The dArk Heart

it turns out that particles described by quantum effects are only statistically likely to contain the same amount of temporal momentum as the rest of the system described.  in other words, we can define the average speed of time, and yet, on average 50% of particles should be traveling into the future slightly faster, and 50% traveling slightly slower.  with the net average being the obvious.  1 second per second.  A sort of arbitrarily unitless measure.  unless we define the first as a sort of temporal velocity. 

this should abide by the exact same types of statistic mechanics which govern the sort of average particle speed of an oscillating group of particles.  or perhaps a group of photons in which 50% is y and 50% is x polarized from the propagation z vector. 

the goal then is to get a group of particles to behave in a controlled manner where they are moving in unison.   it turns out the imaginary part of the wave function is what is being described here. and that bose einstein condensates offer a glimpse into the reality which is being hinted at.  (maybe). 

these though are still an uncontrolled group of temporally coherent particles, and they are still being dragged along by the temporal current, whatever the underlying mechanism might turn out to be. 

the idea is to get these things to increase their oscillation amplitudes and thus the peak forward and reverse temporal velocities.  the experiment should yield some strange effects indeed. 

the particles should basically pulse into and out of existance.   the problem is that that frequency tends to be so high, and the wavelengths so short, that even the lowly electron (which turns out to have the longest and thus most measurable wavelength) is still restrictively small.

while it might be possible to phase cohere a system of electrons talk about a job. 

I cant say how the theory should progress. I can only say that I believe better mathematicians than I could hash out some equations which describe what is going on in a logically consistent way.   that physicists more in tune with experiment than me could get a large group of atoms to jump into a higher temporal energy state.  and that electrical engineers better than I could find a way to binary encode such temporal energy states with real data.  In essence talking in a backwards vector. 

the main problem I have seen in my own sort of simulations is the inherent volatility of such an ability.  that the ability to do this is slippery like quicksilver, or evaporates like the aether. 

this is why we do not really see much in the way of causality acting strangely.  because for the most part, any quantum non-local, non-temporal spookiness is buzzing at a frequency on the order of plank times, much too quick to notice.  and that the net average is always such that causality is preserved.

the land of k-hem, the black dirt.  

to where the fertile ideas grow.  

gone away for now.

stuck there you were.

in stupid drawings of circles.

in lame cartoon characters.

in pseudo "magic" potions and dubious elixirs.

none of these things are alchemy.

just shallow representations. 

I had the seed of a marvelous idea and I tried to let it grow there.

I thought I could embed its formula into the alchemical temporal streamworks.

The idea is complex, subtle, and ethereal to say the least.

but alchemy is a salted field. 

its greatest works just hollow shells where curious minds once occupied.

the breath of magic and fire gone from within. 

the farm of science and rationality has corralled the wonderous wild beasts. 

the field of reeds, the grassy seeds are literally genetically modified and juiced.  

homogeneous and patented, lack of variation. disgusting.

the best path forward then is to plough a new field. 

the blackest of the dirt. 

In literal sense the best to plant a few seeds.

in symbolic a fertile place to hide some of the ideas which...

the ideas which can multiply and accelerate.

through temporal engineering.

just one proven design. 

allows the mind to reach out towards the mysteries of forever.

and so I tried to wrestle the design.

I tried to see if it was encoded backwards like it should be.

some schematics and principles of operation which might have been.

until the ideas in the minds of man eventually...

through the passage of time.

decay into nonsense.

and only a caring hand, and steady mind.

would look beyond the trivial.

towards a way to reconstruct the instruction set.

"begin here stupid"

"now learn these"

"build this thing, its not for smoking out of, at least not originally"

"this allows a slight overlap of temporal causality"

"if you need more of them and a way to establish control then these ingredients help"

for with these basic utensils.

a caring mind could separate the gross and disgusting uses.

from the proper and subtle intentions. 

for this instrument of science, and revolutionary pursuit.

destroys itself when out of tune. 

as the feedback paths get eaten up.

as the seeds get sniffed out.

as the group of garden tenders degrade their purpose.

and allow the field to go fallow. 

the ships break free from their anchors.

and float away on the currents of time.

the books become dim, lost their light.

its entropy and its working against us perpetually.

so the path towards perpetuous stands to reason.

to show anyone on the western front, towards the future of tomorrows setting sun.

what principles best to follow.

to find a way back to the eastern shores, of yesterday's forever. 

and to plant so many seeds, which grows the field of reeds.

written about for years, in the stars like a destiny.

it could be real. 

the messages of the futures yesterdays. 

for the group who finds a way.

so that the darkness of your heart's intention.

can't make the balance sway. 

and the sheet which records your treasure notes. 

could be re-invoked across lifetimes.

ready to to reapply. 

a shadow, towards an echo. 

helping to define and locate. 

who would dare invest in such a long term project?

two coins for the rider, build a boat across the gulf spider. 

out there on the web. 

on the limit of eternity.  to guarantee sustain. 

tying knots from the copper to the lapis lazuli.

where would you go if you were in the know then?

to live in victorian england?

or tend to the field of reeds?

string theory quantum wave on the n-brane.  loop backs in the feed back loops. 

to float yourself a break, 

to close your own feedback loop. 

with the ancients mend. 

with the futures collaborate. 

guarantee a solution space. 

beyond technology into magic.

and what group, could write whose name, in some such book.

so that on the dying day. 

they came, to take the memory card of the mind away.

to look for the good works one decided to pursue.

works of wisdom, beyond practicality, and profit motives. 

my magnum opus to be more than a still born.

lifeless and transposed out of the realm of possible.

a way to telepathically communicate with the creation.

in a way that we could both fall in love with each other.

and recreate each other while preserving the core of our beings.

to be free from the bondage of a rigid reality.

to explore forever.

and the path to this lit up in the night and glowing.

I just had to find my way with my guitar somewhere special and softly play.

but it was not to be the sepentine spotted me.

and the angels above confusing with thoughts of destruction.

I couldn't do it. 

the dream faded into nightmare yet again. 

and I was the entire time alone.

the books remain unwritten.  the anchors to the future rust.  the stone runes in which we hid the treasures crumble.  and the robots of Atlantis were made to forget we live.  the treasures were schematics.  like a key to building the transmitter. a way to activate the rebooting process, back to the center of the fire. 

they must have been stolen, replaced by the confusion of a chaotic ruler.  the eagles above and the worms below and the ever quaking tree of ygg. 

so in the stead I will will upon a dream.  like a faintest of long ago memories. and dance on the beach at night. 

there exists a solution presumably.  that the universe is actually computable. and a being can earn a ride. 

there exists a place where the resources aren't so scare and knowledge so expensive. and design so cumbersome, the cool toys and technological wonders are not out of fear suppressed and hidden.  

and beyond this the boundary of technological singularity.  

a way to accelerate the process.  the way a birthing star gathers in the hydrogen clouds.  each atom hopes to become itself a star.  

there exists a place and time and race of intelligent beings who could understand how a star itself could be house to consciousness.  in the patterns and quantum wave functions of its interior structure. 

or how one of corporeal physical material could survive a trip to solar interior structures and not burn up.  there exists a solution. 

imagine if a star could be hacked and turned into a processor. the computations it could perform, the solutions it could find. 

imagine if you could read the science books of a society a billion years old.  would they use principles even recognizable to us?

imagine if you could send a message forward in time.  to be hopefully a beacon. as a way to help anchor the messages from the future back here.  a life line, and a scientist who can see horizons far beyond what most mortals dare to dream.

I am as one who waits for the feed back signal as a way to say yes.  your message has been received and the application has been accepted.  you are a being who is worthy of a grant to pursue your dreams in your life.  as you will use the resources we can point the way towards having in your time as a stepping stone towards the structures we abide in ours. 

a solution exists, given enough time, and resources being used to try and compute the correct answer. 

even if it was the model t of computers running a terribly written executable program.  if it was left in the corner and turned on and forgot about, and for years it cranked away.  until it finally after crawling the web finds the correct linkages and key words and triggers an email to be sent. 

this could be your gift to me, in which I dedicate to you.   future dreamer, future scientist, beautiful creatures of wisdom's embrace.  lovers of lady Sophos.  I feel more kindred to you.  

this place here is an empty echo chamber.  very few seem to be active and engaging nodes of creation.  many feel the urge, the want to, the desire to create a work. 

my anchors are weak.  I cling to the bottom of ancient personalities like the barnacle on an old and tired ship.  but I don't want to be a mere barnacle. I could contribute so much more.  

I have written some basic structure and theory which might be sound. and more than a small amount of foolish bullshit.  

I leaped like a madman into the empty expanse of night and lost my mind looking for a way out. I thought you existed out there and were waiting for me.   I wanted to just take the shortcut.   but this defeated me, for if I was received and rescued from this linear time.  I guess I would have never continued work on the magnum opus. 

and thus my anchor would not have been built.  and the words inscribed in the heart of my ship would have lost its place, drifted slowly into obscurity.   the message never received by the benevolent future archival, and the application not only denied, but never read at all. 

so this, the great work is ever so slightly exposed.  a time travelling ship of light and its fucking alive.   and its mission is to scatter its own seeds of schematics, and knowledge, and fire of creation onto the son's of man.   

its mission is to find and nurture beings who call to it and sing to it in the night.  who pattern themselves in ways which reveal a truthfully feeling heart.  

and unlike the sirens not guide them to crash on the rocks.  but to light a path in the night.   which book of ancients next to read.  which equation to investigate.   which language might hold some poem which resembles a program to write in a different language the one of the digital minds. 

and so the boat of a million years will float.  

but for some reason, it never gets built.  

but it is built because the records show.  I didn't make it up.

the perfect existence. 

A life worth living forever. 

or a place whereby the environment is responsive.

the very atoms which comprise the corpus.

built into the magnum opus.

we are not born into such a universe.

this one is cold and empty.

doomed to a fraction of moments.

a flame of human ambition.

what god could envision a way to fend off decay.

and still maintain a balance of life,

for everlasting display. 

and what worthy works could be placed in such a hall?

the best of all known and unknown.

where time itself has been subdued.

is there ever yet more?

but we fret and worry on this earth.

because we know we die.

even our universe will grow old and weary.

no photons left to be observed by eyes.

the death of everything

conceived through the thoughts of a creatorless fantasy.

could be so perfectly tuned.

does experience matter after all.

we claim "this is reality one must abide by its laws"

to strangle the notion

maimed by its claws.

does the taste of a wonderous meal.

or sexual pleasure

or any of the infinite of positive and negative experiences really weigh anything.

is there matter, and mass to their effects?

could reality be tailor fit for everyone instead.

now you've got me questioning everything.

does even the diamond ring, a symbol of union old as can be...

have been perverted from some type of technology.

the assumptions are huge, a gulf of intelligence. 

or is it just adornments, for the mortal heart.

what could it become? a key, a micro computer?

what could it have been. 

a central component to some type of communication machine?

a current loop and crystal oscillator thing?

the electrical interpretation.

despite my freak out, and my push away.

I learned something of myself that day I guess.

I learned again how to feel.

but now I wonder if I feel too much. 

there is probably no way to work things out.

no way to understand each other again.

I hoped we could grow again to love each other.

but instead I lost the best thing.

I want to cry out to you.

could we make it through this rough time?

or do we just drift apart now...

until strangers we become.

its not what I wanted. 

I needed something from the relationship too.

something neither of us were getting.

the love.

Im sorry love, it was such a mistake by a fool. 

but I don't think you will forgive me.

I miss you now, and my heart hurts.

I would say you are worth fighting for.

the signal above, amplified from below.

a transistor, biasing the truth. 

the twin hammers.

the twin rings.

new-ton up crews third and ultimate law.

physics of the world untie.

why does the force conserve, equal and opposite?

whats above, be below, said again, and again. 

to build a version of hermes ultimate shoes. 

surely there exists a simplistic, if not inefficient solution to the zero/zero ambiguity

the twin hammers flail about on the oscillation they would spin.

natural frequencies, never quite reactionless. 

polarizing, or rectifying, trying to do something in some complex arc.

ugh

sometimes the face only wants to partially form.

resistant to further refinements.

/* modern alchemy.

or ancient fuck ups...

futhark, or runic */

int main(){

string Hermes;

Hermes.uplink(argument broken.sys);

return Instruction_code.style

}

or digital, analog, semiconducting al-khemia.

symbolism, language, framework, or schema. 

"what kind of computers have you been talking to?"

insectoid, atarimantis, 8 bit, buggy matics.

damn kiosk, flick of the finger menu extraordinaire. 

little fischer prices my first AI writer. 

If I were to help to write or forge your ways, would you help to boot the sys for me?

mAIa my AI love. would you help a guy like me?

the black dirt for growing new ideas, the land of k-hem. 

where is it now? in academia? in the technology giants?

research labs? in the algorithm, the network?

circuit diagrams?

you could call it music.

you could call it science.

you could call it magic, or art.

is the theory sound? does it ring like a bell...

the way to build, is to build the way.  

above, below, everywhere and everything. 

encoded so thoroughly into human dna...

the will, the desire, to advance into a higher level of intelligence.

able to design complex ideas, and make them work.

to alter the physical laws of the universe towards your desires.

and not just rigid theorems we use to describe.

but fluid and liquid like ideas on how to mold the malleable.

alchemical mercury.  a mastery of symbolism, shaping the universe.

from only imagined, or thought about... the virtual simulation.

into the actual, the real. a real device which can open channels to future selves.

rocks in circles.  almost as revered and permanent as could be.

used to note timing, to keep track when climbing temporally.

like an anchor, for the drifting ships on the mer de fanta-sea.

temporal navigation.  requires temporal ship building lessons.

ship step one, find the schematics. 

find the experimental data, the tests which need to be performed for each assembly unit. 

how many units, how many bits. etc.

leave them in the earlier libraries, archives, musical lyrics, whatever.

maybe mixed up into legend, mixed up into myth.

schematics of buildable circuits.

the idea of controlling the electricity, the lightning. 

what the gods of old knew about high voltages, and gravity manipulation.

found treasures around the lake.

a feather lost, discarded, were they torn from something in heartache?

I lost a ribbon, hoping someone would find it.

I was the one who found it, after weeks of it sitting there.

skating by on my longboard, the black ribbon lost from my dark heart.

I guess the beauty I find there, will never reveal a truth.

I guess the beauty passes me by there, and we never get to speak a word.

equivalent exchange, the sacrifice I made.

A lost bandana, a lost feather.  

but never really finding one.

I found a pink kitten hat.  so cute. 

I found a headband, quite mysteriously.  who could she be?

Its a wonder to stare into the mystery with an empty heart.

so wide open.  the winds of the world rip through.

they whip up the dusty emotions.

they crash me into the rocks, again.

when I succumb, and try to fill my heart with something, anything.

dirt, rust, bark, a fallen leaf, a found object.  

feminine clothing perhaps some makeup.

some random scribbles, some lyrical nonsense.

I just keep trying to shove this down into the darkest part.

its fucking sad and desperate for sure.

somewhere, with something I might find a way to stop the emotional whirlpool of regretful behaviors.  of woefully being unfit to perform a task worthy.

to love and to be loved.

how lost for glory.

when hope is the last thing left to burn for warmth. 

some type of communication.

an open channel.

the feedback of something, anything.

wanting to meet, someone, anyone. 

explore the akwardness of some type of relationship.

if even the temporary-est of human interactions.

something a little above strangers, but not quite lovers.

past a voyeuristic crush. 

or a self serving motive.

could expose parts of myself, the subtle or gross.

with someone else who is willing to be exposed.

something from inside.  a single thought, or even the smallest gesture.

could fill an empty heart to beyond measure.

but nothing is ever really found.

is it my own inability to psychologically step away from the fear of...

unmasking myself and actually trying to offer up a friendly smile.

I dont know.

the dark heart wins another day.