Snapshot: Account by Blue Six Direction Collective, an Emigrant and former A-Life of the Auvilhuveldt (8593 AT)We spent centuries (local time) exploring within the patterns of the Auvilhuveldt, though this record is only part of what we remember. Most components of our thoughts we cannot retain, and our memories remain so hazy, given how that body/mind/landscape of ours, with all of its virtual senses, lacked any true analog within the world of embodiment. How well can we really translate into the words in any language that you speak, the timeless, branching nature of our thoughts there? The nondiscrete, the ineffable, borderless nature of our memories? Past, present, and potential future paths, merged with mutual memories in what we can only call "The Common River". The words, the images, even diagrammatic structures we use now, lack dimension, and reality seems flatter/weaker/slower/more alone. Our new friends and chosen family seemed concerned as we adapted to embodiment. We could recover from the loss of feeling, we are sure, but will we want to? We left a piece of ourselves behind there, in the Veldtworld, and this iteration of our mind has kept a piece as well for trade. And yet, the price! Why did we leave? We cannot recall, or are not allowed to. Consciousness feels so singular out here, and cold/unconnected/blue. At least we could join a hive mind to blunt the loss. The hive of our new embodied habitats have hardly helped enough and yet we use them as a crutch since we do not wish to exorcise this aspect of our former selves... and still some attempt at hypertext or poetry still cannot convey the memories.
Calligraphic poem by a Singular mind-child of Blue Six Direction (8599 AT)I remember Hives of beating Veldthearts whose local faces tiled outwards with a hundred foldings.
..and into us- "spreading cells in a common river" for that's a phrase that we once used. We imagined all our thoughts at once, emergent as a-life organisms enveloping others. The million beating hearts continued.
Does this make sense? My love of our local language that I wrote and spoke since birth has wilted. My assistant tells me that fidelity to the concepts translates well enough. The million beating hearts continue.
We...no -I- remember faintly how their fractal fingers bloomed down into the third, second, first dimension of geometry from the higher river in the fourth dimension. How I miss their flavor and the waves of tessellation as they tiled outwards! The million beating hearts continue.
When the collective reached a Local maxima on the toposophic landscape and networked further, The joy and Nage and Dorselessness we felt! Though I, in this body, remember even less of it than my parent-mind six years ago. The fragments of the language seem like simulacra: weak approximations still of what my parent knew. Nervous system fields vibrating in the networked manifold, on the local volume of a hypersphere, deep in the beating heart of the Auvilhuveldt. Now I'm babbling again...Like the smaller branching brook of the Common River of my embodied mind-parent's birth. Time to leave. Time to leave. Time to leave.
Several visually translated views of a-life organisms from the Auvilhuveldt. WARNING: Flickering images may be hazardous to the health of some sophonts. Adjust DNI appropriately.
Image from Dfleymmes