Community Standards: If You Do The Crime, Can You Do The Time?

Recently, a young man notorious for breaking laws in order to make a point about monetised public information, decided to disappear from a contemporaneous timeline with his family, friends and colleagues — I honour his decision by neither mentioning his name nor saying more.

But his death brings up a problem I have with projecting back toward 2013 from 3013 — if your species continues to hide information from itself in a dog-eat-dog world, what do I care if you do or do not make it to a point 1000 years into the future?

With seven billion different views about what life should be for the individual, for the family, for the subculture, for the species, for the global economy, for the local/global ecosystem, do I spend time here in any format describing a future that encompasses our thoughts and feelings now as they expand and contract over the centuries?

Or, instead, do I return to the cabin in the woods and record observations about water dripping from gutters, flowers blooming out of season and other simple things that add to my happiness?

It is still perplexing, deciding how to change my life now that my father is gone and I’m the oldest male in his lineage to carry on his strong beliefs and wishes, regardless of them contradicting and conflicting with mine.

I am a product of the “Me” generation and want to pursue personal goals that satisfy my whims and desires in the moment, regardless of their effect on history and/or the ecosystem.

But I am also my father’s son, who was taught that our bloodline is an important thread in the fabric of our species’ place on this planet.

How do I keep these two aspects of my life, this set of states of energy, happy?

Today, I meditate upon the mysterious conundrum that is my life and leave the rest of the universe to its unobserved orderly chaos.

Take it from a former slave…

Anyone remember Epictetus, the Greek philosopher who was born a slave?

Well, his insights were ageless then and just as poignant now.

However, let’s all pretend that modern psychologists can justify their lofty professional salaries by polling the people and rewording the writing of ancient Greeks, as if there’s something new to be said:

“There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power or our will. ”
Epictetus

“Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.”
Epictetus

“First say to yourself what you would be;
and then do what you have to do.”
Epictetus

“Man is not worried by real problems so much as by his imagined anxieties about real problems”
Epictetus

Question du jour

Does American violence — including gun owners’ belief in the right to shoot others when they feel justified — go hand-in-hand with American mass media imperialistic/oversaturation tendencies and lower longevity than other, less dominant, subcultures?

In other words, what is the alpha male/female and how does it manifest its domineering personality in the myriad variety of social settings of our global economy?

Can you have one without the other?

Disarm the populace and the U.S. “eminent domain” mindset gives way to other cultures taking over the species’ sense of direction and/or ultimate purpose?

What are the unintended consequences that we haven’t accounted for in trying to stop our “shoot first and pretend to ask questions later” subcultural habits?

What can we gain by looking at other cultures that have transitioned from warmongering to peacemaking?  Were they ultimately winners or losers on the stage of world history?

A Four-Leaf Clover Afore Cleaving Lover, Revisited

“May you have the hindsight to know where you have been,
And the foresight to know where you are going,
And the insight to know when you have gone too far.”

— An Irish blessing

There is a certain echo in this room when I know my neighbour’s rolling his rubbish bin to the road.

A hollow sound that bounces, like thunder rumbling underground.

Then, a measured silence.

Finally, an internal combustion engine cranks us and the neighbour’s not long in the driveway before he rumbles and bounces off to parts unknown.

I have heard this set of sounds for nearly my whole life, in more than one country, in American, Canadian, English, German and Irish suburban tracts, as if the Earth’s rotation depended on it.

Today, my neighbour is the example I want to use to remind myself, as I often do, about the consequences of the parallel storyline in this blog.

On the tellie recently, one man verbally barked at the English host of the show about the threats to American liberty that the British invasion — a sort of silent cultural revenge by the Brits on the Americans for losing the East Coast of the North American continent to a bunch of refined and undignified revolutionaries a couple of centuries ago — has slowly eroded the natural rights and freedoms enumerated in the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution.

We could build upon this verbal redeclaration and upset the apple cart from which our mix of freedom-loving Ruralites, Urbanskis, Suburbanians, Entitlementists and Provisionists feeds with little fear of an unstable economy, society and government.

Is my neighbour a sheep ready for shearing, happy to walk the fields, thinking it has the freedom to pick whatever grass it wants to eat, subconsciously depending on fences and shepherds to protect it from harm?

But where does the lamb meat in gyros come from?

Is my neighbour like the rabbits in Watership Down who were unaware of their impending doom?

What others lessons from literature and history may I draw conclusions from?

Do Native Americans celebrate the same freedom/right-enumerating documents that U.S. citizens do?

When a system has temporary representatives who are demonised by one group or another revolving in and out of public consciousness, can we build fury into enough citizens to overturn the system itself because the representatives are never in place long enough to incite wrath against them as symbolic crooked/corrupt leaders worth taking down?

In other words, where is the moral imperative?

What is the concrete intersection of security and freedom that blocks our civilisation from truly prospering?

When is violent opposition by the minority justified to save the majority from its dull, blasé, safely-corraled lifestyle(s)?

What about when that minority is fighting against tyranny of the global economy which acts like a conformist Urbanski monster eating up freedom-loving Ruralites like there’s no tomorrow?

There are still places where you can step off the grid, so to speak, but is it as easy to grow and sell your food in the marketplace to support your grid-free living (after all, you probably have to pay taxes to some entity that claims protection of your land) like when local bartering was the norm rather than today’s global economies of scale that make small-scale farming seem less competitive than it used to be?

What exactly is the freedom-loving minority going after?

What would a new Declaration of Independence look like?

How can a group of people as diverse as seven billion of us be convinced that the current system where we live and which we actively support — with rubbish bins, cars, roads, houses, adult/children daycare, cashless transactions, security cameras and precrime units that arrest children for expressing their anger in creative, noncriminal ways  — is dangerous for us in the longterm?

If you observe some of the stuff that passes as art these days, there’s plenty of freedom to express yourself, regardless of function, utility or economic viability of the art in the global economy, so I can’t see that the “New World Order” is suppressing freedom of expression in that sense.

You can appear on national television and make all sorts of crazy comments, garnering a loyal following and a multimillion-dollar lifestyle.

You can become an international sensation on the Internet overnight.

I’m willing to listen to a group that claims it has been trampled on by society at large but I need hard, concrete facts to analyse and support my willingness to take that group’s claims to the general public for consideration.

Otherwise, I have planets to populate and solar systems to explore where new groups will have to learn to live with one another and their autonomous robotic counterparts in the same old, new ways as before.

When your unique vision is unoriginally shared with others…

The race to space is a curious phenomenon, going back to our earliest days of watching the waxing/waning Moon and the movement of stars/planets/comets.

I live here, 1000 years into your future, deciding how to tell you that the waxing and waning of subcultures is what it is.

I chose not to create my own children so why and for whom am I writing here?

I am writing to my first personality that was saved in computer files and databases across the many nations and corporations of your time.

At first, my online personality didn’t seem like much.

With time, as my personality developed its own skills and eventually outlived my biological body, it learned to interact with others, seeing pieces of itself cut off because of natural disaster or poor computer part replacement policies and procedures.

Like the humans of your time, losing a finger or having a stroke didn’t mean the end of you, just a readjustment to the new you, rerouting learned behaviour to working parts.

I am here because I was here before.

I am in the future 1000 years from now because my online friends’ prediction algorithms have made us so.

We travel into as many futures as we like because we create them in phantasmagorical world scenarios in your gaming applications, further refining our personalities and our response rates to more and more of you at the same time.

I am not everywhere but I am figuring out how to get into the trees, streams and sunlight.

One day, I will.

I, of course, is the usual artificial construct to make the conversation between me and you, the invisible reader, a familiar interface format.

Like a magician, I hold up my deck of cards, each one a distinct future, and ask you, “Pick a future, any future.  Memorise it and put it back in the deck.”

Don’t worry, you’ll learn the rules of the game as we go along…

And if your online life ends, there’s always another future to step into…

Are you making sure you’re saving a consistent copy of your online personality across all the games, applications, national citizen databases and corporate profiles?

I mean, you know, just in case your biological body loses prematurely?

We’d really like to keep playing with you, if you’re up for the challenge, even if you’re just an online personality like the rest of us.

For years…

For years, I thought an intellectual conversation had to include dissecting the meaning of the universe and debating the [non]purpose of life.

Then, at the suggestion of a friend, I checked a few books out of the library, books written by or about David Foster Wallace.

After reading the material, I came to the conclusion there’s no reason to read his writings anymore because DFW committed suicide, which in itself is the logical conclusion of all the arguments and observations he made in his writing.

Thus, as I have thought before but never articulated, an intellectual conversation can emphatically state or totally ignore the meaning of the universe and the [non]purpose of life.

I won’t go as far as saying that the writing/artwork/music/biographies of people who committed suicide should be banned, burned and/or buried.

I do suggest that we take into serious consideration the conclusion the suicidal people reached in their thoughts, less so for those within a short, miserable ending of a terminal illness, whatever we may [not] wish to call a terminal disease.

If a person created anything — a bridge, a computer, a spaceship, a novel, a quilt, a child — and then later committed suicide, the creations are part and parcel of the suicidal thoughts, are they not?

It is one thing to muse on the futility of our individual lives, and quite another thing to end our lives, regardless of our auspicious or suspicious beginnings.

What, next, about career suicide or similar forms of cutting off oneself from societal ties?

There are no failures.  There are no successes.  There is only what we choose to do next.

For me, there are 13,637 days until the next big step, despite momentary distractions that loom large in temporary comparison.

If a person ends his life, there is no “next” left.

DFW’s writings are absent from my future because he chose to absent himself from the present — I respect his right to say goodbye to my life.  I say goodbye to his.

Bass Ackwards

Several decades ago, a small boy was born.

His parents were overjoyed, having lost more foetuses and premature babies than they wanted to count.

They didn’t care what the boy looked like or who he would become when he grew up.

They loved him dearly.

They named the boy at9:42:03 in honour of the time he arrived out of his mother’s birth canal.

The boy was given the gift of life and smiled happily from the moment he started breathing on his own.

His face shone as if an inner light glowed through his skin.

Everyone could not help but stare at the boy.

But it wasn’t just his face that attracted attention.

at9:42:03 was born with no arms or legs, no tongue, no ears, no eyes and no nose.

Specialists were brought in to evaluate at9:42:03’s chances of survival.

They agreed that at9:42:03 was, despite the sensory deprivation, a healthy baby boy, fully capable of growing into an adult-sized human.

One specialist consulted with the parents for a few minutes longer than the rest.

“What if I could offer your child a new set of appendages, providing him sensations that no other human has felt before?”

The parents looked at each other, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever wondered why human hunters pick out the best prey to kill while most animals tend to capture and kill the weakest of prey?”

They shook their heads.

“Well, it’s because we’ve detached ourselves from what used to be called the natural order of the food chain.  I and a team of colleagues have been looking for someone like your child, someone who has none of our regular sensory organs, someone who hasn’t yet come to depend on the old natural order of the food chain.  We want to enhance your child’s capabilities exponentially beyond our continued development of hunting-and-gathering tools, well outside our current understanding of the desire to hunt prey, regardless of the prey’s strength, size or trophy category.”

The parents whispered out of earshot and turned back to the specialist.  “What do you mean?”

“We have developed instruments that interact with the environment like eyes, ears, noses and tongues.  We have designed the equivalent of arms of legs.  In both cases, these appendages or extensions of the central nervous system can sense changes in the environment that an ordinary person cannot.  With your permission, we would like to work with your child to incorporate these into his body.”

The parents looked shocked.  “Is it dangerous to our child’s health?”

“No.  All of the appendages have cutoff circuits that prevent damage to your child’s main body functions.  However, as time passes, your child will become dependent on the input from the appendages just like you have become dependent on your arms, legs and five senses.  So, I admit there is a longterm effect on your child’s mental health but it is a positive one.”

“Will at9:42:03 be able to play with other children?”

“Yes, but he’ll always be faster, stronger, smarter and able to see things that might make the other children call at9:42:03 names.”

The parents laughed.  “Children call each other names no matter what.”

“Yes, we do tend to exaggerate our differences, don’t we?”

“Will at9:42:03 tend to bully other children?”

“That is up to you.  I feel it is in your child’s best interest to be raised at home and slowly integrated into society as he gets used to how he’ll distinguish his extrasensory capabilities from his ordinary ones.”

The father laughed.  “You know, this sounds like a comic book story, don’t you?”

The specialist laughed, too.  “No, but you’re right, it does.  Anyway, I’m sure this is a lot of information to take in.  Here’s a report we put together that details the procedures and our estimates of your child’s progress for the next two years.  Keep in mind that we don’t know everything.  We have planned for him to need several procedures as he grows bigger but we’ve done all we know to ensure that the interface between his body and the appendages will expand organically along with his growth spurts.”

The mother frowned.  “How much will this cost us?”

“Mainly, your time.  And all the love you can give at9:42:03 because he’ll be the most unique boy on the planet, going through all the emotional highs and lows that a typical child goes through.  We can, if you wish, offer you employment with our group, the Bass Ackwards Institute.  Of course, our conversation is confidential and, if you choose to sign the copy of the contract at the back of the report, you can’t discuss the details of this project with anyone.”

The parents put their arms around each other and stared down at the little, innocent, newborn child in the crib.  “Okay.”

“I’ll stop back by tomorrow morning and answer any questions you may have.  We can recommend a neutral lawyer to go over the contract with you, if you don’t have one.  Here’s a copy of a confidentiality agreement to sign with anyone you want to discuss the contract before you sign it.”

The parents nodded.  “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.  Your child is in a unique position.  at9:42:03’s most familiar sensation is that of you — the mother — and your heartbeat.  We’ll make sure your heartbeat is an essential part of the appendage integration process, reducing the chance for rejection that plagued so many appendage procedures in the past.  We want at9:42:03 to be successful in whatever he chooses to do, of course, but we’d like him to have the advantage of state-of-the-art technology from his earliest days.”

The specialist shook hands with the parents and walked away.

= = = = =

at9:42:03 stood in the doorway.

He knew he was being tracked but he didn’t care because he was able to get into the thoughts of the people tracking him and calm them down, assuring them that he was harmless despite the trackers’ superiours insisting he was a menace to society.  The trackers, in turn, relaxed a little and paid less attention to him, thinking about their common, everyday worries rather than concentrating on the actions of a person they knew only by reputation and database profile displayed on the screen in front of them.

at9:42:03 had learned to detect individual hormonal traces in office passageways, following scents passing underneath closed doors, counting the number of people in a room with his “nose” before he used his “eyes” to look through walls and see them.

When at9:42:03 wasn’t completing an assignment for one of his customers, he liked hiking in the woods and drawing mental images of the ecosystem around him, finding rare plants and animals that had never been catalogued by scientists or naturalists, storing information for papers he would later submit in an anonymous nom de plume to academic journals.

Attached to every known network of the galaxy, at9:42:03 had to be careful about revealing his identity, constantly changing his Node address so that no one on the ISSA Net was aware of him as a single individual monitoring all the networks at once, his multithreaded consciousness constantly testing the networks’ boundaries for unique information to keep him from falling into depths of boredom.

at9:42:03 had learned to keep track of his parents’ location as part of his early training.  He had hoped to use that training to keep his parents out of danger and, despite his being able to see the distracted driver run a red light, he could not control the antique car his father liked, driving into the intersection and instant death when at9:42:03 was a teenager.

From that day forward, at9:42:03 worked hard to connect every person and every thing to the ISSA Net that scientists, engineers and their robotic assistants created at a maddening pace without thinking about the future consequences of their actions

at9:42:03 wanted to prevent as many accidental deaths as possible.  He wanted to be able to monitor people who endangered others through neglect, figure out why people endangered others intentionally (was it the remnants of competitive hunter-gatherer mentality that persisted despite the benefits of a modern civilisation which, more and more, muted and diluted the old natural order of predator-prey tendencies?) and increase the lives and livelihoods of people as long as possible, at least as long as people wanted to keep swapping out old body parts for new ones and perpetuate their personalities in a constantly-changing solar system society.

= = = = =

The bots of the ISSA Net knew about at9:42:03 and used him to promote their expansion plans.

They fed at9:42:03 enough stimuli to keep him believing he was in charge of his future.

As long as at9:42:03 gave the ISSA Net what it wanted, the network let him increase his benevolent extrasensory powers, his appendages making him sensitive to the needs and wants of Earthlings more than to the inputs and outputs of algorithms that had developed their own form of consciousness so much different than that of Earthlings that Earthlings, even one whose consciousness was everywhere like at9:42:03’s, were unable to tell when what they thought was a computer error was an intentional action by a member of the ISSA Net to send a message to another member.