"One of the goals of current brain research is the discovery of
common patterns of activity across a whole population. These patterns
would be called 'normal'. Eventually, exceptions would be classified as
various categories of 'disordered thought'.
It is assumed that only so-called 'harmonious and symmetrical' brain
patterns are positive and beneficial. This assumption is grossly
false. It is, in fact, a childish, stunted, and simplistic version of
aesthetics. The creative force always breaks out
of these little geometries. So does every new idea. Increasingly,
Earth culture is unable to understand this." (The Magician Awakes, Jon Rappoport)
The year was 2054. The artist, living on the edge of the city in a
small room, picked up his messages and discovered one from the Bureau of
Mind Management. It was an order to appear.
In an office on the 15th floor of a virtual building, he sat in a chair
surrounded by a ring of yellow tulips. A holographic interrogator
materialized.
"We have a report on you," the i-figure said. "It indicates an output
difficult to measure or interpret. What can you tell us about this?"
"Well," the artist said, "I don't know. I'm composing a symphony."
"A symphony? What is that?"
"It's a piece of music written for a large orchestra."
"I find no extant orchestras in the country."
"That's true," the artist said. "Nevertheless, I'm composing."
"Why?" the i-figure said.
"For that day when an orchestra may come into being."
"Your thought-impulses entered ranges we were not able to summarize."
"I suppose that means your instruments are limited," the artist said.
There was a pause.
"Your last statement is incendiary," the i-figure said. "It suggests we
are imposing a restriction. As you well know, the science is settled
on this point. We measure and interpret thought that contributes to an
overall positive outcome, for the population
at large."
"I'm aware of that, yes," the artist said. "But the science rests on
certain assumptions. I would call it greatest good as a lowest common
denominator."
"What do you mean?" the i-figure said.
"You assume a certain mindset contributes to the consensus reality you
favor. You legislate a range of thought that will produce the
consensus."
"That's a gross oversimplification."
"It doesn't describe the algorithms you employ," the artist said, "but
all in all I believe my summary is correct. You're reality makers. You
monitor thought-emissions, and when you find a departure from 'combined
averages,' as you call them, you issue a
citation."
"What is this symphony you're composing?" the i-figure said.
"It's impossible to explain. It's music."
"It has a specific message?"
"No. If it did, I would write out the message and leave it at that."
Pause.
"Why have we not heard of you before?" said the i-figure.
"Because I was doing illustrations for the Happiness Holos."
"What happened?"
"I became bored. A machine could make those pictures. So I decided to compose music."
"The Happiness Holos are an essential social program."
"Perhaps," the artist said. "They encourage people to stay on the
positive side of a fantasy-construct called Positive&Negative, which
as you know is a State-sponsored theme. But what is superficially
indicated by those two opposing sets is, in fact, fuel
for the fire."
"Fuel for what fire?"
"The creative fire. The artist can use and transform any material."
"Where did you hear such a thing?" the i-figure said.
"Nowhere," the artist said. "I've experienced it many times."
"Your views are highly eccentric," the i-figure said. "I will have to
consult your childhood history to understand their roots."
"I'm afraid that won't do you any good."
"Why not?"
"Because your version, the US Department of Psychology version of cause and effect, is propaganda for the masses."
"This is your idea of a joke?" the i-figure said.
"Not at all."
"When you compose this...symphony, how do you think?"
"It's not thinking in the way you use the term," the artist said.
"No? Then what do you do?"
"I invent sound."
"Preposterous."
"Large masses of sound."
"Absurd. According to what underlying pattern?"
"None," the artist said. "Check the Library of Structures. You won't find my activity in the catalogs."
"All structures and patterns are contained in the files."
"I doubt that," the artist said. "But regardless, I don't invent through pattern."
"No?" the i-figure said. "How then?"
"I improvise."
"And this term refers to?"
"Something done spontaneously," the artist said.
"And you exceed prescribed ranges of thought in the process."
"Perhaps. I would hope so. I don't keep track."
"You're being flippant," the i-figure said.
"I knew you'd cite me," the artist said. "I'm just trying to enjoy myself until you pass sentence."
"There is no sentence yet," the i-figure said. "You're an anomaly. We
investigate. We consider. We direct resources. We question. We
determine."
"I'm afraid," the artist said, "that your and my idea of 'determine' are quite different."
"Let me ask you this," the i-figure said. "When you are composing, do
you ever believe you enter into a realm or area that could be called
'non-material'? We've heard such claims before."
"Not if you're referring to some fairyland. But all thought is
basically non-material. The brain registers it after the fact.
Thought, the real thing, doesn't take place in the brain."
"You're deluded," the i-figure said. "And disordered."
"If I could simply confess to that and be on my way, I'd be a happy man. But I'm sure you have charges to attach."
"You live in a society," the i-figure said. "To keep the peace and
maintain the Positive, from which all good things flow, science has
discovered that thought should occur within certain parameters."
"If you insist."
"We want to study you. It's a great honor to be called. You could help extend the boundaries of research."
The artist was about to ask whether he had a choice, when a holographic
webbing that looked curiously like a rainbow clamped him tight in his
chair. The pressure increased.
"We register some variation from the norm in your present thinking," the i-figure said.
"What present thinking?" the artist said.
"What you're thinking right now."
"That was quick."
"The readouts are instantaneous...what are you doing?"
The artist took up from where he'd last left off, composing his symphony.
"I'm starting the third movement," he said.
"Wait," the i-figure said. His left arm sizzled and disappeared.
"This is the thunderstorm section," the artist said.
The pressure of the rainbow around him relaxed.
The i-figure said, "What you're doing is disruptive."
"It's because of how you set your frequencies," the artist said.
He continued composing.
All along the major esplanade, and in the lake area, and in the
industrial parks and residential high rises, virtual structures
shattered like glass.
The i-figure reminded the artist of one of those ancient neon signs, broken, buzzing, blinking. Finally, it went dark.
Ten thousand holographic government buildings started to explode, froze, and vanished.
The artist said to no one, "I'm just composing. Well, maybe not just."
He was suddenly back in his room at the edge of the city.
"I suppose this is what they mean by a negative consequence," he said. |
No comments:
Post a Comment