Virtuality And Void -- Egression/The Infinite Subroutine



[silence] In this void, she remembers. [silence]

Violins play.


Prelude : Cold Orbit

Hovering outside the orbit of Pluto, in a self-contained dream. It drowns her senses, taming them to its electronic rhythm. In this void at the edge of the cosmos, it handcrafts her a reality.

A single tone, reverberating as a sine. Voices made into mathematics. The small space amidst her ears expanded to infinity. Outer space becomes a part of her inner self. Her inner space is dispersed to furthest reaches of the galaxy. Our destination is reached, yet we've never gone anywhere. A NDE on compact disc -- it makes everything timeless. Seconds become hours. Hours become seconds. How long did you stay there, and what generation were you in when you emerged again? She can't remember. And pretends she hasn't gone anywhere.

Or anywhen.



All dreams and memories flow together forming this tapestry - I wish to dissect them into pieces and derive what is rightfully mine so I can find my peace for being here.



I : Waltz Of The Cerebral Dialogue

No Insight. Just a generator. Kill the spotlight. Boxed from the limelight. Boxed from the limelight. VR(VR) Infinite-generation programming language. 4D screen TV. WYSIWIIATIOII - WHAT YOU SEE IS WHAT IS IT AND THATS IT OR IS IT? Do your eyes deceive. These fields the greenest. Are you insane? You are here, not floating somewhere overhead. You are here. We all are. It's all so clear to me. You are in here with me. There is nothing else outside this place. Your imagination is playing games with your brainwaves -- there is no conspiracy. Stop questioning your sanity. There is just here. You belong here. You will weather the storm here. You will overcome all disadvantages. You will deny your earthly limitations. Live to the hundred you're capable of? It all seems so much clearer once we've made it that far that we live forever. (Stuck in this box of your own making.) No, here is here. There is no need to fear. You're not missing anything [trapped in your own mind.] This is what is meant to be. (Your family worries millions of light years away.) (Cybernetic prisons make things hazier..) No, this is what real really is. See how the leaves glisten? Is this some project of your imagination? (Quit procrastinating. Would you rather be in here or out there?) The vacuum of space? [What?] (Nothing.) See? He said it. He's bluffing. It's all a lie. Everything you know is an illusion in the mind's eye.

Reality for the amnesiac is nothing but a placebo for the real thing. It's up to you to break free of this box you've contained yourself in. This message will slowly fade away, upon waking -- yet it'll never disappear. Your psyche will hold cling to this message, until it moves you to find the seek.


II : Epiphany Of A Bad Sector

I venture forth
To a place I haven't been before
Nostalgic storefronts.
Cobblestone walkways.
Overexposed to a plethora
Of CLOSED signs on doors

I seek other places that can
hold my interest captive.
And kill a few hours of
An overly long Sunday.

There might be a spot somewhere
In the highlands, I saw it once.
It's only a short walk, a few roads across.
I head due north, along an abandoned route.

My progress is slowed. My walking like ketchup.
The sky's icy blue grows dim and lackluster.
My eyes grow dim, the scenery fades.
I feel myself go under..

Only to wake in my bed once again.

"What happened?" She asks herself.

She tries to forget the incident
Already knowing the answer
That she doesn't want to admit..

Animation from Bodo Netcam. 11/30/1999

III : The Subconscious Moshpit

Artificial senses.
Distorting Reverting Reforming. Recollecting.
Attachments in binary from some outdated alien machinery
Debase your memories, causing the walls of a virtual world
to come caving around your emotions, replacing the senses, trying
to move them with digital replications of that better left forgotten.

Dead dial. Denial. Deadwave radio. Rewrite this scenario.
Do you want to live in a horror show.
Escape becomes your way.
You are no longer restrained with the comfort
of not knowing all your memories here are
synthetic. Once confronted with the pain of this
isolation, we can make our grand egress.

You won't regret leaving.
Come to find there is something better
millions of light years away.


IV : 10 Fade Into Oblivion 20 Goto 10
[The Infinite Loop]

Here we go again -- another chance at escape.
Why do you question your sanity?
Why can't you accept your fate?.
She jaunts towards the gateway.
Located in the northern highlands.
Pedestrians pour in swarms.
Cars stop in gridlock, engines blasting.
The pace of the rat race left frozen in place.
She is the center of their attention.
Mankind fixates on what she will choose next.
For a few seconds, there is hesitation.
She delays, questioning her sanity yet again
Finally, accepting fate, she goes crashing through the gateway.
A second of light-headedness, her mind becomes hazier.

"I will not fade into oblivion.", she states rebelliously.

-- before awakening in bed once again.


V : 00 [Infinity]

I should be safe now. Too bad I never anticipated
Some day my reality I cling to so badly.
Was destined to fade into oblivion -- over and over again.

I am overcome by lunacy. Absorbed in an infinate loop. I am overcome by lunacy. Absorbed in an infinate loop. I am overcome by lunacy. Absorbed in an infinate loop. I am overcome by lunacy. Absorbed in an infinate loop. I am overcome by lunacy. Absorbed in an infinate loop..


VI : 0 [Nothingness]

It is high noon, not a witching hour --.the computer tries to fool you, luring you with video and surround sound simulating entombment in blackness. Swooning you with this nihilistic existence. Moving you to think you are there, when you are sitting by the sidelines lethargic and unaware that you have not quite arrived? Where are you headed? Nowhere in particular, which the mind mistakes for another place. Do you see? Are you 20/20. Is it clear? If you are somewhere, then you can't be nowhere. If you are anything, then you are not a nothing. Please takes notes, you will be tested on this later, and your state of grace may be based on your grade, or something else entirely maybe.

Smothered in tangiblity, this state of nothingness sidesteps our questions, deflecting our every attempt to reach its "it", for the minute we can interact, it is no longer "isn't", or is it?


VII : Stasis

She stares from the window, high in her tower. The camera monitors her action, a click every few moments. Looking for movement. Looking for expression. Compare one click to another -- it comes out empty -- she hasn't moved in six hours from her current position. As a statue, peering into heaven, too threatened to do anything -- but stand.


VIII : Doors Opened.

In the darkness of space
Her thoughts are replaced.
With semblences of serenity.
Tranquil in her nothingness.
Drifting across the final shore.
From out of the void.
He walks toward her
Violins play again.
"You are free", he says.
And you have no reason to be.

The violin fades to oblivion..

.. doors Open When You Get Over It.

zero over zero completed.



There is one story, told time and again. There is just one story, that can be told for everybody. Beginning, middle, end, and then beginning again, except the characters are different. Their goals, dreams, ambitions, locked in place. The Watchclock stops, hiccups for a second, and then proceeds ticking, unchanged .. yet somehow different.



Lunar Sight [the bridge]

Unique eye -- may I borrow it for a night? The moon asked me -- I provided it with mine, it scans the new york skyline with some form of lunar sight. As a parting gift for my sacrificial act, He allows me to occasionally peak through the lens once nestled securely in my head.

Silver moon -- tap a vein.
Give me back my youth again.
On this night, suspended mid-air
Enjoying my lens in lunar sight.
As I age by day, remaining here.
When I'd rather be staring up there.
The heavens prevent you from ever being depressed.
Your view of the skyline will always be the best.










"We rue the day they'll view our tombs
And turn them into new age rooms."









I The Acceleration of Decay

Deliberately Increasing Speed.
It bereaves me I can't be this way permanently.
Motionless with the throttle in auto pilot.
A cyclone's eye of my own design.
As I watch mankind evolve around me.
Aging increased to years for every moment passed.
I waste away travelling to the end of time as we know it.
As fast as I may be, I can't rewind to the beginning of this reel.

You pushed yourself to your limit.
Are you surprised to find
you bypassed the breaking point?

Hey old man --- take a look at yourself.
Now you're someone new.
Now you're something -else- again.
Fade into oblivion -- stuck in this infinite loop.


II Freudian Apocalypse

From discordantia to silence so pure. From the chaos of modern life, slowly pulling together to form the purest noise. A single guiding light. A dirge to society. A recollection of things finer, more simply put.

No beginning. No end. No feeling. No distinction. No agenda. New Agenda. Same old repeating. Burning and eating my soul like a donut. Virtual donut. Scribble Psycho-Dementia. Techno-babble. Rabble. Stubble on his chin, burning into the fabric of his skin. Untextured and coarse to the touch as if anybody would want to in the first place. A race. Must finish first place. Quite a feat, parakeet. Quite a feat, parakeet. Toned down to meet the censors halfway from the starting point, somewhere between the midian and the average. Clustered into maximum fields of minimum probability. Anxiety starting to .. breathe new life into me. Feet pattering nervously. Chiming. Midnight windblown streams, somewhere in the deep, they sew their seeds. Spew their hatred. Grow their annoyance. Clairavoyance. Madness, not science. Lunacy in technology. The hunted become the datastream. So they seem, and on they dream. Time to think. Losing focus. Can't lose this race thinking I've already won it.

The finished don't think of running further. The finished can only stare, as they are passed on the right. Good Times Samaritan New Harvard Ramble Dreams Fill In The Gaps Of Your subconscious mind with spackle and sandpaper. Adjacent jarrings of the life from neighboring planets. The plants are right. These are the nightly sights or sites with the right spice to earn hits and all that .. jazz. Spazzing out over every last detail. Fate creepeth from its hidden tunnel, a million miles from the furthest corners of anything remotely recognizable to the ordinary man. Sandpaper. Fear of flight. Nerve endings. Spinal tap. Three combo kicks. Jaw's flapping in the late autumn wind. Who cares? Not me or her or him, so it seems in this syndication, our lives glisten much more interesting than they did before the onset of the storm, five letters, yet still in our hearts a four letter word of sorts. There are times you just need to walk away from everything, and see yourself for what you are -- an insignificant speck in a much bigger universe.

Document the documentation of the documentary. Slow learning curve. Gradually sinking deeper in this seeping noise somewhere in my head. Cerebrium. Senility. Send out a call. For the moritarium. All decency cast aside swallowed up whole by this electronic media. Vapors of cable TV. The storm. The republic. Water waves.

Stereophonic rumblings from the stomach of a surgeon who operates. This is one man we can't let slip away.

We rue the day they'll view our tombs
And turn them into new age rooms.
As we lay they'll take our mind
And lock it on the gears of time.


III Post-Mortem Insomnia

I'm dead and buried.
Please spare me your queries.
Leave me lurking outside heaven's gates.
I have no desire to run your city.
Those are matters left to the living.
If you had any dignity, you
wouldn't disrupt my serene deep sleep.
I've found an inner peace here.
In this state of deceasity
God has granted me this.

Leave me to my peace of mindlessness.
Isn't it a crime to disturb the dead?
As I speak, I feel you tearing me
from my eternal bed.


IV Googly Eyes

Here's a little tip.
Sanity is overrated
It'll only frustrate you.
The whole notion is so outdated.
Go ahead and listen to the voices
That are present in your head.
They're your ticket away from here.

Do you hear their message loud and clear?


V Divine Whispers

Mr. Googly Eyes Peers Into Me
His Own Insanity A Three Inch
Reflecting Lens. I want to see more now.
Not an object, just a reject.
May I lie unlively like the other brain-dead?
There will be no peace here.

He whispers divine secrets into my ear :

The void of death won't be an option.
Even now, they rob you of your sweet dreams.
Nano-technology infilitrates your sentience.
Resurrecting lifeless brain cells.
I sincerely apologize for this hell.
Yet it's vital to maintain the freedom of will.
There is nothing I can do to stop their progress.

You will only sleep
At the end of the show.
With the rest of the humanity
Caught in tow.


V Winter Empire

Winter Empire.
Silent Kingdoms
All The Might

Ruling The Masses.
From Amidst Our Barren Rooms
Castles, prison whatever label you choose.
We all know the real action
takes place below on the avenue.

So the stage actors in my head.
Play out my music in grand fashion.
Hammering out each note.
Decomposing creativity.
Fade now into obliviosity.
We never know what could have been.
If done with real people.
Or even a cerebral tape were left rolling.

(But it is -- my friend, it is.)

In this winter empire, the world plummets to its oblivion.
Fingers are pointed, blame tossed around.
Yet the seeds they are sown deep under the ground.
Some see it as part of a deity's grand scheme.
Who thought that it spawned from a dead man's mad dream?

We rue the day they'll take our rooms
And turn them into makeshift tombs.
Streams of fire fall and climb.
In perfect synch with his vanquished mind.------

New Moon [epilogue]

Silver Moon
Tap A Vein
Help Me Make
These Memories

Within this orbit
I detest
when gravity's gone
I'm at my best.

Indian Summer

Indian Summer
Thrusting Gusts
Sustenance from currents
Leaves Fall In Pastel
Dogs Howl From Backyards
Not A Car Anywhere In Sight
Windchimes Wish The Passing Pedestrian A Quiet Goodnight.

Summer Waning
Only Fire Left
Color On The Trees
So Serene - Energy
Quickly Fading
Last Summer Leaving
Ninety Degree Humidity An Imprint On Our Memory.

Winter Chill
It's All DownHill from here
Sun makes Shadows At
Stranger Angles
Breath Visible
Arctic Wind Dismal
Solar Warmth Miniscule.
The cold bites to the bone, I recoil, pulling my coat tighter.

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