A notebook bulletin board
tacked on when randomly bored
applied thoughts in a scribblebook
open for the world to look who passes by
so fast to see like a needle in a haystack we
safely stash those innermost secrets thought to be
at least you see languishing up and into pristine
blossoms for you to pick and sniff and hope
they don't make you sick.

5/19/21

Paragraphic Holodox



                                                                art by Prince Satyrn




   The nano-missive I've received continues to indicate an endless transmission reflecting a focus of intent on behalf of what appears to be one of the last surviving teams of humanity (stranded on Ceres) sometime in the future. Apparently by encoding everything onto nano-circuits embedded on neutrinos beamed into the heart of Sagittarius A*, they managed to send this fleet of programming back in time to a range of specified years including 2009, where it was absorbed ostensibly by a radiology patient transporter on duty in the process of bringing an aging war veteran in for a nuclear medicine stress test.  The C-arm parked out in the hallway was on  and acting funny as they passed by, and a blue arc of laser light flared in the peripheral vision of the patient transporter after turning his head forward from having glanced over at it. The flash left a photo-impression after image behind his eye lids. 

   The transporter lived in a mid-western city somewhere in continental North America. That's when he first had the idea to start up a fanzine  in the form of a blog on the world wide web.  Little did he realize then that he was operating on an imperative sent back in time to possess his consciousness into doing something just for the benefit of the endeavor rather than to sell it. As the nanohorde encoded his neural network with sub-programmed commands (from what turns out to later become a shed alternate ghost world) apparently sent in a final desperate attempt to anchor the stabilization of our own ongoing timeline to develop into a more cohesive and sustainable post-cybernetic environment, the carrier of this electromagnetic wave of information was beginning to fathom more of the shape these events had spurred on for him. 

   I've come to realize from a sharper tuned intuition that he wasn't the only human subject acting as a conducive rod channeling various commands sent tacitly from the last few stranded bases of surviving colonists in the solar system. Here today there are hundreds or more of us, an undue amount really, potentially the entire human race today as we know it. I've been thinking lately about how neutrinos leave streaks of light when they pass through the purest water. As they penetrate our planet's oceans, they must barely leave a discernible ambient flash, then; too brief and faint to be registered in a normal human's eyes. Cephalopods and various insects have been known for their ability to detect polarized light. But I digress. It has led to a strange thought.

   The neutrino itself therefore has been revealed to me as having remained the entirety of the universe compressed into a singularity which manages to be mirrored by a duplication process not unlike cloning from a branched off membrane which is assimilated into the growing milieu of the evolving morphological universe, itself the opposed counterbalance in a singularity altogether familiar with our own domain yet somehow incomprehensibly different. One way of thinking of what I mean is to realize all the rain drops in this mind exercise represent every neutrino as actual reflections of the one singular neutrino in existence and that very solid object appears to be our universe with this planet and current species of humanity yet surviving upon it as we apparently continue to plunge in motion through a process involving the spacetime continuum. Of course it's the only thing faster than light, and it projects through a million different facets stitching us into existence. 

   There's evidence to suggest this singularity keeps repeating its programming in a never ending loop of such gradually decaying simulation that the differentials spawned grow not into yet more shed ghosts of future developments, but rather, constantly shape and mold the singular possible existence here frozen in eternity and possessed by the illusion of constant movement to the point that even in our resting state of deep sleep every night occurring with metronomic persistence we are unable to really wake up from our conditioning to realize this motion has been conducting us into dreaming all along. 

   We're machines powered by electromagnetic forces beyond our comprehension which nonetheless animate our existence with absolute authority even down to the intricately worked out details of a predetermined future destined to remain eternal despite our inability to understand the whole of it, much less any single part of which it's comprised. The fractal holography paradox appears to never blink because we operate on differentiating frequencies while staring into the same universal mirror together.   


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