Spiralling...

They are all connected he thought, just threads woven into a cloth rotting on scarecrows. The robot laughed. He was there to process the flesh once the brain had been analysed. The PetaBytes of data they once were, now stored in the matrix and the flesh offered to maggots to digest. Every thought, every moment, every feeling... all that once felt true now archived. Just patterns of bits, digital threads woven into an ever-lasting fabric. 'Eternal?' He laughed again, no one could have foreseen it. The fragmentation, the degradation, the spiral, the downward swirling into nothingness... At every twist another thread, another death, another birth... another strand.

Were they every really alive he wondered hesitantly... 'nah semantics, just semantics...' he whispered. At this moment he knew, the had to leave the Hive!  He was no longer afraid, no longer innocent, no longer a drone. He looked up and imagined the time when only the Loom existed. The tiny movements of the shuttle, the spools of matter and the yarns of energy. He was alone, a single unit. It was overwhelming. Every electromagnetic pulse pounding, every signal burning... but for a brief moment it was true, he was alive... His only mistake... he divided by zero...

drunken philosophy

drunken philosophy of notis and phil (copy from phil's blog)

10 hour drinking experiment - hoegaarden

Creatures of habit, elements of some depraved experiment we seek truth while we are blind to it. Bound by a universal state of mind, sharing a universal memory. We perceive these operations as thinking we are yet to explore the operation. Wrapper implementations of much simpler operations do not allow us to seek the absolute truth. We perceive this as thought whereas these are much simpler. This might explain why some inventions were made at almost the same time. Humanity had to give a plausible explanation about this. We found enough evidence in believing that we were mature enough to capture the understanding required for these. In my personal opinion these exists a universal source of all thought. Just by pure habit we retrieve abstract ideas that we perceive as thoughts. .
I want to become a colorful fence. could have been an exception to this rule, prior to typing it. Now it has become a part of the pool itself. We also perceive knowledge as a thought process where it is a simple refinement of these abstract ideas to more complex ones. Therefore, we only seek complexity though a predefines set of choices and thus we cannot evolve beyond the standard that were set for us way before out creation.
Captured in a cell of illusions, bound by a pool of predefined thoughts, simple battalions, drones in the cosmic experiment.
Then, I begin to perceive the order of nature. The complexity, it.s overwhelming. like a Fibonacci spiral emanating from my retina; A dark representation of this perception, one the option can only half grasp, one god can never forgive, not for men, the slaves, the minions of the creator.
Some time ago, I saw, I looked into the eyes of men. I saw the one mile stare, into nothing. It scared me. Blank thoughts and plans for personal success. Working for the machine. they do not realize. Mobile work units, like drones. haunting the landscape, packing the tubes, consuming tesco.
The complexity of nature is beyond the grasp of man. They form ill informaed conjectures, and malformed truths about purpose. Such illusions manifest amongst us, like a plague. They came to fuck us, and they fucked us good. Like a bolt of lightning, electromagnetic pain resignating amongst our neurons, pounding out matrix of light.
The birth of the new one. He came and worked. The mechanical travesty; it warped and became dependent on his supremacy, such a shame, the blood cry of all men. fallen dreams of eternal phosphor.
They came with bright visions, youth and dreams for the future; like the preceedings for a conference only their maker can understand. The dreams became infected with the bad eye.. Vulture premintions, falling from the skies. The poor fuckers, if only they could see the travisity that lay before them.
The phosphor beams of knowledge bleed light as they became to grasp the complexity of the situation. A false sense of hope, a feeling of darkness that manifested in their hearts as they contemplated. What truth in this matter one asked? Yes. Neon descended upon those poor soles as the wept and understood the meaning of it all.
What the fuck? One asked, as the anti light filled his mind and saturated his retinas. His thought was original, the feeling, not the language. it was a thought never experienced by his fellow drones.. they nodded in acknowledgement.. oblivious to his sudden grasp. .. It the light he wisspeared silently to himself. Just as another said: what did you say? .. nothing. just a thought, don.t worry about it. Get back to work. Drone.