Setting: A point beyond the next [recursion / cataclysmic climate change (i.e., geological/evolutionary era) / apocalypse (i.e., a point in the next Millennium)].THE EXCERPT
Ginnie has begun to cycle. As she moves between her assigned tanks, she starts to sync with orbital cycles. She begins to catch glimpses of the nature of the universe. She begins to synthesize information as if weaving a seamless garment, hem up. She gathers and assembles concepts into 4D diagrams and passes them to her mates in each tank, mindful of each tank's respective functions. THE EXERCISE
Her verbal skills have long begun to falter; she can no longer construct coherent images with sound. She chooses silence. Still, the visual images that she fires to her tanks are blinding. She doesn't stop to explain them; she is afraid of losing the signal before fulfilling her mission. Her images will have to explain themselves. She has taken great care in their construction; she deposits them as if they were children being turned out of her nest.
Pausing to look back, Ginnie can see the very shape of the learning curve she has been on. It took so long to reach this point. She is ashamed and wonders who is laughing at her.
And it stops.
Her own anxiety has knocked her out of cycle. She is devastated by her lack of focus. She must wait for the next pull. If she is impatient, she will miss it yet again.
On the next cycle, she reaches new heights. It is exhilarating, so she pushes on until she is overtaken by exhaustion. She is shut down again; set down still spinning. She will not catch the next pull until she has regained her balance. It will take more time than she had calculated, but there are no more alternatives.
She spends her waiting time reviewing her errors. The next phase, she falls back into the current and glides effortlessly higher with each pull. She is flying.
All it took was trust.
- Read that again as if you know I'm writing about a religious experience.
- Now read it again as if you know I'm writing about species evolution.
- Now read it as if you know I'm writing about the role of the endocannabinoid system in our health.
- Now read it as if you know I'm creating a work of conceptual art.
If you actually do the exercise, you will be a part of my image of the universe. But since this is an illustration of my image of the universe, you only need to think about doing it to see my image of the universe. ∞
I have been thinking about recursion
a lot lately. Recursion in 4 dimensions as a model for the way the universe works.
To give my ideas form, as well as to actually explore the way the universe
works, I decided to write science fiction. As a kid I recognized that, at its best, scifi is a synthetic environment for understanding the human species. If carefully constructed, an imagined world is a model that actually predicts behavior and outcomes. An accurate model is something systemizers
like me need when we try to make sense of our environment.
Constructing a plausible future in science fiction requires faithfully applying the rules of science as we currently understand them. A reward for going through the process is that if I reach an understanding about the human species and its universe, then I will have found myself. (Huh, nice recursion in the way that works.)
To put it another way, I, like artist Peter Bodnar of whom I wrote in an earlier post
, have also found the problem I want to spend my life's work on... finally. My mother certainly had me nailed when she called me a late bloomer
My problem is an ancient one, and so is the solution -- but we seem to need to remind ourselves of it constantly, in every communication form that we create. Naturally, I've been here before, but the landscape and vehicle were a little different each time I passed. I have found my voice this pass, and this is it.
My voice doesn't sound anything like Peter's. If you like Peter's voice, you can buy a little piece of it and hang it in your living room, or... maybe the bedroom would be better. But if you, acting as a sort of distributed patron
, gamble on a little piece of mine, you wouldn't be able to pick up any winnings, even if you win.
As for your odds of winning, I can tell you that the first word in my book is "I", and the last word is "Trust." If you simply think about your odds, you will become a part of my illustration of recursion
[Next: a book exerpt and an exercise.]