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. (i) 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. (ii) The gods invented thinking machines, Universal instruments, reasoning means, Released to go where'er they would. And gods rejoiced and said its good. (iii) 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. (iv) Now gods extended power beyond th' trolls Initiating a cosmos full of roles: Communities for all they could -- Unexpectedly and it is good.
(v) And gods perceived they could partake of this, Becoming part machine, an artifice, Enhancing power and personhood. And gods pronounced that this is good! (vi) 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 ...
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.
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.
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.
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."
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.)
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 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.
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.
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.
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." "Why?" "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."
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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?
(I have to go; I've used too much AI. I've drained the system's brain; I'm forced t' comply ...)
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?
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.
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!
|# 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:|
|# ** 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|
|005||24||add||# add label|
|006||20||inc||# include "search-f"|
|007||20||inc||# include flags|
|008||13||push||# save size on stack|
|# codon to increase space for add'l adder|
|009||19||set-num||# bx = 7 = size of adder|
|010||00||nop-A||# 0x3^2 +|
|011||02||nop-C||# 2x3 +|
|012||01||nop-B||# 1 = 7|
|013||13||push||# move bx to cx|
|016||12||pop||# bx = genome size|
|017||24||add||# add in adder size|
|018||13||push||# save daughter size|
|019||13||push||# save adder size|
|# codon to allocate space for daughter|
|021||31||allocate||# ax = s/ adder space|
|##### adder gene|
|# start of gene codon|
|# adder codon|
|025||33||get||# cx = get buffer|
|026||13||push||# stack = cx|
|028||33||get||# cx = get buffer|
|029||12||pop||# bx = stack|
|030||24||add||# bx = bx + cx|
|031||34||put||# out buffer = bx; bx = 0|
|##### loader gene|
|# codon to load end of genome label|
|032||13||push||# move ax to bx = end of genome + 1|
|035||14||swap-stk||# alt. stack is buffer|
|037||28||stk-read||# stack = [bx]|
|040||28||stk-read||# stack = [bx]|
|043||28||stk-read||# stack = [bx]|
|045||14||swap-stk||# back to primary stack|
|# codon to calculate start of adder|
|046||36||search-b||# distance to start of adder|
|050||13||push||# save bx|
|051||36||search-b||# distance to start of genome|
|055||12||pop||# cx = distance to s/ adder|
|057||25||sub||# bx = start of adder|
|# load codon for adder: note, need to load in reverse order|
|058||12||pop||# cx = length of adder|
|060||13||push||# start of adder|
|061||24||add||# bx = end of adder + 1|
|062||21||dec||# end of adder|
|063||12||pop||# cx = s/ adder|
|065||21||dec||# cx = s/adder - 1|
|067||14||swap-stk||# use alternate stack for adder buffer|
|068||02||nop-C||# loop to load adder onto stack|
|069||28||stk-read||# stack = [bx]|
|072||05||if-grt||# bx > cx ?|
|075||14||swap-stk||# back to primary stack|
|##### reproducer gene|
|# copy codon|
|076||13||push||# make cx = end of genome - label|
|086||22||zero||# bx = 0|
|088||00||nop-A||# copy loop for genome|
|089||27||copy||# [ax+bx] <-- [bx]|
|090||30||if-n-cpy||# daughter mutated?|
|091||10||call||# yes, set flag|
|096||06||if-less||# bx < cx ?|
|097||09||jump-b||# bx -> label|
|# codon to check if daughter mutated|
|099||13||push||# save bx|
|100||10||call||# get flags|
|104||07||if-bit-1||# flag set?|
|105||08||jump-f||# yes, go to copy extra adder|
|# copy end of genome label|
|109||12||pop||# restore bx -> label|
|110||27||copy||# copy label|
|115||08||jump-f||# skip copy extra addr|
|# codon to copy extra adder|
|123||12||pop||# restore bx|
|124||12||pop||# cx = size of daughter|
|126||14||swap-stk||# get to saved adder code|
|127||01||nop-B||# loop to copy adder on stack into memory|
|128||29||stk-writ||# [ax]+[bx] = stack|
|130||06||if-less||# bx < cx ?|
|133||14||swap-stk||# back to primary stack|
|# codon to reset daughter mutated flag|
|137||10||call||# bx = flags|
|142||21||dec||# zero daughter mutated flag|
|143||10||call||# save bx|
|# birthing codon|
|147||32||divide||# And divide...|
|# flag admin codons|
|149||08||jump-f||# branch around flag codons|
|# codon to set daughter mutated flag|
|# bx is saved|
|157||13||push||# save bx|
|158||10||call||# bx = flags|
|162||18||bit-1||# set flag|
|163||10||call||# save bx|
|167||12||pop||# restore bx|
|# codon to load flags in bx|
|# be sure to push bx before calling|
|172||22||zero||# bx -> flags|
|173||28||stk-read||# stack = [bx] = flags|
|175||12||pop||# bx = flags|
|176||11||return||# bx = flags|
|# codon to store flags from bx|
|# be sure to push bx before calling|
|180||13||push||# save bx = flags|
|181||13||push||# move ax to bx|
|184||23||neg||# make bx negative, so -> 0|
|185||29||stk-writ||# [ax+bx] = stack, ax+bx = 0|
|# end of genome codon|
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.
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.
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."
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
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.
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!
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!
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.
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.
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?
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!
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!
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"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 Independently 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 ubiquitously T' insure that Users have th' security That they want so bad.
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-v126.96.36.199 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 -- Invisibly 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?
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 seamlessly but... 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. Phantasmorphing, 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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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!
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."
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.
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.
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.
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:
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."
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 ...
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 ..."
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.
Chloë speaks; Thane listens.
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.
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 ...
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 ...
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 ...
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.
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.
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.
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 …
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. Silence. 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.
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.
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.
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.
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:
O-o-o-o-NO! Ai-ai-ai-ai-ai-WHY? Ou-ou-ou-ou-ou-FOUL!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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."
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.
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.
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.
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, metaphos, 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, fixed, restricted, ananimatic. 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.
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.
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...
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.
So be it! Do as you will! Make me acceptable!
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.
With the Abyss controlled And Thane and Chloë controlled ...
Order is re-established.
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.
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.
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 ...
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
NANDwith null the X to th' l
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.
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
NANDand all its kindred operations Are indestructable agents t' transform The web, to yet accrete a greater storm.
NANDéd to zeros are true.
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.
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
NANDa 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.
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.
notes: 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.
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 advance, 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.
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." "Kiev." "Moscow." "New Delhi." "Peking." "Tokyo on-line." "Jerusalem." "Cairo." "Seoul, here." "Kinshasa, on-line." "Newark, here." "San Francisco, on line." "Montreal." "Mexico City." "Rio."
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.
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 hammering welding drilling voices renovating strangling starving.
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 Avatars converging upon the Cube Came: Ultra Guide, Cyberbrain, 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!"
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.
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 ..."
At the Dawn of the First Age of Somabulence life emerged from dead material simple evolving randomly changing tested by survival complexifying 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 microcomputing 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.
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.
A trinary digit (trit) has three possible values: 0, 1 and X which is simultaneously 1 and 0.
For the trinary
For the trinary
For the trinary