Friday, July 31, 2009

Magnificent gold Art Deco helmet.2

He remembered thinking it through before. Not a complete run through, just a basic trace with a nod at the major intersections. The way he had come here. The decisions he made along the way. These were the things he was thinking about.

He was thinking about how he had interpreted the situation and how his response had been correct or incorrect according to how it affected the implementation of his plans.
There were plans; there were lots of plans.
There were contingency plans; there were plans of plans radiating to everything in sight.
He wondered how his actions could have been different- if, in the future, in a similar situation, he could do something even more effective towards that implementation.

He thought about his actions of the last half hour in the light of his basic strategy, which, at the moment, consisted mainly of an avoidance of pain and/or death. He reasoned that even without any conscious effort, there was always some sort of basic strategy, even if it was "run away from this fucking heat!"

He wondered what he could do to prevent the same kind of horrible events from occurring again, but he didn't seem to have possessed any control over these events while they were occurring.

He must get to the eyebrary and there was only one access point- in the Chasm.
How he was going to get down there he had no fucking idea.



Just then brilliant light flashed off the cooling fins of his magnificent gold Art Deco helmet, creating a jerking striped pattern that momentarily dominated the entire virtual cockpit.
It had begun again.

inFink attack!

i thought it was the inFinks again
i still remember the last time they boarded:

"Fuk the po-lice!"
"yeah, Fuk the poo- lice!"
were the words we heard.

i think some of us were inFinks once-
a lot of people have shielded those stories away from themselves-
the sometime result of rejuvenation treatments (some say) taken too far-
into the area of higher mental functions-
a drastic pruning-
resetting for freshness-
a dangerous state-
smart bitches, they tend to escape their cribZ-
or sometimes they're born right fucking here under our asses-
here-
wussa.

2 year old pirates-
run away-
run amok-
berserker babies with shit guns-
grab shit and go-
just havn fun-
urine trouble-
walls obscured-
how's your sidestroke?



sometimes they saw the Magic Robot and then
just kind of sat down around it and watched-
Bordo made it-
it fucking works-
it sings and it dances-
does tricks-
tells stories in- probably- all known languages-
ask him say the word shit in every one-
it's pretty fucking fascinating-
it got me.

Monday, July 27, 2009

not so straight into the heart of matter at hand

subtitled: "not the same, not the same"

i thought this one was deleted forever:

in the helmet, not that helmet- this is another one-
in the helmet was a constellation of sensors- probes-
the sKuad used it for game control-
monitors everything from Ntransmitter levels
and impulses down cellular
to all I/O's, several sets for each-
maps chaotically real time-
rhythmically models the mess and then you can choose any overlay(s) you can think of-
pretty cool (as they would say) for 21's.

the sKuad had clandestinely collected the pope's arrows
some say that they dosed the tips with zombie powder
and returned them to the quiver
it was meant to be funny- and illusory
ha ha

for the arrow to reach its proper target,
it had to be modulated to match the branching
but they used the branch's shadow
and the shadow was on some junk in the yard
(the yard was a conical space with its tip up toward the center-
amid east and west-
sort of junkyard/ garden/ park/ shop/ playground-
also the largest open space in the normal-
not the same yard as in the legend)
and everything got twisted-
spirally waved-

and what was dead walked again.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

brain rotation (eVol Vox)



-the way to create a graduated control for apophenic sensitivity is to have some of your brains be rather unstable, but able to survive for at least a typical or near typical span-

-see, you just pour some more chaos in here- let that go, will you? they're both correct. they're just spreading now, see-?

-ZOMBIES! GET DOWN! I'm looking, shh- they're all moving in one direction- over there- FUCK! they're FORMING A LINE!

-"It's like casting a net and capturing as many neurons as possible at any one time," he says-

-now i can no longer tell where the voices are coming from. all of them used to have specific functions. the washing machine now tells me stories about my fictitious childhood and a voice inside my spleen sounds like plia singing- i know she doesn't sing-

-let's meet in the lounge, you can hear it in there, but not the wet end- it's too noisy-

-I think it's a natural consequence of living in space with a bunch of freaks- not you- but you noticed how our mission was so much clearer in the beginning? well, at least
my beginning- the Funky Pope says that we don't have a mission, but he's full of shit, anyway-

-I don't believe in VolVoX-


-Planet? What Planet? That's imposs- -


-oh. oh. oh. oh. oh. oh. oh- it's just me-

-I am going to assume command. Gris. pAla. SnelF. Initiate ignition sequence. We are going to make a burn. Sound the alarm.


-it was at that moment that the world ended- not the worst world ending of all time, but pretty bad, anyway-

-i can't tell where that is. what are we looking at? those are zombies? oh, yeah, i guess you're right- do, i mean did, we know them?-

Thursday, July 9, 2009

that room

it's like i can see everything
no, it's like i can hear everything
bleedthrough
palimpsest
pareidolic amping-interface
stochastic resonance



i hear-
the hive
the hive mind
or the pod
a pod
you have to get out of the web
the memeplex
get out of it to get into it (ha ha)
you can see the stars from in there
you can party with them

only when i'm in there
the limited physical access
the dead zone
inFink access
hatch 235
that chemical trail
i dream that i'm a molecule riding the twist lock
folding my body to match the machines
attracted by my opposite
in the conduit
down bolted down doors
through the small freight medusa

it's actually a brain
a brain
not a heart
a human brain in a cooler
aluminum champagne cooler
and they were termites
not ants
swimming in glycoprotien

there are contradictions
speaking of antifreeze
i know about the people on Mars
not us
the others
underground
at the bottom of the sea
outside the vent
but connected by cable
just outside the fracture zone
but it doesn't matter
you dig them
the contradictions (ha)
watch out archer!
the helmet blinds you
raise them up
see you in hell

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

CRAWG



AW, DON'T LISTEN TO THEM, CRAWG

Greg

CROMAG, CRAWG, KEGGER, DON'T MAKE NO DIFFERNCE

Greg- but doesn't anyone know what's going on?

SURE- MOSTLY A LOT MORE THAN YOU DO- RIGHT, KRAKKEN? (PUNCH)

(WTF?) don't call me that- that thing is fucking disgusting. really, what the fuck is going on?

EASY THERE, LITTLE BUDDY, YOU GOT SOME BAD DREAMS?

no.

KRAKKEN?

oh, no, that was that thing in the hold that Padre showed me.

WE HAVE 17 HOLDS. WHO IS PADRE?

Pedro. Pepper... tall guy with a toga.

LISTEN YA LITTLE SQUIRT, TIMES CHANGE, SEE? YOU CAN'T NOT EXPECT TO JUST JUMP RIGHT IN AND UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING AT ONCE. ESPECIALLY NOT WHEN WE'RE DEALING WITH THIS, UH, UH... CHRONOLOGY VIRUS... THING.
ANYWAY, I'M PRETTY SURE THAT KRAKKEN THING WAS JUST TUBIFEX.

tubifex?

GOTTA GO NOW. REMEMBER: ONLY BELIEVE WHAT YOU CAN DO.

but...