Posts tagged ‘the burden’

The rocks

The rocks when he reached the rocks the birds were there. Just a little, a trickle of them. Squared away around the rocks. The surface of the rock hadn’t changed. He began to scramble over them. When he reached the first shelf there was a plank of white plastic balanced on a rock. He picked up the enlarged hammer and began to try lift off. 1, 2, 3 and then he felt it, like a huge burden was weighed on his back. Fell off the see-saw and sank into the earth, dirt ran against his face, he felt the first of several urges to breathe, and then the earth had has back, he was inside, somewhere down, and then blackness.

The earth was a long surface, the senses didn’t shut down, rather they were muted. The earth against his skin occasionally pulled, sometimes jostled him, a gradual flow of erosion weathered him down, he felt his skin give way then the cool burn of tendons, the explosion of organs. Somehow he felt like he was in the woods.

The birds were still playing in the trees. He reached for some bark and stuffed it in his face. Hunger slowly abated. He walked along the tree line until he saw a creek. He began to drink and then bathe, that’s when he saw himself, the eyes popped into the head like a cartoon. He vomited out breakfast.

June 6, 2011 at 2:01 am Leave a comment

The Forest

The skin had somehow changed in the night. He could feel the brittle turtle like protusions of the tree as he wandered over a few feet to the brook. The brook in turn had changed, the water was sour, strange, he recalled a candy a flash a childhood, but couldn’t center on it, he stopped drinking. The air was strangely ashen like a fire had broke through the place, and then he walked. A group of gila monsters were already sniffing around. A lonely dolphin plunked through the streams grazing on darting bits of refuse, somewhere an amalgalm of sight and smells told him, something new had broke in. He could barely make out the difference, by noon the new skins, the new smells had become normal. He saw shifts in trees, large comprehensible flocks of birds sat down on branches that faded to sour colors and dissipated like a pinch. The birds cowed to each other in swarms, their octaves breaking into impossible sonics, a borealis of sounds echoing upwards leaving only a liminal trail of wisps in the palette’s floor.

The Yeti were gathering the mountains. If he tried he might be abler to seduce them into talking to him. When a Yeti spoke the words he thought in became incomprehensible, an imitation of language that tasted like plastic on the tongue. The bird canopy existed for kilometers, but he sped up and made it out of the forest and where the rocks began, their grain was suitably familar, he could remember the slight confidence of their solidity, the way rocks speak out to you: you won’t slip. Of course when he did slip, the rocks hurt him quite bad, but at least they had the same skin, the one he’d known before.

May 29, 2011 at 4:04 am Leave a comment

The Burden

He first began to feel himself then he saw his hands and all at once it hit him, the difference in the physical form. Inside he was lithe as if his bones were made of cardboard and he began to feel himself compensating for the difference. While he squawked around trying to find balance he smelt the world around him and then he began to feel the granular scape he was stumbling through.

The smell was bland and terse and the color was white. The ground had a lovely texture, like walking in silt. Adesh later told him that spawn points had to be like that, otherwise the sensory overload leads to imparements in the brain. One of the first researchers had been asked to be dropped in the middle of a blog, the sheer outpouring of speech, the scents of anger and resentment the voluptousness of the crease of an architexture he found himself in flood the brain and overloaded, the intelligence never recovered. On the other hand he found himself peculairly bored by the environment, the lights began to dim and then he felt it, the ground change to a marble under his feet, this must be where they live he thought, beds camped around a pile of pillows, a fire place smoked, and just outside a garden. A young woman approached through the bend.

May 17, 2011 at 11:12 am Leave a comment

The smell of music

Adesh had been in the black out for days. Melissa was still there, somewhere in the darkness, but what he primarily smelled was videos. Trojans and other things had the ripe smell of urine, and the he walked through a fetid bathroom of multimedia. It took him a second to figure it out, the photos.

He began to feel around for the slippery plastic sleeves that held them. After a few moments, he held them in his hands. The smell was unbarable, quietly he deleted them. He began to do a crab walk, feeling the floor for them. He could hear a few scuttling off into the infinite horizon, he ripped them apart easily, for a second his vision came back online, he was in a primitive room, textures hadn’t been applied the wire frames were coated in darkness he reached out of the room and then again darkness.

April 13, 2011 at 6:52 am Leave a comment

Badman idea

“What are they gonna do? Unplug a 300 million dollar science experiment?” Daniel said. “I wish you hadn’t said that,” responded RE. The op was gone before Daniel could hassle him. He could still hear Melissa crying through the messenger. “Melissa, are you ok?” He asked “NO I’m not ok!!” She said, the stack of photos she left on his perch was still there, terrabytes of unexamined work, potentiality in sight. “Do you have any  idea what they do if you can’t complete your work?” She began, “they”- and everything went dark.

April 13, 2011 at 1:23 am Leave a comment


At the tail end of the uc digital film course there is a project due. Daniel knew what his was about. He had already unfurled the plot to his advisor. It involved at least 17 Academic terms, a couple references to Borges and was at heart a story from Wilde. A cgi designer at a hollywood special effects firm becomes enamoured with the idea of duplicating himself in various rendering softs. As his model grows more realistic he begins to waste away. Daniel described it as Ballardian.

He had trouble finding anyone to play the lead. Walks through pomona’s grass or stanford’s cafeterias failed to find even a voice, so he decided to do it himself. The film was all digital and included a few flourishes that made this apparent, he invented a circular world in his machine and in lieu of cutting the camera simply walked through walls or flipped the gravity to the next scene. He tried his own voice, but it became easier when he decided on a silent film. The picture was a mild success, at least enough to get him into graduate school with a scholarship and so he moved to D.C.

Two weeks into the first semester he met her. She was at an ethipoan restaurant scoffing down vegan suppers with friends. He was just there for take out. She ran into him in line and they began to talk. She had seen his film. They split a cab. She got his number.

She was a journalism major. Her friend’s friend was one of those dude who hops military lines to blog about global conflicts. There was a war. He uploaded photos. In the middle of the conflict he found something in a knocked over communications vechile, a long ovular casing with the imprint of an American arm’s company on it. He opened the casing.

April 11, 2011 at 11:35 am Leave a comment


Daniel started with the shoe, he copied it and he found a pearl in another user’s account. He began to form the scene, the man returning to his wife, but Kalimat managed to subvert this, the scene would jump signifiers, become confused, Daniel was desperate to see these obfuscated rag dolls, but Kalimat only left video and models, none of the processes’ motions remained.

RE stood over him, “never had one that liked to play with dolls,” he said, “its from film school, this guy is doing something interesting.” Daniel replied “What’s he doing?” Asked RE, “something with signification, I can’t figure it out, its like he doesn’t want us to know the dolls’ movements.” “Do you think he’s trying to hide something from the cloud?” Asked RE.

April 9, 2011 at 3:25 pm Leave a comment

The Portrait

Daniel ordered a new subscription through amazon and sat around with Adesh working on the usability features for a video editor they were producing.  Melissa came in and they all discussed the terrabyte of photos she was supposed to sort. Adesh had been given a small percentage of them, but Daniel was resisting, he didn’t want to spend days working through the batch, figuring out what routine the machine would need to copy from him to learn irony. He saw the cloud reacting to his algorithms, following the course of his thoughts, learning from the branches of what it would assume as logic and then Adesh was gone, through a door of his demising.

The video editor composited multiple views of an object to produce a 3D image. Somewhere out there someone was running a cell phone around a lot of stuff, virtual chairs, statues, and other things were popping up in a catalog Daniel kept an eye on. These pieces were suitable for games, virtual worlds, chat rooms, and unintentionally their own abodes. It had already come under fire for pirating several prominent statues and other art pieces. Copyright complaints went back and forth and the service’s precarious nature meant that all the ops eyed it daily, waiting on that moment all that free stuff would stop.

Daniel had several subscriptions in the editor. He pawed around the various knick knacks a CEO in Sweden was scanning in, and then he looked quickly at a couple highlanders in Kenya who were scanning in their robes. Daniel had settled on Kalimat’s feed though primarily. Everyday he produced a few objects, smallish things, little details. Earrings, gloves, the occasional table.Kalimat made basements in the cloud’s data services and filmed videos with nothing more than an earring for a girl and a shoe for a man, but Daniel could sense something in them. Kalimat was testing the lengths of the portrait, where and when the signification of a person or an intention began or started. Daniel had quietly filed his work under art.

April 8, 2011 at 6:09 am Leave a comment

The burden

Ten thousand blog lines into the day he opened the suit and found the blog reader. A group of gila monsters already began sniffing the screen finding the unnecessary posts. A lonely dolphin sat around grazing on darting bits of jpegs, flv videos that hadn’t completed, the cloud’s ecosystem was vast, varied, increasingly intricate.

The 10 year contract to live in the cloud he went through everyday watching its little legalities slip through the justice system’s feed. Work in the cloud had proven mildly interesting. All the apps his meat self used were banned. He was mildly glad for this, the lobster that cleaned the facebook trap couldn’t go more than a few minutes w/o attention. The company provided a few tools to while away the time, but mostly it was the interface that kept him entertained and the conversations with other ops, the steady flow of ims providing a constant tap of fellowship.

Melissa from the cloud in Bangladesh came over. Her auburn skin wavey in the haze. “We just got another bunch of photos to sort through, turns out the a.i. can’t identify irony, 10 terrabytes of photos to go through.” “Wow dude, that sucks. My spots pretty much dead, just some weird blog lines, working on an app.” “My meat Self is dating that douche bag in human resources too. The one that sends nude pics from the bathroom.” Daniel could vaguely remember the other ops snickering over an overweight man holding his cock in the bathroom. “Did you show her the pics?” he asked, “Tried to, but they got something blocking personal data, can’t get ‘m out.” “Wooo… that sucks… Dude, I gotta get back to this app, talk to ya later,” he raised the working sign and Melissa consented to a fade, dissipating into the abyss.

Daniel had been in the cloud for 3 weeks now. He had yet to meet with any of problems the other ops reported. When he called the other Daniel the two could just talk, he liked the way they ride each others words in juxtaposition, parallel universes rendering similar forms in their language. Daniel sent him a video of their cat eating mothballs, inside the cloud he took photos of the dolphins, the crabs, the sea he had set up inside the data center to keep himself occupied.

RE:Edge resided in a data center which remained anonymous. He had been taken unconscious into the facility and when his real self woke up, he was in a hospital in Amsterdamn. RE was the oldest of the ops and his contract ended in 3 to 4 months. He had the air of a veteran, he had lived through his other self’s death from cancer years ago, now he was discussing promises, “As far as I can see, they’re gonna get another body someone no one cares about it, and them let me in it. I ain’t doing this shit much longer.” RE smoked in curls and his moustache hid under a pair of avatars he’d pinched from a CAD catalog along time ago. Unlike the rest of them he was former military, he had been there when the first cellular computers came online, he had been one of the first to have his brain scanned and then transcoded into the polymer proteins that fueled the ops consciousness. “Ya know when your meat self dies the whole thing kinda falls apart, this prison isn’t as bad as you think, I worked with a guy in military, when it came time to get back to the real world, his real world self ran away. They found him in a shanty town in Hong Kong, he was screaming, ‘I don’t want that thing inside me,’ but the other self, the one in here was pissed, so before they got him back inside he started doing things, he would fuck boys on cam chats or force himself to listen to r&b tunes on replay till he got used to, so when they inserted him, he and the other self got into a fight, ended up bashing his head into a holding cell till he died.” RE had a lot of stories like these.

April 6, 2011 at 6:35 pm Leave a comment


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