The Race Of The Bots
Nodegametics: X and Y games people are used to play
Unfold a newspaper. 2,560 centimeters square — the bog-standard of it it is, the area of the cerebral cortex as well — and for whatever reason it triggers the mind. Think of mincemeat, this lucent outermost, involved, embroiled shell of a human brain: 4 credit cards stacked, 4 millimeters thick the sleeve, you spot a labyrinth inside, a grand race, the course of the bots. 86 billion neurons flash their headlights. In turns, that’s for sure.
230 miles per hour. At a breath-taking speed zillions of tiny peeps and cars, bots and transmitters, race across. 4 trips ’round the earth — the transmission of all of these atomic, chemical, or electrical signals it’s all been done with: 101 thousand miles of axons (the fibers and lines of transmission the nervous system fetches its neural pulse). 400 miles of capillaries (the smallest unit of a blood vessel). 10 trillion of synapses (the structure that permits a neuron).
Each tied to another of its race, per second the brain consumes 20 percent of the oxygen the entire body needs. To calculate: 10,000,000,000,000,000.1015, 1 quadrillion processes — 23 Watts of power.
A brain of 8 kilograms? Works
The largest brain ever: the one of a sperm whale, the cachalot, the largest of the race toothed. Up to 21 meters long, 56,000 kilograms in weight. Its brain alone weighs 8 kilograms. The human brain, in contrast, is only 1.3 kilograms — in comparison to the average overall-weight of 62 kilograms 60.7 less. Nevertheless, the human widget captures 2.1 percent of a body’s mass — the whale’s one again just 0.1 permille.
Imagine: You don’t need this body. There’s a machine. It downloads your brain, your psyche, your mind, your heartbeat, your tide — every vital of yours — onto a computer. You’re disguised without a touch, melted to the networks. You don’t exist, it’s like cancer. Every cellular of yours’ captivated. Up in the air, you’re saved, waiting on remand — with a head up in the clouds. In a nutshell: some puppet on the strings, directed by the satellites and the race of their bots.
The mixtape of docs
In the end it feels like depicting a mixtape of documents: readables (numbers, letters and characters), audibles (tones and tunes), visibles (pixels, resolutions, bits and colors), files (mindmaps, reminders, hypertextures). Alive — for more than a lifetime. Freezed — like the cryonics docs claim. A patchwork—the sea of memories, made outta zillions of fragments, connections, and relations.
For short: strong-and-weak (saw) ties, this net of mates, the human race of colleagues, acquaintances, fellows, buddies, friends, or dependants is made of. All of their hearts are (virtually) transplanted — stapled to a constant motion. In this pace of a global, social lifegraph all that remains is the void of a solitary shell. What reminds: all of these gaps, traits, and oddities, the mild-and-weak (maw) spots.
Siriuswires — the roots of nodegametics
What’s remembered? Neverything. All of these small things of a life mesmerize you, set your everyday acts to denyer games of nodegametic flavour. Means, any split of a second in time all that comes to conscious is directed, selected, operated by the bots. The greater spirit: radio remote transmission. In a word: siriuswires — the roots of nodegametics.
Nodegametics — the term refers to the X and Y games people play, peoples are used to join. Genes mutate, genetics involve — gametics mutuate. A gaming and gambling habit it is—the science of interactive reproduction and recreation: The bots race the atmosphere, all of these rollercoasters of transmission flow across like sperms to the ovum (micro-perspective). But a cell or organism of genes becomes a genome (meso-angle) — and finally gets stored as one chromosome or even more (macro-prospect).
Collectives of same race
A question, a quest — a key. A case, a cause — a reason’s rhyme. Anyhow, these mutations of genes can cause damages, first of all cause longing for mutuality of collectives same raced. An input, an output — a result Z. An X-chromosome, a Y-one — the heterogametic of male. Two packages of X — homogametically, a female. A Triple-X mutation of the genes — and the girl tends to be tall and thin. Dyslexia, a dysfunction to read and/or spell, within. A mutual disability of manhood: The XYY syndrome — its whopping king-size, troubles to read, write, or calc.
Pray for prey: the lots of zero-sum
Another example: a colony of bees. As nodes or peeps attract mind, all members sample their dust ’til the dawn. They calculate ’til the bees come home — and take profit of their acting. Best collectively. Enjoying the juice, the inspiration, the wealth of ideas. The actants mean people versus peoples. The outcome: Loss and gain of one participant are exactly in balance to lots of its opponent. In a nutshell: Originally we address zero-sum games.
Satellites, bots, beings, doings — the agents —are shapes of atomic and cellular desire, attraction, mutuality, and attractivity. Mediated spies, cohered by infrared and infrasound as the most important frequencies in the race of global market share and recognition. Bottom line: Not a world to die young. Living as some (aware) part of this app-computered world means scan, track, file, and direct any such a tiny nook and cranny, or particle floating across the globe.
Atomic meltdown
Every creature of this atmosphere is just another blend, a product of nody love, urge, greed, and desire — a wired shape, a melting pot, a map, an areal extent of cells. Some call it a compound of chemical attraction, some a field of atomic meltdown, fission and attractivity. Scratched it is first of all by electricity and magnetism.
Thus, any doing is a dealing of computed acts. Think about some heads-up in poker and its facing ‘bout the pot: The X-agent gains his, her or its stake, accomplishments and assets. To the Y-agent it results in the loss of both, performance and money — driven by the debt of his, her, or its psyche, the duty to serve his, her or its assembly.
Wired to unite, all the way down
To suit ’em all fine? Who knows exactly. For the good of a group society needs cohesion. The do-gooders long for being part of a life long-gone. For just another impulse, instinct, and idea of brain to win any pot.
But its roots nodegametics has got in physics, chemistry, biology, war, and business. Brain, psyche, mind, organic inner tide, and outer atmosphere — it’s all about polarized fields. Thus, the hybrid theory of mankind means processing prototypes of dual-cores, creating counterparts that live in pressure — all their way down wired to unite.
Lifegraphs and mindmaps
A mind, a life, a map, nodes, adventures, mates — all in a machine, put to fields of voltage, induced by networks of mild-and-weak spots and strong-and-weak ties, mediated by the satellites: Simply to illustrate the node-relations are taking a look at the 4 basic questions and quests of lifegraphs and mindmaps.
How long does some doing or being know another, how long do them attract each other? The time. How tight are the ties, how eager the pull, how vigorous the relations of the participants? The intensity. How trustful or cozy the relations? The intimacy. How does the command structure, the hierarchy or net of interaction and attractivity work? The mutuality of atoms, compounds, cellulars, and cells.
Mindy phone booth
Based on things like these, mediated about 230 miles per hour, the signals of radio remote transmission float across mind and tide. Means, in the end (human) shapes mean bots in line, councils of characters. The XY-shapes, the gametics of creature: circles, tribes, communities of nation — races, ethnicities, likes, dislikes.
A signal is a stimulus. It becomes an impulse. The impulse again an idea, a thought. A thought becomes a mindvoice. An imaging of. A gravatar: ‘Your turn!’ Spoken out, pinged by a tiny, purple pen. A little pidgin-bubble beside his head — transforming the letters. Binged by an evil, green duck — blinking in Morse-rhythm: 2 dots — a dash. A hedgehog says: ‘Veni, vidi — vici. Means: U!’ One less than 86 billion neurons champ at the bit. Greasy drops of mince, a leaf of 2,560 centimeters square — a bloody shell. Unfolded.
