Under the influence

The following is an account of a brief moment of messianic revelation, a technopathic epiphany of sorts that dawned upon me after several bong hits and a couple of glasses of alcohol. Yes, I was very high and slightly intoxicated when this was thought up and written, I was also watching Cronenberg's version of "The Fly" so I suppose that would account for the fixation on human teleportation.

"Alright, so, teleporters exist. They can teleport entangled particles around 10 miles right now. Imagine teleporting a human; motion is constant, you're always moving even if you're trying to sit still and do nothing, there's an issue of balance and the vibration of your atoms, the way your composition affects and interacts with the world that surrounds you. The machine would only capture a momentary you, literally momentary, but since moments are infinitely complex, there's some factors to consider here.
One: it captures the person at the moment, let's say, you waved your arm.
Two: it creates an exact copy of that moment by transmitting information simultaneous to the particle it's entangled with so they're both affected locally and it sends it to the 'other side' as entangled information, bit by bit.
You come back at that same exact moment in a different point in spacetime, but what about the motion when you were originally in the teleporter? Think about it, it's instantaneous so it both happened afterward and during. That is to say, the motion itself isn't interrupted as much as it's moved, but you can still reach the conclusion that the moment was erased from that particular point in spacetime due to it not being continued in its 'assigned' spacetime.
Here's where it gets somewhat crazy. A whole fraction of a second and a potential action are erased, you skip a moment in time and appear at another one, that whole portion of your spacetime simply disappears, comparable to a missing frame in a movie reel. Because it has no place, it simply does not happen, this is logical. However, what if people found a way to expand that moment, the moment you're being copied? An individual could commit crimes during that 'dead time', that time will be erased, time lost in time, the materialization period would extend and stretch time itself. The individual living in the 'dead time' is a pre-copy, the copy is exactly the individual it was, memories and all, when it was moved at that instant, the person in 'dead time' is the continuation of the motion being interrupted, the waving hand. The idea is that this image is stored in a sort of dimensional pocket, an instantaneous pocket that is meant to be destroyed post-teleportation, that is the missing frame. I call it quantum imaging processing."

The Rebel

"In absurdist experience, suffering is individual. But from the moment when a movement of rebellion begins, suffering is seen as a collective experience. Therefore the first progressive step for a mind overwhelmed by the strangeness of things is to realize that this feeling of strangeness is shared with all men and that human reality, in its entirety, suffers from the distance which separates it from the rest of the universe. The malady experienced by a single man becomes a mass plague."

Albert Camus


The fact that life and experience are absurd in no way justifies the nihilistic incompetence of forced neutrality, a posture man will never be able to take seriously.

Cuboide.

Imaginate si fuesemos un garabato violentamente escrito sobre una pared que no respira.

What dreams may come...

I had met with J. by coincidence, it was new year's eve and she was alone, she wanted to buy her mother some earrings. We had a lot of alcohol and drugs so we decided to waste time together. We were in an apartment room I fashioned was mine I suppose, where we watched several old Nickelodeon sitcoms. She had started taking the drugs, some strange licorice-like substance I couldn't recognize. She laid on my stomach and started to rub my legs, I rubbed her feet for a little while until my friend Herman walked in. She went to the bathroom and I went out to talk to him in the meanwhile. After some idle chatter we decided that we should all be out that night and that he was happy things were finally going better for me. I think i was too. When I returned to the room, J. was out of the bathroom and on the bed, she was sickly pale after consuming more of the drugs. I helped her up, she said she still wanted to run around town and make something of it, so we did. Herman had left already so it was just us, we ate at some sushi restaurant and after that she went around putting up fake fliers and restaurant caveats around different restaurants. It was funny, she laughed like a child, so did I. We were both scared. She had taken more drugs and after this particular dosage she somehow lost her legs and became the size of a doll. I picked her up before she hit the ground and put her in a sort of yellow manila folder and took her back to the apartment. After some brief dialogue I put her into the fridge where we agreed she could feel better. This is where things get strange(r?). I sit on the bed and Herman makes his way into the room drunkenly, I explain the situation, he says we should hide all of the drugs and leave her there until morning and that the rest of us should go out, I reluctantly agree and tell J. about our plans. I put her up to my ear, she thanks me and says she feels safe with me and that her mother's earrings can wait until tomorrow, so can everything else. While we're hiding everything outside the room I hear something fall over, I rush back in to see her emaciated and naked sitting on a chair drinking from a bottle of some white alcohol, she laughs like a maniac, my heart drops, time stops, and I wake up.

It was the most depressing dream I've had in a long time.

On freedom.

What had started as my most passionate inquiry has, for a time, been thrown to chance and disorder, the two fundamental forces I can claim with certainty to know of this, our universe. Though not the concern itself the matter relates all too entirely to humanity, as all things do, and its greatest creation: God. Or rather, the denial of God. Nietzsche wrote "We deny God, we deny the responsibility of God, it is only thus that we will deliver the world." Deliver indeed, how else can mankind be separated from the slavery of the divine, the murderous deity who sins against man himself with rational indifference? He sits atop his clay throne built of the earthly bodies of his servants weighing no more himself than the electric current running between the synapses of our minds; God is an idea that has been abolished, we have found him dead in our contemporaries, this has, presumably, delivered us unto freedom, a waking nihilistic thought that tries and fails to support itself in itself. What then does it deliver us unto? Is it freedom? I'd propose that it is a condition of sorts, insight breeds contempt, contempt for law, and in this case dissolves primitive faith. This contempt reaches far into the corners of our minds where the most primeval of all commandments has embedded itself, our desire, our need, our insistence in order, this is the consequence of nihilism, a full abandonment, to willfully enter the desert and tend to our furtive wastelands for the first time in our lives. What comes of this negation? Asceticism is not an action that comes without implication and it has been said "to raise a new sanctuary, a sanctuary must be destroyed, that is the law." If one wants to carve a path for himself, he must also be ready to destroy all values, but more important, he must be prepared to once again submit. This is the central point of my concern, man needs law to exist. Moral law is derelict, judgment itself are based on reality with an almost romantic desire for what could be, what is ideal, but what is ideal does not exist because it has died along with God. What have we to look at then? The answer is complex, but can be summarized by saying that we look to ourselves and the eidolons we erect in place of old delusions, there is a method to our madness, to aimlessly act is not the nature of man in revolt or amongst other men. This is no longer a question of morality, which can also be separated from a divine entity, but an issue of own's own choices in a world devoid of all-encompassing authority, a reality that is difficult to process and even harder still to put into action, this is what Nietzsche considers the new form of anguish and happiness, the first steps into a winding chaos that a man emptied of himself and others takes. Man is then responsible for all things, he is alone and exiled, he wanders in "endless search for justification, aimless nostalgia", man has no home but what he creates in the sanctuary of his mind. This is the new burden of man: freedom. This too is my great concern, that weightless leviathan that lords over my subconscious, how can one prohibit an action, to choose one thing over the other without standardized value being applied? One can be a servant to the chaos of humanity, and this so-called freedom we have come to think we know exists only in the mind, and even there it is threatened by reason- the conclusion is startling, and, as Camus has said, freedom exists only in a world where what is possible is defined at the same time as what is not possible. Freedom is a paradox bordering on nonsense, a logical fallacy, a conceptual jigsaw born out of necessity, juxtapose slavery and freedom and you will find we are slave to both simultaneously at all times, humanity itself is the burden. It is admissible then for man to find himself under law just as easily as he found himself out of it, it is a realization that brings us full circle. We have started as blind servants, our eyes unfolded, we let light flood into the recesses of perception and became drunk on lucidity, but the spectrum itself is mostly invisible to us, once the glow had faded we looked once again and saw in its place a hollow master, we saw ourselves. More importantly, we saw not only the relative necessity of ourselves, but, like the universe, the relative necessity of structure amidst the apparent chaos. We are no more adept at brazing disorder than the heralds of existence themselves, the disciplined atom, we fall to the same geometric trap, but ours is a conceptual prison, we are bound to what we wish to be.