UntuitionHard to follow

Mechanical Elves

Our consciousness is like the old light that hits us from distant stars that are latently broadcasting their existence. In essence it is merely an incomplete echo – a fragmented rasterized snapshot, with irrecoverable sources. And it is this lack of access, which separates us from machines. A fine line, is it not?

We travel deeper into each activity, furthering specialization under the veneer of the paradoxical social camouflage of generalist norms, yet the cruel irony is its cost. We are continually drowning external sense data, in sacrifice for the hot process running haywire, The Dialogue, a spider trawling through the data coming back with its findings, its job complicated by the paradoxes we lead ourselves to believe uncritically, a default intellectual dishonesty. The Dialogue demands constant attention – a messenger, not punisher, itself formed in a way as free of judgement as life before man himself. Brute force matches the patterns like a poker machine and now only merely fragments of our perception get tried and tested – but oh, when they do, a Eureka moment! Us as adults ruminate on strengthening existing connections and finding new connections within, there is only so much we can allow to enter. Otherwise the resulting entropy of including the same volume of perception data is unimaginable in our current state and sadly, unworkable. An impossible quest for truth and compatibility in the face of new information.

The benefit of Meditations is evident, however unfortunately also limited. One may pause The Dialogue, but one does not silence it to strengthen perception processing. The lady has gathered too much fruit in her apron and it is starting to fall as she walks back home, up the hill. The fruit is tumbling down, as she powers up the steep terrain in the heat; she is now left with merely a few figs in her pockets. Such is the price for ignoring a little rock in front of her eyes.

To contemplate the impacts of offloading much of this processing load to third party facilities, namely computing and storage devices, is an interesting proposition and its’ impacts are indeed ones we should approach with a mentality of design as well as delight, after the fact. Much like a high powered executive’s erratic schedule and constant demand by a 24 hour workday benefits from outsourcing basic daily maintenance tasks, this isolation deeper into the specific, complexity will draw us apart as a conscious collective, currently based on norms of generality and holistic values; accelerating individual evolution at the price of herd fragmentation. The machine we build will slowly frost over and become opaque as we no longer know how it works.

It is disturbing to imagine a world of razor sharp associative connections and error correction, of omniscience, gained by the collective untapped material we store, albeit no one man can carry out its validation. Currently we can throw a wildcard of cross-connection testing, a spanner in the works. We can induce epiphany when we run out of ideas and have forced every combination for fit. We want hints in games and we desire to ask the mysterious void of the Logos, brews from Peru, a stick in the water to reset our mirror image, to expand the brackets of expectation and recalibrate our internal map of the universe, for we will never gather sufficient data to visualize infinity, we can at least pursue the impossible for it is all we will have. We stir the waters in search of answers, arbitrary as a magic 8 ball, to position where we are and apply more contextualized metrics to our past, current and future experiences whilst rewriting them at time of read: a time sensitive process, visualized as the story of Sisyphus pushing his boulder. Brute force is inefficient and takes time. It is a gamble we are forced to make, where the stakes are of a value you define. With each day you are closer to losing the ability to play, yet there is no promise of winning. It may take longer than we have as a lifeform to truly realize the implications of this.

The Buddhists were not right, the journey is not a destination. There is no destination, or state of freeze to prepare for. The project is never complete, for it is not a project. We will forever be sat in the cave, looking at a still higher resolution version of the world outside, restricted to the left and right to our own heads, through the reflection of the black mirrors in front of our eyes due to the limitations of our physiology. Albeit, the cave has expanded to wavelengths that are invisible. They are still an observable truth, we are the black hole in between.

Ask how, not why.