Sunrise

I just want to take some time to look over this virgin cyberscape before more people discover it.

This nomad, travelling the cybernetic highways, and spotting a patch that seems to him more binary than everywhere else, and deciding to make the same patch of virtual realty different again, stops here to set up a home. But he understands that this home only exists as pulses of energy in a metal cranium taht he can't perceive but knows is there. Whoever saw the server where all these memories are stored? The best service staff are, after all, so subtle that you never notice them.

And imagine, stretching in all directions, a blanket of digits coming in two flavours only, but with the power of permutation, they can come together to form facsimiles of memory that dissolve away to leave a chrysalis of truth. As these entries mature, the subjectivity that defines them becomes the only thing, the most concrete thing, that remains of a faded biologic echo.

It is ironic that this nomad chooses something as ephemeral as binary emotions and photons on an anonymous fluorescent screen to create a concrete record of whatever happens in his real world. But it still feels safe, and that is enough, to gather together as much dust as possible, a nucleus of reality in a blizzard of experience. One hopes that one grasps enough to retain an impression of what is important, what is worth holding on to.

pondered by phoenican @ 16.11.04