Saturday, July 28, 2012

Science Fiction

                                                                                  Path Matrix

Listening to the message, she barely thinks it was the one she was meant to hear. She has instantiated the answers, fed free space its pulsed code. 

The words to its meaning, the ones deep inside, and seemingly imaginary, are threaded with the life and death of inner demons.

Each is coded with a mean, mean pride--uncut and unadorned by crucibles of training, mythology of encounter. 

To instantiate these she turns to her thoughts of birth and poetics. Somehow independence makes pure common sense

Her echo locator code finds a way to migrate to the forefront of her prefrontal lobe, to her [genes organizing digital systems="gods"]--the place where true rebellion births its own resolve, drifts with ocean tides, and then, wanting to float itself out. 

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