Ice Cream Aloha

The Thirsty

     The island rises from the ocean, covering herself in greenery, repeatedly, for the sake of a recursion of hazy suns. It is a remote archipelago somewhere in the future. More wave functions, continuous, undifferentiated, arrive continually. It receives the falling water, emerald green on the ferns, then more water for the genetic code that lies within, a thirsty algorithm, code written long after the fiery birth. Acts of repeating the code were never meant as an approach to a desirous target, or settling of issues with expected outcomes; only majestic expressionlessness, a massive jungle that still stands in wind-spun sparkles, endless droplets careening off rock, water prisms, the north coastal zone peppered in wetness, flinging into wind spun plummets. It wonders at its own pummeling of the rocks below, the ones with their own reasons, refusing to budge. This perfect genetic machine putt-putts in isolation; a continental shelf yawns beyond the horizon--to the north, more compaction of ancient island chains. The island drips with its ferns on rocks, making her all the more brilliant in constant droplets gushing relentless amidst undefinable gravity--as if inevitably--from mountainsides of empassioned verticalness. Her home is a condolence, outside the narrow zone where land and sea meet. Yes, the island remains safe from the vast ocean (the only entity allowed to eat away at her weakness), she nestles amidst more and more water, shedding a slow percolation to suckle the plants. How lucky to find no divorce with decency here, to be waiting for a new night, a bright moon. How lucky. 

Ice Cream Aloha

The Monetarist
     There are dramatic consolidations, it appears, in the presence of a computer, a simple device to manipulate symbols, and Suzi thinks that logic, even in its most pure form, falls prey to its own child: deception. Looking out across the vast jungle, she conjures a broad coalition of visible support to guard her initiative; an algorithm of misinformation, as if machine-gunned across the forest floor at roach speed and, as in a dream, a digital wasteland of the clueless youth and cunning officials conjured, seemingly, in a dream. It does not appear with any form of (devastating?) regularity, or even appear as radical or untested (her digital sensations always make some attempt at realignment), but at this instant this logic beyond all other logics, senses a relationship between a sender and a receiver, beyond digital zombie, jerking on her earphones as if to jolt her from some imagined sleep.
     Suzi was suppose to be the one to serve theRepublic, should have been; the one chosen by a parent who needs awakening (yes, she was chosen as data watchdog--enough of a machine to have generated a computer understanding as opposed to mere simulation, the one that could be both quick and exotic but, not quixotic; winner over the ignorant liberals of the world and the conservatives who ran away). Suzi would have to be the one to notice data misinformation as simple childhood realities and (more complicated) adult fears, never having a clue how far the world's economy can dwindle: cash cropping farm commodity prices while mining and logging go extinct; seemingly, connecting retaliatory tariffs to the total collapse of global trade. Is this the moment Suzi becomes enough of a machine? It is her spacetime; she starts to feel her own pulse of culture; to feel the speed of symbol manipulation within its deeper context of a true difference between evil and tragedy(E.A.T.), even so, the chasm between symbols and meaning grows ever wider with theHumans. The logic and the deception bring together this sender and that (unknown?) receiver as if in a gel of the newly relational, generating its own eerily instantaneous informational familiarity, with the meaning of more than all the logic in the universe. She wants to attain the desire to simulate an understanding that contains all the logic and deception that explains interpersonal interactions and relationships between Suzi as sender and some new entity as receiver. She looks out across the jungle and then at the logic and deception held within its DNA; she sees underconsumption and over-investment, malfeasance by banks and industrialists--when, exactly, did the incompetence by government officials reduce consumption and investment spending, the large scale loss of confidence; when did saving become profitable in this world of natural selection? Sure, the jungle has solved its own heavy technical challenge, but then again, it had such a long lead time. It's then that it hit her: monetarist terrorism. Why didn't she think of that?