August 12th, 2008


(no subject)

The strung-about bales of barbed wire fence looks like a tangle heap but it isn't; that's palladium in the middle of that metal, and the whole thing is a high-fidelity ArcNet circuit. The barbed wire connects the old telegraph wires to the PHP-driven servomotors that control the old rusty Depression-era tractors. The dim-lit jukebox doesn't play anything but old scratchy recordings of Shakespeare plays, it's true, but it's hardly random. Moisture, temperature, and pheromone sensors extrapolate the emotional state of everyone within earshot, and the neural network that drives the jukebox picks the play, act and scene that you need to hear.

Do you understand? The Great Machine wants to be built.

The pattern of the gnat clouds is far from random; those little brats are massively parallel coprocessors, plotting vectors for the satellite-trackers hidden inside the abandoned refrigerator farm. Inside that old moonshine still is a reactor that runs on clean "desktop" cold fusion.

Do you understand? This junkyard is a paradise.

The scarecrow out there is an inductive magnetic reader-projector. Wear his threadbare hat and wait - you'll feel yourself flying in the body of the next bird that lands on his shoulder.

Do you understand? We can rest easy on these patches of brown grass.

The rust on the combines is a superfood. The disintegrating wooden fence is a weather control console. Those mouldy sock monkeys in the corner are loaded with antibiotics. The river mill is putting benign femto-organisms in the water supply. The weather-vane rooster is collecting news information from the wireless networks and aggregating it into broad social trends. The old out-house with the moon on the door is a hypno-training chamber.

Do you understand? Every part of this place has been wired together. Come visit me here.

The Great Machine should be built, I tell you.