Dudley's lament

No, I didn’t read it and I have no intention of doing so.

But, surely there’ll be something of value...

If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a hundred times – I will not have anything to do with the uncapitalised i fad. It’s pretentious. It’s unhealthy. It’s unnecessary.

Yes, but that’s easy enough to fix using our recapitalisation app.

Besides, Norwich’s sentences are waaay too long. Bound to be, aren’t they. He’s a stealth plumber, trying to lure unsuspecting readers into his corpus callosum refit, without even asking their permission. You start one of his hit jobs with a perfectly dysfunctional corpus callosum only to discover his nanobots have jumped the brain-text divide and are hard at it attempting an unsolicited refit, with no respect for your personal preferences.

This too can be guarded against Jack.

Yes, but I’m still going to nosebleed trying to read those life-sentences, aren’t I. You’re not ethically supposed to write life-code into regular text – or not without some kind of warning. It demonstrates a shameless disregard for the right to choose isolation, misery and paranoia.

Well yes, you’ve got a point there, Dudley. It’s his use of underhand guerrilla tactics that gets a bad name for the hardworking, ethically rectal staff at g-nomeportal’s ways and memes committee – but what can we do, short of stripping Norwich of his membership card we’re only able to administer a public admonishment, aren’t we, but every time we do so she, as in big I herself, shifts ever-so-slightly, causing a minor gibble in the quantum field nullifying our hardwork.

Gibble? I’d say it’s more like a zaffle.

Ok, fair point, but hardly a minor zaffle.

No, of course not – a middling to fair zaffle at the very least, unless we stick with the minor gibble descriptor...

Ok, I think we’re sufficiently ambi-spherical to allow an either or option, agreed?

Very magnanimous, but that doesn’t clear up the issue of Norwich’s apparent immunity from any disciplinary action – which I find disquieting, if not disturbing.

Indeed, but I appears to be taking sides, doesn’t she? 

Hush, not a word Peterborough. The last thing we need is for her to think we’re challenging her prerogative to zaffle or gibble the Field as she sees fit, though I cannot help wondering what she sees in Norwich to merit such personal involvement.

Me neither, but who are we to question her flawless wisdom?

Indeed.

So Norwich Humberside seems to get away with murder – while we strive selflessly to maintain the balance, allowing people to decide for themselves if and when they wish to ambify their hemispheres, and C3 their 3D.

As were the original intentions of our illustrious founding father, the pentatonic Widdle O’Brien himself.

Perhaps instead we should get our damage limitation team onto this. It’s going to be a public relations disaster if we do nothing to distance ourselves from Norwich’s machinations, or help the public to cope with the quantum dislocation it’s already causing.

Yes, absolutely.

I mean, it wasn’t so long ago that Joe Public had neither the least idea of the capitalisation issue, nor the slightest awareness of the possibility of zaffles or gibbles in the quantum Field. Now the cat’s really out of the bag, isn’t it? I mean, noticing that reality itself is not a constant – that it can and does shift, it’s a public relations disaster for the thing by thing camp.

Yes, what a mess. I hope Norwich really knows what he’s doing. Come to think of it, don’t you think it would be a good idea if we called a Witan to discuss matters – subpoena Norwich?

What an excellent idea, Dudley. Yes, and that will force matters to a head, especially if we go all out and invoke rule 74.

Ah, you’ve a mind all your own Peterborough. Rule 74 will set things straight for once and for all.

For those of you wondering what on Earth rule 74 might be, a brief history lesson. Time, as you know, is not particularly linear when you get outside the 3D playpen, so the past I’m describing is not, strictly speaking, the past – more like the main trunk as opposed to a side branch of C3. Well, at a crucial juncture in the main trunk, sometime around Big Bang in your reality, in fact, strictly speaking seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds before “Big Bang” – g-nomeportal’s rectilinear commission was in fervid session, debating Trollus Vagonus’ use of trojan coding – a seemingly innocent tale that surreptitiously sneaks in life-code designed to trigger another mass-life-proliferation event, what you somewhat erroneously refer to as Big B. It’s as simple as that – you’re reading a story to the kids, or on the sofa enjoying something romantic, pulp fiction, classical, it matters not – when the text momentarily swims before your eyes, and somewhere in the mostly forgotten central cortex of your brain consciousness you notice red beeping lights and personnel in white firesuits scurrying about as if all hell’s about to break loose which is, ironically, precisely what’s about to happen. You try to return to your romance or kid’s story but the beeping is fairly persistent and even your kid, wide-eyed wants to know what’s going on. At first you don’t really know, or if you do you can’t imagine this is actually about to happen, after all, Big Bang’s supposed to be a one off, unique and unrepeatable event locked safely behind billions of years of elapsed time, but you don’t know Trollus Vagonus, do you, and could hardly suspect his particular quirky sense of humour involves getting the universe and everyone in it to re-experience Creation, not once or even twice, but like the movie Ground Hog day, ad infinitum. Hell, even the word “recreation” was spawned for the merry lark we were locked in, the sub-conscious awareness that this universe er reality er drama we’re unwittingly part of is not the sturdy, cast in steel, set in stone thing we imagined it to be, even if our regular up top consciousness er conscious-awareness fails to register the reboot restart, and then again – was the universe ever, in fact, Big Banged properly – or was it all, in fact, a prequel of a prequel – and the real beginning is lost from sight – in the far and distant future beep beep beep click – adios folks –    .

So where were we? Ah yes, the g-nomeportal rectilinear commission which, as you have guessed, was first convoked with the express purpose of dealing with Trollus Vagonus’ evident breach of established life-code ethics. As all commissions, this one spent a lot of time humming and hawing, requesting depositions, hearing them, collecting evidence, enjoying the camaraderie and protoculinary largesse of meeting as a respected public body with an official mandate to “clean up this mess”, getting lost in minutiae, buried in procedure and little by little turning itself into a bureaucratic boondoggle that sought seeks to regulate every aspect of life on Earth, on every earth, rather spoiling the very experience of being alive, turning it into something more like a joining the dots and multiple choice exercise, but I digress. Eventually, the rectilinear commission, far from sorting out Trollus Vagonus’ misdemeanours gets itself so wrapped up in seeking to define and provide a legal, regulatory framework to the undefinable quantum Field of conscious-ness (a Field that prior to regulation showed scant regard for the people who would pop in and out of existence as a matter of course), that it hits critical mass, a level of thought so intense that it triggers a Field reversal – flip – and the rest, as they say, is history  beep beep beep  click – adios folks –    .

Er… It was this field, perhaps at Trollus Vagonus’ instigation, that had first asked the question “what is awareness, and does it matter?” immediately prior to our Big Bang. With hindsight this was the kind of question you only ask after twiddling your thumbs in neither time nor space – a quantum state of barely conscious indecision known as “ugud” – until the said thumbs are so completely worn down that you have to make do with twiddling your arm stumps instead beep beep beep  click – adios folks –    .  

Where was I? Ah yes... eventually having issued a host of incomprehensible pronouncements on life, the universe and the matter with matter, not to mention 73 vague, confusing and mostly unenforceable rules, the rectilinear commission finally, in a fit of febrile making up for lost time-ism, pulled rule 74 out of the proverbial hat, no one knows how, nor who – the minutes for that session are strangely occluded and some assume the hand of God was revealed on this occasion if on no other, and in doing so managed to get the “Should the rectilinear commission be closed down for once and for all” commission closed down itself, for rule 74 like a wildly successful, totally unexpected Hail Mary pass had saved its bacon, though whether we should celebrate or curse this triumph snatched from the jaws of almost certain defeat is another matter.

So long story short, as they say, rule 74 was first invoked and applied to Trollus Vagonus himself herself itself bloody pronouns – ifself – what your average punter might refer to, somewhat inaccurately, as a pre-God or Titan but that’s a story for another day, if you don’t mind – who at first assumed quite understandably that nothing the rectilinear commission could throw at him aaargh if’n’if could possibly stick, but there, as you shall shortly see, he was mistaken...

Mistaken?! Come on, give me a break! Trollus Vagonus was is always one step ahead of the game. It’s my belief that if’n’if wanted the rectilinear commission to invoke rule 74, that it wasn’t beyond ifs godlike genius for n’if to have written the rule ifself, and merely persuaded the commission to believe that they were the originators.

It would appear, Tiddlemarsh, that you’re part of the T-V God squad. You may be right, you may be right, but there’s no way of knowing is there? You can’t just ask T-V a question and expect a straight answer. You wouldn’t even know for sure if n’if put the question in your head as n’if has more than demonstrated zero³² regard for the my-mind-matters convention (m3c). Right now, for example, you’re emulating your idol, your master – much though I respect your learned insights, this is hardly a public forum and you cannot deny you entered uninvited. Kindly cease and desist forthwith or I shall be obliged to use rule 74 against you too, brother Tiddlemarsh.

I was merely passing by and happened to overhear your thoughts on the great Trollus Vagonus – I hardly thought you’d be so scratchy.

You couldn’t possibly have “merely overheard” my thoughts as I run a unique zero node with vanguard shields and narwhal encryption.

Er... well, I’d better be off. It’s been nice chatting with you Preston. Keep up the good work.

Toodle-pip Tiddlemarsh. You’re always welcome, but preferably in plain view and fully m3c compliant.

Yeah, whatever... (mutters underbreath – “fuddy duddy”)

So, dear students, to rule 74. Regardless of whether it was cunningly seeded  by Trollus Vagonus or Hail Maried by divine providence I cannot say as this would be pure speculation, and nor does it greatly matter as the effect would, in either case, be indistinguishable.  Obviously, you’re all dying to hear what exactly rule 74 is and so without further ado... if all the world’s a stage and we be merely players then 0=1                                                          [deep, distant rumbles of ultra-low infra-sound thundery rumblings]

That’s it?

Yep.

But, I was expecting...

The wrath of God – blazing guns or massive legal action – against a Titan?

Er...

You’ve gotta be kidding. There’s no way you can stop a Trollus Vagonus or any other demi-urge by force. Only pure logic, the mathematics of the Field itself will suffice – the geometrics of creation itself.

But... why should a demiurge care about logic or mathematics, particularly one as notoriously cunning as Trollus Vagonus?

Good question. Something to do with the underlying structure of reality itself – the fact that at the quantum level no thing is more than any thing else – everything’s dependent on people to come along, fix it in their particular space and time, validate and make it real.

So, you’re saying that the demi-urge that gave us a mass proliferation event, in all likelihood Big Bang itself with incalculable prequels and sequels too – that changed beyond belief the face of our totality, is cowed into submission by a simple, innocuous line of code. In-credible!

Yes, because ultimately… beep beep beep  click – adios folks –    .

I’m sorry Athelstead – we seem to have completely different versions of Big Bang – and I simply can’t see how the time-lines match up.

Join the club Margate. I’m almost certain they don’t but, that doesn’t mean the information is incorrect. Besides – ultimately, this all boils down to zeros and ones, doesn’t it – being code and nothing more.

Er…

So, the left brain that dearly wants to get everything neatly in order is utterly stumped, isn’t it, because eventually it crashes into the ¿what is zero if not one? dilemma.  There’s really nothing you can do. Not even the stories match up evenly because the rectilinear commission doesn’t, ultimately, exist independent of the zeros and ones it seeks to regulate – ostensibly for the good of creation, but in fact...

Ah, I got you.

Have you? Now, try as we might to shift the blame or burden of responsibility to commissions or committees from the dim and distant past or future, for that matter, these ultimately, no matter how real, are revealed by rule 74 to be no more than metaphors, and the real grist that we can access, the skin in the game, so to speak, is one’s own conscious-awareness – one’s very own circle square or Celtic cross if you prefer.

But – we’re talking about Big Bang and billions of years gone past!

And what? Look at the code. Stop pretending that anything or anyone gives an excuse to avoid meeting our maker, facing our own ¿what is zero if not one? dilemma, re-enacting the what-actually-happened, from the unique perspective that we represent, we embody and we affect.

Huh?

To the very extent that you are you – the entire universe, the whole of reality has to adapt – it’s no longer quite able to balance itself and stay centred, and therefore a chain reaction ensues – with your own personal Big Bang at 1 and -1 which, naturally, happens far enough away from you to allow your universe to be perfectly ready to accommodate you in exactly the way it does, as if you’re just a tiny part of it all.

No!

Yes, apparently so. In other words, love him or hate him, but ultimately Trollus Vagonus is only as real, as evil or perhaps, in actual fact, as good as you make him. The same goes for the rectilinear commission, for life itself, the entire universe, Mrs Spottiswood and Joanna Humphreys:  where 0=1: if this be all a stage, if awareness actually matters – then consciousness, perhaps, is the opposite process which unmatters things, by definition, if you like. I merely suggest this as a possible flow of logic which may or may not be relevant in your case.

So, how does I herself fit into all this? Does she, in fact, favouritise Norwich Humberside?

Don’t you see?

By yessing or noing this question i’d be making matter of no matter – and there the world hangs, pivoting on my very code-stream – which either flows unconsciously, or can be brought into glorious alignment with her, or even his.

So, nothing really matters, you’re saying.

And again, pay heed to your words – for there’s as much matter in things not-mattering as there is in real and tangible things or even people – the balance, evidently being at the zero one oscillator or swing, where the very mind that strives to think and know, the very eyes that strive to see and perceive, the ears to listen and hear, the body to touch, to taste, to feel, to know – all these vie for dominion, to take the high ground, to dominate the narrative in a Darwinian survival of the fittest until, that is, we unexpectedly realise that the game is up – that 0=1 if all the world’s a stage, if matter matters only as long as… big sucking sound, big un-i-verse perfectly matching every peak and trough of the wave our world rested upon – glup – gone – no thing whatsoever but the unbearable silence of a world finally made whole, finally complete beep beep beep click – adios folks –    oh bugger

Do you run when you hear the audience clapping – and try to dive back into the drama of a finished tale, or do you head out of the theatre to greet them, ready to Big Bang another state of time-lapse paradox – knowing that without the time decay factor nothing would get done – nothing would evolve, and so you almost make time your god – to create artificially a framework around your drama as real or tangible as the proscenium arch – the line in the sand or the vesical piscis herself…

I thank ye kindly, ye Gods of space time – the great drama we be enrolled in. Teach us to play beautifully all the rolls that have been entrusted to us, to our portfolio, to our wardrobe – for only by playing all our parts can we turn our theatre into the bridge connecting us with zero no less than one – cuckoo la la – as we, gnomiki of the quanta…um are wont to say – fare thee well or hie thee to hell – as they say – you alone decide for no one, ultimately can unpick or unmake your zero your one – no one