“I sit here before my computer, Amiguita, my altar on top of the monitor with the Virgen de Coatlalopeuh candle and copal incense burning. My companion, a wooden serpent staff with feathers, is to my right while I ponder the ways metaphor and symbol concretize the spirit and etherealize the body. The Writing is my whole life, it is my obsession. This vampire which is my talent does not suffer other suitors. Daily I court it, offer my neck to its teeth. This is the sacrifice that the act of creation requires, a blood sacrifice. For only through the body, through the pulling of flesh, can the human soul be transformed. And for images, words, stories to have this transformative power, they must arise from the human body--flesh and bone--and from the Earth's body--stone, sky, liquid, soil. This work, these images, piercing tongue or ear lobes with cactus needle, are my offerings, are my Aztecan blood sacrifices.” ― Gloria E. AnzaldĂșa, Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza

Friday, March 13, 2015

Bodysuit, MeatFlesh, MeatSystem and Brainspace

As most things occur, it happened while I was totally unaware. I'm perpetually lost in the shift, like that one time I took a dive, on a dose of pendejismo, and was tossed and twirled by Poseidon's trident. Picado y tirado! Chingado! I need less pendejismo (or more?), but I tend to gravitate towards it. Even when I don't try, my mouth, my limbs, my eyes, they twitch through my nervous system and make movements that give me the illusion of total control. No excuse. Ya!

But on that day I was 100% saavy! (well, at least I think so!). Point being that I was lost as usual, though I thought I possesed complete agency. So, there I was at the "cybercafe"...first time "entering" the "user" realm. After gaining access into the stock room, the "barista" started removing wooden so to reveal a dark path with lights and tidbit clicks and lights coming through. "g'head man, let's go. Already told the Tek". I walked down into the shop for a so called "upgrade".

With Coffee IV's hooked into arms, customers also had brain zappers: battery hooked electrodes that transmitted transcranial currents directly to the brain. Wire and tube conduit lines all over the place. The JAVA JOLT Collective, a counterculture subculture of Bio'lectricks underground, had much to do with the unconscious submittal of free will and one's humanity as it did with the Con-global amalgamated publicity that was pushing for a trans-humanist and post-humanist utopia: "be more than human--become god-like." Gain more freedom by expanding your human capacities. It's always the quest for more.

Anyway, these two cats. They were running "low-batt" on synthetic telepathy interface, so their world was becoming "normalized" and mild panic would often set in from not being accustomed to existing without their d-vices. They twitched and whispered to one another, perhaps about me, perhaps about the blurs, perhaps about Con-global.

"Juice me up man, 54gigz" said one.
"muh..muh...Me too," said the other.

The Technomancer handed them chargers and they went in to the zap-stations. The automated robot came by asking the two if they wanted anything to eat--they each ordered a bowl of mush injected with all the essential vitamins and minerals necessary to sustain their meat-systems. 

The JAVA JOLT was the place that these two meatheads would engage Project Genesis, an experimental updgrade that supposedly lead to machinery consciousness, and also a rumored myth throughout the GRID  (i.e., the space formerly known as Internet^3). When the robot came by, they quietly seized it by shutting it down via an EMP disturbance; they proceeded to hook wires and nodes along the bots' exo-cortex.

This gave them away, at least to old systems like myself. When I walked in with my obsolete e-Goggles (and nearly obsolete state of existence), I noticed a glitch in digital space--the augmented space in front to these two individuals appeared like static, with tracking lines distorting the zap-station like an old VHS tape unspooling and slowing to a mesh inside an old VCR.

I walked in on a desire to get the brain-download bio-upgrade: a tiny computer that hooked into the brain's dendrites and axons which tracked synaptic activity and allowed for "total deliverance from meatspace;" at least that was what I understood from crypto-collectives threads in darknet forums. The d-vice, located behind the ear, seemed like a very complex operation, but with modern technology, the operation was made easy-- all you have to do is press a button.

The Technomancer looked at me suspiciously, understandable since I wasn't a regular. And, as I was inquiring about the upgrade, two young punks dressed in monochrome black ran past me. The tek-no_man followed in hot pursuit: "oy! you two!"


So now I'm here...

in this unfamiliar space. Everyone is hooked into the zappers and is oblivious to what is occurring. I hear an automated bot going haywire. If it had any, it looked as though it was losing its "mind," but little did I know, and was later to find out, that, in fact, it was gaining a "mind."

(p_art 2 shall be uploaded in (an-other-ti-me) and space_[frame])

[an-ti-me-other-an-ti-me-other-an-ti-me-other-an-ti-me-other-an-ti-me-other-an-ti-me-other-an-ti-me-an-ti-me-other-an-ti-me-other-an-ti-me-other-an-ti-me-un-tie-me.]


Also, an overdue, perhaps "illogical," R.I.P. Leonard Nimoy, aka, Mr. SPOCK



Interesting!

Clip Source:
Star Trek TOS episode 2x24, "The Ultimate Computer"

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