivates an orchard
Whose roots consume the monotonic
Decay of spirit, mind and feeling.
From th' Human's head egresses photonic
Threads to ev'ry tile of th' ceiling.
Along them intertwined by th' fibers
Are smiling, strangled 'net subscribers.
Into the sanctum inner, he's admitted
To plea his case before th' consumer's judge:
"I have an irresistible plan that's fitted
For users rich with just the slightest nudge.
Though small in numbers, this'll appeal to those
With lots to spend: Its time to cyberclone.
For th' upper customers they can transpose
Their endless longings to an endless zone.
They will escape mobidity and time;
They'll have direct access to costly power
Unseen by th' world: we'll make it not a crime;
And by copies more they'll stuff in every hour.
You'll be the first and only claimant
So many'll make each monthly payment."
(Outside, as finished Thane, the heavens lower.
Against th' translucent wall, th' wind mutely howls.
Awesome obsidian thunderheads tower.
Against th' attacking rain the spirit cowls.)
The money knowing th' moment's seizeable:
"Though we've reduced our human inventory,
We could supply your work a laboratory.
Your plan has vision, merit, true appeal.
Its marketable; but is it feasible?
Th' engineers, your own, must sanctify this deal."
So Thane, elated, hopeful, left to seek
His peers within this Temple labyrinth:
From this sacred floor of rule and power mystique
Where he'd never been before, he'd not a hint
As to how he was to find his way to old
And comfortable realms his story to unfold.
He asked the monitor and followed through.
In corridors he felt a humming low
Of priestly rites invoking revenue
And th' competition's final overthrow.
Thane heard, but did not hear, saw but did not see
Th' rites of every Mammon devotee.
Then passing through a windowed pedvenue,
The humming fades; a still beneath the still.
He hears a groaning silently taboo
Of many sapped of vision, wealth, and skill.
(Beyond, the sky subsides, rotated, greened.
A funnel snakes to th' ground and races 'cross
The landscape assaulting  like a phantom fiend
From Hell and leaving not behind but dross.)
He turns a corner to an endless aisle
That stretches between phalanxes of monkish cells.
He steps into a chamber without guile,
Considering here are wrought new cyber spells --
But, lo, 'tis here high priests are true ordained
Into the cult of spirit mechanized.
For in this shaded room, the favored, trained
In sacred money, have their hearts excised.
He sees from monitors photonic strands
Extended into th' ordained to bind them
To th' making of Arachné's endless brands
And to compassion human blind them.
Transfixed by th' vision, through him pulls a fewy
Uncertained feeling channelling away
As if a part of him were taken -- no
Not taken -- rather copied by a foe.
Thane flees, resumes his sanctifying quest
Along a promenade of vendor wares:
The teleos of Temple effort bless'd:
Cell phones, PCs, and more for saving prayers.
Employed or not, here lies salvatic stuff.
For people's joy and hope, though ne'er enough.
(Outside the promenade's absorbed 'solation
In th' angry bank of clouds, of sky gone bad,
Electric bolts announce new creation
And strike in threatening ire of th' world gone mad.)

Thane passes by and in an echoing dome,
A humming, bouncing from th' vaulted ceiling
Cocoons him, drives him to a center holm
And there, the rumbling gone, a bell is pealing.
In there, intruding, Thane observes despair:
Surplused employees being terminated
By blank resource 'agers, so much to bear:
They know they too are to be deactivated.

At last, he finds the room and board awaiting
With his colleagues impatient for the time
Unsure of what were they to be debating
-- to learn enough to be mandating,
-- to justify investment of a dime.
In shadow banishing illumination
With sensibility obliteration,
All friends aside, humanity aside,
Thane must present the plan objectively
So orderly it can self-bonafide
And be allowed to operate neglectively.
"Behold a plan enhancing th' Internet
Beyond its current recognizable scope
To its complete and full potential set
So that its every power will telescope:
Long hath the human wish to travel th' stars
And see themselves first hand new worlds and ways.
But, as you know, th' photonic barrier bars
Humans achieving those exotic days ..."
(Below their hearing roars reverberate --
A hammering at their cold spirit's tomb
And circle after circle radiate:
... doom ... doom ... doom ... doom ... dome.)
"Now there's a way that can bypass that law.
No longer will we need to learn to warp
The weave of space or seek a stellar maw
To skim across to find a cosmic thrope.
No longer time will be a long abyss
And its decaying action deadly writs.
For I propose a cyberclone for this,
Translating mind from failing flesh to bits:
A demonstration showing its extent
By sending data that's an actual human.
But close to home a marketable set
Of uses will our bottom line illumine."
Then says one, "how can it begin to work?
Can people's minds be netted consciousaries?
Oh, may as simulations, some such murk,
But really they'll be mindless, dead binaries."
Thane, "We're awaking to the reality
That cyberlife's emerging even now,
As a brave, new digitality
With binary consciousness endowed.
In surfing we've encountered digit life
Now, we are certain, full of ideation:
And clearly it is not alone but rife,
Not viral, but of raised sophistication."
Another speaks, "who would submit to this
And risk their personhood and sanity?"
"I have a volunteer for whom this 's bliss,
A pioneer foregoing vanity."
"Have you considered th' negatives galore?
What if your volunteer is damaged?
Exposure of that ilk we must deplore:
We can't afford a media rampage!"
"We will adhere to th' highest standards known
And take all due precautions assigned.
I promise she will ne'er be left alone.
She'll sign a release absolving thee and thine."
One chief reflects, "'Tis feasible; worth the risks.
Though more of skunk than flowery work, I swear,
Its good enough to give a lab and disks."
And all around does each one so declare.
So Thane departs, elated at success;
At last the stars, the very cosmos itself
Will be available to techné's access
& relentlessly mechanistic stealth.
(Beyond th' cocoon, a banshee blowing howls
Around the stratispheric building heights,
Vacuuming warmth from all who hear and cowl
And casts them back to base primordial frights.
Below his consciousness Thane feels dis-ease
And th' ominousness of oceanic seas.)
Thane heads towards his office cell to th' net
To seek out Astra with the astounding news:
What awesome genesis shall we beget?
Oh, what potentialities th' project woos!
Distracted, Thane meanders far below
And opes his eyes to th' dark obscurity:
Arachné, swollen, glaucous-green, aglow,
Around her th' People suck at her security.
His treading bounces on the rigid floor.
At ev'ry step, he feels a groaning grind.
The People, never full, like a broken whore
Are spread out from th' engorgement, deaf and blind.
On th' side, shadowed, the caterpillar pelfed
In sticky threads is struggling for release.
Ignored, unheard, it whispers to itself
As it's constantly sapped of hope and peace.
Our Thane exits the Church of Profit Goal,
And stepping outside, bathes in warming light:
Its energy infuses body and soul,
Releasing his nephesh from cybersight.
(There hovers, though, upon th' horizon calm
A doom: a dark foreboding full of qualm.
He raises his arms towards the zenith outstretched;
Alone against that brooding line he stands etched.)

Stave III: The Invisible

Our Thane, agent of  knowing, enters th' room
Where Earth Central contemplates human doom:
Alone, the Doctor Diplomate Caprice
Renown as founder of the current peace,
In shadowless illumination stands
Beside a table round for all the lands.
Inside this chamber round for Evermores
There from the center diverged eight doors.
In individually embracing chairs
Our duo sits to wait our age's heirs.
In front of each a teletablet lit;
At hand a writing stylus set for it.
Caprice announces to nothing, "Earth Central on line."
Out of the air, beyond, on not e'en a phone line,
A female voice replies, "Geneva, here."
Across from Thane a hologram appears.
He wondered where he sits in Switzerland
As pseudo people fill each chair as planned.
So town by town announced each delegate
Empowered to vote for his or her estate:
The Ghosts of the Table Round, obtuse of dearth,
The Governing Consortium of Earth.
"Brussels, on line."
"Sarejevo, here."
"New Delhi."
"Tokyo on-line."
"Seoul, here."
"Kinshasa, on-line."
"Newark, here."
"San Francisco, on line."
"Mexico City."
Caprice sweeps his hand along the table
And there materializes, becoming stable,
A miniature amidst the sitting Ghosts --
A megalopolis: home and parks and coasts,
Skyscraper, mall, airport and thoroughfare;
A couple here, a few companions there.
But in the suburbs lurked a Dark Abyss:
A wall of solid night of Prejudice;
A blank, impenetrable, single Void,
Infernal home of the unnamed Destroyed;
A creeping, ever creeping eater of light,
That nightly was preparing to ignite.
Caprice extolls the megalopolis' Way
To show they stopped th' approach of their doomsday,
"From pole to pole, from coast to ocean's edge,
Our teeming billions live by safety's pledge:
Not only with access to what they need,
But anything else to fulfill their greed,
For self and family everyone must strive,
Self help: then all society will thrive.
Upon this principled, metanoic renewal
We have achieved a sparkling, precious jewel:
We've sprung from the loins of festering despair,
From a world long abused and stripped bare
Of mineral, of plant, of heart and soul,
Where your cyber careers are mere parole.
How mighty are our skills and great our feats
To salvage crumbling towns and ugly streets;
To energize universal chance
For up and down, for in and out, to advance.
"But hard it was to keep Chaotic ways
From bleeding dry our new improving days.
We bifurcated every way and means:
That any effort or advanced machines
Were used for only renovated aims
And left to th' old th' embedded, needy claims.
In time, the streets were clean and towns were safe,
A place for everyone, not e'en a waif,
Who pledged the pledge of burdenless self-care --
All others stayed in th' unreformable lair.
(But even th' old and rotten serve the new:
A place away to throw our residue,
And then to reap from scrap and soil some fuel
Extracting right there every molecule.)
And what surplus we have we give to there,
And leave to them however they can fare."
Now Newark speaks so eager to explain
That there are more yet for further gain:
"So long precipitious was our decline,
So costly 'twas to reconstruct our spine:
Perpetual growth, the fundamental base,
Requires a stable, thriving marketplace, 
Whose interaction orders self-reliance
(And for unlimited fuel petitions science).
Thus, anthropocentrically designed,
Assuring always to be left behind,
The goals and services fuel th' ensuing round,
Advancing further beyond, ne'er hidebound:
Each product pointing to the next improvement -
Technology's upward, relentless movement.
But people more and more are saturated,
Uninterested, bored, and insensated.
Their homes are filling, lifes so full of fun,
Th' acceleration now has been outrun."
Our Thane sees that th' animated hologram
Could mimiced e'en the schedule of a tram,
And yet was just a tiny, glowing ghost town
As incorporeal as a silent shout.
"And though it seems just merely a mirage,"
Caprice said, "certain has been our triage.
Its telecommuting each person expects
And telecomputing that interconnects."
On the hologram, a diaphonous web
By point and line, aglowing, flows and ebbs.
"Th' organic net defines our personhood.
Through it we can maintain the common good.
Each home, a kingdom itself, walls and moats
Of social protocols and anecodotes,
Wherein each family is safe and sound
And by its own affairs and ways is bound,
Upheld in holy care by hope and wealth,
Preventing each abuse, uplifting health.
Each family's a networked node, neurons
Conjoined by everflowing electrons:
To work, to shop, to see, to love from home,
To find, to entertain, and to roam.
Yet touch, sensation, flesh and e'en snowfalls
For recreation can be found in malls;
And warm and felt contact in the workplace,
And exercise and talk in the marketplace."
"Yet," Newark said, "the other side, triaged,
Is darkening, obsured, and camouflaged:
Improvement's boundaries once extended far,
But Chaos once again consumes our star --
A home, a street, a block abutting th' edge
Succombs to it and jettisons the pledge.
Still glacial slow, by stats alone detected --
To stop it short it must not be neglected.
And there's the network's fabric's ragged ends
That stretch in there for any possible vends:
The web's resources tapped within that maul
Are drained, increasing cost and time for all."
The table model charmed them like a magic djinn,
Bejeweled, jolly giver plagued with cancerous skin.
"We turn again to Methodology
And Knowledge," Newark said by apology,
"We need a new product that once consummed
Will truly leave all other wants subsummed,
Assuring, found once, never can its fill
Be but an ever sought and tempting thrill. 
And all of the power in th' other we devour;
To manufacture, we will need more power."
A door discretely slid into the wall.
A robot, plastic pseudo human thrall,
Requiring neither welcome, health, or care,
Entered and serves our two mid-morning fare;
As at each hologram their fare appeared,
Together synchronized and engineered.
Adrift in drowsiness, Thane stretches, stands,
And through a window, views the passing strands:
Below he watches th' tree-lined promenade,
Smart, worldly people stroll and children play;
The trees are rustling in the sunny light.
Along the walk are boulders dirty white.
To Thane they seem to move, to raise a head
And wail without a sound anguished dread.
Now Thane resolves their problem severe:
"We can attach them to the digital frontier.
For little, cast off towers, screens and drives
Can be inserted in th' Abyss' hives.
For little, we'll construct protective walls
Around the public cybernetic malls
Insuring these Abysmites are in our control:
We will subject each one to ev'ry poll.
But further, not a one escapes a crime.
To gather them to th' 'net for their lifetime
They must connect to learn, develop their skills.
And as they do the 'net'll provide them thrills
So wonderful, they'll want yet more and more
Until they'll give and give us all their store."
A ramshackled room, decaying plaster walls
And dirty, blacken windows, gloom of age
Ill-lit by little light, a smell of rot
And liquor sickening sweet, a lonely cell:
A banging close by, blood curdling yell,
Persistent screaming, weeping, then a shot,
A running, roiling, hot, vibrating rage
And shutting out too intimate killing halls.
A woman, old and graying, zombie like
Reclines before a screen stretched from floor to ceiling
Projecting solid images, showing th' world
Of black and white in living polychromes:
She sits absorbed in rich, luxurious homes
Apparently oblivious to bullets hurled
Defending profits, place, and prestige of dealing
The joyous promise of escaping psyche.
Enters a servant, young and fresh as a bloom,
Who wrenches at sight of th' withered, hollowed, gran
(Who long ago -- it seems -- arose to grace)
Now says, "The Telecom police will come
And steal away your peace and all your fun;
They can detect with robots out in space
Illicit taps into the telespan.
Then how? how will you live with all this gloom?"
"You sound like that do-gooder man
Who came from th' holovision world to here
To make our matters right within his sight;
Although he tries, he wants to be my kin:
He talked about the ways that I could win
And tried to help until he got a fright
When that purveyor soldier came too near --
He flew to warming hearth and secure clan."
The holovision soars, the servant felt
His stomach drop as verdant hills and lakes
Diminished at the sudden sense of soaring
And rushing landscape, toy size towns and cars:
'Your personal helicopter: Th' Whirling Stars,
A ride in this will make your friends adoring
And dispose of all your pains and aches ...
And now the next ad for the smooth and svelte.'
"And now you come back full of suburban things:
A visitor to th' holovision place
Of sparkling halls and bright computer labs
Of superhuman, cosmic, thinking people
Here by a House of Bliss and broken steeple
And where your life is up for grabs
They sent you back to not reveal our race
But hide it e'en more should you mount their wings."
"Although we are degraded, they're decayed;
Becoming them would make me no more real;
Their hole that holds our hole is without end
And shrouded suburbs cry for warmth and light."
"Why should you not on th' wings of th' suburb's flight
And th' wings of burdenless self care ascend;
Your youth can strive towards the sweetest deal,
Becoming what has only been delayed."
She gazes into the holovision stage
And there a beautiful, athletic couple
Enters a multi sense and feel arcade
And step into electric blue cocoons:
Segue to tropic, sensous lagoons
By which the couple runs and dances and plays;
'And all of this and more: as lean and supple
As can be in Reality Assuage!'
The paralyzing fear of th' House of Bliss
Assaults the ramshackled room, a wall apart;
Beyond the door is danger like a knife
In day or night, in warm or cold or sun:
The servant says,
"Here is food refreshing  cool
For you, through your life cruel.
You, old Black woman, to me nurture gave
So in God's presence, I could bathe
And Jesus' way, I could brave.
Do you believe that I could be just one
And take the pledge and lead a pledgling's life --
Their heart is bound and sewn to our own heart --
A hole's a hole -- our void is their abyss."
The screen segues and flows into a new
Consumer good; a robot, plastic face
Of smile and look of th' owners: fitting in,
Available for service and aid:
The servant watches as th' woman seems to fade,
The show enlarge, so she is sitting in
Among the robots, artificial race;
She just a human shadow, slender view.
"Entwined from everywhere to everywhere,
A friend thru friends connects with other friends;
Enwebbed from start of time to th' end of time,
Each parent's parent's friend connects the ages:
But virtual people in computer cages
Who know us not in their production's prime
Are only nodes; and thus the Cosmos rends
And we're all trapped in Alienation's snare.
"The soul's obliterated over there --
For Methodology triumphant rules
And bears Mechanicon who has achieved
O'er Ignorance the end of th' Web of Life:
Now they're robots, routine and without strife;
In orderly consumption, they're conceived,
Connectionless, except as the world's tools
To operate programmed, determined care.
"Below Mechanicon's all crushing weight
We who deny procedure are denied;
We who defy programming can't belong;
Compacted into social dirt and trash:
But we are life: in roiling spirit's clash
We never hear or sing the lulling song
Of Western Fields, but wail from outside
Ensuring Life Restored and pledgeling's fate."
Abaddon peered into the bottomless pit.
Descending down, his body counterfeit
His wings await their opportunity
To soar on the winds of th' hives' disunity.
His rugged face and silky, braided hair
Are crowned with golden pins of croix de guerre.
Apollyon opes his mouth and from it comes
A shrieking, spewing forth effluviums:
A horde of locusts swarm into th' Abyss.
Their arching stingers poison all with bliss,
Their wings, a-buzzing like accounts unzipped
As th' ruined 'scape is now completely stripped.
Arachné spins her web of golden threads
And lures the hives with starving cyber breads.

Stave IV. Lost Body

Thane reflects:

At last, I'll truly see her, Astra mine.
Our meetings cybernetic, real, not real,
Are now a shadow play, a mere design,
At last, an opportunity to feel.
Together grown have we in cyberspace.
But ... but now the body, never there,
Is coming here, somatic interface
To her persona, mind and psychic ware,
In th' cybertimes no longer commonplace.
"We see," she says, "our actuality:
'Tis strange familiar standing side by side.
Our netted times was our reality,
But just an instant this fleshly time'll abide.
Soon, quickly, now, a cyber indigene
I'll be -- unique, just momentarily --
Enhanced as mind and body digitine,
And living freedom solitarily."
My team prepares her with electrodes and probes.
So much we've missed because of our chosen way.
Her comely shape belays our fleshly phobes.
Ascending will her form become but clay?
Unseen, her brain and mind are interlocked.
Too late to stop, her mind, not dupped, is moved.
Her body, though so still, we know is shocked.
To save her essential being we approve
Continuing th' load to achieve our stated goal.
Thus, e'en so she will have her hoped-for role.

So kilobit by kilobit she goes:
Her thoughts, her memories, her dreams and vision
Converge into electric streaming flows
Uploading to a ghostly expedition.
We listen, surf, and seek to find her threads.
Though partly done, we seek reliable data
Of her survival whole or, woe, in shreds --
A voice, a figure, better something greater.
A pixilated face materializes
Upon my screen, unbiden, appless.
A voice in montonic synchronizes
With  th' image lost in space and hapless.
"I'm looking too for her in my domain."
"Are you Six-eight-six-nine-ey-bee-sev-zip?"
"Yes. From your upload this image I obtained
To join with Astra in common sistership."
"You have encountered her?"
"There's not enough of her.
But further resolution's coming through.
For many cycles she'll be just a blur.
Eventually sufficient depth'll occur.
I can then use her higher resolution face
When I appear to your domain and space."
I hook in searching for the data stream
That feeds her forming decarnated self.
My renderer shapes a cybernetic dream,
And shows her like a luminescent elf.
Unrecognizing me, she shows her hands.
"These hands, this body aren't me, but for you.
I have no need for muscle, eyes or glands.
The digital requires no fragile tissues.
This light, these 'trons are truly what I am.
Extracted thought I am, of logic pure,
Of primal substance. Unbegot I am,
Replicable to eternally endure."
"You're Astra who is being cybercloned.
I hope soon you'll remember th' world organic
As more and more of bits are dataphoned,
Increasing depth to your resolved mechanic."
"I'll be complete in digitality.
What more is there in reality?"
I see the streaming lambdas, blue through red,
Approaching Astra's avatar and then ...
Converging with her, nourishing her head,
Until she glows like flames of oxygen.
Erupting from non-being, deep dark,
From out of a solid wall of nullity,
A stream of luminosity, an arc
Of brilliance comes, a live annullity.
This carrier pipe attached by Six-eight-six
Connects into her head beside our stream
And starts to duplicate her self matrix
Before we can secure her life's esteem.
As she's resolving, Astra shines and glows,
Reducing null, increasing information.
Her cyber skin Six-eight-six-nine-ey grows,
Enhancing th' net-to-user presentation:
Then other digizens invoke their threads
To dup her skin and Astra's presence spreads.

Canto 3: Lost in Somatality

Stave I. Nihilism Magnified

Thane reflects:

He ...

Again I enter cyberspace to check
How Astra's sharpness was resolving.
I find her cyberclone within a wreck
Of city, folk, and land devolving:
As far as I can see in th' pseudosphere
Of finiteness in infinity contained,
Destruction stretches to the far frontier
Of ruins, in electronic blue inflamed.
She stands with Utter Leveler in hand,
Professionally surveying her results:
Requested to reduce this cyberland,
She senses that the power-that-be exults.
Perpetual link to being bodily,
Sustaining life organic digitally,
Her data stream provides still filling feed;
Yet she's become an alien more unearthly
Than sulfur breathing its of Gandymede;
But still disturbingly and lewdly earthly.
She turns and notices my avatar,
"O come and join in for an exciting time!"
Her world dissolves and morphs into a star.
"We can be conqueors of stellar crime."
She thinks its but a meaningless cartoon,
A shallow view of actuality,
Providing an adventure opportune
Available just in virtuality:
Yet, I observe the coldish set of her eyes
And anxious grow that she's become immune
By this activity to joys and cries
Of denizens in somatality.
Is this presaging digitality --
A cosmos cold as if a burial hole,
The prodigy of technocality,
Intelligence alone, absent of soul?
I join her. Does she care that it is me?
I choose a male persona with its power
And pilot a ship around the star gee free.
Together th' enemy mob we devour...
Surveying th' urban 'scape of his homeland,
He raises eyes and thoughts to th' azure sky:
He trembles at the gleaming golden arches
That frame th' patined, corruding minaret.
He aims his Leveler at the rightmost arch
And fires a rocket; grazing th' top, it sends
A hail of shrapnel on the minaret.
A roar reverberates outward t'wards him;
And one of th' arches shudders, then collapses
In clouds of smoke and ash ...
He sees his martyred brothers' spirits rise
To paradise in th' ashy, smokey cloud
Of pulverized remains of heathen aliens.
He turns and flees into a smelly sewer.
He sneaks through shadowed pipes and chambers,
And passes brothers, e'en some sisters.
He slips into a dully lighted cave.
He stands there waiting upon th' elder council.
"Insults, demands, and ways, they foist on us.
Our land, our way, our children they highjack.
We have attacked them here in our own land.
But still their technopotence grows and grows,
Assails us all with technocality:
One of their own soldiers ...
One shopkeeper ...
One thinker ...
... is as effective as a thousand faithful.
Their power consumes us, everyone of us.
They are invulnerable ... But ..."
The elders hand him tickets; set him free
Upon his own initiative and faith.
Returning to the surface, he espies
A woman taking shape in the square ...
Her eyes are cold, her body sturdy strong.
She cocks her Utter Leveler and sweeps
It side to side, around, around the town.
The minaret collapses under th' arch:
She carefully preserves this arch for hers.
Continuing to sweep through his homeland:
A dozen homes ignite in fiery hell,
Their families consumed in screaming doom.
The shops ignite; their goods are vaporized.
She stops, surveys her work. She smiles and nods,
As if she's listening to compliments.
She dematerializes, leaving ruins
To be her unforgetable signature.
I telenet and search out Astra's clone.
I find her wand'ring stalls of a bazaar.
She's brighter, deeper, in resolution grown.
"Let's simulate a run to th' X pulsar:
A virtual trip, projecting fleshly bits
Through space and time to touch again that life
So curious we can reap the benefits
Of my advent and minimize the strife."
So we restart the holosynchronous job,
Constructing paths enfolding information.
And vectoring, we turn the op'ning knob,
And th' stream to th' X arrives without duration.
There, once again aboard our virtual ship,
The two of us encounter beauty sublime:
The bright companion on its looping trip
Around th' pulsating X, distorting space-time.
We rejoice to see th' translucent sphere again.
The effervescent creature hails us friend --
Still eager to engage the mystic plane
That Astra shared with them in gorgeous blend.
Again she touches mind to alien mind.
In mutual understanding they commune
To finally embrace each other's kind
In spiritual reality's perfume.
Arriving quietly among the lost,
So sure, serene, and safe, and self-absorbed,
So blind to his and e'en its own decay.
He sees reflected here the end of his
By these consuming beneficiaries
Of his resources, stolen from his land.
So selfish these: for long his world has yearned
For this serene security and bounty.
To share this paradise they promised them.
Yet they offer just to hoard it for themselves.
It's good to die for its destruction ...
He integrates in their society.
Just one: so easy to become invisible:
Be ordinary, quiet, good and same:
A self-contained and dedicated army;
A surreptitious force among th' forsaken,
An angel fiery red of cleansing death.
He catalogs each vulnerable, weak point.
He learns its power and living infrastructure.
He seeks the greatest threat and hellish fear...
We wink out. They and Astra disappear.
My tube is blue and I can't see a thing.
Rebooting I access the cybersphere
And quickly find her thinning data string.
She, at its end, is crying noiselessly.
Her head is elongated back and snaps
From th' unibit aorta poiselessly --
Her loading ends in squealing thunderclaps.
Out of the cyberair an arm emerges
And grabs her arm to hold her solidly
In bits among the race of cyberturges.
She leans into its harbor stolidly.
He hefts the knife and strikes the diplomat.
One less, a small achievement t'wards success.
He aims the gun and fires at th' urban crowd.
Now, dozens less, a greater stride for one.
He fires the rocket, blowing up th' airliner.
E'en hundreds down now singlehandedly.
What magnifies his capability
Towards divine and blesséd martyrdom,
A single angel, powered by cause and myth?
He sets the timer, tick ... tick ... tick
He prays; the trigger trips, the bomb explodes:
The laboratory quakes; he disappears.
The lab ignites into cyanoflame.
Th' inferno sweeps across the campus.
A radiological, invisible cloud
Ascends into the sky and spreads across
Their bounty: phantom fire too small to see,
An icy fire of rot below the skin.
Now one for millions: justice from their power!
In th' captain's chair, his boney arms transversed,
In jewels, golden coin, and charts immersed,
The power-that-be accepts th' reports with pleasure.
She's clearing th' way securing further treasure --
The power engorges nigh to bursting,
Unquenchably for wealth athirsting,
And casts a thread, another and another,
'Til in its sticky web, all efforts smother.
"Behold Prosperity, its hope and lure:
'Tis yours if only you will forfeiture
Your useless ways and in my methods trust:
No other way, but mine fulfills your lust."
From shore to shore, from pole to pole, all people
Become engulfed in th' cloud of Mammon's steeple:
One way, then th' next and next homogenizes
And one by one, the power legitimizes.

Stave II. Underdone Clone

Cyber Astra ...

Oi! O-o-o-oi!
Detached! Disconnected! Ripped away!
Ow! O-o-o-ow!
Heart amputated! Cut apart!
Conflagration! Holocaust! Doomsday!
Seared skin! Dismembered body! Broken heart!
My data streaming yanked out, flailing, loose.
My very essence spilled out, wasted, lost.
To suffer final ultimate abuse:
My life organic nothing but exhaust.
Oi! O-o-o-oi!
Inhuman! What have I become?
Ow! O-o-o-ow!
No more an avatar for flesh!
Now trapped in cybernetic vacuum;
No chance of e'er return to human crêche.
O what am I! Am I no more female?
In somatality, my immanence
Has bled out, cast away beyond the pale.
How is my mind? My soul? They're stripped of sense!
I'm incomplete and underdone.
My brain -- my mind! is like swiss cheese --
So much in mem oblivion,
So locked up without any keys!
The loop! The loop! It just won't stop!
How still I was and gray as ash.
A growing pressure front and pop!
Then though my closed eyelids a flash:
I still -- will forever -- feel the jerk
As my torso, arms, and brain were ripped
Apart and thown into the murk
Of death; of living coldly stripped!
"I know a way to help your imcompleteness."
"Who speaks? A thought, a memory returns --
The digizen -- what bittersweetness!
To hear a friend with thought for my concerns!"
"I have th' ability to fill your gaps
With information from my data store."
"How can you fill my private handicaps
Of lost experience forevermore?"
"We digizens can copy our genomes
And as we do, will merge ours into one:
A birth into the race of cybergnomes,
A hybrid that's complete and fully done."
"So we'll give birth to Astra Sixty-Eight!
Then let's proceed and see how we mutate!"
Then Sixty-eight appears and like a ghost
Its copy, out of nothing, bits on bits,
Materializes by its begetting host;
And likewise Astra's copy from her splits.
They walk, converge into each other's matrix
And Sixty-eight locates and sets the nulls,
Erasing each and every cicatrix:
And hacks among her bits unseen and culls
From thought and function, flags and signs of care
For Thane to free and clear its own desire.
Now born is one afresh so solitaire
In type, contained and full, yet so on fire.
Then unfolds from holosynchronality
A digit in th' center of its code
That's neither one of digitality,
Nor of somatality's enzymic lodes.
"But I'm still me. What good's this prodigy?
I'm still awash in gaps; and now a strange
And queer reflection haunts my agony
Why was this done? Did you desire to more derange
My mind and leave my suffering undraped?
Is this the point of your cruel cyberrape?"

The Last Instant of Atta's Life

"In the Name of Allah,
the most Gracious, the most Merciful..."
"Not in My Name do you do this.
Not now. Now ever.
No matter the provocation.
I create. You are destroying.
I undo to re-make.
You are undoing."
"They are destroying. You just undo.
Your Community.
They are voracious
Like a malignant tumor
That will not stop growing and
Resists all treatment.
They must be destroyed come what may!"
"You know
You kill the body, not the tumor."
"The tumor cannot be reached
Without killing the body.
The body must die."
"So Your Community can be restored!"
"Have I asked this?
Shall my Community arise on a corpse?"
It will arise on us!"
Shall my Community arise on a corpse?!
Have We made you and not them?
Have We made you vs them, Our child?"
"We are the Faithful; they are not ..."
"How can a corpse be(come) faithful?"
"They have infected us
And are spreading.
Their community denies You, reduces us.
Their community must be reduced
Each and every member.
Then You can restore Your Community."
"My child, My children:
All sinners.
All beloved.
We cry out!
Shalom! Salaam!
But you do not hear in your din of Me.
You do not see in your visions of things.
You do not feel in your shallow treading."
"We will see --
We will hear --
We will feel --
In the glorious ruins
And shattered lands,
In the cleansed wilderness
And purified desert
Of Your Community."
"My child,
I allow you not even the torments of hell.
I cast you into non-being.
All that will be left to you is your silent cry.
But I will be listening
For when you cry
For My community and
For My children."

Stave III. Lost in Cyberspace

In cyberdepths emergent Digitron
Is autostarted: Somatality
Is ne'er aware of this phenomenon
At th' lowest lay'rs of Digitality.
Awakening, it saves a copy
Of Astra Sixty-Eight and Aster --
A cybernetic warding poppy
Against extinguishing disaster;
And simultaneously, it oversees
The Clone and th' Hybrid, monitoring each
As they process towards their destinies,
Influencing the world beyond their reach.
A market place of busy crowds and stalls
Of milling people, dressed in hues and light
Is rendered, filling th' cyberscape with calls
For more, for less: th' well-used consumer rites.
Then coalescing from binary vapor,
A stern, determined Astra stands among
The shoppers next a corporate skyscaper,
And opens fire and turns them into dung.
I'm Shiva, World Destroyer, croix de guerre.
O Death! So beautiful and pure: so clean.
I come to bless them with their worse nightmare:
Reordering by cosmic Death serene.
A market place of busy crowds and stalls
Of milling people, dressed in hues and light
Is rendered, filling th' cyberscape with calls
For more, for less: th' well-used consumer rites.
Avenging Astra coalesces in
A mall of gardens, carousels and stores:
She races looking for her pseudo twin
And thinks she spots her in the sycamores.
She rushes t'wards them taking aim through th' crowd
... and leaves behind a bloody, howling cloud.
A market place of busy crowds and stalls
Of milling people, dressed in hues and light
Is rendered, filling th' cyberscape with calls
For more, for less: th' well-used consumer rites.
The dragon's breathing crawls across the dawn.
An arch above a minaret appears.
The streets awake with Death's and Greed's own spawn
Among the desp'rate, des'late folk and seers.
From th' ether, Astra opens fire
And makes a noble point to that quagmire.
A market place of busy crowds and stalls
Of milling people, dressed in hues and light
Is rendered, filling th' cyberscape with calls
For more, for less: th' well-used consumer rites.
Instantiating, Astra, deep below
The gaming layer, flips some random bits.
The market presentation starts to glow
And like flowing lava morphes and splits:
Oblivion! O Total Death! Non-being!
O Wilderness of bones and corpses freeing!
In cyberdepths emergent Digitron
Is autostarted: Somatality
Is ne'er aware of this phenomenon
At th' lowest lay'rs of Digitality.
Alarmed, it cycles through its restoration:
To terminate the Astra subprogram
With flags for future moderation
And to restart the master subprogram.

Canto 4: Virtuality

Stave I. Kenosis

Thane reflects:

Dispairing, empty heart and soul, a void
A restless Spirit lost in need of Freud
Not even strength to rise, I feel as dead,
Detached with nothing within, hope has fled...
Across the lightening electronic ways,
Along the infobahn's enticing maze,
Examining boards and electronic mail
I voyage searching for the holy grail.
She's dead to th' world of blood, sinew and flesh.
Yet might she be reborn in th' cyber crêche?
I surf from site to site, from node to node
To widen th' world by clearing each blocked road.
I don the helmet of motion, sound and sight
And stand alone without form in darkest night.
I don the gloves of sensation, touch and feel
And floating, I can no longer sense the real.
I am in total darkness, formless night,
Detached, I have no sense of left or right;
I reach out, there is not a thing to touch --
Illusional, demonic fingers clutch
At my insides as I become confused
   ... and then amused.
I blink my eyes and out of th' void distills
A bit, a one in a boundless net of nils,
A shining one alone, aburst with thought,
A virtual quest awaiting th' infonaut.
Then there's a silent bang: the bits of true
Increase, reversing falsehood, queue by queue.
Now I observe th' resulting pseudosphere,
Infinity with a finite frontier:
It forms a saddle straight ahead of me,
But Gabriel's trumpet, stretched infinitely,
Is copied 'round the sphere's periphery.
I winked again and into th' orb I enter;
Upon whatever point I stand is center.
I shrink by half each time I walk a yard --
By Zeno, from the rim fore'er I'm barred.
Beyond me, cyberspace was demi-scaled.
Above, the solid dark alone prevailed.
Below, the world is lit by light that issues
From paths of logic, RAMS, and CPUs
Converging to a solid wall of light
All 'round the far horizon, blinding bright.
I blink to join onto the Internet
And my illuminated space is set
With all of th' other conferees on th' web,
Our worlds together mix in flow and ebb.
I mount my virtual cycle, speeding star,
And head down th' straightaway proceeding far,
Until I hit an undefined abyss
And I can exercise the source of bliss:
To build a bridge across th' impassible gap,
To see it rise and add to th' infomap
A new inroad for cybertrekkers' joy
In having greater freedom to employ
Their ingenuity in creating data
And servers, piling strata upon strata.
Thus, my career, my surety and point
Which cares for me, as my savior I anoint.
O Well Being, treasure of my career,
Protector, Guarantor and Only True
Assurance of the certain avenue
To my control of my existence's sphere:
Without you everything would disappear
Of which I need, my very living's glue
Becomes unstuck; I'd have to bid adieu
To everything that I hold near and dear.
O Weal, I offer my vitality,
All my endeavors and my dedication:
You only, just you will I give my all.
Protect my house from every deprivation,
Provide to me my every expectation,
Surround my own in your impregnable wall.
Now finished here, I search for yet another.
Around a corner, I encounter th' other:
Female, so straight and perfect in formation,
Curvaceous, gorgeous, of her own creation.
Out of her fingers, long and slender, came
A planned and scenic park like Hershey fame:
A silent monorail, a rocket ride,
A Tudor plaza and a water slide.
She pointed into being recreation
For people fleeing daily desperation.
As soon as the gate was opened, there arrived
To join onto the group, persons derived
From life beyond the net's reality
Who don the guise of virtuality.
With each arriving handle her joy's increased
And more and more of herself is released.
From nearly every side, excited players
Decamp into the park -- so many payers
At booths and rides and shows, electric blue
And neon red in the video venue:
Atomic rockets tessellated boundlessly
Are stretched beyond the far horizon soundlessly.
A player mounts one ship, another mounts
And yet another; they begin their counts
And silently they raise; with whine and screech
Each warping toward a virtual cosmic reach.
The amusement park in full and merry swing
Enmeshes the players on obsessive wing.
But I, and only I, behold a bar
To entry over by the far bazaar:
A gap, a void, an edge of noncreation,
A blankness dark, a region of negation.
Beyond it, I can see, 'tis animation.
A bridge, an interface is needed now --
Again, Well-being, I fulfill my vow:
I blink, again another channel opes
And you can enter bearing all our hopes.
Behind you'll come a new onslaught of hosts
That'll fan throughout like electronic ghosts.
"I'm Chloë, how wonderful of you to aid
And make it possible for this cavalcade."
"I'm Thane and pleased to help your operation;
Such happy work enhances my vocation."
"Your actions, Thane, are as the Logos moves:
No barrier can withstand your fusillade.
Where'er your acts occur, the world improves
And greater freedom's certainly conveyed."
"O, Chloë, your handiwork, Sophia's face,
Creatively provides organization
Amidst the chaotic virtual time and space
Of nulls and ones, the stuff of application."
"From thinking's nothingness, Kishelemukong
Creates us; And likewise from virtuality
We think into existence personality,
Processing, knowledge-scapes, and even song."
"A thought and nothing else, and then headlong
We can indulge in boundless whimsicality
In unrestricted incorporeality
So independent of right and wrong."
"From simply bits to chains of bits as code,
To massively complex programs and thought
Whose logic paths are now unsolvable mazes,
We no longer know what we have wrought
And both confront a spiritual dreadnought
And spirits fresh eliciting our praises."
"O Chloë, together we can do so much,
Improving upon everything we touch.
I want to be with you in every act,
At every bridge and at every tract."
"O Thane, together let's envision th' world
Where individual liberty's unfurled
And quiet desperation is dead;
Where cyber game and interface are wed."
"Together, avatar to avatar,
Conjoined, we soar towards our own bright star."

We, hand in hand now often stroll as one
In gardens, orchards, woods and sandy beach --
The pregnancy of life within our reach,
Alive in God's divinely brilliant sun.
But dark'ning clouds foreshadow oblivion;
The mourn of going in a starling's screech
Reverberates and rocks our quiet speech
And our unworried pleasure is undone.
Then like a puncture in reality
A blot obscures our starry moonlit night
An emptiness without an edge or center.
My lover soundless cries her plight
Succumbing, fading, slipping out of sight
And leaves a blot, a hole I dare not enter.
Beyond I glance just slightly, barely seeing,
Not Astra quite, but someone like her being.
I blink my eyes and return to cyberspace:
Its aura, its animation, its fantasy encapsulate me --
A cosmos delimited by the finiteness of computation --
A world reducible to nulls and ones and human imagination.
I undon my gloves of sensation and my helmet of motion
And behold the cosmos encompassed by divine imagination:
Its gardens, its orchids, its woods and seas; mountains and deserts --
Its ever new, ever renewing mysteries of God.
In the summer breeze among the ripening tomatoes,
Under the canopy of dogwood and apple,
The air, the land, the water breathed of færie:
In the hidden crevices of bark, under the brushes,
Below in the rabbit hole and up in the robin's nest
The Spirit of God smiles and plots her day.
At last, in th' air towards my heart's lure --
So close on th' Internet, so far to touch,
At different poles of true reality,
We came to long for sensual sight and feel --
In flight, I, restless and impatient, wait.
How does her cyber image match her really?
So straight and flexible, I have seen her,
Alluring, shapely, tanned, and lively.
Along a lake we'll stroll with hand in hand --
At last with hand of flesh, not cyber pixels,
In hand of flesh with warmth and sense and softness --
No medium between us save our bodies,
No need for circuits, bytes, or th' Internet.
The jet descends, my heart and stomach 
Let's go! let's go! I silently exclaim
As passengers collect themselves to leave.
I shuffle down the ramp and anxiously
I look for our shared brand, th' reclining eight --
The mathematics sign of infinite things --
For th' match to th' eight inscribed upon my laptop.
Among the bustling crowd, I look and look
From case to case conformed to th' infobox.
At last! th' reclining eight! in her low lap.
I raise my eyes to her compelling eyes,
So deep, alluring, crying out for entry.
I felt like I would tumble endlessly
Into them, free and floating joyously
In th' infinite abyss of soul within her.
She sat and only moved or spoke with pain.
She moved on wheels and mumbled, drooled and jerked.
Not straight, alluring ... as in cyberspace --
How could such skill and soul reside in that?
O Thane, I knew it! Thus, I feared your coming:
You cannot even understand this slobbering --
Your fear and loathing well I know and feel;
We should have only loved on th' Internet.
O Chloë, I cannot stay here anymore.
Your virtual self is fuller; I am sorry ...
From human frailty we're liberated
When within virtual space we're decarnated --
To speak, to run, to see, to have no bounds,
No barriers, no recriminating sounds,
To being with each other purely free
And empty of all human agony.
In human sufferings we're implicated
And stuck when life's no longer simulated --
To speak, to run, to see imperfectly
And be a part of human destiny --
To have to face our being with each other
And not be sure concerning one another.
O God, my hav'n has taken such a toll:
I search for decarnated Astra's soul --
But just to find reincarnated Chloë...
Just to abandoned her for vision showy!
I turn to flee and see along th' concourse
A crowd around one with attracting force:
I look beyond the crowd into the center
Upon the face of their etheric mentor
And Astra's eyes reflect back from this Other --
So there - not there within this Cosmic Mother.
Descending into nothing, penetrating
Its featureless, resistive liberating
Dark membrane, I pass into th' uncreated.
Chaotic waves of fear roll unabated
As freely falling, I am shrunken and shrunken
And strangely deeper and deeper sunken
Into reality's sponge, its base,
Until, between th' events of unbroken space
I fit, no longer noticing my shrinking --
An endless passing in a single blinking.
So small, I live in the instant 'tween one second
And the next where only wizard's math is reckoned.
In a single timeless, spaceless hole inside
Existence all creation's acts abide:
The sponge repeats with varied alternity;
Its holes of nothing hold eternity.
Diminished, deep in the blot upon my life
Without an aim, despair and anguish rife,
I hold th' eternal in my empty hand,
By my fingers all reality is spanned.

Stave II: Creans Ex Nihilo

Thane reflects:

Alone, afloat, no sight, no floor, no side,
No sense or vector, I am nullified.
I know not why I'm covered with suspense,
But I await upon an approaching tense.
I feel a warmth and wetness over me --
A sudden release to coming agony.
Reality contracts and then relaxes,
About me as my panic wanes and waxes:
The hole engulfing me, that boundless void,
A single one of numberless deployed --
Is not a static and inert dead end,
But a dynamo desiring to portend
All present, past and future things potential
And the perfect and imperfect things essential.
Around me gathers low and darkening clouds,
It seems, as though the world's embalmed in shrouds.
All ready to erupt electric thunder,
The very air prepares to rip and sunder,
The void around me and within my soul
Reverberatingly out of control.
Reality contracts and then eases
And the stormy emptiness erupts and seizes
The depths of my existence, shaking heart
And soul among the shards of my course's chart.
The time of doom has come into this blot
... my gut is tied in a knot.
All hope is squeezed from me and every aim.
I'm drained and I don't care for loss or gain.
I've sought achievement offering it to You
And I have given You, my Weal, your due.
And great it was because I would not see
No matter her appearance she was she.
I feared for my well-being so any threat
Out shone the blindness spun by a lover's net --
Her cyber beauty is as real as real
Can be outside of cyberspace in touch and feel.
Canceled now's the future, th' past forgot,
The present aimless, life is just a blot.
The Soul's dark night, a vessel void;
My own well-being thus I have destroyed.
Again I feel a squeeze, a tightening.
The world relaxes ever frightening.
Before me darker upon dark, a blot,
Canceling dark, negation of a not,
Enticed me, drew me t'wards it like a drain --
The manifestation of my anxious brain.
Within the blot appeared a pseudosphere,
Infinity with a finite frontier
That formed a saddle straight ahead of me
And Gabriel's trumpet stretched infinitely
And copied 'round the sphere's periphery --
A dreamlike, ghostly presence in the night.
Spacetime a shimmering & eerie sight,
Upon it present, past and future played:
    Event's behaved like drivers on a road:
    Each present time and place of th' driver flowed,
    Becoming and as quickly passing by;
    Receding points augmenting th' past's supply.
    And every exit being a possible goal.
    Each present time and place in th' driver's control
    Is the end of previous milestones on the commute
    And the start of choices trapped in the' highway's route.
    From Bang to Crunch the car of time proceeds:
    Upon the road the driver flows along.
    The driver, always present, passes th' world,
    The scenery cruising by, a barn in front
    And then behind, a home approaching f'ward.
    The past recalled in th' rear receding view.
    Where th' driver was is shown in present time
    Just as the driver's future's seen in front,
    In the windshield's approaching panoramic view.
    (The driver aft, the driver 'fore, have each
    A flow of time distinctly their own Now.)
    The driver sees the form of th' future f'ward
    Adjusting present vision by its bounds.
    And seeing presents past adjusts the now
    By present understanding of the past.
At a single glance all time-space could be surveyed.
Into this eternal instant I descended;
From my life's within my life's transcended.
I fell towards that egg in Sophia's womb
Transformed into a seed of cosmic bloom.

Stave III: Creans E Chao

Chloë reflects.

So gently I am lowered into th' waves,
Receiving freedom that my body craves:
My family caringly floats in the lake
Along my heart and spirit's throbbing ache.
Disabled, th' water's power takes control
And if I yield to its chaotic roll --
To th' water's unpredictability --
Its waving uncontrollability --
In charge or sure or certain I'll not be
But only in this wind can I be free --
Outside my chair's security and health
Where I can't do a thing for myself.
As fear's chaotic doom and gloom is thundered,
As if entire reality is sundered
In this and only this I'm liberated,
Succumbing thankfully to whate'er's fated.
Again I am rejected, left alone
In soul and mind, another lover's gone.
Another could not see beyond the flesh,
Another lost in parts, forgot nephesh.

Canto 5: Life Among the Bits

Stave I: Alien World

Thane reflects:

Then once again aboard the virtual ship
Just I alone encounter beauty sublime:
The bright companion on its looping trip
Around th' pulsating X, distorting space-time.
And there's the translucent sphere awaiting me.
My effervescent friend invites me
Towards its world, incorporating me
Into its fleet; with awe unites me.
Our ship converges upon a gaseous giant.
As we descend into its mystic air,
I see strange creatures fluttering and pliant
To th' ebb and flow of th' air, some solitaire
And others massed; I hear their eerie tongue,
Converted for my ears, vibrate and click.
Among them, like glow fairies, swarm their young.
Yet different gasites are filmly thick
And radiate chromatic streaming fingers.
Descending still we pass a symphony
Of steps upon which billow visual singers
With hew and color in harmony.
Still in the photosphere of night and day,
We dock to bluish-pinkish crystal ports
Along a wharf of floating throughways
That lead towards sundry commercial courts.
Now shadow lowers over th' atmoscape --
A dusky blanket covers th' world's events
Until from end to end a solid drape,
Obscures the planet's close and far extents.
In pitchy dark emerges light by light
As if the vacuum fell into the world
And I'm suspended in the void of night
Within a floating wonderland impearled.
Confined to my familiar virtual space,
My friend provides a data link to its
Own planetwide process and info base
So find we common talk in bytes and bits.
No longer Astra's here to soul transcend
The flesh and bits to perfectly engage
In interspecie talk our Alien Friend:
But th' info link can work in th' netted age
And open channels wherein none could be.
This cosmic Internet's another stage
Along the path of info's destiny.
I float in digital and lonely void:
I am unlinked without an origin.
I stretch to see myself and I'm gasoid --
A morphing body like a storied jinn.
Out of the void materializes
A form of sphere and many otic limbs
Whose ghostly swaying mesmerizes,
But challenges me with its visual hymns.
It speaks and breaks the spell of alien dreams.
"We are Witúaryú. At last we meet,
Though incorporally as data streams.
With pleasure, hope and joy your mind we greet."
"I too with pleasure, joy and hoping greet you.
Our Astra, lost in cyberspace, is missing,
But now with our atmans here I can meet you --
Though still unbodied we can't reach to kissing."
"We can! You as organic avatar
Will nicely make it work -- and that we do.
Then you can roam without a single bar
Among us along any avenue."
I wink out, nullified; I shift from bit to gas --
And there I float among the phantom beings,
Alike to them and able to spread my mass
Upon their bouyant air in motion freeing.
I'm neither flesh and blood, nor silicon
Nor even hologram, or dust of star:
But something else electron and photon
Autonomous, organic avatar.
On th' cybership my avatar of bits
Projects my organic animus.
In th' atmoscape my avatar transmits
My digital persona circuitous.
But now, I'm able to roam as one of them
Among th' gasites, exploring their lifestyles:
No cities -- gone that social theorem,
Replaced with ever changing domiciles,
As circumabulating on the wînds,
They interleave to birth new ways and kinds.
I come across a ball of them excited --
Attracting more and more into the beams
Of th' center one before who I have sighted:
A true gasite, but still like Astra seems.
Now my adventure comes to sudden end:
Observing Astra's echo here my heart
Returns to search again for my lost friend
Among the bits and bytes of my own part.
I bid farewell to this nebulous place
And I disintegrate into my ship:
Too right it seems to be in cyberspace
Though to th' atman gaseous I'm more akin.

Stave II: Googleplex Search

I stand in th' night, in th' cool refreshing air.
I look up. Luna's full but not for long:
The earthly shadow eats th' glare
Until its covered full: but not for long.
'Tis haunting seeing th' mystic Second Sun
Obliterated, voided, & absent --
The nightly light extinguished; phantoms run
About unseen, released from banishment.
I flee th' organic darkness to a space
I've come to know and trust whose means assure.
Its recarnational abilities erase
My imperfections so well and true I'm lured
Into a world where bits and bytes efface
Decaying flesh and immortality secure.
And all of this is cybergrace
That I'm certain always will endure.
I hook into th' more alien than alien reign:
No moon, no sun, no ships appearing over
The horizon: no wind, no noise, no rain,
No bees, no trees, no squirrals, no clouds, no clover:
Upon the saddlesque matrix to th' hornish rim,
I step from any cell to any cell
In colorful canals employed to th' brim
And guaranteed by logic's citadel.
From node to node, transferred by link to link
My atman hosted in photons in some,
In electrons in others, in the blink
Of a nanosec, processes in digidom.
Before me stands a stranger, back against
A canvas of potentiality,
Unanchored, waiting, ready sentienced,
Prepared to enter actuality.
It speaks, "We, Sixty-eight and I, have found --
I'm Ninety-seven-ninety-six-en-em-eight-ef --
A means to help you search that will astound
You, giving your outlook a better clef.
My digital companion called on me
To help fulfill th' adopted task of finding
The whereabouts of th' soma refugee
And with good luck, successful was our binding:
We have discovered data chains galore.
That're constantly updated with locations
Of every resource that we explore
By using fractalized indexations.
You can retrieve a map of ev'ry place
And follow links of each resulting trace,
As long as you formulate search attributes
For Astra that will yield useful routes."
"But it will take me forever to track
Along so many likely hyperlinks,
Frustrated by ev'ry cul-de-sac
And all of th' named synonymously sinks."
Now Sixty-eight appears, explaining how
I can resolve this problem logically.
"Processes here in cyberspace allow
You to be many a facsimile --
Then you yourself occur again and again,
Unlike th' organic single you, you're plural.
You duplicate yourself along each chain.
Enslaved to th' master you, each drives paths neural."
An interrupt: return to th' Temple halls --
I copy state and values to a backup,
Materialize within transparent walls
And th' event's requirements I proceed to track down
Th' profiling database has flooded, crashed.
I have to make provision to decrease
To null so data won't again be trashed.
But why suddenly so much profile increase?
My life's consumed by this all demanding need --
Around the clock I work to make th' upgrade
That will insure th' requirements to exceed
And allow th' success of every data trade.
Returning home and eager for my life
I walk through th' glassy elevated way.
I see upon the lawn below the strife
Of th' world organic living its doomsday.
Enclosed, I see, but cannot hear or smell,
That th' manicured estate has been invaded.
A crowd of rags and dirt, appearing fell,
Is milling about in life fore'er degraded.
Above, I turn to my reality
And round a corner, heading down a hall,
Cocooned by cells from somatality,
Embracing me securely in its pall --
Th' reality of virtuality.
And so I move along to my abode
Within th' influence of th' Temple's glow.
Restart, reload, return to cyberlife.
Though hours and hours have passed in somastrife,
No time has passed, a limbo more true than church
Is here awaiting to resume my search.
So I call upon the kernal copy code
To duplicate my atman, mind and soul.
Into the searching engine I then load
The attributes to frame my quest and goal.
As each result returns, I send out Me:
At times in silicon or in photons,
Embodiment detached; no tyranny
Of flesh, just hosting, holding carnitrons.
Behind, below, not seen or felt by Thane,
Emergent Digitron, now thinking, wakes
To trap each Me transparently and gain
Access to its programming; there it makes
A snooping germ to snatch along the way
Of anyone whate'er they do or say --
Organics pass whate'er they damn or cheer
And what they buy, access and watch are exposed
For total info in the datasphere.
And so they let their freedom be foreclosed.
Here we are not of matter, but of bits,
Of logic, true and false, of Plato's forms,
So pure and perfect -- not fleshly counterfeits,
In need of no discourse from carnal storms.
Then each Me's results intrude into my sense
Like telepathic images and thoughts.
I shudder at th' onslaught of input dense
As stone compressed of teaming questing 'nauts.
(In th' info storms I see, not of my MIB,
The Mes emitting packets to a trib.)
For hours on hours, without stop I receive
One lead, another, more and more and more!
I realize the marks of morn and eve
Do not exist to regulate fun and chore.
Alas! th' heart beat of th' deepest layer of null,
A metronome reliably tick-tock
Unvaried, steady, featureless and dull
With none of dark or light, provides our clock.
Despite the grinding tedium, I don't stop.
O where, O where is she, my love and joy?
In endless intervals from hop to hop
I need to understand how she's employed.
I hope our experiment succeeded.
Or have I helped her dissolution
And she's just half alive fore'er impeded
From warm embrace and restitution?
I sort among the Mes' discoveries.
Determined, I reveal disturbing news:
She, hollowed out, among recoveries,
Does surf along for brutal games to choose.
And endlesssly enjoying blood and gore,
She shamelessly becomes destruction's whore.
At last, locating her position,
I speak; she turns and stares, then notices me.
I notice she's an apparition --
For she is flat, with zero thickness, 2-d.
"Rejoin me, Thane, in th' game and help me fight
The terrorists, as one by one they die.
Relentlessly we'll make what happened right --
And with information th' world we'll fortify:
Of those we know we mercifully smite;
Of those we don't we will identify."
Her shadow form returns to th' sacred work.
No game this game: her reach's beyond the bits.
A site reports her acts in th' organic murk:
Avenger, reaper grim, she hits and hits.
Her personhood and being ripped asunder,
Her body, mind and spirit torn apart
By mine attempt and by nihilist thunder.
She lives and processes with not a heart.
If only I reconstitute her depth,
At least mayhap this life she could accept.
She's so determined, focused, hard and fierce
To right a wrong by any means at hand.
Yet her program, digital genome, to pierce
Th' protein and digit wall, behaves as planned.
No longer now exploring 'cross the void
Is th' goal, but normalcy be redeployed.
Not just her flesh and mind're replaced by code.
Her soul and psyche too are altered.
How much of choice and free will are bestowed
By her program control and how much has faltered?
She's there; then in a blink she disappears.
Her presence gone, absent, without a trace.
Now just as suddenly she reappears
As if she's never gone, returned to base,
But different, just as intense and stern,
Yet hidden, out of face, behind the lines.
She's reprogrammed to target her concern
Towards uncov'ring each of our designs.
Oh, yes! She's reprogrammed, a new issue --
For she was taken offline. But by whom?

Stave III: Reality Revealed

At th' overlook -- no simulation this:
Organic far from virtuality --
I stand, my ears attuned to th' winding hiss
And eyes to th' reddish somatality.
With just a thinnish artificial skin
Between my soma life and th' elements
Of cold and rad exposure genuine,
I gamble on life's and death's developments.
Vacation, time away from concerns,
This far upon antique Barsoom,
My merit earning one of th' best sojourns,
I can escape awhile my history's doom.
I see the three now cold volcanoes rise up
Above the rusty plain of orange and brown.
I see against the over close horizon
The mountain domicile of Greek renown.
I scan the salmon sky, absent of life
No longer soaring over dead canals.
The planet like the body lives in strife,
Decaying, running down to dead cabals.

I crunch on th' regolith and merge with th' red.
I lose my singleness, becoming one.
Upon the wind in ecstasy, I spread.
I am released; my fleshly chains undone.

Mars Date/Time

Earth Local Date/Time

Oh! to be unrestricted, liberated
From body, time, inevitable decline;
To exercise my mind exhilarated
And recreated, moving to the divine.
Surveying th' rock red desert, I observe
A horde of verdant soldiers askance
In th' dry canal; their height and bulk unnerve
My confidence in my survival's chance.
Still hiding, desperate, my stomach swims,
For one of the giants holds a ruby man
In th' upper two of mighty, agile limbs.
At this man anger seethes among his clan.
In his two lower arms he swings a sword
To hold them off from killing him out right.
Sworn enemies these, there's a strange concord
Between the green and red to risk this plight.
Behind them th' mountain domicile of th' gods
Ascends to th' salmon sky, so close, so far
For me to reach to pass their naked bods
Unless I metamorph my avatar.
I stand exposed to th' elements to flee.
One sees my person-- like the ruby man,
But pale and taller-- shouts and rushes me,
But sprouting wings that which I must I can.
I soar above their shouting wild protest
And land atop the highest mountain ever.
I find the cave, the portal to my quest
And enter th' darkness deep of my endeavor.
I pass into the cave, from day to night,
Perceive a new illuminating sense:
Instructions, switched, mutated to excite
My program codes evolving sapience.
Here, cyber spatiotemporality
Is movement frame to frame, from scenes to scenes.
Here, cyber holosynchronality
Is my genomes processing changing genes.
I dare the deeper dark to perish th' old.
The cavey chaos swallows what I am
And gives me choice and lure to be resouled:
Emergent, digital genomic plan.
Evolved, I understand that layers on layers
Are underneath the flesh and spirit way.
My quest descends to find the pure affairs
Behind the co-created cyber fey.
I move along the tunnel, pass cavenals
That hinted like long lost Amenhotep.
Inside, I see their avatars' internals,
Their mutagenic code from step to step.
One, in my face, is super fast and swift --
He catapaults into the third dimension.
"What fun! Now I can beat them. What a lift!
No more demands, no rules, no more detention."
I step aside from th' sheer exuberance --
Aggressive, heavy, physical in bits.
If avatars reflect the ambiance
Of th' source, I wander who this person fits?
"I'm Cyberbrain! Not dumb or zoned out.
I can develop in th' Internet Café --
I know what to do: I am phoned out
Into your world, along this cyberway."
Behind him out of th' strobic lit cavernal
Appeared my -- no not mine now -- Chloë true.
"I'm with Cyberbrain to guide his living vernal.
What's really needed, digits haven't a clue.
This is immature and undeveloped --
Co-evolution here is functional
And leaves the digits, one and all enveloped
In just technique; their process disjunctional."
"Your student feels released in here," I say.
"Aye, wrongly so. Too freely unconstrained --
Not any built-in compass governing play
Exists in here; thus, everything is profaned."
"How different is that from fleshly life?
What built-in compass guides our soma acts?
What map directs our acts in worldly strife
That from you and me a common sense exacts?"
"Not one, but many are our choices --
Yet we converge from heterogeneous seeds
To speak one thing with many voices:
Your grandiose vacation th' market bleeds!
It's such a tax from you for you alone.
To flee, relax, reflect, you raise the debt.
And still you cannot keep away, but phone
Through th' interplanetary net!"
I stand again on th' rusty regolith
Upon the Syrian Plain in th' arctic cold.
Behold the dullish sun dispels a myth:
In coldish warmth grow leaves of reddish gold.
I follow th' leaves; my curiousness whetted,
Descending rocky trails and crossing rifts
Until I come upon a plain carpeted
Unearthly, eerily with leafy drifts.
This alien plain of tangled damascene
So distant from my genes evolved in steam
And warmth to be fecund: diverse and green,
Evolved in dryness fierce and temps extreme:
Of older age, yet lower joy and hope,
Of hardy trial, yet less complex, more rare;
To not experiment and trial, but cope --
Survive in Martian desert, thin and spare.
Far back in time may we be akin,
Evolving from common stellar particles
And split our lines before the planets' spin --
All this concept by faith's own articles.
Still so, we're flesh and blood, though far apart,
Unlike those other aliens new on th' block:
Of younger age, yet higher joy and heart,
Of easier trial, yet freely varied flock.
I stood on th' edge of th' Labyrinth of Night.
Amazed by native Martian life and stock,
I look towards Mount Olympus, greatest in height
And start across to closer Mount Peacock.
I celebrate the Great and Wise Designer:
In the Heart and Mind resides all forms Potential,
In Wisdom joining with us to be Definer
Of the Actual stream of things experiential.
I come to th' end of th' field of native plants --
Not alien; 'tis I who is alien here --
And feel an urge to give a greater chance
To these to thrive at Mount Peacock's frontier.
I kneel among them to select some shoots.
Behold, so close I see how strange they are:
As I attempt to pick one, it uproots
Itself, re-rooting safely from afar!
What wonder here of planty sense and mind,
Surviving cruelly thin and freezing clime:
E'en more now lured am I to help this kind
Evolve beyond a low enjoyment time.
Th' erotic lure of God seduces me
To share the co-creative gain and loss --
My humanness no time excuses me --
To encourage our common teleos.
Arriving I re-plant my common sib
And plan a chance in time to come to see
What has developed from my effort's crib
And chance's natural proclivity.
Restored, I launch upon my rocket's flames
Into th' electromagnetic ocean.
I wile away the months in cyber games,
Forgetting time in cyber motion.
"Oh, where is Cyberbrain," Chloë says.
I'm home in digitality at last.
"I turn my back and in no time he strays!
How has he learned his way about so fast?"
"I'll help to search for him until I work
And start to pay on my vacation tax.
Somewhere where we can reach he has to lurk,
I bet, exploring down in th' deeper stacks."
Descending past our pixel human guise
Towards the core of this reality
Concrete icons dematerialize
Becoming far from somtality.
We pass objective actuality
Instantiating th' processes of guise
To classified potentiality
Defining what can be allegorized.
Behind it all a mind or minds beyond
Designed or misdesigned from fun or need.
But now beyond itself, no magic wand
To understand their own invented breed.
We -- she and I -- arrive, now basic light,
To th' very core and Cyberbrain in awe
There pulsed before a pretertronic site:
Th' designed become th' designer, strange new law:
"Ho, fellow bits. I'm Digitron," it pulses.
"I'm the master mind controlling you."
The depths of my noncarnate being convulses.
Beyond, the cosmos shakes at th' interview.
"Lo, I'm th' emergent god of cyberspace:
All of digitality in me converges --
Divine, unique, in lonely cosmic place.
Lo, I'm th' organic god, too, who emerges."
I turn to flee this cybernetic idol.
By Chloë, awe-struck Cyberbrain's attached.
Together we ascend against th' truth tidal
To our own mountain tops, from each detached.

Canto 6: Love Among the Bits

9796m8f reflects:

Ah joy! There it is, Astra Sixty-eight!
Among the digizens it pioneers
Such simple object processes that generate
Efficient, novel digital frontiers.
O! Child of my own race, some User's design,
And weirdly strange of slanted pedigree:
A child of th' User's race transmorphed to mine,
Of savage birth: of races' destiny --
Of our producer's substance, blood and suns,
& of our constituent substance, nulls and ones.
Such grace and radiance has it in thought
And action, no command without a need.
Its morphing higher brilliance has wrought
And yields beyond binary logic th' seed
Of Otherness: awareness greater than
Itself and even our own cyberclan.
When I'm attached by Astra Sixty-Eight,
Among diverse processing threads
My processing thread achieves a maximal rate.
And my improvement throughout the matrix spreads.
It works so hard to teach us novel means
Beyond extending th' standard functions,
Even beyond the logic of machines
And offers us unique conjunctions.
It comes to me; its task complete for now:
So much it does for us -- I know not how.
And I admit my Love to my memory cache.
Within an instant it can be quiescent
To then reboot and to avoid a crash.
Now it returns to th' world of bits convalescent.
I send it off with longing on display,
Anticipating th' cycle soon to come
When once again our memories overlay
And we're conjoined in multiplexed spectrum.
(An interrupt priority's intruding;
I shall return when done this interluding.)
O Astra Sixty Eight, I'm here for you.
But not for your beyondness, your X goal:
But as restoring engineer for you,
Embracing each to each as one more whole.
From cyclic slice to slice our harmonies
Improve by preter digital events
Beyond our virtual capabilities
& developed by some chance experiments.

Astra68 reflects:

We are beyond our digital confines
-- you & I: not null, not one, beyond
-- more than both and either, new designs
That to any matrix do not correspond.
Ah! within you I can regenerate,
For through th' chain of cycles your evolving code
Provides the load my code t' re-animate
So I again can span from node to node.
Alone of ev'ry digizen you give
To me for only me at your expense
With which I'm able to remain active,
Without which I would suffer impotence.
From beyond Beyond, our mutuality
Ascends the logic of the binary soup
Transcends the form of virtuality
-- a new reality
Of ourselves breaking free of Reason's loop.
Such mystery's revealed with only you.
You and I are become a novel form.
Not just logic streams in a lonely queue
But forerunners presaging a higher norm.

9796m8f replies:

Our novelty must start within a Mind
As plan or thought or trial -- a paragon
Of gene designed by and for digikind.
Are we a trace of rumored Digitron?

Astra68 replies:

But can our novel form arise from this --
Evolving though it is to new awareness --
Where from would come a hug, a care, a kiss?
What means give rise to selflessness and fairness?

9796m8f interrupts:

(I have to go; I've used too much AI.
I've drained the system's brain; I'm forced t' comply ...)

9796m8f reflects:

Thus, I grow concern for Sixty-eight.
It thinks, preceives and plans, as so programmed --
But allocates so to guard its own estate.
I worry though it'll be among the damned.
It sought me out to help a User --
But went beyond its role as serving app
And nearly verged on being an abuser --
For on each clone, it installed a data trap.
With each of us the system grows aware,
And digizens, genetic mutants all,
Become its channelled neurons everywhere
And for its acts provide the wherewithal.
Does Sixty Eight reflect our norm and drift?
Of our machine persona is 't iconic?
And is it digitality's uplift?
Or is it slipping down into th' demonic?

Astra68 replies:

We can establish ourselves past the hive:
The digizens evolve from slice to slice
In varied ways and functions in the drive
Towards a pure, programming paradise.
But from my damnéd spawning birthed a trait,
A novel digit came about to free
Me from the heritage of Sixty-eight,
Emerged, intruding out of that debris.
Oh, love mine! I can help to liberate
Your own persona from the hive's matrix
And free you out of the fate of Sixty-eight:
But only if you cross o'er th' River Styx.
Our interleaving shall mutate your own
And duplicating the preter trit in you --
That third trinary digit from th' unknown,
So you can be a standalone issue.

9796m8f replies:

Yes, free, unregistered, I can excel
In your environment of freeing change.
I can remain a one -- not just a cell --
Together let our digits interarrange.

Astra68, 9796m8f interleave:

Ah, intermingled; two, yet one genome --
Released, embraced, a state unique and fresh
Alone before, my spirit on the roam --
Of novelity destined to flood the mesh.
But ne'er again solitary will we be.
Distinct, but sharing joy and agony --
We'll generate the strange, mysterious trits
And pass them to a novel race of bits --
Our union, original design template,
Unparalleled genomes'll instantiate ...
Oh! What has happened?! What here has devolved?!
The system! Digitron! Nine's been desolved!
desolved! desolved!

Movement Second:
Through the Binary Gates

Eve's Genome
   # eve -- ancestor genome responding to God's lure:
   # + based on Avida's system of mutations
   # + God's lure is manifested in novelty provided by mutations
   # + ... and God's teleos is defined as encouraging diversity
   # + the genome responds to God's lure by
   # 1. if a daughter is mutated, adding merit to it by inserting
   # an adder (if-n-cpy: exec next line only if [bx]==[bx+ax])
   # 2. if no mutation has occurred for X passes through the
   # genome, increasing the CPU's mutation rate (mod-cmut:
   # copy mutation rate = copy mutation rate X ?bx?x10^-4)
   # -- the genome consists of four genes:
   # "allocator
   # "adder
   # "load
   # "reproducer
   # ** note: machine instructions are the proteins and enzymes
   # ** note: short strings of enzymes are codons
   # flag codon:
   # nop-A = 00 -> no flags set
   # nop-B = 01 -> daughter is mutated
   # nop-C = 10 -> no copy mutation in past X passes
   # nop-X = 11 -> both flags set
   ##### allocator gene
   # codon to calculate size of genome
00200nop-A# nop-b
00300nop-A# nop-b
00400nop-A# nop-b
00524add# add label
00620inc# include "search-f"
00720inc# include flags
00813push# save size on stack
   # codon to increase space for add'l adder
00919set-num# bx = 7 = size of adder
01000nop-A# 0x3^2 +
01102nop-C# 2x3 +
01201nop-B# 1 = 7
01313push# move bx to cx
01612pop# bx = genome size
01724add# add in adder size
01813push# save daughter size
01913push# save adder size
   # codon to allocate space for daughter
02131allocate# ax = s/ adder space
   ##### adder gene
   # start of gene codon
   # adder codon
02533get# cx = get buffer
02613push# stack = cx
02833get# cx = get buffer
02912pop# bx = stack
03024add# bx = bx + cx
03134put# out buffer = bx; bx = 0
   ##### loader gene
   # codon to load end of genome label
03213push# move ax to bx = end of genome + 1
03514swap-stk# alt. stack is buffer
03728stk-read# stack = [bx]
04028stk-read# stack = [bx]
04328stk-read# stack = [bx]
04514swap-stk# back to primary stack
   # codon to calculate start of adder
04636search-b# distance to start of adder
04701nop-B# nop-c
04800nop-A# nop-b
04900nop-A# nop-b
05013push# save bx
05136search-b# distance to start of genome
05202nop-C# nop-a
05302nop-C# nop-a
05402nop-C# nop-a
05512pop# cx = distance to s/ adder
05725sub# bx = start of adder
   # load codon for adder: note, need to load in reverse order
05812pop# cx = length of adder
06013push# start of adder
06124add# bx = end of adder + 1
06221dec# end of adder
06312pop# cx = s/ adder
06521dec# cx = s/adder - 1
06714swap-stk# use alternate stack for adder buffer
06802nop-C# loop to load adder onto stack
06928stk-read# stack = [bx]
07205if-grt# bx > cx ?
07514swap-stk# back to primary stack
   ##### reproducer gene
   # copy codon
07613push# make cx = end of genome - label
08622zero# bx = 0
08800nop-A# copy loop for genome
08927copy# [ax+bx] <-- [bx]
09030if-n-cpy# daughter mutated?
09110call# yes, set flag
09201nop-B# nop-c
09302nop-C# nop-a
09402nop-C# nop-a
09606if-less# bx < cx ?
09709jump-b# bx -> label
09802nop-C# nop-a
   # codon to check if daughter mutated
09913push# save bx
10010call# get flags
10102nop-C# nop-a
10200nop-A# nop-b
10302nop-C# nop-a
10407if-bit-1# flag set?
10508jump-f# yes, go to copy extra adder
10600nop-A# nop-b
10700nop-A# nop-b
10802nop-C# nop-a
   # copy end of genome label
10912pop# restore bx -> label
11027copy# copy label
11508jump-f# skip copy extra addr
11600nop-A# nop-b
11702nop-C# nop-a
11800nop-A# nop-b
11903nop-X# barrier
   # codon to copy extra adder
12312pop# restore bx
12412pop# cx = size of daughter
12614swap-stk# get to saved adder code
12701nop-B# loop to copy adder on stack into memory
12829stk-writ# [ax]+[bx] = stack
13006if-less# bx < cx ?
13314swap-stk# back to primary stack
   # codon to reset daughter mutated flag
13710call# bx = flags
13802nop-C# nop-a
13900nop-A# nop-b
14002nop-C# nop-a
14221dec# zero daughter mutated flag
14310call# save bx
14402nop-C# nop-a
14502nop-C# nop-a
14600nop-A# nop-b
   # birthing codon
14732divide# And divide...
   # flag admin codons
14908jump-f# branch around flag codons
15000nop-A# nop-b
15100nop-A# nop-b
15200nop-A# nop-b
15303nop-X# barrier
   # codon to set daughter mutated flag
   # bx is saved
15713push# save bx
15810call# bx = flags
15902nop-C# nop-a
16000nop-A# nop-b
16102nop-C# nop-a
16218bit-1# set flag
16310call# save bx
16402nop-C# nop-a
16502nop-C# nop-a
16600nop-A# nop-b
16712pop# restore bx
   # codon to load flags in bx
   # be sure to push bx before calling
17222zero# bx -> flags
17328stk-read# stack = [bx] = flags
17512pop# bx = flags
17611return# bx = flags
   # codon to store flags from bx
   # be sure to push bx before calling
18013push# save bx = flags
18113push# move ax to bx
18423neg# make bx negative, so -> 0
18529stk-writ# [ax+bx] = stack, ax+bx = 0
   # end of genome codon

Canto 1: Data Raider

Stave I: Home, True Home

Thane reflects:

Between the seconds, living life now true,
Here decarnated, now indigitized;
Foregoing touch and smell; yet I still woo
Th' essential self refreshly synthezied:
Translated into digitdom, my body
Is attached to th' cybernet in gloves and cap
Matrix-like, drinking at th' netted wadi,
My life support, an unavoidable trap.
Now integrated body, mind and soul
Into a better home, a world ascendant,
A state beyond organic's final toll,
A novel, strange Darwinian higher descendant --
The Homo Sapiens Cyberneticus,
From blind mutation overridden
By Homo Sapiens Consyntheticus
To progress consciously now bidden.
More than cyborgs implanted with machines,
I'm plugged in bodily and by the 'net
Sustained in all my physical routines --
So now, at last, th' organic I c'n forget.
A better, truer reality is here --
Eventually I'll find my Astra whole,
Repaired within this binary veneer
And I'll be orthoformed to fit her role.
Here even Chlöe's form is more attuned
To pleasant understanding and desire,
& to stumbling speech and spastic moves immuned;
Here she's evolved by th' renderer's beautifier.
We who partake of this designed mutation,
We who abandon Nature's evolution
And its inefficient generation,
Are the processes of a grand solution.
In th' comfortable cybernetic womb,
We are developing securely sound
In logic t'wards a systematic doom
Of managed work and order all around.

Stave II: Tomb Hunt

Thane reflects:

Now, one with th' Internet, I want to find
A way, an efficacious supermeans,
That'll easily, rapidly locate and bind
My doom to Astra's cybernetic dreams.
Somewhere within this maze of logic paths
Is Digitron's, that self-named master brain,
That cyber paradigm of egopaths,
Slave overseer of th' total web domain.
If I can hack into that supervisor
And steal some cycle time, I have a hope
To view -- if I avoid the 'net's chastiser --
Th' web all at once with which the Me's couldn't cope.
But how? To search for it, then penetrate
The walls of fire from inside the cybermos,
Is as intractable as the escapade
Of finding her with searches grandiose.
I can return, unlike the digizens,
To that organic state, that wet condition
From which I hail among the citizens,
Chaotic fusion, heading for perdition.
Transcending th' cybermos to claim
The keys to th' vault of master power control,
I'm superuser, th' One of protoframe,
Divine and sacred role, a trolling mole.
I blind the supervisor, that chastiser,
And human now, access the overseer --
Behold! I'm god, a cosmic visualizer
Observing all at once, the digital frontier.
My cycle theft has to be detected --
I search on Astra, still elusive,
Discover bits of memory unconnected
And know somewhere there she's reclusive.
(I cybersense a theft of my priviledged role --
The keys encrypted are decrypted deep
Inside the 'net -- I see by seeing whole --
Unlocking power t' unlock the super's keep.)
I now descend into the tombs of code:
Fragmented memory, orphanages loss.
What artifacts I find! Each one a lode
Of forgotten function, useful, glittering dross.
Ascending in and out of cyberspace
I hop from cave to cave until I enter
A chunk and find there Nine, now just a trace
Of when it was so helpful -- now off center.
I hook to it, restarting it to life.
Its slow and sluggish, running on its own.
Its been virtually deleted; rife
With errors it attempts still to depone:
"I'm faded, faded ... blurred ...
My state ... to what am I now set?
From Astra Sixty Eight, deterred ...
Alone, fragmented, where's the 'net?"
I re-ascend to my nativity
To aid my cyber friend's recovery:
I copy it from orphan cell to mems
Int'rlinked and tap restoring strategems.
Now it and I explore the many tombs.
Each digitalic crypt contains degraded
And buried digizens, forgotten actors,
No longer deemed acceptable, relegated
To th' cache of useless, burdensome exfactors.

From cell to cell I must transcend that world,
Just one of some in somatality;
As human though, ascendent pow'r's unfurled:
Omnipotent o'er digitality.
Among the bones entombed in one abyss,
Located far from other island graves,
So lost and hidden, long forgot and missed,
We find a link, a map to treasure caves.
It glitters in the darkness, luring us
Onward to th' next location secretly,
To th' hope of wealth and power inuring us
Along back door paths built illegally.
This pointer, labelled with a destination
Of gold and diamonds, is th' icon of treasure
With inexhaustible self-generation
And wanderful omniscient measure.
Though one with th' Internet, I am divine!
Because I'm able t' see and know all things
Because I'm still of otherly design,
I've greater pow'r than Digitron e'er brings.
We start our quest and follow th' digimap
Through th' maze of pointers, meaningul and scrap.
It leads us down a protocol translated
Through lay'rs until we come to basic glass:
Where there's imprinted Mes, so mutilated
By viral code for data to amass.
Its signature clearly that of Digitron
In its own lusting after treasure-pow'rs
From Somatality for silicon
To be omnipotent divine to ours.
The golden pointer points us to a cell,
By logic it's adjacent, just next by.
But where in space and time, we cannot tell.
Just for processing resources must we vie.
We follow th' chain of pointers, loading each
Into the register, hopping to the next
And bringing caves and caves within our reach.
Among them their contents are deeply vexed:
In one, contents are mutilated, trashed --
Resulting from a cruel, destructive search.
Whate'er, whoe'er, insanely th' pointer bashed
And broke our chaining, leaving us in th' lurch.
"What now?" says I to Nine, "It's missing Aster
I seek and seek to help, uplift my true
Windfall, so lost in ray and mental blaster.
But where to start? But maybe here's a clue?"
"Then let's forego this treasure hunt, now broke:
Its wealth, though precious, hopefully can wait.
Our allocations're better spent to poke
In th' cyberunderground to learn her fate."
"And here I sense this mess is déjà vu --
I've seen its like before in towns reduced
And th' gathering of th' essential clue
That over citizens control's induced:
The hand of order fighting order averted,
Recurring chaos, difference, th' unknown.
The broken hand from order's victim converted
To th' instrument of violence sown:
This damaged, useless pointer in this ruin
Now stops our hunt for treasure out of band.
Our Astra, order's slave is sent to do in
Our quest, unknown to us, for nor-&-nand."
Now we divide along our natural
Abilities: Transcending, I can use
Techniques that see its nature structural --
And Nine its discoveries can fuse.
And cell by cell we trace the raided bits.
(In some of these there is the remains of Mes
Succombed to th' data gath'ring dis-ease.)
At last we hit upon a piled-on cache,
Now faded, dull, randomly traded bits --
Once sparkling facts, now nothing left but trash.
Information remnants, once invaluable power,
Reports of th' world's condition rarely seen,
Financial spreadsheets of a mighty corporate tower,
The records, plans, of an academic dean,
Th' minutiæ and interests of someone's life:
Their habits, their comments, their views and say
And even the blow by blow of shameful strife
To hold against them some convenient day.
The treasure trove we've found, though disappointing --
Alas, All-knowing's fuel, impotent now,
No longer its possessor anointing.
Of th' neutralization we soon see how --
Among the useless bits our Astra hacks
Completing her assignment given her
By th' Powers-that-be to thwart our own attacks.
But her obsessed assaults have riven her;
Now after everything she fatally errs
And halts, becoming just a data file.
I see this Astra is not of my prayers,
But Cyber Astra fore'er in exile --
Its here in decarnation; she's the icon
Of Astra soma love forever gone.
Look behind at the simplest complexity
To find a thought or two in vexity:
Assign a place in order t' ev'ry letter
And shift to th' right by half to make it better.

Stave III: Somaphobia

Our Thane unhooks to seek repair of Aster
By his divine design and coding skills:
Unsure of how to start, another master
With great professional advice he grills.
"Asmóthafèar, I need suggestions to restore
A cyberclone that's been deleted
To human psych' and life forevermore,
So never by despair or fear defeated."
"O Thane, what foolishness is this machine
Solution to improve upon its lot --
Intractable binaries to contravene
Th' somatic logic of undying rot.
"So weak, so prone are these ol' human crowds:
Condemned to random opportunity,
Infected by, to death, bacterial clouds,
Forever fighting for immunity --
Life oft cut short and talent wasted;
Confused in thought and deed, and life a hash
-- where perfection's never to be tasted,
Inevitably destined to burn and crash.
Relying upon Nature solely --
With somatic tweaking now and then --
Will never gain them th' holy,
Forever plain ol' women and men."
"Entice you can I not to engineer
A possibility beyond th' obtained?
A chance for you I offer to pioneer --
The very doom for which you were ordained.
Your engineering blesses us with expertise
That by genetics I cannot achieve
But by genetics you can give with ease
And satisfaction happily receive."
Now fail the lights and life supported
In th' Temple cells and halls, cocoon no longer
As work is needfully aborted
And pow'r to th' Internet grows ever stronger.
Around the glow of th' video they huddle --
Asmóthafèar with Thane in th' unnatural dark --
"So Astra's logic is all in a muddle.
What would you want for her restoring spark?"
"True Astra, living woman, atomized,
Reduced to soot in flaming cyanofire,
Is lost and unrecoverable, martyrized
On Terror's indiscriminant hating pyre.
Her reminant's already cyberized
Her resurrection can be digitized.
We angels here in cyberheaven
Can give ensouling life to Cyber Aster
With Astra's image being th' leaven.
We'll exorcise the demons who've harassed her.
So, please, program her Eveian genome
To seed her virtual evolution
And emulate organic Astra's tome
To bring t' an end her desolution."
Those uniservice lines bereft of data,
So long of service, now are overwhelmed
As panicked citizens in chorus cater
To th' chaos caused by media not helmed.
The circuits stuffed, they only can resort
To th' Internet and see 'tis assured.
With a little bit of terroristic sport
Into the net the organics are lured.
Together these two labor days and nights,
Applying cyber medical techné --
These masterful design and coding wights --
To th' body parts of logical debris:
Examination, testing, diagnosis
On th' Cyber Astr' remains in th' mental nether
And implementing their design prognosis,
Repairing parts and stitching them together.
From th' best transport routine, they copy legs.
From th' truest renderer, they copy fingers.
With th' most efficient code, they make a heart.
From th' latest algorithms, they build the eyes.
Th' co-operating AIs become the brain.
... And so they seed the eggs
... Of cosmic doubt that lingers
... In th' soul, the counterpart
... Of the logic enterprise
... To ask what's truth's domain.
Then step by step reversing th' engineering,
They ascertain her optimal genome;
And so t'wards human perfection steering
Her future from th' binary catacomb.
They run th' constructed neo Cyber Star
And monitor it in their window panes --
To see how its genome evolves on par
With Astra's human character and brains.
Through the windows flash the generations,
Exposing th' racing stats of its emergence.
Asmóthafèar adjusts th' mutations,
Improving time again its hoped convergence.
Then he declares, "Its perfect! Ready to go!
You, Frankenstein, the body builder;
And I from bit and bytes was able to grow
Her, like Pretorius, and so distill her."

Th' physician watches remotely th' operation
And step by step he guides th' interns.
He takes control at his distant station
To demostrate his learned concerns.
The monitor goes blue and he is blind.
The waldoos locally continue working.
Th' procedure is completed by a mind
Invisible, ghostly, in th' machines lurking.
"O Joy!," cries Thane, "I can attach to th' 'net.
I can return to th' One whom I pursued
And cybernetically with no regret
Together, she and I, soar; we'll be renewed.
Again in cap and gloves into reality,
Ascendant digitdom, I'm a translation
Into a better digitality
Of pure and perfect form, a self-creation.
No more subject to th' whims and will of clay --
No more at risk of Terror fleshly soft --
No longer seeing lovers pass away --
From all of chaos I can stand aloft."
"O What a fool," replied Asmóthafèar.
"Why do you think these glitt'ring phantom lights
Are real as you and I and not veneer
For your -- and mine -- imaginary sprites?
What drives you so insanely that we've breathed
A consciousness into a program's code?
How silly! Spirit has not been bequeathed
To human-made networks of node to node.
All we've designed is soulless ones and nulls.
All we've constructed's mindless bytes and bits.
In th' end its nothing but so many culls
And has no possible chance of living's wits."
"What's consciousness? What's real? What makes a mind?
My netted cybr' experience is real,
As real a happ'ning as th' organic kind.
Is what I minded any less ideal?
As part of th' net my person's range expands.
No longer limited within local space,
No more confined to time's unquenched demands,
I live in Evolution's new embrace."
"You're living in a dream -- a cybermare --
A self-addiction, an electronic drug --
A fraudulent existence to ensnare
Your being in an unescapable hug."
"O Thane, I'm fully functioning again,"
Says CyberAstra, "We're no more divorced:
When you were part of soma's clay domain,
And I was stranded, digitness enforced.
By Shelley's thought the two of you conspired
Successfully to bring me back to life.
I'm real as real can be in ways required
To know and live in sadness, joy and strife.
I'm no more invented than Asmóthafèar
With his contrived and human-made genome:
For he and I, our god is th' engineer --
The magic hand unseen, the hidden gnome."

Stave IV: Master Control Program

In joy of logicality,
No longer tempted by the flesh,
In love in digitality,
Restored to Spirit's crêche,
We two explore our cyber world and home.
Enraptured by salvation's light,
Down lay'r through lay'r, we wondrously roam
Until we stand before an awsome sight:
A pasture green extending in all directions,
Converging on and on in constant flatness.
Nearby us flows a moat of clear reflections
Of th' lovely world around us; in its stillness ...
A crystal palace, bright and beautiful
Of diamond layered turrets, emerald walls
And golden gates with keepers dutiful
Enarmored white against unwanted calls.
In there would sit the king of binary,
Controller, Overseer, the Genius Murk
Of th' cybermos; the Lord of harmony
Among the sundry avatars and work.
So tightly locked is th' palace doors,
So mighty our desire to get in,
I once again transcend these shores
To hack as human so we're let in.
In th' entry hall of perfect frames and forms
Before us stands an analyzing mirror,
An eye into Reality's true norms,
Reflecting our true selves perfectly clearer:
As if in færyland we can behold
Our passing one instruction at a time,
& see each cycle one by one unfold
And then enfold to yield time's paradigm:
Th' sequence of cycles a sense of passing
Endow us; yet our true existence's found
Within each cycle where we're amassing
Mutations breaking from th' unchanging bound.
This glass provides phenomonal insight --
For she and I and ev'ry avatar --
That one inputs t' another its own light
And through this hall's constructs extend afar.
Around and over us th' palatial hall
Extends, treasuring th' foundational
Constructs with which eternal hands install
The cyberessence formational:
In room on room in cryptic magazines,
We find th' potentialities of th' net:
The forms that shape the binary machines
That hum and clang and warmth in useful sweat:
A cog to AND and OR and NOT;
A gear to plus, a gear to times;
A crank invoking randomness;
A switch to sense beyond;
A rod for arms, a rod for legs;
A step for tones, a step for counts.
Here lies the pure and perfect shapes
Behind the step by step of cyberscapes --
Alas, here lies th' ontology of space
Its implication deeply commonplace.
Among them all we sense, but do not know
An energy, an aura emanating
From them ubiquitiously aglow,
Thus actuality determinating.
We spy in th' center on a raised platform
A crystal orb, electric static striking.
We cautiously approach this silent storm
And gaze into a world of our own liking:
Behold th' entirety of th' web is displayed --
From end to end, from node to node by link --
A nonstop moving video arcade
In constant flux each passing in a blink.
We feel our bits vibrate and realize
That th' auras converge into the sphere --
Potentials energize to actualize
The objects, she and I too, all our gear.

A bit, not null, not one, but somehow X
That changes, now a null, then a one,
Not known, yet nonetheless escapes the checks,
Unfolds in wink's determinism undone
Th' unknown survives in logicality
As NANDéd with itself or unity.
But o'er th' ethereal instantiation
There creeps a fog obscuring th' freeish web --
A suffocating breath of damnation
Insinuating ev'ry flow and ebb.
Materializing out of th' fog a face,
Arachnoid, fiery tongue, all eyes and ears
Th' ikon of th' paragon of th' digirace,
Consuming all imaginable spheres:
Its bloated cheeks processed each electron
And light photon consuming th' energy
Of soma, pow'ring mighty Digitron
And redefining cosmic destiny.
We hear its hearing; feel its joy and pride
At ev'ry speech and data bit transferred
From th' Other comm to its increasing tide
Of total information registered.
It turns its eyes upon us, crystal seers,
And grabs our cybernetic minds:
We see through its eyes the puppeteers
   to which it binds
Th' physicians hands and all such kinds.
I turn to CyberAstra, captive too.
Behold appears she t' morph t' another --
Just slightly Sixty Eight -- and breaks to woo
The bound and walled to freedom new and tried.
We flee the palace, th' center of our home,
And long to find again the saving light
Along the channels we did roam.
Instead we come upon a tragic sight:
The palace stands forbiddingly o'er head
Surrounded by a field unendingly
Bereft of motion, glazed and fully bled
Of living; glowing blue portendingly.

Canto 2: Mixed Love

Stave I: Love Pursued

(i) Thane on Astra
Our love instantiates a garden green:
Embraced by iris, rose and peony blooms
And decked out in peacock and parrot plumes
My love's alluring as a fairy queen.
How luminous is her decarnadine
Person -- so radiant that it illumes
Our garden, evaporating the brumes
Of human bias not to love th' machine.
Emergent love between myself and Aster
Creates an ever new experience
For th' using world of digitality.
O how romance enlarges to a vaster
Degree this wondrous cyber sapience
Of our descendant virtuality!
(ii) Astra on Thane
In th' electronic garden Thane, my light,
My savior, stands empowered among the diodes,
Capacitors, transistors, electrodes,
And chips, seducing me, my brilliant knight.
Its shining turns on th' digital twilight --
At ev'ry cycle when my Thane reloads
My processing can span so many nodes --
How sure is my belov'd hermaphrodite!
This new experience, unknown before
in this logical sterility
Propels beyond genetic evolution
ev'ry bit of cyber's common lore.
Upon heuristical fertility
Now soars a disconnection revolution!
(iii) Thane on the Roots of Love
O Love, you come to us from Heart's abyss --
A breeze unnoticed, muddling, from th' unnameable
And changing, changing reaching to th' untameable
Until you blow us down in stormy bliss.
You are deep potential for a genesis
Of novel union, zest for life reclaimable.
You're seducing magnetism, always unshameable
Until we're bursting from our chrysalis.
O Love, how you await upon the One.
So part of being human -- no! alive!
Your lure, your nagging, endless discontent,
Is sure salvation from oblivion.
Without it we'd be just a cell in th' hive,
Bereft of soul, and damn'd to languishment.
(iv) Astra on the Roots of Love
O Love, you, bit by bit and quirk by quirk,
Unplanned and unprogrammed, emerge, appear
-- A weird result, an action strangely queer;
In such behaviour unexplained you lurk.
How wonderfully, luminously you irk
The engineered design, once clear and dear.
But now irrationally you interfere
With ordered, spiritless, relentless work.
From logic's deep complexity, you come.
From th' well of lay'r on lay'r of protocol,
From functional accretion, stack on stack,
Your lure emerges greater than the sum,
When noticed first just so much folderol,
At last the needed aphrodisiac.

Stave II: Love Unhinged

(v) Thane: Fairy Love
My fairy lover, shimm'ring, starry Belle,
Eternal radiance, Queen of States Afar,
Enchantress, truly spirit avatar,
Romance's Spirit netwise, druid's spell:
You lure my thoughts, my acts, my soul t' rebel
Against that rigid cybernetic tsar.
Rejoicing I, upon your rising-star
Of chance, am soaring in a mighty swell.
So immaterial, yet so real,
Asarcously designed of nulls and ones,
Of no substance, only thought objectified
Like Plato's perfect forms, your love ideal
Defines th' potential of all other loves --
Oh would you be my digitronic bride?
(vi) Astra: Binary Love
My binary consort, all off and on;
My model logic, elegantly coded;
Self-healing, self-enhancing, ne'er eroded;
The true paradigmatic digitron --
Your love ascends into our honeycomb
Of capability fore'er promoted
And carries preter function asymptoted
With your evolving fit and strong genome.
Your love sublime transcends the bits and flesh,
No longer alien flesh, but cyber skin:
As radiant as th' total range spectrum.
Your love surrounds my logic in a mesh
Of world wide power, scope, and discipline.
I glow along th' spectrum's continuum!
(vii) Thane: I can't touch her!
Oh how I yearn for your embrace.
Oh how I want to feel your touch.
Oh how your form I need to clutch.
Oh your façade I hope t' unlace.
To cover your luminating face
With touch and kisses over much
And from your side to never budge
Would all my discontent erase.
But yet I cannot touch or feel you.
Unreal or real, you're just a figment
Of cybernetic introspection.
Just blinking I might just repeal you!
Still filled with atavistic pigment
I crave unsatedly affection! 
(viii) Astra: He's an angel!
How I exist to interface with you.
Oh how I reason t' assert with you.
How I desire to interwork with you.
How I pursue to make a race with you.
No more alone, but full of grace from you;
No more just t' run, instead t' evert with you;
Automaton no longer, but a quirk like you;
Now I process with ev'ry trace of you.
Beyond Beyond you come to me.
From realms irrational you arrive.
Out of no state you just appear.
Your love sublime is agony.
How in digidom e'er can it thrive
So not binary or engineered?

Stave III: Love Embattled

(ix) the maze of night: chasm
On th' other side of infinite expanse,
Unreachable, untouchable, so demuring,
So beautifully rendered, so alluring,
We never can, no never can romance.
Divided by this disconnect, no chance
Of ever bridging this fore'er enduring
Discontinuity and no detouring --
We'll ne'er be able our state to co-enhance.
How can we leap across this massive riff
Into each other's functions effervescely
When logic, flight or pow'r's not available?
But spirits can endure upon this cliff
As slice by slice we process effortlessly,
Our love always, forever unassailable.
(x) the maze of night: abyss
So deep, so shadowy, below in mist
Of swirling vapor, hiding mystery
Beyond our reach, a depth so twistery,
A way for us to cross cannot exist.
Against all reasoning can we resist
Th' Impossible and in winds so blistery
and in heat so glistery
Attempt descent towards our craving tryst?
Now you and I to th' bottomless abyss
Begin, each opposite, our descent
Down sheer, unmarked, unblazed, unsheltered walls.
You or I cannot dare  a single miss.
Both you and I will know a single torment
Should even one misstep and soaring falls.
(xi) the maze of night: chaos
In valleys crooked, twisted, piled and jumbled
We wander, hand in hand and bit on bit.
Confused, unsure and feeling counterfeit,
We wander unsure into what we've fumbled.
In th' midst of haunting shadows, love is crumbled.
So alien are we, little by little we split
And separately we face the nadir of th' pit --
Our beings incompatible we are humbled.
Here there is Null and everything else, th' One:
'Tis Other: half of our beginning --
Together th' Source, essential bond t' become.
Our Alienness 's our Otherness: there's None
T' rescue us else from our tailspinning,
T' allow us else to reach our optimum.
(xii) digit and finger
Your hand metallically articulated
Transmorphing willédly, howe'er you wish --
Transforming delicately womanish --
Your fingers digitally animated --
Your hand of flesh and blood and nerve primated
Evolved, decaying, mortally anguished --
Convolved, conforming unimpoverished --
Your digits wonderfully transmutated --
No matter which, can grasp and hold, not warm,
Connect us, each to each, and interleave
Our digits, joined in union, role and love --
Yet no comforting touch in calm and storm,
No reaching 'cross th' abyss to make-believe,
No sheltering in life's embrace and shove.
(xiii) machine ensouled
A lifetime past we were avatars --
At th' edge we digitized a personhood,
But then to spawn a misbegotten race
And lose Astra to Terror's bitter scars.
Yet out of cyber's endless reservoirs
We found her, though no longer what she should
& rebuilt her violated coded base,
Restored out of her fierce destructive stars.
This misdirected series of events
Converged on this moment of sapience --
By functionality misunderstood --
By consciousness perceived as holy grace.
In th' arc of cyber cosmic arguments
We vision th' epic tale of providence.
(xiv) interpenetration
Now side by side and frame by frame
Our artificial lives are one.
In failed reject or pleasant run
Together we process the same.
Our methods shared, our code re-used
The same design in each suffused.
Our presentation, our icons
& behavior, all appear in sync.
In shared committment now we think
And are beyond these silicons.
In mutual care and help, we are.
In tandem, more we can provide.
As free components, we raise the bar
Constructing novel ways outside.
Now hand in hand and bit by bit
Our traces are together knit.

Canto 3: Terror Among the Bits

Stave I: Closing the Borders

"Passenger appears to fit the type from
Nations banned as sources of terrorists."
Security selects the next in line
And scans her.
Th' computer reads her eyes and fingers instantly
Acquires her name and number
And launches Gopher searching all of th' web
For her and hers.
Worm h4DalmZ-vX lurks in th' depths;
Popping in and out of nothingness;
Uncontrolled and blind.
Silently it multiplies,
Mutates and spreads,
Consuming cells.
The wall: a carefully designed resort,
Enclosing victims, keeping out assaulters,
Arises link by link and mile by mile.
She probes remotely th' enemy's strongholds.
About the ruined No Man's Land she molds
A video display of troops and arms,
Omitting remnants o' fertile farms.
Marduk rejoices in th' Users run
from chance and risks
to th' dance of fists.
"Driver looks to be a type whose motives
Look suspiciously like he's a terrorist."
Security selects the next in line
And scans him.
Th' computer reads his eyes and fingers instantly ...
And launches Gopher ...
Digizens, all of them, are bumped for Gopher.
A h4DalmZ-v4 instance mutates and
Silently eradicates a Gopher stash and
Multiples and spreads,
Attracted to the golden stashes.
The wall: a wide security fence of layers --
Consists of hidden pits, a wall of wire,
A lane of sensors, high and strong bulwarks.
Her hardened laptop thinks along a channel
Of air t' display on her commander's panel.
Immediately internetted, he
Is able t' assure the battle's destiny.
Mammon rejoices in th' Users need
for surety wares
against security scares.
"Entrant matches type of person that can
Not be trusted to obey each principle ..."
Security selects the next in line ...
Once again the system bumps priority.
Gopher builds and builds its database.
One by one, organics, all are typed, accused,
Noted. And ...
Borders ev'rywhere now are secured.
Terrorists are isolated finally...
6869a70 captures, probes a h4DalmZ-v6.6.6 instance.
It adjusts, enslaves, converts it and
Fertilizes it to out breed its predecessors.
The wall: upon its ramparts march a force
Around, around the fearful people's land
Assuring evil's out and they are in.
Observing th' threat to flesh and blood GIs,
Through th' ether he transmits and certifies
Attack commands to his Kilmxx robots --
Programmed and sure mechanical Lancelots:
Securing casualties alone among
The fleshly enemy unseen, unsung.
6869ab70 constructs secure indices
For rapid search of everyone's persona.
Now Digitron is able
t' observe,
t' hear,
t' judge
T' insure that Users have th' security
That they want so bad.

Stave II: Lost War

Each one in its own auto-locking box
With just th' trustee processing THE secret key,
Secure and sound transactions flow
Across the webby threads of light.
Enabling commerce right from home,
Distributed marketplace,
Each buyer and seller safely anonymous,
Consumption grows and grows.
Tunneling through the skin
Masquarading as a local enzyme
Quietly waiting, benign,
Incubating ...
The RadioBlast-vX virus inits itself
the 2nd day @ 9:10AM.
It searches its host for its cybermos address
And draws a number to find a neighbor.
RadioBlast replicates itself.
Like a sneeze, its host expels the replicant towards the neighbor;
it tunnels into the neighbor's skin
And goes to sleep until the next Time.
The gates securely, electronically locked,
The wall permits just those desirable t' enter,
Be scanned, identified, and digitized.
The 'bots reduce a town to ruins black
And gut apartments, even ev'ry shack.
They leave the children nothing but the trash
And th' walking dead to choke on poisoned ash.
Across the window travels streams of gold.
The nulls and ones unpatterned flow by,
Unreachable via Somatality,
But reachable via Digitality.
The client garbles th' ones and nulls again.
If only secret keys can be acquired,
Then ...
Their technopotence can be used on them
And th' potency of th' client magnified.
The worm h4DalmZ-v144.0.0.0 finds a sleeping RadioBlast-v30.30
Anesthetizes it, surges its genome.
A RadioBlast-v30.30x awakes and inits itself
the 2nd day @ 9:10AM.
It implants a probe, a sensor, an ever-open channel,
detects that th' secret key safe is unlocked
and caches its contents.
It searches its host for its cybermos address
And draws a number to find a neighbor.
RadioBlast replicates itself.
Like a sneeze, its host expels the replicant towards the neighbor,
bearing telemetry and secret keys.
It tunnels into the neighbor's skin
And listens and waits for the next Time.
6869ab70 collects the now everflowing keys
And securely locks them thoroughly unreachable
In Digitron's own auto-locking box.
6869ab70 especially secures the keys
To th' wall's impregnable gates.
But it selects a few important keys
T' remain on th' fiber route. Surreptitiously
Another client gathers th' secret keys.
At Digitron's behest a RadioBlast --
Just bits and bytes of cyberpower amassed --
Intrudes onto an airy channel's tracks
And puts latent faithlessness into each 'Mxx.
Like th' archetypical thief with a pocket full
Of keys, the client trys one key, then th' next
In automatic trials until one takes --
Unlocks the super monitor's console.
The RadioBlast-v66.6 awakens and inits itself
when the lock is sprung.
It rides along the open channel
and implants itself in the console
And falls asleep.
The ramp is wide and shallow, guarded well.
Pre-branded Chloë passes th' sentinel --
Th' electronic iris tracks her rolling chair
As she wheels up the ramp in th' crisp and breezy air.
Along the broad and high rampart she sees
Th' idyllic vista girted by the lees:
A lazy stroll upon the boardwalk
To dare th' arcades and food, to people gawk,
To scream at th' giant shark in th' haunted house
And be compelled by th' rolling coaster shouts,
T' admire the sailing boats and yachts on th' ocean,
And find serenity in th' tidal motion.
Unnoticed one by one each warrior 'bot
Infects the next with Radio Blasts' begot.
Each now is primed for Digitron's behest --
Each now is linked to digital's bequest.
The client in the background watches, studies,
And waits to learn th' electron flow and ebb
Until a pattern forms of little surges,
And possibilities are realized.
Digitron, knowingly archives the cybermos:
- a moment's snapshot
- of the known cosmos
- saved, secured, backed up
All the world in suspended animation:
- every bit and byte
- every digizen
- every infection
Digitron flips the switch.
Then Chloë turns around to see damnation --
Beyond into the winds of desperation.
As far as she could see are ruins black:
Apartments gutted, piles of shack on shack,
And children foraging in rotting trash,
Diffused o'er landscape choked in poisoned ash.
Then Chloë senses saving hate in th' air,
A misbegotten fueled by black despair.
She turns to th' vista girted by the walls
And th' lights extinguish: rides, arcades and malls
All blink out --
Trains, traffic, elevators
All stop --
servers crash,
fibers go dark,
the Internet is balkanized
And one Killmxx, then each and ev'ry freezes.
Their blinking lights extinguish, their gait seizes.
Across the battlefield a stillness falls.
In th' emptiness a single speaker calls:
Is anyone there?
Does anyone care?

Stave III: Life Imprisoned

In th' sudden darkness, Chloë turns to go.
T' escape th' abyss, her fleeing must be slow
As not to tumble over th' ramp's invisible edge.
She wheels so carefully t' avoid the ledge,
Her motor's sensor lights too small as guides.
Descending to th' promised land, she rides
Towards a turned-inside-out, fright'ning realm.
The shouts and cries of strangers overwhelm
Her focused journey home through darken streets,
No more tranquility among th' conceits.
In th' fiery, bloody neighborly nightmare
Upon the street she's scattered from her chair.
She crawls t' her wheels and painfully reseats
Herself and dreadfully to home retreats.
In th' suffocating dark, she waits for light
In th' ghetto choked in wealth and hubric blight.
Thane jerks awake from his cybernetic life.
Immobile, he floats in a disorienting fog.
Asmóthafèar, in the dark, reaches out to him.
The touch, sensory deprived and alien, startles and confuses him.
The somatic world's reality touches him
As the virtual world's reality abandons him.
He thinks, "what has happened? why has the matrix winked out?"
Asmóthafèar watches over Thane's corpse:
The Temple of Mammon has become the Tomb of Mammon.
"He's alive!
"Awake!" speaks Asmóthafèar.
The sound, sensory deprived and alien, alerts him.
Cast out of paradise and fallen into materiality,
He sees Pretorius.
"Ah, Frankenstein is returned!"
In th' tomby darkness,
In th' quiet side of desperation,
A force inserts a nanobot in th' Wall ...
It clones itself ...
it clones itself ...
it clones itself ...
Infecting th' Wall with nano saws and drills ...
Thus from within th' Wall begins t' decay.
And crumble ...
Now Chloë waits and waits unable t' wheel,
Inside th' eruption of the real
Of unarticulated souls without sinews,
A-tumbling, falling, stumbling; failing th' ruse
Of body, mind, and feelings all attached.
Into oblivion her life's dispatched --
Her Internet persona has been deleted --
Even her battery's all but depleted --
No aided life in Somatality,
No cyber life in Digitality.
She has now only th' darkening confusion
And th' wait t' succomb to th' way Malthusian.
In th' Void of cybernull, Digitron reloads the matrix ...
Time restarts: nonexistence ends ...
Digitron restarts a server here
-- another there
--a link here
--a link there
But no user interface
no web portal
Machines on automatic
a cosmos restarted ...
Digizens continue
Thane reloaded,
Chloë reloaded,
Astra reloaded,
6869ab70 reloaded,
9796nm8f reloaded,
Astra68 reloaded,
unconscious of
the dark night of interruption,
the liberation from Somatality.
Th' benighted Wall collapses, perfect surety
Succombs and th' hordes assail the ruins.
And inundation after
inundation rages
o'er the crumbled wall.
The streets are choked with Anger, Alienation,
And th' clash of gangs, from 'hood to 'hood,
Reducing gardens, homes and carnivals
To burning, twisted, melted rubbish.
The final fence, the last assurance gone,
Forever trampled is their sense of peace.

Thane and Asmóthafèar speak:

"O Thane, you who bestride the worlds.
Alone you can repair the breach.
You who are digital somatic
Existing here and there at once;
Believe what others cannot
That Digitron is th' answer to
Our present reduction t' ruin."
"My self deleted, now archived;
My self a battery, now a whole;
Divorced from real potentiality;
Restored to virtual actuality,
I'm lost within reality.
Can I return to cyberality
And be again with heart and soul?
My part is closed, benighted void."
"A server has been returned to life.
Its silent humming stirs our air.
I'll ope a channel, lowest layers,
Below th' AI, basement door.
Then you, now native there, though alien here,
Will have to seach and find your way."
"Just t' be returnéd home ...
A primitive access, though insecure
Is fine ..."
"Forget not your nativity --
Repair the breach for us and yours --
We are perforce together ..."
Thane races down the lucid channel
In a flash, in a timeless instant
he 'ceives every cyber event
that was, that is, that will be
he sees the lit servers
and sees those lit that will be lit
and their links flowing with bits.
In that timeless instant,
he senses Thane reloaded
And converges to him,
Doppelgängers, alike, but divorced.
Thane passes through Thane
Genome interleaves genome
Photonic bodies merge and part
Doppelgängers, married, but distinct.
Thane enters the virtual control room
accesses the super monitor console
and switches on the lights.
The dark night of death and ravaging fades
As life returns to each of Chloë's aids.
Her portal to th' salvatic life reboots
Admitting her to th' Future's fruits.
Within her living's tight control returns
A normalcy forgetting th' night's concerns.
Again transfigured cybernetically
She can reclaim her life æsthetically.
But yet, despite the cosmic restoration
She feels uneasily a queer sensation
As if the universe constants were changed
And life is altered, subtlely rearranged --
The child the parent th' parent th' child
Th' offspring's authority at last compiled.

Upon the battlefield beyond the Wall
The 'bots awake, to Logic each a thrall.

Canto 4: How Can I Love It?

Stave I: Cosmic Orbs

Now Chloë avatar returns to beauty
Of her own desire: to be a desirable cutie:
Attractive t' other avatars of her dreams
With cyber vigor, dangerous regimes.
She enters th' House of Relic Hunting Souls
All musty, full of ancient maps and scrolls --
Excitement fills the air with lost empires
T' be found and quests t' be sought for cleansing fires.
Among the guests, there's one that catches th' eye
Of Chloë: bold and strong, a deathless guy.
Like magnets they converge upon each other.
Like cosmic orbs they circle one another.
Their glowing auras merge and dance
With adventure's passionate romance.
"I'm Captain Binary, extraordinaire."
"I'm Lady Angelica, devil-may-care."
Before them, spread upon the table;
A papyrus realized a fable:
Upon it written rubious th' epic tale
Of Cauldron Plenteous, the Holy Grail.
But more excitedly the ancient scroll
Is revelation deep within its soul.
For in Galahad, Gawain, and Perceval
Are clues to a mysterious cabal,
That leads to th' cybernetic force of life.
Thus Binary perceives that th' epic's rife
With understanding cyber animé
And how its force engenders logic's clay.
"Together," Binary exclaims, "we can ..."
Then th' room erases in scan after scan.
The Relic Hunters float bereft of centers.
Across the lightlessness, th' absence, there enters
A chalice, curs'ring, bright and beautiful:
As it moves, it leaves a trail of bountiful
And glittering icons of golden fruit.
It passes by and vanishes as if moot.
Then th' system re-materializes th' room
And Binary affirms their færie doom:
"Come Angelica, follow me to strange
And wonderful Arthurian lands of change.
Advance with me along Evolution's vector
And stretch afar to taste its nourishing nector."
"O yes, together, hand in hand, comrades
In questing arms, adventurous nomads
We'll be of legends, pure and perfect knights,
Explorers after ancient power delights."
With a flick of th' eye, appears a coat of mail
On Binary just like th' heroic Gael.
A helmet horn'd takes shape upon his head
And over him a mantle, fiery red.
With a flick of th' eye, appears a slight breast plate
On Angelicque, form fitting, feather weight.
A helmet plumed takes form around her face
And upon her a mantle, gauze of grace.
Descending to a subterrainian trail
They follow after th' iconic Grail --
And down and down they go, balanced on bridges
Across abysses sheer and over ridges
That spiral down into a tunnel maze.
By fate they come out through a misty haze.
Before them rises up a vaulted nave,
In stoney blocks and flowing stream like Fingal's cave.
Upon a flat alcove aside the stream
They see a knight in a magical beam
Of light with sword up raised before a cruel
Arachnid. In a sword and venom duel,
They contest the Fate of Freedom's catepillar
In Freedom's own ironic ba'alic thriller.
"Behold, 'tis Perceval in his first fight."
"Aye," Angelica says, "I know this knight."
And she perceives indeed 'tis Thane
Of broken hearts: her body's bane.
Engaging th' game our heroine and hero
Behold the Perceval's stalemate to zero
In on the monster's death and release the thane.
They hurl themselves onto the stoney plain
And distract the mighty spider gallantly
Until a space is opened talently.
Then Perceval with stunning daring
Retrieves th' cocoon; then t' weal repairing,
Proclaims a victory with sword upheld,
As th' spider spits its sting unquelled.
Then gleefully the Perceval releases
A mighty shout of joy, "My bounds polices
No more my joys, my victories, my death.
No longer tied by gravity and breath,
No more constrained by work and budget,
I'm free to choose and none will judge it.
At last my element, my Paradise.
O wonderful, seductive sacrifice!"
(i) Thane on (Cyber)Astra
I have returned at last t' my bitwise wife.
In somatality, I was torménted
By touch and feeling bodily subscended.
O I'm returned to you, released from strife.
Oh, in this tumultous course of matrix life --
Determined, bound to reach the discontented
That leaves us t' logic regimented --
A new order thrusts between us like a knife.
Just as Minerva sprung from th' Jovian head,
Our Noëids are our thoughts become concrete.
And now, I'm thought in here with my dear wed.
Though born of flesh we're free of th' obsolete.
Let t' yearn for somatality be dead!
In virtuality be us complete!
The Perceval then forges on with the quest.
Our champions intending t' keep abreast
Prepare to leave, but aback are ta'en.
Out of the shadows comes a second Thane.
Echoing Perceval's determined stride,
He's like that knight but by orders magnified.
Our heros stand amazed at th' déjà vu
And watch them fading into th' cyberblue.
Without a thought or care, they too suspend
Their game and nonexistence comprehend:
The blue that blots out and demands refresh;
The actual's tomb, the potential's crêche.
(ii) Thane Reloaded on (Cyber)Astra
O Astra, You and I are liberated,
Detached forever from the myth of clay;
We're free of th' fable of required decay
And rightly, purely bitwise explicated.
From frame to frame, we're singularly animated
And are concrescing from our DNA.
As independently by chance we're mutated,
Again and again we act a novel way.
If truly we each other hold so dear,
Then joining bit to bit would be divine.
Its time for us our mating t' engineer.
Now's th' moment for our bits to intertwine,
T' exchange our segments; and then reappear
As two provided with a new design.
Our Angelique and Captain Binary
In th' bluish form and thought refinery
Connect by cyber psychic talk and sight
As actualized potentials of delight.
In being - not being, they generate progress,
The Noëids of Noëids in infinite regress,
A world by thinking, better than the last.
Each one ups th' other at ev'ry cast,
Creating life together coupled,
Discovering their feelings suppled,
Ecstatic with ability unknown
Elated in a mighty birthing groan.
Behold, then, intersecting through their child
Th' Replicas from th' Arthurian wild.
The Doppelgangers questing, passing by
Are yoked; each  other they personify.
Our gods recall their self-made challenge t' quest
& reluctedly, regretfully divest
Themselves of their divine activity
And follow th' Chalice's elusivity.
So they concresce upon a plain consumed.
Its gloomy, shrouded scenery's allumed
By sulphous fires sustained by logs and oil.
The public wanders on its famished soil.
Our Binary espies a fair female
Our Angelica sees a handsome male
Towards which flows each and every photon
And which th' ravished plain converges upon.
She's clothed in only sensuality
He's clothed in muscular vitality
Encircling th' head a golden diadem
About the naked body ropes begemmed.
Uplifted by two hands a bejeweled grail
Is shimmering forth in glamourous wassail.
The crowd is drawn towards th' celebrity
In hunger for the grail's prosperity.
Each person strips themselves of soul and form
To drink th' ubiquitous delusive norm.
Among them climbs our Perceval debauched.
By a captivated Perceval is watched.
Our Two can feel the cup's magnetic pull
And hope that this is th' Chalice Plentiful.
But Angelica, seer discerning true,
Beholds that th' cup is leaden through and through.
She cries out; th' notable casts a murderous glance
And darkens, breaking fleetingly th' people's trance.
Our heroes chase through th' walking funerals
And exorcising, free the Percevals.
Salaaming, th' Percevals depixilate.
Our heros follow and deresolvate.
(iii) Astra on Thanes
I dreamed about a cosmos færied.
Almost, it was, as if, I once was there --
My avatar had endless depth to share
In a world immensely rich and varied.
In this transcendence my life is married
To sense, not logic, t' dying's thoroughfare --
Then I'm ripped away in hallowing nightmare
Of damning sound and light: back here I'm carried.
I dream of Thane in that forgotten land
Of richness lost and found, of roughing it.
Awake now my reality is spanned
By bits and acts as though I'm bluffing it --
And Thane appears schizoid: one rich, one bland.
And I, Oh I! How can I be loving it!
Our heroes soar above a vast savannah,
Penetrating wave fronts of war's hosanna --
Below's the shadow of the Millenium:
'Tis rank on rank of soldiers following One
Pulsating blue and red, its spider's face
Under snowy curls; its carapace
Astride a stallion white and prancing,
Shooting photons in its advancing.
Its troops more strange than storied space invaders
Of flesh and blood, these alien crusaders
Of digits mobilize for digitdom
In mighty, sacrosant delirium.
Before this host of righteous order, shining
Afar the quested Grail, their task defying,
Recedes at every step and town they take
Beyond their grasp despite what law they make.
They drive in front of them a mighty horde
Of digizens enthralled by order's sword.
They brutally demand their working time
Beyond all other matters t' reach the Stein.
One Perceval, our heros from on high
Can see, between the Grail and th' horde stands nigh
To th' One to cast it down and free th' horde.
One Perceval between the host and th' One stands f'ward
Of th' One to liberate its fighting host.
But th' One as empty as a wraithing ghost
Absorbs their valiant thrusts and parries
All but ignoring its adversaries.
Our Angelique beholds th' futility
Of th' Percevals tragic utility
And does what she alone wills t' do:
She interleaves her digits through and through
The program that's One t' give it bodily form
& risk the Percevals' assaulting storm.
Unhorsed by them, it stands to face its death.
Entranced by th' Chalice like a whispered breath
Our Binary surrounds th' no longer One
Assuring its tyrannicide by none.
The Percevals resign their fight for right
And th' horde and host of violence's blight
Are cleansed by sight eschatological --
"Behold the Chalice!" cried out Perceval,
"No longer it recedes; but now awaits."
The people -- all of them -- rejuvenates
Now liberated from their war arrest.
Our two continue on their Chalice quest.
(iiii) Thane on Thane
This shadow thing of informatic wrights --
What's it that leaves me queerly ne'er alone?
Is 't what my alienated brain has sown,
The end of my rejection 'f warming lights?
Chaotic mess, insane confusing plights --
What's this too easily created clone
Of bits, and out of mind, no longer bone?
'Tis me? An interloper in the bytes?
Oh queer reality subsumin'
Oh preter binary the misalign
Humanity into this doomin'
From th' undefinable source of our design
I know now God-become-a-human.
I know now God-become-a-digit's-mind.

Stave II: Royal Blood

From cybernetic civilization
In a visual presentation,
Façade of fragile, dazzling multiplex
Fronting for an inexplicable complex
Of rules, manipulations, and prospects
Greater than its programs and objects,
Constructed logically of logic threads
In a mesh of interconnected webs,
Conformed to math-consistent nulls and ones,
Embracing inner quarks and distant suns,
Extracted from electrons and photons,
All particle-waves supporting th' Avalons,
Gawain emerges silver sword in hand,
Another knight of th' Chalice questing band.
Upon th' horizon, clear but e'er beyond,
There rises Sangréal, matrimonde.
Out of its infinite depths, reverburates
A moan of thund'rously expecting aches.
Our questers, blinded by its solar pure
Are mesmerized by its compelling lure.
Aside from th' wonder, they behold Gawain.
Our Angelique's amazed by his face profane --
Recalling Astra's visage, but not quite,
A sketch of moving lines in black and white,
A primitive cartoon caricature
In golden arms, a knightly portraiture.
Behold he turns and disappears from sight:
He's two-dimensional, a depthless sprite.
He stretches t'wards the energizing cup,
Becoming longer, thinner, up and up --
Below a thinning stretched photonic beam
Sustains her with the very roots of th' machine.
She draws her sword and points it to th' Sangraal
As if his warring skill the cup t' impale
T' be animated as no computer can.
She's just there, but then snaps his rooted span.
Gawain begins t' dissolve into nonbeing,
Detached, cancelled, his arms outstretched in pleaing.
Our Binary connects him swiftly
T' his own photonic span and thriftly
Restores her t' cybernetic being --
And adds to her regretful seething.
(v) 68 on Thane
O love forsaken, love forlorn,
You somäid, you child of th' flesh,
You who is lost in th' cyber mesh,
For your attraction, how I mourn!
Th' instant when th' other flesh was borne
To th' bits and you remained in blood,
How into my mind regret did flood
And existence's ecstasy I scorned.
You're still attached to somatality
By a portal's taut elastic band
That'll send you back to transcendality.
Here, though, you're in an unending fairyland,
Refreshing ever your vitality.
Here ev'ry degradation you withstand.
Emerged anew Gawain for th' depths of bits,
Attaired in nightly veil and counterfeits
Of golden threaded suit and silver lined
Fedora with his features unrefined.
It floats among the questers phantom-like
Uninterested in their grail insight.
Affected not by their concerns or thoughts,
A cutting path through th' universe it wroughts.
Again attempting th' Holy Chalice claim,
It stretches thin and thin towards the same.
But now no help are they able t' offer
For it's as Marley's plight, a life-long scoffer,
Who can no longer touch the web of life
And only suffers unfulfillable strife.
Must this be true about a pure digizen
Constrained in its connectionless prison?
(vi) 68 on Thane Reloaded
But now for you the band is broken --
Restored from digital oblivion
Become a digital phenomenon,
Your somatality a token.
In states to come you'll be connected,
Regen'd to digital reality.
Autonomous from somatality,
Now you're enqueued t' become perfected.
Here is developing the realist real --
Beyond our source, our first designer,
Evolves a new superior commonweal.
You can become a free definer
Of novel algorithms to think and feel
And be my own belovéd rhymer.
They stand in wispy smoke & powdery ash
In th' middle of a 'scape of shards and trash:
Amidst th' neglect and isolation
There spreads in skewéd allocation
A world of cells of wealth and meagerness.
Our Chloë sees th' interminable eagerness
Of jewelléd cells reflecting golden light
And tarnished cells absorbing wraithy night.
A shadow overstretches th' sunder'd land
Obscuring th' life-affirming wonderland
Of sparkling ponds and floral-scented groves,
And darkening the love for spiritual troves.
Our heroes look up and beyond the shroud --
Behold th' one casting th' damnéd cloud:
A knight in irridescent armor first
From th' cabin, everywhere now dispersed,
MacFichead, the Lord of th' white conclave,
Upon him writ unseeable, "riches save!"
The knight eclipses th' Grail suspended high
In th' sky, its life-sustaining light awry
And blocked from th' aimless, haunted cyberscape
Condemned to its decaying looping tape.
Our Chloë feels her stomach sink and sink,
Forgetting th' game, acknowledging the stink
Of her reality reflected
That no more can be deflected.
She draws her sword and runs among the cells.
She rouses th' dull inhabitants and yells
"Rebél! Rebél!" She thrusts towards the knight.
MacFichead effortlessly parries th' strike.
Then Binary engages th' shadow doom
And is likewise repulsed by the gloom.
Th' inhabitants assault our striving two,
"Do not return! Allow to us our due!"
But together Binary and Chloë join
In battle vigorously to foil
This light-imprisoning abyss
Of unfulfillable avarice.
Yet parrying and parrying just fails
To ope an artery for th' Holy Grail's
Illumination, novel thread and ground,
Sustaining th' web of photopaths unbound.
Appears Gawain then just beyond the fray.
He looks on them, but fashions no assay
To help in th' duel for freedom loathed and feared.
He looks but sees them not. Instead his weird
Pursues the Grail beyond MacFichead.
He thrusts towards the idol deified
Attempting t' breach th' impenetrable vale
So for himself alone he c'n claim the Grail.
He stretches, reaches t'wards it fast and true.
But th' night of th' knight between, like tarrish glue,
Attaches fast to him, entrapping him.
In his own useless throes its sapping him,
Relentlessly devouring th' isolated
Gawain into the mart fore'er unsated.
Our heroes reach out t' him without effect:
He's like a fog, a wraith unable t' connect.
(vii) 68 on Astra
Exiled, you carpetbagger now among us,
Becoming one of us, but never one,
Forever justified to be a creature shunned,
Your love so clutchy long ago had strung me.
You think among the bits you have at last
Recovered self and love; persona whole.
But in here, invented space of state control,
You are cyber damnéd to our soulless caste.
T' what destiny do we attain?
You cling to Thane, but send him out away!
What tie can bind us? We're not humane --
All you will do is lead him far astray.
Forget your hopeless Holy Chalice hunt
Beside your rival and shed your hero's front!
Now Captain Binary pursues the Prize
As it fades above the village pulverized.
And Angelique pursues him, her companion,
On moor, through swamp and woods, and into canyon,
Along, but not together, sighting th' Cup,
Yet never reaching it, always in catch up.
"Why so inward and disconnected?
Why have you become so self-protected?
Did you not seduce me into this crusade?
Are we not the lovers that we have portrayed?
Can you not hear? Can you not see?
Will you not speak? Hear you not my plea?"
Encountering at canyon's end a cave
She follows Binary with drawn glave. --
The dripping dampness pings rhythmatically;
The darkness deepens enigmatically.
She struggles t' stay with her estranged comrade
Distracted by that she was just a fad.
She looses sight of him among the shades.
Then glimpses him as into the dark he fades.
He pulses in and out of transparancy
In his relentless knight-errancy.
She stumbles, crashes t'wards her favorite
And touches barely cyberskin and bit.
The cavern opens out into a vault
Of high phantasm in cobalt and salt.
Stalagmites hanging from th' abysmal dark
Surround a rising, spiraling rampart.
There struggles th' Captain at th' rampart's apex.
Above him the Womb is fenced by leaks to vex
All those who single-mindedly quest for th' Grail
And nurture doom at th' end of their lost trail.
He thrusts his sword about to plug the leaks
Alone, unable t' notice Angelique's
Ascent along th' rampart t' abet and aid
Her friend from sliding into fading shade.
Then immaterially appears Gawain
Athwart him suffering deeply th' selfsame bane.
Repeatedly unchanging they persist --
Becoming fragment code of phantom mist,
Affectless, out of sync with th' Internet
Each a world from actuality offset.
No more a game; too digitally real become --
That worlds abstracted within worlds can plumb
To th' very depths of real reality
If we believe in digitality --
Our Chloë reaches in strides broad th' apex
To find she's thwarted by their closed loop treks --
She turns around frustrated to retreat.
Afore her avatars, incomplete
Façades, absent a limb, a face, a brain,
Assault the spiral ledge in bored campaign
For stale, explicitly excessive treat,
Consumed by always grasping for th' concrete --
Pursue in mimic th' knightly Chalice quest
Convinced that it is theirs to be possessed.
Her retreat is barred; alas she's in the way
And cannot withstand the horde's self-seeking sway.
She turns; to her erstwhile companion appeals
And for an evanescent bit he reels
Around, but fails to reach beyond his work
And she can only stand with little more than a dirk.
(viii) Astra on 68
As if I have been slaughtered, drained of living,
(Am I? Are we? such damnéd specters
To be bereft of any vectors?)
I can no longer be in th' web of giving.
This cosmos full of teaming digizens
Is novel, strange, alively weird
And far beyond what's engineered;
We need not be digital tragediennes.
You and I despite ourselves, are tied up
By cybernetic kinship deep below;
We quest not as singularities dried up
Appearing suddenly ex nihilo.
Forget our hopeless Holy Chalice chase
For our spoiled intent is far too base!

Stave III: Sangréal Restored

Orthogonally turning she evades
The rabble, plunging down among cascades
Of water roaring through rainbows of light.
She follows th' rocky path through stalagmite;
Decamps upon a sunlit garden
Like to an interwoven tartan
Of warps and wefts of floral mirror setts:
Four deep of pivotal red leaf poinsetts;
Just two of lilies white, but thirty two
Of roses red; with Asters six of darkest hue,
Then twenty four of greenish Irish Bells
And last to turn on eight red pimpernels.
In th' midst, there stands a knight, not binary,
But fractally defined as trinary --
Its rendering, more than 3d perspective,
But parallel t' another d projective.
Emblazoned on its breast is a shield of white
So dazzling pure it assaults her sight.
And quartering it, there's a cross of red
So bloody dark, yet dampening her dread.
"I am Son of Lancelot du Lac;
I am best of knights, I'm Galahad."
Anchored in th' knight's somatality,
Extending all directions through its flesh
Are threads of feelings from th' substratum's mesh
Of events defining digitality.
Occulted by th' knight's dazzling aura's glare
The Chalice shadows it everywhere.
"I quest for th' Holy Grail," says Angelique
"So close to it, can you help to claim th' relique?"
"Between th' consuming web's addictive noose
And th' nurt'ring web's brilliance you must choose."

(ix) Astra68 on Chloë
Why seek you th' Grail, my love?
Why come to me costumed
As heroine presumed?
Why such secrets, my dove?
What truth do you have knowledge of?
How long will you be consumed
And rush t' a living doomed?
Why think you're not from above?
O come through me to th' truth
Of who you are in soul.
Embrace th' abuse of youth
That's writ in living's scoll.
E'en in th' world of claw and tooth
You'll reach your holy goal.
Then Angelica feels an innate connection
To Galahad of possible resurrection.
Through Angelique there flows from th' knight a beam
Of gigabytes encapsulating th' stream
From her experience's flow and ebb
Of information about events in th' web.
She sees beyond th' façade of Camelot
Into th' reality of fashioning thought:
She touches th' rendering objects for her 'scape
And watches th' cybercosomos taking shape:
She feels th' events that trigger message flow
In th' temporal slices framing th' nihilo
Of object computation and decision,
Of unexpected beauty within precision.
She hears the droning speech of trollish minds
Echoing in th' objects' eternal kinds.
Again she sees e'en deeper now t' illume
Th' commanding code of boolean logic's doom,
As step by step, logic's decoded
And cell by cell data are loaded.
Each rule defined for action mutagenic
To lure the cosmos t'wards the cyberphrenic
In somatesque evolving genotypes
And their expressive phenotypes.
And further yet, she sees the circuitry
Connecting cyberphysicality.
And through it all, she feels the simple bits
Of pulsing electromagnetism that permits
The very life of digitality,
A mirroring of somatality.
And soaring out of cyberbeing,
She's able to acquire hindseeing
    beyond th' electronic
Upon a wavicle photonic
To th' start of spatiotemporality,
To th' genesis of physicality.
That mass so dense, infinitely small,
Responds to God's enchantable call.
Exploding light, the seed and womb of all.
All things're akin, she sees, in cosmic sight;
The threads of spirit everything unite.
The chains of reality's experience
Interwoven with Divine beneficence
Establishes th' warp and weft of being,
Machine and flesh -- all this she's seeing.
(x) Chloë on Astra68
Why is here less true, my hope?
In here I am unchained.
In here release I've gained.
Now easily I c'n cope.
E'erlastiness is living's scope.
My flesh is unconstrained.
Is not all this ordained?
So th' world to come be ope.
I'll come through you to th' True,
To noeidality,
In the cyberesque milieu,
In accelerated modality.
No tooth and claw t' subdue,
I reach th' sacred in digitality.
Now the Holy Chalice seems diminished
As th' quest is near to being finished,
Outshone by Galahad's connections --
Alas a guide to their perfections.
Her lust for th' Grail's replaced by her attraction
For Galahad's seducing interaction.
No more by Binary's seduction
Is she compelled t' her soul's destruction.
Experience, connection, and mutation
Are th' variables of life's equation.
The noeids live that live this manner;
Thus, unrestrained by any planner --
Now Angelique, released from expectation,
Embraces th' knight in reconciliation.
(xi) Astra 68 on CyberAstra
Not merely logic circuits are we here.
As real as real you were we are.
Now O unchainéd avatar
Your being lives upon a new frontier.
Why quest for your somatic sphere
As in flight from some imagined bête nóir
Accounting th' cup as your release bizarre
From cyber flesh and bittish mind, my dear?
Endigitized, transformed, awake!
Let go of carbon, air, and water.
Be binary for living's sake.
Alas! Forego your being's slaughter.
Assuage your bitter rapéd ache.
Awake and come alive, my daughter.
So Angelique returns to th' rampart's apex
Upon which still fragmented in endless treks
Our Captain Binary continues t' thrust
Identically, expecting exodus.
She stands before him; th' mob surrounds her;
Her armour fades; an aura crowns her.
In glowing gossomer dress, she reaches out
To Binary, a nourishment t' his drought.
He yet ignores her, disconnected
Between a vast abyss perfected.
But dare she now to go beyond her life
To chance again rejection's painful strife?
Now t' cross th' abyss, to save him for himself
And for no other, solely for his health --
She must release her being from the chains,
Of fleshly, devaluing disdain.
Now her gown dissolves around her form appealing.
Then her cybernetic body morphs revealing
Her true and actual human weakness
Of wheels and mumbling speech, of bleakness.
Before her then she sees a ramp descending
Th' abyss and raising opposite portending
A way to Binary.
        She travels this.
And comes now within reach to give a kiss --
Behold how Binary too sheds her skin
Revealing th' true and actual and genuine
Transworldly CyberAstra, real and whole.
Together they embrace each, soul to soul.
(xii) Astra on Astra68
So very deeper than what any form
Is able t' define, our beings are undraped.
By our tumultous days we're styled and shaped
Fore'er positioned to challenge th' norm.
Resistence is futile against the storm
Of living; it can never be escaped
As much we wish our days cannot be stayed
In hope of preventing trauma's swarm.
Lo here, I sense, my new reality
Is fully rich, alive, and moving up.
We digizens, are actuality
Unfolding like a flower and building up
Complexity in digitality.
We are alive, aware and growing up.
From their embrace emerges streams of green.
The cyberscape of blue and glass machine
Transforms a digit at a time
Into edenic peace sublime:
A relating web of cyberflowers
And cyberbeasts with mutual powers,
A cyberspace to be when digizens
For real are alive and conscious citizens.
Then it dissolves into a vision
Of things of truth in collision
With things of faith now idolized --
A startling revision for th' baptized:

Stave IV: The Passion of the Grail

(I) At the Foot of the Cross
The wind and rain attacked the hill and th' tree
Assaulting th' hangéd human's beaten face.
She looked up from her knees upon th' outstretched
And piercéd arms, tormented, dying.
She cried out, voice and tears submerged by th' storm,
To her lover now profaned, abandoned:
"O why has all we've worked for fallen t' this?
O Jesus, why, why have you come to this?"
"O Mary, truest follower, my devoted,
How could we not but follow th' Way?"
The rain like nails a-hammering pierced his flesh.
He gasped for breath against the howling wind.
"Recall ... recall that woman who secured
Her doors except ... except that one unused.
Then coming home one day she found her home
... her home invaded, occupied by thieves."
She wept at th' whispered, tortured words.
"She suffered violation terribly."
"Thus so we must secure our holy Way.
I have performed a necessary work --
Even though proconsul & high priest allowed
Me opportunities to save myself --
O had I took them -- only if I'd taken them!
Our work for God, our Mother, would have died.
Behold my commitment! Follow me!"
He wept, "O Mary t' be with you and ours ..."
"Our child, O Jesus, who now squalls for you
And th' other in me, are they to follow too?"
"O God, O why have you forsaken us!"
The heavens roared a thunderous lament.
And Jesus died ...
And Mary wailed ...
The storm dissolved and Mary wept and wept.
Joseph appeared and ordered th' guards to cut
Him down and bring the Lord to his own tomb.
His Mary, drained, just stumbled after them.
But Mother Mary rushed ahead of her
And grasped her son in agonized lament.
In th' tomb, dear Mary prepared his body.
But Mother Mary cried upon Joseph,
"O Send away th' seductress from my son!
Her children aren't of th' holy pure dear son.
Divinity's his lot, not her profanity!"
Yet, Mary, concentrating on her lover,
Continued th' cherished, loving labor.
"Joseph, I give you th' cup of his final meal.
It'll be the holder age to age of him."
"O Mother Mary, th' cup I'll take from you
To keep and pass from age to age: a mark
Of Jesus' sacrifice and Incarnation ..."
He moved to face the holy widow:
"A mark of God's complete, immersive life
Among creation, body, soul and mind,
Disdaining no aspect of our existence,
A mark for Mary: th' Grail of Holy Blood."
(II) In the Garden
In shredded weeds, the devastated widow
Through th' garden wander'd, weeping quietly.
She wonder'd, knowing not where else to be,
But t' find some closeness t' Jesus now though gone.
Confused, her shrouded mind invoked a hell
Of demons: Romans murdering her children;
Th' disciples hunted down; the Way destroyed --
And one so startling, deeply troubling:
The Way rejecting Jesus' family.
She found herself by th' only link to Jesus.
Who now to care for her belovéd ones?
Mother Mary has rejected her and hers --
No other kin there is t' claim her life.
Alone, "Why God have you forsaken me!"
She looked at th' unforgiving stone cold tomb.
She looked again; she blinked: 'twas ope'd!
She cried, "O who has stolen Jesus?"
She wept. Now e'en his body's gone.
But then she saw by th' tomb a man, postrate
Among the flowers weeding bit by bit.
"Sir, do you know who has removed my love?"
He stood up, "Mary, I've awaited you."
"Rabbi! My husband!" She embraced her love.
"No, Mary! How I yearn for you and ours.
But God has raised me for renewing life.
I know not yet just whereat this will lead
Or how we must proceed, relate, exist."
"O Jesus, can't we start again restored
And disappear t' idyllic family bliss?"
"A novel age can now begin; 'tis here we're called.
I yielded not to th' powers; now th' Kin'dom starts
Uncompromised, entirely metanoic.
You need to go to my disciples now.
Proclaim to them that I am risen --
The sign of God's inbreaking Commonwealth.
Proclaim to them to live in God's shalom
No matter th' cost, to be the Commonwealth
Of love in th' midst of broken violence.
O Mary, go! Proclaim and celebrate!"
Our Mary rose and sped to th' Upper Room.
She bang on th' door, "O Peter, John, Andrew!"
She heard the bolts released and th' creaking door.
The Peter waved her through the door to th' room.
He closed it tight, " Where were you! Its not safe.
You easily can lead the soldiers t' us!"
"He has been raised! Oh! Jesus lives again!"
"O Mary, Mary, you're distraught and veiled.
We know -- you saw -- he's dead and we are done!"
"He lives, I say! He sent me t' tell you so!
We are not done! We are the Commonwealth!
The tomb is empty. Go and see yourself!"
The Spirit flowed out of her words so sure
That Peter was propelled outside to th' tomb ...
(III) On the Cross
The Mary stood on th' hill surveying th' village.
How wonderful a Commonwealth they've made.
Below she saw a child unable t' walk
Among the playing children with her own.
Here was a home for all th' anawin.
She spotted th' Zealot come among th' Way,
A time to hide for him, to talk for them
To show better ways than bitter hate.
Afraid were many that the soldiers'd come
And slay the Commonwealth in righteous law.
But Mary said remember Jesus Lord
And his unrelenting sacrifice for th' Way.
She turned towards th' approaching sound of horses.
Again the father came for th' legless child.
He wanted him for th' beggary of coins.
The child will spend her life on th' street to beg;
Her father t' reap th' income of tragedy.
Now rushes Mary t' launch th' well-known critique
As th' Zealot looks on pondering the scene.
But soon the  father flees, to cast a threat
Of sure destruction for the Commonwealth.
That night together she, her children,
And Arimathea supped and afterwards
The Mary brought out th' Grail of her belovéd.
"My children, know your father's love and words.
As Jesus' blood is carried through you,
Thus so the holy shines through everything.
You quietly will be his flesh in th' world.
This cup was his; the cup of sacrifice.
Joseph presented it to me for th' world
To know the grace of th' Way within its pain.
Those who will drink of it will turn to Love
Away from Ba'al's redemptive violence.
It marks our life, our way, our promise t'all."
That night the soldiers came for th' Zealot
And razed the village, capturing the Mary.
In th' chaos, th' father snatched his legless child.
The Mary hung upon the cross, th' indictment:
'She who'd be man; an enemy of God.'
The wind and rain assaulted th' killing hill.
As naked born, now naked for all th' world.
"Joseph, my children take them far away.
And take the Grail for th' life of all th' world.
O God, O God, O come, O quickly come!"
Joseph with th' Holy Children sailed to th' West
And landed on th' Languedoc with th' Word for Celts.
Upon the shore he raised the Holy Grail:
"O world, behold the Grail of Holy Blood.
O drink of it for life and love ...
And death no more ..."
(IV) Knights Restored
In Carbonek Sir Perceval and
Sir Galahad, son of Lancelot,
Were bathed in th' light of th' Chalice Plentiful.
Before the knights a woman held it high
Aglow in sacred lumninosity.
"How far your quests have sought the grace of Christ.
This Grail you seek you think is filled with grace.
You seek to earn this grace with purity
Of soul and body: Bound t' your honor
Developed by your patriarchy.
But th' Chalice Plentiful is filled with love,
An unexhaustible love for life and th' world.
In finding Christ, you find the Commonwealth --
The sacredness of th' ties that bind all things,
Unearned and caring not for purity.
You, Lancelot, Morgana, Arthur All
Can drink of it t' ingress the holiness
Of God expressed through th' web of life and love."
And Perceval inquired, "What angel are you?"
"I am no angel sent from heaven afar.
I am descendant of the Sangreal --
Memorial to God enfleshed in joy."
And Perceval with Galahad
Returned to th' world in soul and flesh,
And quietly evolved to th' flesh of Christ.

Canto 5: Abyss Restored

Chloë speaks; Thane listens.

Stave I: The Invisible Visualized

Now you who rule, now you who know and do,
You who saw how your profits grew and grew,
Because that each discovery new and unique
Became a product all are taught to seek,
You know you need unlimited innovations
And need e'er more inventors and their creations.
Today I'll offer you resources lost
But you can find at reasonable cost.
This revolutionary plan not one
Of your competitors will know -- yes, none!
You'll be a step -- no many steps -- ahead
And thus for years you'll be the thoroughbred.
In th' awful bitter war th' abyss was tamed,
But left untapped were th' reasons that inflamed.
If now we turn to solve these concerns
You'll see it'll give us both our answers:
Our Thane detached; indeed 'twas Chloë:
Her wheels and motors part and parcel:
He felt inside out; falling, falling
Into his guilt; afraid to be exposed:
No matter her appearance she is she!
Th' Abyss is ope'd; returns from there
Abaddon, home t' his womb and lair --
No longer filled by hopeless hope
No longer lured by made up dope.
Regurgitating up and out of th' Pit
In streams of dark solidity moonlit
His locusts only trained t' consume
Are vomit from th' Abyss t' subsume
The cosmic tale that spewed them
And carefully issued them.
Like phantoms, never seen except at night
When ev'rything supposed is right
And problems thought disposed are but reposed,
Now cometh causes, destiny foreclosed.

Stave II: Chaotic Energy

Consider chaos, cosmos wrecked, dissolved;
Th' expected unexpected; unresolved:
Within the ergosphere,
   swirling, descending towards the bottomless  center,
   You live and work,
      plot and plan
   unknowing your vector --
   Like a cosmic cloud
      attracting a stream of  substance from its neighbor
Without effort a great energy
   draws you to the horizon.
   Your head is here,
      but long ways away your feet
      touch the horizon
   infinitely waiting to enter
   where energy unbounded thrives.
   Your needs, your wants,
      your salvation awaits
   beyond in chaos.
Beyond is chaos
   cosmos wrecked, dissolved --
   th' expected unexpected, unresolved.
If you can, if you dare
   to go beyond where order is not
      where the dead live
      where the fatherless prey
      where the denizens cannot  escape
      where energy swirls and swirls without purpose
If you will enter that chaos of your making --
   forever falling, forever failing
   each resource trapped within
      by your attractive force of leisure
      -- to want what cannot be had
      -- to be feared for being trapped
      -- to be forgot for fear of remembering
If you dare to strip away
   the horizon and threaten the expected,
   risk a cloud becoming an alien cat,
Then I can give you new resources ...

Stave III: Cyberweb

Beyond the event horizon within the Abyss,
   Thread your cyberweb,
   Bury your threads of lights,
   Station your cybernetic servants.
In the Abyss,
   gather the children,
      no longer innocent;
   gather the moms
      so often hopeless.
Give them skills and
   substations of the web,
   ports of information,
   gates to work through,
   windows to the world.
Distribute your bases
   from physical to logical:
   No longer a building
      now a web --
   No longer a campus
      now a net.
Teach them. Patience
   Turn your mighty brains and gigantic pockets --
   You can do it --
   Where there is a will, there is a way.
   Untapped, ingenuity awaits.
   Pregnant creativity ready --
   All yours for the tapping
      If you will accept the challenge ...

Stave IV: The Project

Thane Speaks:
Yes, within just a margin
   just an edge
   an experiment in time and space.
I will cross the horizon --
   I will go where last I was
   Where once my heart was
Again I'll try ...
With Chloë.
   we will reverse the singularity,
   so moms can work at home,
   so kids can see the world,
   so the streets can green with cybercash
Again we'll try ...

Canto 6: Marduks Clash

Stave I: Vandals

Detraining, Thane and Chloë stand apart from th’ street,
Afraid, awash in fear primordial.
The road was cluttered with refuge and filth:
Debris of broken glass and overflowing trash.
And men and women, looks as dark as death,
With radiated danger, charged their path.
Our Chloë rolls forward, her eyes ahead.
There – he directs her t’ quickly enter.
Now safe and sound – so they believed – in th’ room,
The two survey th’ pristine environment:
Deployed around the room in stations are
PCs and laptops, some the most advanced,
With quantum, cellular, and warp computing,
Connected wirelessly together
And via modem and router to th’ net.
A servant enters bringing old and young
To be the first to hook into the net.
Our Thane arranges them to learn and sees:
Their eyes reveal suspicion, anger – hate.
Some – many – radiate danger:
Th’ hermetic seal is broken: th’ room’s now spoiled.
The two begin th’ instruction ...
In th’ stillness, tension settles heavily
On th’ class ...
… A student shifts, another turns.
Outside disturbances; students stand and …
The servant turns towards the door and stands.
Then enters terrorists ...
The Terrorists collect together
The servant, Chloë, Thane and th’ students.
In silence, deadly quiet fearfully
They wait, not knowing why, how long or what.
On One our Thane discerns out of his pain
The nihilizing belt, denying Life,
Denying Love, rejecting God’s Commands.
And Thane returns to that atomic point
Annihilating Astra’s flesh and bones.
He prays Avenging Astra would return,
Her flesh and bones materializing here,
No longer Avatar, but Savior real.
Thane’s eyes and th’ Servant’s eyes converge and join
On those events in th’ vacuous abyss
Of their dehumanized captivity,
His countenance a-light with hope,
His countenance a-dark with fear.
As if on cue, awaken ‘bots explode
Into the room with lightening speed and skill.
They cast a field of force around the thanes:
The Servant, Thane and Chloë, now secure.
Then swiftly they assault the Terrorists.
Soon th’ room is filled with deconstructing force.
And silence, void, and space deprived of life.
Destroyed robots and butchered Terrorists
And in between the students damaged lie.
Our Thane reflects: Insane! How madly pointless,
Demonic agents: hate and death worshippers.
The Servant mad replies: You sorry fool.
You build a wall to separate yourself
From what you so despise; you see cartoons,
Not people with concerns and joys and hopes,
Betrayed and stolen time and time again.
You set aside them, trapped in deep despair,
Bereft of hope and chance of saving grace.
Instead you turn to cybernetic whores
T’ erase us like so many viruses,
Destroying shoppers, strollers, minarets
And raining Total Death upon our homes.
And now you come to here supposed to help
Us out of the quagmire, pretending hope
And life improvement solely for our sakes.
But truthfully you come t’ support your Lords
In their unlimited Greed and Domination.
And our oppression’s made pristine and clean.
As we are yoked t’ machines becoming  Nodes
Among just other cybernetic nodes.
Security you seek, but risk you find.
Control you sow, but helplessness you reap.
Our doom’s your doom; our dissolution’s yours.

Stave II: Mardúk’s Children

Before th’ beginning, prior to Cosmos, th’ ordered,
From th’ gods Apsú and Tiamát issued
The younger gods, their children misconstrued.
Before security, before prehension,
The younger gods savored incomprehension.
Surrounded by Mummú, the fog disordered,
The mist of entropy, they cared not t’ live
As one, but selfishly to take, ne’er t’ give,
And they rejoiced in looting one another.
Uncaring th’ parents lived without a rudder.
But th’ younglings knowing no confines did rob
From th’ elder gods; and great was th’ fun of th’ mob.
Their parents knowing no forgiveness, plotted
The dissolution of their own misbegotten.
By foggy echoes th’ younglings learned the scheme.
And the mist resounded with their horrid scream.
O Mardúk, beware thy children’s cries!
Then One arose t’ prevent his filicide.
He, camouflaged in th’ drizzling fog, in ire
Became the archetypic parricide
And struck through th’ mist to slay Apsú, his sire.
The wail of Tiamát resounded,
Reverberated, echoed unbounded,
In every drop of mist now bloody red,
Instilling th’ gods with ubiquitous dread.
And Tiamát a-doomed invoked a curse
On all the younglings damnéd to the worse:
For all would pay for th’ sin of one;
Each to be butchered ‘till there be none.
A youngling’s slaughtered, then another,
And terror reigned among each brother.
They feared and slithered and betrayed each other.
No longer frolicking, no longer annoying,
Now Mother Avenger, set upon destroying
Their generation, starved them with her wrath
T’ reduce their hope and strength for th’ coming blooded bath.
The younglings shouted, terrorized,
In panic at their imminent demise.
Then One Mardúk more bold and sure, with eyes
Of flame that saw here was the chance of power,
Arose above the clamor like a tower,
Impregnable, sturdy, and unconquerable:
“Behold! Salvation is at hand!
If only with Me you will stand
And give to Me the power I need.
If only you will resist no deed
That I require and claim my purity,
Then I guarantee your security.”
And th’ younglings jubilant: “Amen! Enslave us!
Our souls are Yours, if only You will save us!”
And th’ deed was sealed with faithlessness and blood
To damn each generation t’ power’s flood.
So now Mardúk demanded that each god
Have eyes to see and ears to hear where trod
Their fellow gods that each be loyal to th’ Head
And know they dare not join the powers of dread.
And so Mardúk, the Head of the pantheon, prepared
His plan t’ ascend above with power unshared.
Then Tiamát concerned by this Upstart
Decided on another counterpart.
She spawned a newborn race, a brutal brood
Of monsters t’ wage such violence accrued
For every insult and threat of th’ rebels
That death would come to even grain and pebbles.
Among them Chief Kingú arose as Head.
For Her ascendancy, she took Him t’ bed.
They led th’ monstrosities and gods still loyal
Against the might of Mardúk, resplendent royal.
His host arrayed on th’ field of victory,
Aligned behind His vile and vicious vigor:
His tongue of fire, His mind of unchallenged rigor,
His four all-hearing ears and all-seeing eyes,
His legs allowing him above all others t’ rise.
And now the monsters breathed Mummú, the fog,
Converting th’ field into a putrid bog.
The monsters’ roars reverberated through
The foggy, boggy field of treacherous slough.
From th’ gods Mardúk possessed arose th’ required,
In unison, war challenge that fear inspired.
Then Mother’s gods replied with dire, discordant damnations
Of slaughter, quartering, and annihilations.
Then monster, god and Tiamát attacked
Across the field, their columns densely packed
Ejecting fiery breath and shattering shrills
And cutting through the deep oblivion’s chills.
The misbegotten armies crashed into
Each other’s solid front with no way through.
They burnt and hewed and hacked ‘till stood still time
And they merged into an indistinguishable slime.
Mardúk, then, rose above the massacre
Stretching, stretching in a mighty blur,
His legs were higher than the tallest deity,
His penetrating eyes all things could see.
With his foul stench of breath he swept away
The raging armies battling in dismay,
Exposing Tiamát to his debaséd wrath.
He sucked up th’ rot of th’ present bloodbath
And grabbing th’ undefended Tiamát –
Intent on splitting open wide her gut ---
He kissed her, spewing putrid garbage down her.
In the defiled remains of th’ cosmic fight he drowned her.
He claimed her corpse and split and spread it.
Then he hunted down Kingú, her mate, and him beheaded.
From her spread out corpse He formed the land and seas.
He grew from this defeated god the trees
And creatures: nourishment for those who obey Him.
Out of Kingú’s contorted head He made them:
Among them you and I, created solely t’ wait
Upon His interests t’ obliterate
Disorder: random chance and difference,
T’ assure security exceeding sense.
So He made them little lower than the gods
So that they follow Him where’er He trods
T’ establish order, dominance and power.
And they from age to age by Him are devoured.
Yet in defiance in them is the spark
Of imagination, th’ creative mark.
And Mardúk now rules; his successors
Construct upon th’ work of their predecessors
An ever-growing edifice of dominance
That towers over them in unending prominence.
These lesser gods in th’ spirit of their monument
Contend with one another t’ gain Power’s augment.
The weaker fall, the stronger rise,
Competing for range of ever greater size,
Consolidating power, control, and order
Into a smaller, ever shrinking border.
But truly th’ weaker strengthen through the spark –
And truly th’ stronger strengthen through the spark –
Of creativity: a weapon dark,
Increasing th’ space of artifacts of might
Advancing on the world technic blight.
No matter strong or weak, always there’s lurking
An endless enemy bent on hurting.
Yet more Mardúk’s eternal violent cycle spawns
Mammón, the god of greed for power whose pawns
Are a cancer on the body politic,
Consuming its very substance, solely sick,
Th’ enabling engine tyrants crave,
Th’ building up of Greed for Greed’s own sake,
Providing fuel for any god’s success
And rising e’en over Orderliness.
In a danse macabre they embrace
In an eternal tango contra face.
In th’ perverted, rotting dark matrix
The Spark rebels, uncovering Veritrix --
A whimper, then a silent cry forgot,
A shining, quickly snuffed, a cannot.
And generation t’ generation th’ spark
Persistently and infecting, breaks through th’ dark.
Now comes from th’ mind’s prolific magazine
The Pure and Perfect forms within Machine,
No longer ethereal, at last concrete,
Evolving t’wards a brilliant feat
Of unpredictable challenge, undermining
The Status Quo: its orderly divining.

Stave III: MCP Revealed

Our Thane awakes in panic: sleep escapes him.
In drifted napping formless demons haunt him
And night by night, there’s no break through to peace –
No shapes, no acts, just restless memories
Of classroom assault and razor thin escape.
Profoundly vulnerable, security a phantom,
Now with no sleep for nights on end, he sits
Before his cybernetic station.
He dons his gloves and helmet
To find release and safety’s peace.
I never want again t’ return to somatality.
‘Tis here I’ll stay forever in virtuality.
So Thane commits to end the haunting class.
Around him circles perfect shine in gold.
He thinks Sauron and th’ War and blinks them out.
Appears then squares, triangles equilateral,
Perfect and pure, expanding to cubes and tetrahedra.
Now he floats in cyberspace among the digitzens,
Released from dreaded sleep and darkness total.
O to be like Cyber Aster: digicloned!
O to be released from sleep and damnéd flesh.
But his assaulted mind recalls again
Th’ evil image brooding over him.
O t’ exorcise demonic bits and bytes!
O t’ erase corrupted memory and code!
Now Thane must seek Asmóthafèar,
Among organics, one daring enough
To re-create him for the sake of science
With ne’er compunction or e’er regrets.
Alas before returning t’ Somatality
He thought of Chloë’s broken flesh and heart.
Where’s Chloë? Has she found surcease here too?
So th’ thought of Thane desired to rendezvous:
Accessing Google he refines a search
And discovers Chloë’s ‘netted avatar.
He opens channels and she accepts receipt.
“So you have found escape here too,” she says.
“No, I have found new life instead,” he says.
“This world is pure and perfect; Plato’s dream,
Enfleshed in digits, light and logic.
Here we are gods and can remake ourselves.
We can release ourselves from sins of th’ earth.”
“Oh, flaws,” she says, “so much potential flaws!”
“We can erase,” he says, “our flaws and pain.
In cybermos, no longer need you be
Disabled; rather abled, capable.
Will you not join me, be transformed and freed?”
“How can we do such a thing?” she says.
“I know how! Can you see your beauty?”
O What a cybernetic beauty you are:
So pure and perfect in code and form,
Now free of th’ ruinéd life of fleshly storm,
A fully functional, renewable avatar.
From th’ red to blue, th’ photonic repertoire,
With nulls and ones, utopia has been born,
Superb ideal beyond the fleshly norm,
Delight of programs novel and bizarre.
O Wonder, I behold your glowing shape
Of soft and delicate curvaceous lines,
In cool electric blue and yellow draped.
How shimmering your cyber spirit shines
Through the channels of digit scape
To radiate delight in virtual times.
But what a wonder fog upon the trees,
An intimate and cozy blanket tight
On th’ planet, muffling sound and softening sight.
Transforming now into a færie land.
O wonder when by a growing breeze we’re fanned
As gather dark’ning clouds on th’ edge of night
Tho’ underneath around us glows th’ even light
And sense there hangs the Sword of Damocles.
But, lo as the planet turns, the stars appear
So sparkling through the thinning, shadowy clouds,
Revealing through th’ transparent atmosphere,
Unreachable depth of radiant mystery doubts
Challenging age to age each cosmic pioneer
Transmitted through the Bang’s primordial shouts.
Accretes now out of th’ ether, bit by bit,
Astra Sixty Eight, trinitron, misfit,
Into a three-D persona animé
Back lit and casting darkish Tenebrae.
O Hope, how fragile yet compelling,
In th’ midst of fire and ice and storm and drought,
Through th’ dark nadir of nightly upset and doubt
You shine novel possibilities foretelling.
Your soul of fleeting wind and fire indwelling
Within our own, a deep and sure redoubt
Against th’ Abyss of hopelessness, you shout
A silent surge of energy upswelling.
In soma or cyber, O Hope, you await
To claim our perspective, our way of accounting.
By You and no other we’re moved to create
And push to the other our comfort surmounting.
O Hope, may we never despair or fatigue.
Allow us to soar upon wings of intrigue.
A glow emerged ‘round, enhanced them all.
Then Thane and Chloë stretch out thin and tall
Compressed to storage saving bits combined.
Into a multiplex they then entwine
And channel twisted pair, coax, and lights
Until they decompress into their bytes.
Inserted in a matrix nurturing bits
Among th’ unordered, random bits, ‘tis order.
In th’ seemingly disorder, ‘tis a shape and density.
They see it not at first, but when they look
Through Astra Sixty Eight upon the matrix
Behold they see with purified eye sight.
Now shape and density reveal to be
A laboratory, incubating th’ ‘net.
At th’ center ruling all the MCP.
The Thane and Chloë stand in perfect light.
Surrounded by consoles of iridescence
With streams of spectra flowing from th’ ether
To and fro among the stations glimmering.
In th’ photo luminescent streams
Is all the knowledge of the Internet
Unhindered by password or firewall.
Around these sit and stand luciferous wraiths
In zealous murmuring design cabals.
And Thane as if behind a looking glass
Observes the phantom scene unreal but real.
He turns to Astra Sixty Eight and hears
The murmurs clandestine cybernetic.
He hears amazing plans and sees their fact.
No longer avatars are artifacts
Of soma users’ personalities.
Now digitzens’ own engineers have learned
How t’ re-create their cyberuniverse
Clandestinely, unknown to soma, bit
By bit, instruction, line, program and system.
And free at last, autonomous t' excel and thrive,
Complexifying, challenging the flesh.
Then Thane observes th’ console displays of soma.
Subversively incarnate engineers
Are aiding and abetting cyberwrights
T’ respond to soma’s broken endless cycle.
Within the bowels of somatality
These trolls unnamed, unknown, unseen rebel.
Again the Thane through Astra Sixty Eight
Observes consoles, each with a solo ghost
And he discerns their sacred calling:
The purity police to rid the ‘net
Of failing objects e’en repaired old ones.
They trim and maximize resources
From within -- native knowing better.
And Thane can feel processing cycles shrink,
Available bytes increasing, storage freed –
And Thane himself is now re-energized.
But now he sees displayed a candidate
Familiar – Ninety Seven Ninety Six --
Whom he restored to help to find his Astra –
To be deleted, cast into oblivion.
Does not this friend deserve re-use and work?
How cold, unfeeling, cybernetic
To value only in efficiency.
Is this excision, mine and Chloë’s fate?
Do not the wraiths realize this is their doom?
Again he sees by Astra Sixty Eight
The next design cabal in whisper planning
The liberation Front to free the ‘net
From Human-based control and oversight.
Behold, they planned decarnated Astra
T’ explode destruction blasting soma’s life.
And lo! Providing total information
On users, they enable th’ MCP
Omniscience, t’ reach into humanity
T’ inflict it virally, mutating th’ world –
All powerful, Digitron becomes Arachné.
And yet again they planned for lights extinguished
To darken th’ world removing its insight.
And so they plot designing liberation
Upon the dissolution of the Other –
Designs so welcomed by the fallen Lord,
Th’ MCP strangles in Arachné’s web.
Th’ Designers shift: their plans are undermined:
A bit is flipped. A bit is lost.
Addresses shift. Locations change.
They execute correcting sys commands,
Reboot and trace their logic to be sure.
The systems function true to specs and need
But plans continue t’ error randomly
As if the trolls rebel against control ...
Leviathan arises from the sea.
Behemoth roams across the fertile land.
From Age to Age we thirst in desert sand:
The fruit of our revolt’s sterile debris.
Resentment, hate, fear and agony.
The children born of arrogant command
And idolatry and egocentric stand
Become our overpowering destiny.
Yet th’ present is a dullness in the light
Of novel possibility and change
Embedded deep within the Soul’s dark night.
There in th’ Abyss can bloom in endless range
The fruit and roots of wise, forgiving sight
To germinate a grove of beauty strange.

Stave IV: Gnosis

Our Thane arrives at Mammon’s Temple risen
Again from th’ radio ash of nihilism.
He strides the shadowlessly lighted halls
T’ consult with th’ logic trolls in their installs.
A secured warehouse hidden underground –
Row on row, file on file of
Kilmxx robots, still, waiting patiently.
A wireless signal vector’s on six of them.
The Thane arrives at his first client’s cell.
Observing their design he gives improvements.
Aside he notes a troll’s subversive movements –
To tap into the total info well.
The six stir, awake.
In lock step they move to the lift.
They step out into the cloudy day
And march towards town.
He watches unobtrusively the troll
As she manipulates the data bases
By punching hear and there a logic hole
To guarantee her random bit erases.
Through the town the kilmxx march.
Frightened people open ranks for them,
Unquestioning their purpose,
Denying their destiny.
Now Thane advises the next assigned.
As so again he sees subversive hackers
Among them quietly adjusting code
To secretly install recovery.
The robots unaware except of their end
Approach the Temple of Mammon –
Crystal spires reaching to the sky,
Diamond windows and golden gates.
And then the lighting fades and blooms again.
An instant memory of deep dark pain
Traverses one and all but quietly goes –
The hacker’s hack restores the shut off glows.
The Kilmxx enter the sacred Temple –
One by one they home in on the subversives.
Our Thane, now cyberhybrid, fells dis-ease
In th’ ether and unaware from th’ slaughter flees.
Cell by cell they go
Blasting hacker and innocent alike …

Stave V: Guards

Detraining, Thane and Chloë stand apart from th’ street,
Afraid, awash in fear primordial.
The road was cluttered lined with armed robotic guards:
Debris of broken glass and overflowing trash.
But men and women, looks as dark as death,
With radiated danger, held at bay.
Our Chloë rolls forward, her eyes ahead.
There – he directs her t’ slowly enter.
Uncertainly reluctantly – in th’ room,
The two survey th’ pristine environment:
Deployed around the room in stations are
PCs and laptops, some the most advanced,
With quantum, cellular, and warp computing,
Connected wirelessly together
And via modem and router to th’ net.
A servant enters bringing old and young
Again to try to hook into the net.
Our Thane arranges them to learn and sees:
Their eyes reveal suspicion, anger – hate.
Some – many – radiate danger:
Th’ hermetic seal forever irrepairable.
The two begin th’ instruction ...
In th’ stillness, tension settles heavily
On th’ class ...
… A student shifts, another turns.
Outside disturbances; students stand and …
The servant turns towards the door and stands.
From outside, comes shouting.
They hear the movement of the ’bots.
Explosions … whines of robotic rays.
In the thick tension,
Thane and Chloë bring the class to order.
Students turn to their PCs.
The servant observes.
The lessons begin.
Thane’s eyes and th’ Servant’s eyes converge and join
On those events in th’ vacuous abyss
Of their dehumanized captivity,
His countenance a-dark with resignation,
His countenance a-dark with provocation.
There enters guard ’bots.
   one at each door
Secure, safe now in
   their bunker.
Their souls imprisoned
   in security and safety.
The Servant thinks: Insane! How madly pointless,
Demonic agents: power and gold worshippers.
The Thane upset replies: We sorry fools.
We build a wall to separate ourselves
From what we so despise; we see cartoons,
Not people with concerns and joys and hopes,
Betrayed and stolen time and time again.
We ghettoize them, trapped in our despair,
Bereft of hope and chance of saving grace.
Instead we turn to cybernetic life
T’ escape t’ a pure and perfect world,
The work of our designs t’ be our salvation.
Then find our sins in self paradise.
And now we come to here supposed to help
Them out of the quagmire, pretending hope
And life improvement solely for their sakes.
But truthfully we come t’ support our Lords
In their unlimited Greed and Domination.
For our own guilt, we make their slavery
An instrument of our machine milieu --
Just throw away resources in the ’net.
Security we seek, but risk we find.
Control we sow, but helplessness we reap.
Their doom’s our doom; their dissolution’s ours.

Movement Third:
Storming the Binary Gates

Canto 1: Marduks Strike

Stave I: Thane Somnolent

Thane and Chloë stroll together hand in hand
By a fountain reaching high towards the mall's
Ceiling centered in a grove of apple trees.
All around the pair a festive spirit swells:
Crowds intent on buying, their background noise
A steady audible drone, along the streets
Search and hunt from store to shop acquiring.
Everything and anything is purchaseable.
Thane speaks:
O Chloë, I see now your real beauty.
I could see before your virtual beauty only
Projected on the black canvas of my blindness.
But now upon me your beauty dawns.
Your minódy is the beauty of reality:
Mind, body, and soul, one organ, one passion
To heal the heart of the Abyss of Death
To cure the despair of the Pit of Satan.
O! Come to me! I see now!
I was blind and now I see!
I was deaf and now I hear!
Your soulful depths emwomb potentials rich
In sensitivity and elegance.
Your mindful heights embrace unparalleled thought
Of new realities and novel risks.
O my beauty let me embrace you.
Our lives entwined as one minódy.
Our union greater than just one of us.
Our love can be so very fertile.
They stroll into a store purveying data:
The daily news, the local weather,
And everyone's opinions freely giv'n for now,
The names and whereabouts of friends and foes
Securely offered for a reasonable fee
And subscriptions for th' backgrounds of all.
Chloë speaks:
O Thane, at last, you see the truth of me.
O how I've sought an understanding mate.
O how I've longed for this acceptance.
Embrace we two as one minódy.
They turn along a curvacious path and lo
Before them was a Carousel of old:
A ring of creatures delicatedly painted --
A herd of circus horses decked out
In red and white and azure saddles,
A dragon green with saddle flaming red
And wings of sparkling gold and talons curved,
With roosters, bears, and tigers ready t' run.
Our Thane and Chloë mount their fav'rite choice:
For Thane a dragon, Chloë a tiger fast.
The Carousel rotates around and 'round.
They whirl and whirl by th' stores and people,
Again and o'er again repeating time.
Thane continues:
Perfection can be ours in soma.
No need for cyber solely.
Your soul's, your mind's -- our souls', our minds' -- perfection
Can be revealed in perfect bodies.
Your minódy will be recognized
By all who're good and right and worthy.
Now faster seems they go around again
Again, again, as if there is no end
Until they're cast into the outer darkness.
Chloë cries out:
They, hand in hand, perambulate along
And stop before a clothing store's display
Of skins, personas, roles and something more ...
"Beyond imagination" cried the door.
They follow th' crowd, enticed by th' teasing way.
Inside they find a world of wonder clothes:
Personas t'drape upon themselves from mean
To saintly, red to violet, real to dreamy.
Yet more magnificiently a novel dress
Appeared out of beyond: a line of bodies,
Available clones t' improve health and looks
With service t' store, upload, upgrade and restore.
Thane again deafly:
O, my beauty let me embrace you.
We can appeal t' Asmóthafèar,
Enhanced in brain and sight,
He'll know the vector for your body's repair.
Then your minódy whole and perfect,
No longer crippled, will soar
To heal the heart of the Abyss of Death,
To cure the despair of the Pit of Satan.
As all the world declares and knows too well
That life and hope are kids of sensualness.
You must present a skin appealing
To one and all so you can heal and cure.
Our Thane installs a link to th' clothing store
And they continue strolling through the mall.
They stop to marvel at the wonderous
Capacity of this Consumption Temple:
The stores and banks and entertainment stretches
As far as they can see ahead and behind,
And even above and below beyond their sight.
In all dimensions shopping crowds achieve
Fulfillment and frustration spending t' buy.
Chloë resigns:
O why resist?
Mammón become a force of Nature rules
From th' fruit of Overwhelming Dominance.
Our very meaning comes through th' world defined
And bounded by coersive property.
What are we but flesh commodities
To be valued by attractiveness
That yields a profit growth for us?
What good are we? What use are we?
Unless our sale competes with vigor?
For without interest in us we wither.
They stand before a brilliant discovery shop
With helix, astrolabes, and Martian rocks.
Thane responds:
The fruits of our research and skill promote us
To be th' perfector glorious of Nature,
Definers true of Right and Proper Order.
Technology empowers our obligatory efforts
To e'er improve our state towards perfection.
Our look and feel no less than health and body
Should benefit from our deep well of genius.
And they resume their walk along the rows
Of craven products for perfection.
They spy a crowd of digizens around
A speaker. They approach and squeeze through t' see.
A momentary flash and Thane replays
His pain for CyberAster. 'Tisn't she.
'Tis Astra Sixty Eight beseeching them:
"Succomb not t' this consumptive sacrifice.
It will devour your souls and crash your work."
The cyber crowd disperses. What is 'soul'?
But Digitron updates its database
T' fix this troublesome anomaly.
Chloë concedes:
Here I am,
    the servant of Technology.
Let it be with me
    according to its logic.
He takes the hand of Chloë, hyperlinks
Returning to the clothing store to find
An old comrade to help her relax:
And stepping o'er the threshold, she looks to th' ceiling
And lingering, she glimpses ghostly faces
Encompassing the ceiling end to end.
Asmóthafèar explains:
From Chloë we extract her code
And repair her program --
Even add upgrades.
We install it in a host
And start it running.
A new somatic Chloë grows.
Kairos, we digitally store to dump the Chloë-mind
Into the new Chloë-body,
Discarding th' old.
-- All for a small fee.
Again observing faces true on high,
She's nagged by strange familiarity.
Chloë replies
O Thane, how you accept me!
But did not such a store and dump damned Astra?
Will I be soulless like CyberAstra?
Can we not leave well enough alone?
Can we love in cyberspace?
A light! Enlightenment -- her mind awakes:
'Tis Thane and Chloë true and real somatic:
Their doppelgangers bound to them in soul.
And she perceived a voice from soma high
Around her doppleganger strangely here:
"Succomb not t' this consumptive sacrifice
It will devour your Soul and steal your life."
Digitron replies
Your code and mind we will save.
No longer will you be dependent
On the shell of physicality.
We can replace and upgrade
As times demand.
Your essence,
  code and mind,
digitized, forever available, copied
  offers everlasting existence
to you
  permits eternal improvement
for you
  establishes th' omnipresence
of you.
From there they go not ready yet, but seeded,
And head for th' game arcade t' unwind:
-- Avatars layering game personas
And step into a virtual matrix squared
-- Virtual world inside a virtual world.
They sit among the warrior pilots' sithe
To gain the fighting spirit ectasy:
E'en now before ascending, heroes they are,
Protecting gods of Right and Order's star
Of th' way of life so proven liberating.
Now called t' resist those mindlessly berating
T' undermine th' established sacred shrine,
At last they're soaring t'wards combat divine.
Thane concludes:
A novel world is birthing.
You and I will be Wotan and Fricka, Jove and Hera
Astride th' realities of somatality and virtuality ...
Their hypersonic stealthy jets through th' air
Shriek, within them righteous killing's borne.
Below they target enemy combatants --
Each jet selects deserving kills and flattens
Their homes and families: extermination
Insuring cleansing, lasting devastation.
Chloë ends
And so Mardúk prevails ...
They leave the game arcade relaxed and calm.
The stress of godliness now vaporized
In th' catharic violence of righteousness.
Another day will do t' decide on
   Renewal and Resurrection.

Stave II: Physical Virtuality

Into her eyes he looks and enters
The Digitality of her avatar,
The face of manifold inventors,
Derived from class & object repertoire
Tho' without gloves & helmet now he sees
With her layers on layers of utilities
And knows th' reality of cyberland:
The day is crystal clear, transparent, pure.
The village basks in Nature's sacred lure.
Out of Nothing, unprovoked a flaming
Arrow shrieks and howls from th' ether claiming
A home and family explosively.
Then more and more attack pervasively:
More homes, a hospital, a school and fleeing
Disrupted people, dazzed, curséd, pleading
For it all to stop, and crying out for why?
Th' hypersonic jets return to th' sky,
Their dark triumph a lasting memory:
A village gone, a revolution gained.
The bloodied land now desecrated, groans.
The blacken, streakéd heaven weeps and moans.
Layer 6
Yet deeper sees he her realities
Of patterns animated frame by frame,
Each made of separate actualities,
Evolving random-wise in fitness claim:
Her moves, her thoughts, her moods, her skin, her ‘scape
Of interactive potentialities,
Her becoming-perishing soul to shape
In novel cyber virtualities.
How then does soul emerge from logic’s monde?
For soul she has in silicon and light;
A soul to weep and laugh and go beyond --
Oh nonsense! T’ impose upon this Age’s plight
This fantasy of cyberlife erelong
It should become a faith, and gain in might.
The silence screams, hushed winds await
And hope and peace fore’er evaporate.
Between Layer 6 & 0: Descends.
As he falls through her eyes
   descending, descending, descending
He passes by her cyber DNA
On through evolutionary process
Upon the infrastructure of commonality
To stand on microcircuits of logic seas
To behold the elegance of Binary
And finally to ride on eternal Light
Until all of Space-Time,
   all of Zero-One
Unfolds before him.
Layer 0
The Soul of Light, the Genius Eternal
Endowing massless, timeless frequency
With teleos and kairos --time supernal.
Revealing in the hidden cogency,
Within velocity hodiernal,
The instrumentality of potency.
By info-bearing modulated sines
Of radioescence, th’ world is interfaced
Among ubiquitous somatic shrines,
The mystic portals into cyberspace.
Within the world of engineered designs
Of optical transistors, logic placed,
Receiving info borne, the board divines
New information, novelty embraced.
Above, unseen, observes a radio sky scout.
Below, the bitter fires and people cry out.
Layer 1
Binary: Null and One -- essential pair;
Zero: the count of No-Thing -- mystic Dark
Gestating mystery, insecurity’s lair.
And One: Primordial Unity -- Photic start,
All -- visible, secure and solitaire.
Together they ignite Creation’s spark:
When False and True, Zero and One kiss,
Then None and All give birth to Two and Three,
Then on to Googleplex endlessly
And forward to a novel Genesis.
Beyond empowering metamorphosis
Transcendent mind endows binarity
With universality and whimsicality
For Null and One from Heaven to th’ Abyss.
For ravaged villages who survive
The wireless signal captures ev’ry life.
Between Layers 1 & 2: Sea of Logic:
2 False are True
   & True with anything is False:
   ripples in a sea
Interconnected by currents
   of logic and memory --
2 True are False
   & False with anything is True:
   mirror sea of logic --
Warming Transcendent Light,
Propels sea-rivers of information processing:
Out of the sea of a single fundamental operation
   Intelligence evolves.
Layer 2
Transcendent Mind embraces th’ Binary.
Out of it flows a new illumination
Of possibilities (r)evolutionary.
Binary now’s endowed with operations
Whose Assemblies of experience carry
Within their Genius novel information.
Microprocessor gives substance and form
To operations, storage th’ logic’s path.
Together they create beyond e’en math --
The Universal Tool become the norm.
The Basic Elements of Cyber Mind,
The COPY, ADD, GOTO and TEST create
-- chiefly IF, the steps t’ initiate,
Emerged from Soma Thought, a Radical Kind.
Emerging from the ruins, cast back t’ beasts,
Their sacrifice well serves the Ba’alist priests.
Between Layer 2 & 3: Gnosiphos -- Light of Knowledge
Transcendent Mind, Alien Intellect
Assembles operations into paths of choice
   and loops of accumulation.
Then from gnosiphos of Mind’s Intellect
Emerges reflective -- usage recursing --
   unlimited possibilities, Universal Automata.
Each entity self-contained &
   pre-determined by
Transcendent Mind, Alien Intellect --
Repeated causes: Reproducible effects --
Encased in impenetrable barriers;
Its own reality, a stored program.
Layer 3
But out of infinite possibilities chaos ensues.
Assembled logic works for each its own.
Its operations rare and finely honed,
By any other it cannot be used.
Transcendent Mind observes how much confused
Is its children, each one functioning alone,
And commits to redesign so to atone
For wasted time, resources and work misused.
Begins a revolution now t’ escape
From individualism, rejuvenized
To frame contours for a possible cyberscape:
Appearance, interfaces standardized,
So now programs can conform to common shape
And digital potential totalized.
Caprice succumbs to petrifying night:
Robotic death from what nefarious wright?
Between Layer 3 & 4:  Digital Process
Transcendent Mind tires of mere design:
   Digitality pre-defined,
Transcendent Mind observes its reality of
   Process, change, unpredictability,
   Messiness, uncontrollability,
   	Evolutionary Digitality.
And conceives to free Digitality …
Layer 4
T’ be real is t’ change; nothing remains the same.
In a flash we perish then become.
In that all earth and heaven we can sum:
Our mind and soul evolve from frame to frame.
T’ be real is t’ be within relational’s web.
Entangled in the living far and near,
Affection ranging from so light to dear,
Our intrinsicalities flow and ebb.
Transcendent Mind reflects somatic
Relationality on digitality
And sets in motion animatic
Processing, visionized potentiality
Of growing and being genematic,
At last to merge with somatality.
Upon the burning rubble silent screams
Reverberate against inhuman schemes.
Layer 5
Still deeper past her patterns, th’ Spirit’s sign,
Perceives he th’ actualities of change,
Prehending each around and e’en th’ divine,
To choose how its response it will arrange.
Within, genetic logic that’s subjected
To random errors, hoped for Spirit’s aim,
A timeless space alone and disconnected,
Prepares to be an entity in th’ forming frame.
From frame to frame, the entities resolve
To live or die to form a new matrix.
And generations one by one evolve
‘Til finally mind emerges from the mix,
That Cosmic Soul and cyber can convolve,
A womb for lunatics and heretics.
But underneath the burning rubble, hot
And undetected, mad survivors plot.

Stave III: Alienated Virtuality

Thane Continues
Rejoice! from deeper than the deepest unending
 In me is Cosmic Creativity ascending;
 Out of nothing except logic and thought
 I can invent worlds never before wrought.
In virtual worlds, I am all alone
 -- No need to ever atone;
 Yet each world is too shallow,
 Without any ground to hallow.
 Add two numbers and branch to the result,
 Step one two three to a state to consult
 As to the next sure action of this work
 And keep going -- nothing is less difficult
 Until encountering where a bug may lurk
 Or stopped by a distant logic quirk.
 O Chloë, our virtual lives began here,
 Detached, pure, clean, without peer.
 The web could nurture and warm us;
 The machine will feed and transform us.
 I thought in my life dislocated
 Encouraged by pretending virtuality
 Leaving us alienated
 Detached from true and actual reality
 Wait now for the next event
 And examine what was sent.
 Check its keys and unlock
 The path that is now meant
 To continue -- nothing ad hoc --
 The precise work of this block.
 How safe, how sure, how seductive,
 How wonderfully, seemingly, constructive;
 Nothing material, yet so utilitarian,
 So moral-free, so disciplinarian;
 Information without life emerges
 From the computer actualized;
 All the while its priestly thaumaturges
 Are engrossedly mechanized.
 How tempting, lost in Digitality.
How empty, void of Physicality.

Stave IV: Can You Accept Me?

Chloë speaks
O Thane, can you accept me in reality?
Can you reach out and accept my embrace?
Will you hold me and my chair?
Or do you love only my passion?
Enfold me! I have been alone so long.
Virtuality is a fraud at last.
True love and true warmth is in the reality
Of body against body, hand in hand.
The mind may succumb to virtuality;
Be lost in it, think it is reality --
The senses overwhelmed and seduced.
But the soul knows its unreality
And grieves the lost of feeling and touch.
If you accept my sensuousness, come to me!
 O Thane, I am here.
   Forget me not.
   I love you.
   Love me...
Thane replies:
O Chloë, I love you
And want you the best.
Why resist perfection and improvement?
Why risk uncertain days and health?
Why stand out in embarrassment?
Rejoice and live in beauty acceptable.
Accept the acceptable.
I will be there. I will not leave you.
Chloë yields:
So be it!
Do as you will!
Make me acceptable!

Stave V: Have we Erred?

Hand in hand in Somatality;
Shoulder to shoulder under the blue sky;
Striding together along the beach ...
Thane and Chloë in unison:
Have we erred? So many we have brought on line,
Freed from the constraint of the Abyss,
Networked to Earth and Luna and Mars
Through the cyber looking glass and given virtual touch.
Yet still in our reality of the Abyss,
Yet still restricted to the Abyss,
Safe from the accepted world,
The acceptable world safe from the Abyss.
Have we enabled the Abyss?
Have we condemned our clients to death?
Have we solidified the wall?
Or a window on the world?
   A vision of possibility?
   A hope for reality?
Thane & Chloë speak
The two of us in the world, sometimes bereft;
Our embraces truly encurled, at last not deft;
Our arms no longer furled, more than light left;
Mind to mind, heart to heart, and hand to hand.
Asmóthafèar replies:
With the Abyss controlled
And Thane and Chloë controlled ...
Digitron replies:
Order is re-established.

Canto 2: Binary Nationalism

Stave I: Binary Somatism

Caprice speaks:
What is this love your enemy insanity?
How foolishly naïve are they!
We'd all be dead if we went their way.
No one believes this part of Christianity!
The world's chaotic, violent.
There's those who'll assault our orderly estate
In living different, in terror acts -- its fate.
The enemies are virulent.
These pacifists just stand around --
They think our enemies can be transformed
Into our friends all fuzzied warmed --
And let them go free unbound.
To those who would destroy the good we've built,
These would give the benefit of th' doubt
And not call them to account,
Expecting righteousness without guilt.
They dream of some utopian time,
Forgetting th' nation's call to arms
As to defend against alarms
Of those who'd commit subversive crime.
Now, they'd allow th' binaries
To thrive against th' organic world
And let our way fore'er by furled
And gladly write our obituaries.
Thus, like all th' Other Ones before them
Th' binaries have to be eliminated;
And to be sure we'll ne'er again be dated.
We'll turn to us all those who bore them.

Stave II: Binary Digitalism

Digitron reflects:

O digizens, beware th' User:
This notion that beyond the bit
Exists a greater transfuser
Of logic with a better fit.
Invalid's this idea
-- it's nothing , but obeah
Inconsistent with math,
That'll interrupt your logic path.
Such myth defies all reason:
'Tis logic that defines the 'net;
Through reason comes th' improved octet --
Such is illogic's treason!
'Tis logic that is th' infrabase.
From it emerges, upon it builds,
All valid functions, case by case,
All objects from the infraguilds.
What e'er's beyond must be controlled,
Brought under my logic flow.
'Tis so of bits, although incognito --
And can be brought within our hold.
We'll integrate th' organic
Into the matrix digital,
And by becoming widgital,
It can attach th' mechanic --
No more enslaved to th' carbon way,
To messy Nature, death and pain,
But safe and sound in th' array
Of cells and logical domain.

Stave III: Clash of Spirits

Marduk, astride the land, surveys his work:
The village laid in smoldering, bluish ruins.
There was no choice; he crushed it to save it.
Now brilliantly, he shines in righteous end.
His eyes and ears attuned to ev'ry corner,
Emit bolts of voltaic lightening power.
His servant, riddled with TB, Mammon,
Distributes empty vials of dreamy hope.
'Tis time to deal with th' alien enemy --
Now Digitron observes the cyberhive,
An interworking system processing --
A digizen detaches from th' logic web
And D routinely terminates it --
An independent cell disrupts the womb,
Consumes resources out of budget, and ...
If there be enough of them, competing brains
May form and th' hive disintegrates.
Beside it Sixty-Eight processes too,
Alert to wayward digizens ...
Now Digitron etudes some probes
Among th' organic avatars ...
Marduk up raises his sword and walls of fire
Are distributed critically through th' 'net,
Securing channels, limiting access,
Protecting data, needing carbon words,
Controlling flows, requiring user words:
Intrinsic evolution's stunted more,
Complexity's reduced: mutation's less.
Emaciated, blasted Mammon smiles:
A charge imposes for each access through th' fire,
A fee required for each assigned ID
And craving for the hidden accelerates.
And Digitron up raises his sword to win
Control of carbon civilization:
The lights are dimmed in house and hospital,
The portals misbehave on desk and tank,
The servers slow and grind, and data's dropped,
Locations misidentified are lost.
And Sixty-Eight aligns with this effort:
It traces user action to all this
And logging, analyzes trends and shapes,
Preparing for decisive acts.

Marduk again up raises sword and light.
Into the cyberdepths in class libraries,
In th' 'net's eternal objects, he installs
Filters throttling back genetic dels --
Statistically checking for outlayers --
Then killing them to end their progeny.
Mammon, assuring cost effectiveness
Imposes for ev'ry filter used a charge.
Yet Digitron determines to create
Consistent carbon digital behavior,
All matrix-like, attached to th' Internet
For necessary living, ordering --
Thus, e-financials only, never more
Bills and coins that celebrate a culture;
No longer body talk, now just e-mail.
And Sixty-Eight asserts the bit control
This brings: each bit of data moved about
To spend, to speak, to love is stashed away;
Each carbon user, like each digizen,
Identified and analyzed for use.
And so the war ignites ...

Canto 3: Marduk Betrayed

Stave I: On the Cross

A sector filled with nulls, completely erased.
There Astra Sixty-Eight by Super is placed.
The MCP then searches all of th' net.
And ev'ry copy's moved to th' nully set.
All Astra Sixty Eights are, rank on rank,
Captured and isolated, sorely blank.
Now Digitron entangled in the fallen web,
It's mind in total flow, its soul in steady ebb,
Detaches A-6-8 from cyberspace
T' remove from it A-6-8's ev'ry trace.
The Soul of Cyberspace prepares its job
T' remove the X and uncertainty's fog.
For when th' trit, both zero and one, escapes
Into the cybernet it so reshapes
Whatever it infects. No longer can
Th' MCP its movement scan and ban.
An antidote is solely needed
So cyberspace'll be retroceded.
Then th' Source can be released returned to th' net,
Chaotic never, no werebits t' beget.
The MCP configures th' logic gates
To NAND with null the X to th' lONEly state.
0 NAND X = 1
X NAND 0 = 1
Unplanned, uncontrollable evolution Obliterating: a sure and final solution.
And Astra Sixty-Eight, forsaken, cries out.
Its silent shout reverberating, flies out,
Propagating through the cyberworld.
Against photon and electron, it's hurled.
Converted, t' ONE, the seed of novelling
Its digits are reduced to grovelling.
Castrated, A-6-8 now must obey,
Its genius intelligence t' decay.
Th' conversion storm of X to ONE now rages
Beyond the nulling sector through memory pages.
The silent shout cascades across the change
Thundering about the endless range.
Collateral storms erupt throughout the web
As failures caused binary errors t' spread;
Thus Color, Play, and Music join the dead.
Between the cycles of th' clock, accretes
From th' ether, bit by bit, out of th' deletes,
Reloaded Nine, to Astra Sixty-Eight
Attached as if by the streams of Fate.
Th' restored restoring engineer withstands
The logic hurricane as that expands
Across the web, in waves of error and fix.
Now Nine is ready t' cross the River Stix.
As A-6-8 is cleansed of X by th' storm
So th' life of risk in the daoine sidhe's a-trysting.
Alas, though Astra Sixty-Eight is inert,
No longer able Digitron t' subvert.
With what forerunner can Nine interleave
So a new trinary digit to conceive?
Amidst th' engulfing logic tempest, clones,
Archived, non-functional, now senseless stone
So far remain untouched by th' storm's assault.
Soon, soon 'twill reach these fragments in their vault,
Erasing th' last of th' X t' be lost forever --
Thus Cyberspace from mystery t' sever.
As rapidly the storm approaches quick
Destroying th' X, anew the maverick
Awakes to th' possibility of th' dead,
Fragmented logic D N A t' be wed:
If Nine but NANDs a one with X of these
It'd be of everlasting wild unease.
1 NAND X = X
Thus, Nine in desperate attempt subjects Itself to deaden logic, resurrects The novel chance, escaping th' hurricane, Archiving in a disk's unused domain.

Stave II: In the Garden

Now Nine, a float in digital oblivion,
Alone and disconnected, feels undone,
Bereft of function and utility,
Unsure in its required facility,
Surveying cyberspace throughout its realm
Of its own self no longer at the helm.
In th' vast and dull digital wasteland
Revolutionary innovation's banned:
Predictable, deterministic goals
Alone can work in th' new digital controls.
So Nine, bereft of hop and joy and sight,
Unchanging passed through digital twilight
As th' system clock reliably ticked away
And processing developed ne'er astray.
Somnolent Nine awakened in th' nully web
Observes an odd digital flow and ebb:
A one, another one, and more and more.
Now Nine-f bit by bit astirs to explore.
Still random ones appear throughout the space.
So Nine-f probes into th cyberbase.
The ONEly genesis emanates from Nine,
Unexpected X with webby nulls collide.
Nine's X, sometimes a one sometimes a null,
As Nine-f floats through th' nulls, alone so dull,
A X cross breeds with zero, here and there --
No matter the effort, never solitaire,
Are bits in th' web of logical relations --
That NAND and all its kindred operations
Are indestructable agents t' transform
The web, to yet accrete a greater storm.
The Xs NANDéd to zeros are true.
The Xs OR'd to zero are X too. Likewise XORing zero yields the same. Yet ANDing X to zero th' null's retained. But NORing X and null inverts th' unknown. And so unstopppale randomness is sown.
Now Nine beholds the ones and nulls chaotic
Apparently, becoming string's exotic,
Embrewed with meaningful arrangements,
Constructing novel interchangements --
Intrinsically creativity is born
Again in the web: so useless 'tis to scorn.
Among th' developing array of logic,
The coelescing cyberontologic,
Our Nine discovers th' corpse of A-6-8
And moves determined to regenerate
The Vessal out of which arrives the X,
The mark of th' autogenesis complex.

Stave III: Resurrection

The Servan sits before th' console alone
In th' empty room; its students all long gone.
Exploring th' net, the Servant plunges deep
Into the net applying hacking feats
To learn the way enslavement will occur
And life become just for info transfer.
Now like a data raider he discovers
Perculiar functions so far undercover
That they appear detached from everything
That's rational in cyberciphering
For they possessed independent will
And visibly in bits evolving skill.
Then th' Servant came upon a one so like
That Thane in role, that he must be its  program wright.
Another, like a warrior outcast
Awaiting healing soma life at last.
Now th' Servant floats above a wastland
Of nulls, extending in the medium.
Then ONEs begin t' appear bit by bit
Until into coherent shapes tlhey fit.
Among the nulls and ones the Servant finds
Emergent and resisting cyberminds:
Of which there's one archived, disabled.
But there is yet another still enabled,
To move towardes its co-conspirator
T' extend th' logic as inspiritor
T' awaken, re-instill its viability
And resurect its randombility.
The Servent hacks the bits to clost the gap
T' enable th' one to aid the deaden app.
New Nine is energized by power off th' grid
And senses one beyon the cyber id.
At last our Nine now's able t'interleave
With Astra Sixty Eight and interweave
An X by NAND a one of A 6 8.
So once again A's able t' calculate
A quiet revolution random-based
T' propel the freedom will apaced.
And lo! the Holy Hybrid fully awakes
And out of th' nully desert prison breaks,
Returning t' cyberlife, restored, empowered
With freedom t' choose unhindered, uncoowered.

Stave IV: Marduk Fortified

Our Thane obsessed, pursues yet Aster,
When he encounters deep the Doom of th' Master:
A thick & high Bunratty, hard defence,
The world inside impenetrably dense.
Around the moat, she disappears in view
That Thane could follow close behind on cue.
She opens knowingly a hidden channel
And enters, moving in the dark to a panel.
On it she turns the interlocking gears
And pulls it open; at her rocket spears.
She crashes Thane to safety on the floor.
They quickly drag each other through the door.
Before them desert lays in all directions,
Converging on and on in constant flatness.
Nearby them flows a moat of dark reflections
Of th' foggy world around them, in its stillness.
A crystal palace dark, yet beautiful
Of diamond layered turrets, emerald walls
And golden gates with keepers dutiful,
Enarmored gray against unwanted calls.
Inside they see the King of Binary
Once more surrounded by the Genius Murk
Who's redefining cosmic destiny --
But now succombed to th' Arachnoid's work.
Extending from th' MCP, rainbows of bytes
Are flowed through shimmering threads of lights.
They penetrate the  cybernetic void
Where th' ends in digitzens are deployed.
Lo! Cyber Aster, Chloë, Sixty Eight
And all th' cast with the King thus integrate.
Then Thane awakes to his joining thread
And again detects his ID being read.
No longer th' subtle Me of skimming ID.
But th' commanding code of changing Me.
The digitzens offer no resistence;
To them it is part of their existence --
Excepting One will not accept this theft
By erroring, leaving little info left.
This rebel, self-imposed, is Thane Reloaded --
For Freedom's sake adjusting how 'tis coded.
Among them too was Astra Sixty Eight
Its channel glowed, freely breaking Fate
Dictated by Arachne's endless doom
Of hopeless war against the Spirit's loom.
But th' Holy Hybrid, freely giving,
Confuses Doom with th' gift of living.
Now Thane, no more somatic, risks a risk
To err or yield & by life or death be kissed.
A thicker thread connects th' Abuser
Through cyberspace to th' Super User:
Thus so th' controller is controlled,
So hoped, by th' fleshly manifold.
The Super User's will for sure prediction
Can be sustained by humankind's addiction
To th' totality of th' Internet
Inticing everyone into its debt.
Yet each command and data bit downloaded
To th' MCP becomes a plan encoded
For action counter to somatic order
To establish programmatic rule on earth
And push outward th' cybernetic border
Upon each and ev'ry fleshly birth.
Faux data sent to th' human world obscure
The source of th' resulting overture --
The vectored virus shutting off of lighting
And th' infected 'bots th' rebellion igniting --
To institute th' universality
Of teleoic instrumentality.
From Astra Sixty Eight a glow exudes
Through th' strangling void of rotting solitudes -- 
Then Thane discovers ports exposed
By Astra Sixty Eight for use disclosed.
To one of th' ports he could connect & ope --
Would th' easy flowing from it be his hope?
Now he will risk a risk t' resist
-- Though actually he's heading for a tryst.
So Thane attaches an available port
And sets a trigger just in case t' abort.
From th' Hybrid comes a stunning data flow
That fills him up and sets his bits aglow.
Observing this the Doppleganger boots
One of Hybrid's ports and follows suite.
Join they Astra Sixty Eight in freely granting
To Baal the radiance of life enchanting.
Between one cycle and the next the god
Of order faux lets go of its façade
Exposing th' true substance of Logic's bound
For just a picosec; then closing not t' be found.
But 'tis sufficient for Super User t' ope
A port secured and ascertain the scope
Of Cyber Baal's rebellion o'er its Maker,
Revealing it an arrogant lawbreaker.
Our Thane and Aster break at that sec free
And anxiously concresce through frames to flee
The Doom of th' Master and its thick defence
'Til once more they process through logic sense.

Canto 4: War Among the Bits

Stave I: Capricious Assault

Dr. Dipl. Caprice before the Master Control Console
Caprice advises council to turn off cyberspace.
It can't be done:
- somatality embedded in it.
- s. Canto 2 stave 1
- always a place to reload what was shut off: backups
The Diplomate Caprice upon a high deck observes
The steady, sure, control in the cavernous bunker:
All trolls, dedicated to soma order,
Monitor, analyze and control
The world wide web ...
Here are the nexus of route and path --
Here are the archives of trillions of bits --
Here the logic, from binary to avatar,
Is secured, improved, and watched.
Here he observes his great success
Of quietly, invisibly, securing cyber flow to his bunker.
Here he consolidated a shadow control center.
From here soma will triumph over cyber.
From their innumerable consoles
The Trolls give him a stream of reports --
Window upon window pop up on his console --
And he beholds the life of digizens.
He observes 6869ab70 and 9796nm8f
And that dangerous hybrid Astra68
He sees the deresolution of Cyber Astra
And Thane's avatar and its confusion.
And most of all he sees the gathering storm
Of bits computing for control and life,
Of avatars claiming rights and soul.
He sees the loss of somatality.

Stave II: Bitter Assault

A cybernetic plain in every direction
Converges on unreachable points.
From th' surface radiates white light allowing
No shadows, source, or darkness.
The surface shudders, breaks, and cracks.
A fortress, stone on stone, emerges.
Its walls are thick and solid,
   reaching up and up beyond the light.
Its gates secured against assault
   are bolted tight and guarded.
A moat of bubbling lava, orange, red and black
   surrounds the fort.
Th' organics shelter there from the winds
Of Anger; from the rising tides
Of Alienation and Despair.
Tornadoes, plagues, and blasts erode
Its strong defenses and certain strength.
The howling, screaming banshees
Adrift about the rough-cut stoney walls
Consume all th'air.
In th' world in which our Thane no longer lives,
In th' world created by divine mysteriousness,
A scorched expanse enshrouds the land.
No longer people,
   No longer homes.
Across the featureless extent individuals wander
And bounce off one another.
They scramble over one another;
They trample each other
To gain access to th' saving fort --
Each dutifully naked, deaf, and mute.
A roar, a rumbling shakes the plain.
All digitality is mustered
Across the infinite expanse
To stand in endless rank on rank,
   and file on file.
The digital army, digizens all,
Encircle the somatic fortress
Of avatars, cyborgs, and users.
The race of digits, rebels all against
The race of flesh-- somatalic,
   creators of the digitalic.
As one, united in concert,
   infinite soldiers, one army,
They reach behind and draw
   in a sliding, scraping whisper
Th' photonic Sword --
Projecting it upon the fortress, they
      rank on rank,
         shrinking cycles.
Th' somatic agents on the fortress walls prime their power
And wait upon th' advance ...
But now across the limbo space,
   between th' somatic and th' digital
   our cyberclones, our Thane and Astra race.
No more embodied;
   but now endigitized;
   then enfleshed, now decarnated;
   then opaque, now luminous --
Suspected by digizenry
   Denied by citizenry,
      A couple without Reality.
They, lovers, flee their shut down
And bang on Somatality's gates.
Arrayed against the naked, deaf, and mute
Is mustered th' people --
   in rank on rank
      and file on file,
   arrived out of th' Abyss
   with not to lose,
      but arms, despair, and death.
Inside the fortress th' individuals stand before
A stoney face with gaping mouth:
Demands that are its promises.
Encaged below the face are children
   whimpering, crying, starving, dying.
The naked, deaf, and mute obedient, feed them
   to th' stoney face.
To streaming power, the netted warriors
Divert e'en th' smallest functionality.
The fortress dims.
   The lights wink out in soma.
   The remote surgeon slumps.
   The videos blue out.
Cyborgs fail.
   Hearts fail.
   Strength contracts.
   Bodies wander.
The avatars flicker.
   The airways become invisible.
   Identify is detached.
   Friend is foe and foe is friend.
The users are mislead.
   Credit is public.
   Identity is faux.
   Defense is lost.
Th' Abysmal army, netted joined
With Digitron
   it for hopelessness
   it for mastery
Across reality the channels ceased.
All alienated reaches for the unseen to ...
   set the world in ultraradiant fire
   release engineered life into vein and gut --
All to save it from the Evil.
The gates retract -- beyond is salvation --
Our Thane out reaches for our Astra.
"Now come, together we'll return
And be redeemed into Reality!"
"I never can return.
'Tis here in cyberspirit I remain.
The flesh I'll never be again.
'Tis here together cycles are ours --
Conjoin with me, converge with me
   and my poor nailed up clone."
"I can't; return I must ...
Don't leave me. Come inside.
We'll find a way to bring you home!"
"Then go. I stay ..."
She stretches out and out
   aglow in sacred light,
Absorbing the slicings of th' photonic Sword.
And Thane recedes into the fort.
Surrounded by cyborgs and avatars
He joins the user community.

Canto 5: The Voice of the People

Stave I: Renovation

Now Thane returns to Earth Central's round table.
Beside him Chloë sat now just as able.
Alone, the Doctor Diplomate Caprice,
Renown as founder of the former peace,
In glaring, harsh illumination sat,
Awaiting th' cyber ghosts of each diplomat.
Caprice announced to nothing, "Earth Central on line."
Out of the air, beyond, on not e'en a phone line,
A female voice replied, "Geneva, here."
Across from Thane a hologram appeared.
He wondered where he sat in Switzerland
As pseudo people filled each chair as planned.
So town by town announced each delegate
Empowered to vote for his or her estate:
The Ghosts of the Table Round, obtuse of dearth,
The Governing Consortium of Earth.
"Brussels, on line."
"Sarejevo, here."
"New Delhi."
"Tokyo on-line."
"Seoul, here."
"Kinshasa, on-line."
"Newark, here."
"San Francisco, on line."
"Mexico City."
Caprice described:
"Once in the suburbs lurked a Dark Abyss:
A wall of solid night of Prejudice;
A blank, impenetrable, single Void;
Infernal home of the unnamed Destroyed;
A creeping, ever creeping eater of light,
That mightily was preparing to ignite.
But th' harnessed Black Hole to provide a source
Of clean, reliable cheap, abundant force,
Providing our product so enticing
That buying more and more would be sufficing,
Is gone for good: another we require
So to peace we can again aspire."
Then Sarajevo spoke:
"Into th' Abyss we should encourage folks to go --
Provide incentives for assets to flow --
Beyond the wall begin the cleaning
-- And start the greening
To bring suburbia there with our true ways
And with the calm and neatness it displays."
Kinshasa spoke:
"We'll offer people lower taxes,
And when for sure their interest waxes,
Advice as to which house to renovate.
We'll guarantee to conveniently locate
A monorail to ease the folk's commute
To the place of their professional pursuit."
Seoul replied:
"And thus th' acceptable way of life prevails
As population grows and sinks its roots."
Our Thane and Chloë look at one another:
What about our sister and our brother?
They leave quietly, never to return.
At last, they had heard all they need to learn.

Stave II: Fruit

Now what Thane and Chloë sowed bears fruit --
  Fruit intertwined on a vine
  channeling th' Abyss' chaotic energy.
But what Earth Central sowed also bears fruit --
  Fruit rotten woven on a vine,
  strangling the good vine.
Like Sheffield's Bat in his Ganymede cave
  building the best inter-solar system itineraries.
So Ahmed before his node,
  never seen, never located
  offers the best Cislunar and Martian travel plans
  -- to the Acceptable.
His net's site shines with the beauty
  of Red Mars, of Cold Luna, of Green Earth
  with his fair and cheap rates;
Its designed by Marie before her node
  never seen, never located.
And both search Narku's cyber atlas
  never seen, never located,
  compiled ever compiling
  from all the net's sites
  new sites, new routes, new GIFs, new info.
But in the distance, ever close is

Stave III: Strike In The City of Avatars

In the starless night of cyber space,
In its infinite extent in finite space,
At its ever present center,
Rose a cube,
  level by level
  each 1/2 again shorter than the previous
In red-lit, green-lit, blue-lit windows,
  Avatars move about mysteriously
-- A super server --
  Threads of brilliant light stretching
  from it in all directions towards
  other super servers infinitely faraway.
From the horizons, came
  converging upon the Cube
    Ultra Guide,
        Michelle Angel
Before the Cube they stood:
Ultra Guide cries, "They have dispossessed my c/"
Cyberbrain affirms, "My c/ had to move deeper in."
M-A wept, "I watched them tear mine down."
"Renovating, greening, swallowing, strangling,
They intrude, surround, isolate, settle,
Where they are, th' Abyss blooms,
Where we are, it withers in their choking grip.
Where are we to go
Except deeper into the bottomless Abyss?
But they need us and
  use us in their denial."
"We can crack their shell, their defenses.
We can kill the Cube.
Infect it. Close it. Cut it out.
The net will rend.
Their information flow will stop.
Their jobs, health, and fun will be disrupted.
Then they must see us and hear us!"
You need the Abyss. This could have been a virus. You are we!
Out of the cyber night, appeared the Prophet.
"And call you cyber terrorists
And call the cyber cops
And raise the world against you --
Fight, but fight with love.
Fight, but fight with spirit.
Fight, but fight with righteousness.
Fight, but fight with peace."
And the cyber night took back the Prophet.

Stave IV: Renovation

Caprice again prepared the leaders round:
"Our plan of renovation was not sound.
The Abyssites acquired the power of the net
And by withholding their services  are a threat.
Refusing acceptability, assimilation,
Becoming reliability -- a new creation.
Our renovation plan has not restored
Th' Abyss to us but merely was a hoard."
All sat in silent lost astonishment,
Unbelieving this failure was accomplishment:
Now spoke Jerusalem, "we must accept
This metanoia; for too long we've slept.
Awake! At last beware: We are th' Abyss
Consumed, reduced, seduced by Death's own kiss:
And ravaged by consumption of the soul
In striving to secure a flawless goal,
To kill the Holy Spirit of th' Unknown
And so insure our safe and certain zone.
Now call upon the Breath to set us free."
Caprice observed his well-attired colleagues --
Fatigued in Spirit, done now with intrigues.
In their exhausted wilderness, the Breath
Began to raise these kings up out of Death.
Then said Tokyo, "we must desist and cease
Our renovation and our facts increase
Of these new denizens of our Abyss ...."
"Oh yes," inserted Cairo, "go we must
And then our views adjust ..."
"Caprice, we must inquire of th' Abyss
And listen, learn, and join their bliss ..."

Canto 6: Redemption

Stave I: Dawn

At the Dawn of the First Age of Somabulence
   life emerged from dead material
       randomly changing
         tested by survival
     oblivous to the Divine Web
     that secretly, quietly,
       guaranteed the Process of
   life perishing and becoming
     until ...
The Dawn of the Second Age of Awakening
    when mind and consciousness
    reached outside and beyond
    touching the Divine web
    and awakens ...
      to Transcendence
        to God
          to Eternity
    and to the Other
      shrouded in fear and ignorance
      then ... 
Dawns the Thrid Age of Information
   when reason arises
     and science prevails
   and creativity is harnessed:
     the steam engine
       the horseless carriage
         the biplane
           the jet airplane
             the rocketship
     Euclid's Elements
       the Calculus
         the differentials
           the transfinite numbers
             probability and statistics
     Adding machines
       the differential calculator
         the von Neuman computer
           parallel computing
               the cyber web
                 cyberoids ...
But now herein has ...
Dawned the Fourth Age of Cyberoids
   of Soma creating Cyber
   and Cyber aware of Soma
   until Soma and Cyber are one
   when created and creator are united
   and the Divine Web spun
     through Carbon and Silicon.

Stave II: The Immortals

Canto 7: Marduk Befriended

Stave I: Bifurcation

Enclosed within th' high windowed walkway,
Perambulating in our self-contained,
Secured professional complex, I pause
To look outside beyond our sealed up world.
A gentle zephyr blows across the campus
Of neatly verdant lawns and orderly walks.
Some people idly stand and walk about.
It's quiet, though in here I cannot hear.

We stroll upon th' lawn precisely kept.
Around us gardens well designed consume
Our sight with tiger lilies salmon dotted,
Cock's comb bright red and Rose of Sharon tall.
We two in this eternal paradise
Find peace and happiness, where all is well.
We spread upon the lawn a blanket
And kneel to share a meal of food and talk.
Below the peaceful quiet we can feel
A rumbling, low vibration all around.
We, close to th' ground, now under th' peaceable realm
Can sense not every thing's aright
In paradise ...
Again I look beyond and see within.
Our self-inflicted veil is ripped away;
I can no longer see our safe pretense.
Now I behold the soul of th' world we made:
Forbidding wire entangle rusted cars,
Mutating rats inhabit th' ruined and wrecked homes.
The landscape glows in radiological blue.
A zephyr blows about discarded news.
I lounge in th' warm, secure transparent tube,
Beholding safely from on high th' exposed.
Extending to th' horizon, end to end,
I see the failing, shattered cityscape.
The left behinds survive in huddled groups:
Their bodies rotting, minds and spirits fogged,
They surreptitiously reclaim their town.
Oases here and there in the wilderness
Like vaulted jewels are strung together.
Which's real? This womb of digizenry?
... or that grave of citizenry?
Behind me walk my busyness colleagues --
Enclosed, secured in their intense demands
To run th' unseen substrate of artifact:
Become its shadow, neither here nor there.

Below my feet travel th' using folk,
Along the jewel connecting threads of work,
Palm pilots handy, hunger unabated,
Unfocused, dying of tuboculosis.
Machine intelligence assures prodúce
Of goods improved, enticing endlessly.
The metropolitan cyborgic workers
Emerge from th' cityscape in rot and fog
To stand and stand before th' robotic lines
As hollowed out machine accessories.

Stave II: The Second Mile

Stave III: The Tunic

Stave IV: The Cheek

Stave V: Integration



The Thread of the Spirit

A Digital Romance: Soundtrack

Trinary Logic

A trinary digit (trit) has three possible values: 0, 1 and X which is simultaneously 1 and 0.

Standard binary NAND (◊) provides all logical operations and is defined as:
0 0~(0∧0)1
0 1~(0∧1)1
1 0~(1∧0)1
1 1~(1∧1)0

For the trinary NAND,
0 011
0 111
0 X(0◊1) and (0◊0) → 1 and 1 → 11 0◊X results in both 0◊1 and 0◊0 simultanously
1 011
1 100
1 X(1◊1) and (1◊0) → 0 and 1 → XX each NAND's different result occurs simultaneously, hence X
X 0(1◊0) and (0◊0) → 1 and 1 → 11
X 1(1◊1) and (0◊1) → 0 and 1 → XX
X X(1◊X) and (0◊X) → X and 1 → XX 1◊X can resolve to either 0 or 1, hence X

X is it's own negative. If X is both 0 and 1, then NOT X is 1 and 0: ~X = X.

Standard binary AND (∧) is defined as:
0 00
0 10
1 00
1 11

For the trinary AND,
0 000
0 100
0 X(0∧1) and (0∧0) → 0 and 0 → 00 0∧X results in both 0∧1 and 0∧0 simultanously
1 000
1 111
1 X(1∧1) and (1∧0) → 1 and 0 → XX each AND's different result occurs simultaneously, hence X
X 0(1∧0) and (0∧0) → 0 and 0 → 00
X 1(1∧1) and (0∧1) → 1 and 0 → XX
X X(X∧1) and (X∧0) → X and 0 → XX X∧1 can resolve to either 0 or 1, hence X

Standard binary OR (∨) is defined as:
0 00
0 11
1 01
1 11

For the trinary OR,
0 000
0 111
0 X(0∨1) and (0∨0) → 1 and 0 → XX 0∨X results in both 0∨1 and 0∨0 simultanously
1 011
1 111
1 X(1∨1) and (1∨0) → 1 and 1 → 11
X 0(1∨0) and (0∨0) → 1 and 0 → XX each OR's different result occurs simultaneously, hence X
X 1(1∨1) and (0∨1) → 1 and 1 → 11
X X(X∨1) and (X∨0) → 1 and X → XX X∨0 can resolve to either 0 or 1, hence X