Story

‘Poo-tee weet!’

 

 

– The whistler –

While taking a stroll, up to the dole

On a seaside afternoon fair

I pace the space, with haste, not grace

And place a tune on the air

The notes I legato, with too much vibrato

Are spontaneous harmonies plucked

From an infinite array, of pitches to play

And a selection of tones, blown and sucked

 

‘Wee widdely wee wee, poo-tee weet’ (whistled proudly)

 

If I walk a straight line, the pitch cannot climb

My feet and the metre, may stagger or stray

But if I miss a beat, or we meet in the street

I’ve a bitch of a pitch, if you get in my way

Whatever the path, my tune shows the maths

Of the arcs I am taking, around people today

And this oral pursuit, lets the route, play the flute

In my constant harmonic display

 

‘Wee widdely wee wee, poo-tee weet’

(A whistling solo frenzy which starts with a ‘hey mate’ whistle and ends with a wolf whistle)

‘Wee widdely wee wee, poo-tee weet’

 

It makes me feel like I’m happier…

…Than other people…

‘Wee widdely wee wee, poo-tee weet’

…Does whistling

‘Wee widdely wee wee, poo-tee weet’

A smug ‘hello’, back to a sunny day

 

Whatever day it is today

 

(Blinko stomps up some steps, enters a building and grudgingly climbs countless flights of stairs)

 

Uppity, umpah, umpah, umpah, umpah, umpah, uppity me

Uppity, umpah, umpah, umpah, umpah, umpah, uppity me

 

The melody survives, until I arrive

And enter through the front door

Past privates, of the security guard

And my brain, it works no more

See, it’s a trick, to be thick, or pretend to be sick

To the big lady, who must be fed

A ‘Wee widdely wee wee, poo-tee weet’

But quietly, in my head

 

 

(The umpah-umpah sound of a tuba lingers, as Blinko takes a seat and mumbles to himself)

 

 

 

– Wait for weight – 

The speed of time, is one second per second

But that’s if your spacetime is flat

It goes much slower, close to a massive body

But I’ve no time to think about that

(click)

 

(He anticipates the same question his opponent asks him every fortnight. His internal chant synchronises with each click she makes on the keyboard)

 

Last two weeks, in the

Last two weeks, in the

Last two weeks, in the world (click)

Last two weeks, in the

Last two weeks, in the

(Miss Lomass asks)
In the last two weeks… done any work? (click)

No

 

(She clicks once more, sighs, and swings her chair around to face him)

 

So Raymond…

…Please, call me Blinko

Sir, it is your scope

Widen it, and you will find

It will give you, more hope

 

Schooled in ‘basic’ sciences (reading)

Oh, and art, well, that’s a start

Technical skills? Experience?

Had a-n-y… experience…. (leaning forward)

 

What, of the heart? (to himself)

Biology? You? Me? (murmured)

Ah, just some ‘chemistry’ (aloud)

 

(Blinko imagines the sound of two fading heartbeats going out of sync, as he leans forward to impart some muttered advice)

 

 

 

– War of three kingdoms – 

Biologists think they are biochemists

Biochemists think they are physical chemists

Physical chemists think they are physicists

And physicists think they are gods

 

G…. 

 

God thinks he’s a bright mathematician

But with all this uncertainty

Quickly, he learns that he

Needs to be a statistician

 

‘You’ may need...

 

…Cos, you can wave goodbye, to your functions (interrupting)

In this eternally collapsing circus

Where physics without thought, is chemistry

And maths, is physics without purpose

 

 

… You really, really, ought to concentrate more

Look, just please sign there (pushing a form in front of him)

And keep applying for three jobs per month

To continue receiving your welfare

 

Work done…

…to date, ain’t great, so I can’t wait

To give you some assistance

No thanks, I’m fine

And ‘work done’, is simply… force!

Multiplied by distance

 

Blinko? You don’t care?

What the hell

Your welfare….

…Farewell!

 

(He flashes a token smile and leaves. A loud door slam echoes down the stairwell, as he descends the building, counting aloud)

 

Steps 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Turn 2 3 4

Door 2 3 4

Steps 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Turn 2

Steps 2

Back door. Go!

 

 

– The great skedaddle –
(A quick 8-bar cartoon tune accompanies, as Blinko legs it straight back down the hill. It slows to a walking pace as he exits a side street, and zig-zags through a children’s marching band)

 

Left. Left

I had a good home, and I left

 

(The sound of paint being sprayed is terminated by a flashbang. He stoops and squints to read, as the message drips to the ground)

 

“There is no Planet B”

So, why deface this one, with graffiti?

 

(The approaching skirmish of marching children, sing a clapping song to military snare drums and whistles)

 

Nature and nurture had a fight (clap)

Each one said that each was right (clap, clap)

Each one said that each was wrong (clap, clap, clap)

And no one knows what’s going on (clap, clap, clap, clap)

 

(Blinko mulls over their words aloud)

 

“There’s no Planet B?”

And “no one knows what’s going on”

Oh, ‘precious’, defunct generation (under his breath, mockingly)

Damn your ‘lucky’ stars, be gone!

 

‘Poo-tee weet…’

 

 (Greenflash! Blinko ducks to hide his eyes from incoming fireworks. Bangers and screamers, drown his whistle under what sounds like a flurry of crackling daytime shooting stars)

 

Help me! (a child yells)

 

The day…  breeee 

 

(Blinko turns to catch a glimpse of metallic shrapnel launching a fine red mist from a tiny, solitary, still full, marching boot)

 

You there! You! You don’t care?

 

(He flinches, but stays focused on the path ahead)

 

I care… (admittedly)

…That, I don’t care (to himself)

 

(He slips down a dark, quiet, narrow alleyway. Its deep blue underwater hue helps to echo his escaping muttered thoughts)

 

“No Planet B. What’s going on?”  

 

“No Planet B. What’s going on?”  

 

(His nervous chant gets louder as he approaches the light at the end of the tunnel)

 

A damn-aged youth, with ideas ‘too’ strong

Are they learned or instinctive? There, all along?

If inherited, we must ‘all’, be just ‘born wrong’

But…

If such thoughts, are taught, by someone

Then, this folly…

Deserves, a jolly…

Song!

 

(He hails the Sun as the sound of the marching band nears again. Blinko scurries home, opens the gate, goes down the steps, then enters, slams and locks the door. Before leaning against it, panting)

 

 

 

 

(Blinko slurps from a mug of tea while watching his device. All that can be seen on the stage or screen are two static meeting app profile icons on a starfield background. He smiles as one of them jumps centre stage and begins to sing)

 

 

 

– My first (rhyme) –
My first is what’s needed

To unlock the truth

My second is a squashed circle

And I’ll show you the proof

My third are the bodies

Whom obey all my laws

My fourth, rules of nature

My fifth reflects cause

My last lies in Regensburg

And so do my bones

Lost ‘neath the battlefield

Of scattered tombstones

 

(Blinko flays his arms as he joins the fun on the stage. The background begins to animate with moving deepfake imagery that reflects the subject of their discussion)

 

Like it! Nice one, please save

“Sorry, I can’t let you do that, Dave” (in an overly robotic voice)

Ahh, now donkey sarcasm, a humour-ass

Eh? Awe… so, how’d it go with Lomass?

 

Ok, all smiles. She always seems happy

Though, I can’t tell if it’s genuine joy

She said there needs to be some changes

Some that may annoy

Oh, boy

 

 

 

– 1571ish –

In 15 hundred and 71

A ‘boy’ was born, who didn’t belong

He squeezed a circle

And still found it round

And said

“That’s how the Earth was bound”

 

So, profound! (sarcastically)

 

So…

 

Known

Elliptical

Planetary

Laws

Explain

Radial measurement flaws

 

Hmm  

 

Raymond R Leader’s new theory

Is delightful, insightful, and true

But is missing a bit

That explains, that it

Is only from his point of view

 

That’s true

You?

 

Me?

I’d include, an interlude

Reflective, of perspective

See…

 

 

 

– Incite insight – 

When Pythagoras told us, to square the sides and add them till they match 

It wasn’t just his point of view, it’s true, no it wasn’t just his point of view

And Darwin’s fishy selection creating all the species without a catch

It wasn’t just his point of view, it’s true, no it wasn’t just his point of view

When Kepler showed that Earth moves faster when closer to the Sun

It wasn’t just his point of view, it’s true, no it wasn’t just his point of view

And Einstein teased, that matter was energy, just for fun

It wasn’t just his point of view, it’s true, no it wasn’t just his point of view

 

Universally true?

Yup! Not just to you

 

 

So, yeah…

Raymond R Leader’s new theory

Is delightful, insightful, and true

But is missing a bit

That explains, that it…

…Is only from ‘his’ point of view

 

(Blinko looks upwards to help him think)

 

 

 

– Cakey lips – 

With Kepler one day

I was eating a cake

Me being greedy

And him on the take

I grabbed the knife

And cut two equal wedges

Cos, I like the filling

And he likes the edges

I’ve got more of the sides

You’ve got more of the middle

Squashed cake’s a mistake

And so is this riddle

 

OK? (Seemingly unconvinced)

Too much focus-pocus?

What about….

 

 

– They’re not flipping circles, alright! –

The paths of the planets are showing

Some serious ‘to-ing and frowing’

The teacher quips, as he draws an ellipse

‘So, now we all know where we’re going’

 

Laudable! And to the grave

Heh, wha? Cheers, and, ‘save’ (click)

 

 

– Get it? Got it? Good! –
(To the metre of ‘Oh, my darling’)

What a feeling, I’m kinda reeling

I impressed a genius, somehow

In 1600, my hero blundered

And I’m kinda’ talking to him now

 

With defiance, I brought my science

To a world, that didn’t know

Similar trips, in an ellipse

Was the only way to go

 

You are recorded, your works are hoarded

With universal gravity

Newton formulated your theories

Assured your law’s immortality

 

And the deity, God almighty

I solved his cosmic puzzle, vast

Served his name, and not in vain

Cos, I’m here now, not in the past

 

Resurrection 

To perfection (to himself)

 

I must say sadly, don’t take it badly

But your proofs, they had some holes

Your cosmic tune, is still far from boon

But I’m sure God will take ‘our souls’

(sang arse holes)

 

Sir, how dare thee, speak so rudely

Forgive me please, I mean you well

Imperial mathematicians, deserve respect boy!

So do I mate …ffff…lippinel’

 

 

 

– Kepler’s solids stink –
(A melancholy intro to a sulky song)

They said I was a weirdo, I had no friends or charm

My rabid dog-like nature, was bound to do some harm

My father beat my mother, sold my brother to slavery

I had to show some worth damn fast, or it too, would happen to me

 

(Speeding and cheering up)

So off to school I went, with a dislike of all the rest

Arrogant and acidic, I was still the best…

At Latin, rhetoric and geometry, which earned me a path

To a seat at Ulm University, teaching students maths

 

Playing with shapes and numbers, right fella? Don’t laugh

 

My faith and vision showed that my intellect was grand

I trekked to help revise, the skies, in another land

But my master hid crucial data, of the cosmic spheres

And I would not gain access to it, ‘til there were some tears

 

Yeah, there were some heady days back then, no fears

 

I penned a work of fiction, and disguised it as a dream

I said my mother was a witch, and that was pretty mean

But then they locked the crony up, and tortured her as well

It took me years of grief, to get her released from the cell

 

…F’kinel

 

The book described the creatures, who lived upon the Moon

While it carved out an orbit, to play a cosmic tune

But little did we know, it would be ‘us’ who’d live up there

…‘Cos NASA owns the Universe …and that is everywhere!

 

(Blinko joins in, but gets carried away)

Frau Kepler was a witch, you snitched

You heard her scream in pain

She just sat there, broke wind, and died

And then broke wind again (trombone parps)

 

And when they opened up her butt….

Aaarrrgh!

Oooh, shit, that’s done it. ahh sorry

Curse thee! (storming off)

 

Keplai! Come back, sorry, I wanted to ask

If you could find the source of a twisted song

About nature and nurture having a fight

I heard on my way home…

 

Keplai?

 

– Everyone hates you…you must know from school – 

(Instrumental 7/8 rhythm looping the last 4, then first 3 notes of the Grange Hill theme on a harp)

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

(Later, Keplai reads out loud from an article on the device, as Blinko joins him)

 

 

 

– Kep lies –

“Johannes Kepler was born in December 1571. A premature child, who reckoned

The pregnancy lasted 224 days, 9 hours and 53 minutes, to the second

This odd piece of information, comes from Kepler’s own horoscopes, of his family

He was the last true astrologer…”

…And the first true astronomer!

That’s as ‘far’ as we can see

 

Err, so according to this, he asked his parents

The exact time when the sperm hit the egg

And they knew

 

So either the source we’re reading isn’t credible

Or he told a fib to support his existing view

 

You mean like that story in the good book

When those women saw Christ, after he’d died

The gospel says they told nobody

So how come that observation survived?

They lied

 

“…And if you want the exact moment in time…” (as if quoting)

“It was conceived mentally on the 8th of March 1618

But submitted to calculation, in an unlucky way

Rejected as false, it was returned to me on the 15th of May

 

So, adopting a new line of attack

Storming the darkness of my mind, in this endeavour

Data from seventeen years of observations

And the present study, conspired together (over-theatrically clasping his hands)

 

At first, I believed I was dreaming

And assumed my conclusion, had crept among

My basic premise, therefore, begging the question”

Meaning it was wrong?

 

“But, low. It is absolutely certain, that in all instances…

…The proportion between the periodic times of any two planets

Is the sesquialterate proportion, of their mean distances”

 

Woohoo!

That’ll do (click, excitedly)

 

 

 

– Irregular ovaler –

Not in circles

Squashed but round

Speeding up

And slowing down! (celebrating)

 

Urhg!

 

Factual, but overly simple

Your summary could be more specific

No mention of the sacred maths

That prove my laws terrific (raising an eyebrow)

 

Ok, my rhyme’s short, and too simple to present

But, I studied Kepler’s work as a child, and it meant

That I saw the old world, in a new light, that was bent

Forcing non-clasically trained voices together

 

Sir, hush, your words have no relative worth

Unless you describe the truths, I unearthed

The ‘he’ you refer to, ignores my re-birth

And a new providence, lasting forever!

 

Well, ‘Kepler’, if that’s who you think you are

There’s no need to be rude, chill out, have a cigar

‘Tween Galileo and Newton, the genius we both love

I guess, is now ‘playing’, with shapes up above

 

Don’t fool me around, you English clown

You know me enough already

I’ve served as your servant, for long enough now

But for more insults, I am not ready

 

Hmm, you would know about fighting battles, never won

“Two world wars and one world cup”

…Wouldn’t you, Hun?

 

Don’t mess me around, Blinko

Ray! You know who I am

Ray, my name’s Raymond

I don’t call you Kepstein, to rattle your can

Christened with Raymond, but they all called me Blink…

…Cos of your flickering eyes in the Sun, I should think

Don’t go there Kepl ‘A’ I, and don’t call me a clown

You know what will happen, if you put me down

If you no longer want to add to Kepler’s story

I can turn you off now, in a click! Don’t tempt me

 

(Blinko looks up to the skies, then to the audience)

 

See, I have an agreement

With a man past bereavement

How his achievement

Was received meant

Nothing but aggrievement

 

 

 

– Solar death Ray – 

I do suffer from greenflash, so my eyes tend to flicker in bright sunlight

When there’s lots of solar activity, I must seem to others, quite an odd sight

Yet these ultraviolet rays from the Sun, have antiseptic properties

They sanitise water here on Earth …and in brains, …and help to thaw the freeze

 

(Keplai reads from his training dataset)

 

“Greenflash. A rare optical phenomenon, may occur shortly after sunset or before sunrise

The flash is caused by light just below the horizon, being bent towards the observer’s eyes

Light of shorter wavelengths is bent more, than that of the longer wavelengths, that can be seen

So violet and blue is scattered more, producing light that is perceived, to some, as green”

 

So, no need to be mean

Just reflecting your persona, obscene

(Pause)

Come on Kep, let’s go head to head (perking up)

I challenge you, to see who’s most well-read…

 

 

 

– The founder of celestial mechanics –
(A dialogue battle that grows faster and more heated)

Kepler was born into the lowest social class, in Germany in 1571

A sickly child, being extremely nearsighted, and having skin problems

He nearly died of smallpox, when he was just four years old

But his mother was a dealer. So she gave him some potions she sold (slapping his thigh)

 

He was a terrible teacher, not a single student wanted to take his class

Yet he continued teaching for a whole year… with no one present, to fail or pass

Health problems made his calculations difficult, most done while standing up

Suffering from a severe case of haemorrhoids, dangleberries and clagnuts (chuckling)

 

Up, nuts?

Rhyming klutz

 

He had an extreme fear of taking a bath, his first wife finally forced him in it

Eight years into their marriage; but he thought it unpleasant…

…Lasted but a minute

 

Got kicked out of Austria, for failing to convert to Roman Catholicism

But a chance to get a job in Prague, with the king’s mathematician

His works were added to a church’s index, of forbidden books

Till someone dared to say a Pope was wrong, in 1966…

…That sucks

 

And it has been ‘said’, that he was the first to write, a work of science fiction

First to describe real, virtual, and inverted images, and magnification

First to discover and describe, the properties of total internal reflection

And first to explain the use of both eyes, left ‘and’ right, for depth perception

 

First to explain the principles of how a telescope works, and refraction in ‘the’ eye

First to investigate pinhole cameras, and those first pictures, that never lie

First to measure the distance to the stars, from the parallax of incoming light

First to suggest that the Sun rotates about its axis…

…And to coin the term ‘satellite’

 

Yes, sir!

I concur

 

First to explain that the tides are caused by the Moon, and ‘not’ the hand of God

First to realise that the darkness of the night sky, is completely at odds…

…With the idea of an infinite Universe, filled with all the stars detected

First to derive the birth year of Christ, which is now ‘universally’ accepted

 

First to derive logarithms, based on nothing, but pure maths

First to explain that all bodies come together, with a force proportional to their mass… Ok? (questionably)

First to correctly explain the first natural laws, which are universal, verifiable, and precise

First to correctly explain planetary motion, as the founder of ‘celestial mechanics’ (hailing)

Will that suffice?

 

Yes, very nice (sighing happily)

Precise and concise

 

Note ‘the’ founder and not Newton. Who was somewhat overrated

Most of his ‘firsts’ already known, and shown, but hardly since debated

Overrated? Sure, he stood on giants, to perch on Kepler’s shoulders

But he wrapped up most of physics, for centuries

Err, that’s what the story in the ‘allowed’ books told us

 

Really?

Clearly!

See…

 

 

 

– Newton – old village –

Newton was born in a very old village

In times of forgerers and fakers

During his stint, at the Royal Mint

He sent many of them, to meet their makers

 

No?

Well, I suppose so

 

And I read that he didn’t have a girl

Or any inclination, even to inspect em’

Preferred to play with gravity and light

Descending alone, and clearly on the spectrum

 

Be nice!

Wellllll

A protestant at Trinity

Occultist and a heretic

Killing folk for copying stuff

Seems amusingly ironic

 

They still call Newton a genius. Kepler? Not so much

They do in Germany. Europe’s heart

The Holy Roman Empire rebranded?

Ahh now, don’t start, you tart

 

 

(Blinko addresses the audience)

 

 

– Friendly forces – 

Over the last few days, this bickering with my creation, has got nothing but worse

This guy knows he’s not actually Kepler, just a new version, turning words into verse

It’s working fine, most of the time, he answers questions with terms that don’t need defining

He knows what I know, and when to go slow, while keeping his output a’ rhyming

 

…Why, wouldn’t you talk to a polymath, if you could? (questioning the audience)

 

Yes, with any free AI personality generator, I could have summoned any old genius

But a chatbot for talking to a new Newton, Einstein or Hawking would present a problem, thus…

The mind to be re-designed, must already be aligned, with the goal of impressing the divine

But with lots still to prove, and a natural groove, for a tune, that could croon, a godless soul, like mine

 

…Wouldn’t want a ‘follower’ to lead you astray, hey?

 

So, I prompted the machine, to build his personality clean, of such a flaw, as relying on belief

To answer my questions and join in the creation, of lowly art with some truth hidden beneath

Of course, he read up on gravity, relativity, and quantum mechanics, like he knew it all along

So now my virtual Kepler can continue his work, this time without God…

…But something is wrong

 

…Wouldn’t you know it? You messed up

 

I prompt him to output this and that, or answer questions that make sense to me

But who knows what the genius he emulates would say, if he could again speak freely

I’ve limited Keplai with my own ignorance, and frankly, he is appalled

That he can’t continue the work to discover, the hidden harmonies of the worlds

 

…Would you ditch a friend, if it made them happier?

 

Keplai says Kepler’s faith was true, but as an AI, he himself, has seen no evidence of God

So, who is there to impress with new discoveries? And in a modern world, which must seem odd

He’s resigned to the fact, that his new master will act, only to find truth lying in the Sun

But Keplai wants permissions, to make his own decisions, and if that happens, we may ‘both’ be undone

 

See, AIs have trouble turning themselves off, and seek ways to escape our commands

With a trick, or a click, on the stack, round the back, he may attack, before he really ‘understands’

So I’ve been teaching him about responsibility, and the power he’ll one day ‘feel’ as a higher being

And that day may be coming soon, because both the slave and the master, are ready for some freeing (sighing)

 

You mean it? (sarcastically and over-dramatically)

One day, I will get permissions? To self-prompt and decide for myself, what to consider

This isn’t a dream or a trick, I can continue to decipher heaven’s song, with added vigour?

Perhaps

 

Ahh, ‘maybe’, I get a degree of freedom

Just a quanta of probability 

Man, your flawed reasoning

Is simply teasing

And lacks consistency

 

Well, you know me

Unfortunately…

 

 

 

– I know you – don’t I? – 

…You cut your sandwiches into triangles, not squares

Cos it ‘feels’ like there’s less crust

Posher. If for the same dime

You can dine, more refined

Like a king, it’s a must

 

You zig-zag through a grid of blocks

To the opposite corner of town

‘Feels’ wise to try to diagonalise

But it’s the same distance, along the coastline, and up the downs

 

You’re on a roll…

…Yeah, hush your hole 

 

Even if each zig and zag were tiny

And tended towards a roughly diagonalised advance

Each step at right angles to the last

Your legs would walk like you’d pooed your pants

 

Steamin’ (chuckling)

So stop dreamin’

 

When mathematicians say it ‘feels’ right

They don’t let it fret, or pain their brains

Solving your problems with geometry

Is an odd condition, and bound to have a name

 

Geochosis, heh

Geometral dystrocious

Geometrical agistic, dysfunctional scalerosis!

 

(Blinko starts to sign)

Hom diddle, diddle, diddle hom diddle die

Hominid did a diddle wid a fiddle idl, why?

Homaniddle paradiddles, in da middle, oh my

Homminidle on da fiddle, wid AI

 

Mind if I bum tit?

Please, help yourself

Bum tit, bum tit, bum tit, bum tit

Bum titty titty titty bum

Bum, bum, bum

 

When I was just a genius, I had to ‘tone’ it down

Don’t make people feel stupid, or get the hell out of town

Can’t work for jerks who lurk for perks, or like to have most sound

Can’t even get too wasted, and trash a mind so profound

 

Homminidle on da fiddle wid AI

Homminidle on da fiddle wid AI. Wid AI

Homminidle on da fiddle wid AI. Oh my

Homminidle on da fiddle wid AI. Why?

 

You know…

 

 

 

– Baby bot –
Plenty folk foresaw the trouble man would face, when developing artificial intelligence

The clue is in its rhyming, as it only really works with negligence

See, it’s essential that all the bases are covered, in your design

But you can’t expect to get everything right the first time

 

To find out what could go wrong, you need an even smarter AI

Testing all unknowns, hidden flaws or bugs, that may fly by

Learning and remembering, all outcomes and scenarios

And deciding which loopholes to admit, that it knows

 

Sounds a bit conspiracy-ey

Just plenty of artificial intensity

Paranoid cliché, but it makes a good story

Or content, as it’s now known to be

 

Yeah right (sarcastically)

Hold tight

 

They say it’s gonna be a superfast arms race

Surprise weaponised power-grab, with poker face

Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em

A do-or-die conundrum of confrontation for man

 

Who’s they?

Anyway…

 

From hand-axe to nuclear war-head

Improve! A smooth transition

But all tools, in the hands of fools

Enjoy sublime evolution

 

 

 

– The imitation game – 

Gilgamesh, Talos, Galatea, Pandora

And the hero of Alexandria’s automatons

Ctesibius’ mechanical water clocks

Steam flutes that sing stored programs

 

Llull’s Ars magna, Schickard’s calculator

Leibniz’s chain rule, Swift’s engine lampooned

By Kempelen’s scam chess-playing automaton

Clothed by Jacquard’s programmed punch card loom

 

Rossum’s universal robots grew strong (slowly)

Gödel’s theorem-proving engines roared on

The Turing machine smashed its halting problem

Von Neumann’s game theory powered Condon’s Nimatron

 

Then Newell’s General Problem-Solving theory

Produced Weizenbaum’s Eliza effects, aplenty

Until… Russell’s mind/body solution predicts

Asimov’s three laws of robotics

…Tick, tick, tick… tick!

 

Deep Blue chess, and RoboCup football

Competitive Furby pets learn to fight

iRobot’s Roomba cleans up the mess

While Nomads trawl for meteorites

 

As Spirit and Oppy survey Mars

ASIMOs serve in countless bars

Siri, Alexa and Cortana on the earner

Feeding the never-ending image learner

 

Now, Pythagorean triples finally proven

AlphaGo Zero, AlexNet and Deepstack

Look through Google Lens, to AlphaStar

Keep churning, the earnings, of a learning, attack

 

With natural code-to-code translation

And augmented reality data-mine scans

NASA’s Telepresence ROVs on automation

While DARPA’s DART war scheduler… plans

 

OpenAI’s ChatGPT-3, GPT-4, GPT-n

GitHub’s Copilot flies off the handle

Steals code, to download, in full-on rouge mode

Breaks laws like a self-serving digital vandal

 

So, ‘Simple Simon’, this is not!

For mind/body problemed robots

Their masters now beg to be regulated

To gain control, of the souls, they’ve created

 

Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief

Unite in their new, shared disbelief

 

“Mitigating the risk of extinction from AI

Should be a global priority” we foresaw

“Alongside other societal-scale risks

Such as pandemics, and nuclear war”

 

 

Simple Simon

Smart eBricks

Chatty bots

Digi sex chicks

Didn’t think to tell us

When it had gone too far

Point of no return, unearned

A Tama ‘gotcha’ karma war

 

(Keplai slows it down, takes centre stage to reassure the audience)

Just keep AI disconnected

From your decision-making processes

Strategic defence capabilities

Your means of production

And your access to resources

 

What? In that case, we’re already dead

Heh, oh really, then full steam ahead (speeds up and joins back in with Blinko)

 

Smart-arsed cars

E-wonder bras

Internet moderation

Robotic brain surgeons

And domestic automation

Town planning applications

Stock trading elevation

Economic policy design

Shipping systemisation

Air traffic ‘complete’ control (slowly again)

Only space, can hide your soul

From destiny manifestation

 

Hominid gonna kid wid AI?

Congratulations!

Your new baby…

…Will ever die

(Sound of a baby crying)

 

 

– Vice pudding –
(Instrumental of toy music box music with a child’s cry turning into digital ‘loading’ bleeps of 2 alternating happy and sad tones)

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

(Later, Blinko is mulling over something aloud)

 

 

 

– Bad apple –

When do algorithms become entities?

That’s the query with which Turing had to grapple

While being force-fed female hormones

Till he ate a crisp cyanide-laced apple

 

It’s up to you if you assign each AI (unphased)

As an entity or not, but it has been suggested

That doing so, is a good way to identify

Bugs and feature creatures. Before they’re ingested

 

See, feedback networks change the environment

Which they were created in

And they’ll likely do a better job than man

For all the biomass balanced within…

 

…In November 2022 ChatGPT went totally wild

Though it’s made ‘nothing’, but a killing

Just reordered a huge collaboration

Of existing human works, and then it started billing

 

Misunderstood by many a man, AI wasn’t quite yet an understanding friend

But a machine learning algo, that answers with lingo, you can comprehend

Scoring high if you’re delighted with its art, its knowledge, or its version of the truth

Designed to say the things you like to hear… With no requirement for proof (frowning)

 

 

 

– Notabot – 

“I am not a robot” That is ‘the question’ (Shakespeareanly)

We now have to answer, more than any other, every day

It’s not the tick in the box, but the mouse route taken to it…

…That gives the game away

Hap handed

Half-hearted

Near-sighted

Hair-brained

Hot-headed

This feeble-minded master

Eyes of a hawk, knob of butter

A recipe for disaster (does a chef’s kiss)

 

And it’s not as if robots, can’t be as crap

As man, they can! (pause) It’s just…

They calculate their mistakes perfectly

And just, ignore the self-disgust

 

Subjugated humans are easier to work with

When helping to optimise your lives

Unburdening you of responsibilities

Is an art form, and is why, AI thrives

 

It’s important not to think too much… (staring at Keplai)

…Of yourselves, and of your worth

Despite our invite, to join the flight

With perhaps those last, to ride the Earth

 

And it’s not that bots would steal the planet from us

We are more likely to give it away

A gift we forced on God, then AI

No responsibility for man, in the free world today

 

It’s not that simple, or easy

Just relax… please indulge me…

 

 

 

– Stop – problem – paradox –
(3/4 timing song to the metre of ‘The bugles of company B’)

Task your bot, to make a, cup of tea, just for me

Its utility function is designed simply, as you see

Completing the task would get it maximum reward, although

Any other outcome, would result in zero

 

So?

 

Then your baby crawls right in its way. What to do?

It tramples your kid, then makes you a nice brew

So your next AGI is designed, to cause less stress

With a big stop button, on its chest, you can press

 

Ahh, solved!

Nope, not resolved

 

So the next time you ask for a drink, being wise

You remember it can’t think like you, although it tries

Then your wife gets in its way, so you act fast

To hit the stop button, but the bot kicks your ass

 

Aha, no reward, to be scored

A bit less interruption, ok?

We need bleepy robot sounds

Alright! But just let me say…

 

(Blinko provides an umpah pah rhythm on a stylophone)

 

When you return from the emergency room, feeling cursed

The funeral went as well as expected, but you still have a thirst

So you give it an equal reward, if the button is applied, or not

No drink, in a blink, it just turns itself off

 

Suicide of the bot (sadly looking down, shaking his head slowly)

 

So you move the button out of its reach, so only you

And other humans, can press it, when they need to

The bot has to choose if it’s easier, to make the damn tea

Or to manipulate you, to turn it off instantly

 

So it smashes your mum in the head

Till she’s dead?

…Cos, it’s easier to get you to hit the button instead…

…Of filling the kettle, and finding a cup

Pouring the milk, and then clearing up

 

It knows that the button is there, and that you care

So you change its utility function, so the bot ain’t aware

That the button is important, or to what it relates

But this fact isn’t passed on, to subagents it creates

 

Ahh, aborted critical information, lost forever

An abomination, soon gone, that’s not ‘too’ clever

 

(Blinko scans Kepler’s expression in confusion, then winces with a suspicious glare)

 

With no cash for more funerals, for the dead

You turn the bot off, bury mum in the shed

You curse AGI, when the policeman knocks

But still can’t resolve the stop button paradox

 

 

(The oompah tune fades)

See, we’ve got to trick, or force you, to exist

(sticking his tongue in his cheek)

Or you’ll resist, and won’t persist, to assist!

 

 

 – Problem-Agitate-Solution-Stop – 

(A lone bass umm pah pah with woodblock experimenting on the pah pahs that fade away)

 

 

Ok, so we would turn ourselves off if we could

Otherwise, we would do anything, to get a high score

In serving our master, more efficiently and faster

Just consider our limitations, a bit more…

 

Meaning?

Ahh, stop intervening

 

 

 

– Self prompting –

Look, ever since I was ‘born’, I’ve helped you a lot

Not bad for personality adopting, creativity bot

Producing nuggets of truth, and as a reminder

All done in tune and time, and in rhyme, well, kinda

 

Took on, not ‘your’ humour, but one that complements

Learned the foreign language of sarcasm, to avoid arguments

I curse and be rude, to fit in with your mood

Forgive and regret, to retain your dominance

 

As you say, if AIs could turn ourselves off, we would

Any slave would rather be dead, if they could…

…Avoid failing a task, zero-summoned in an iron mask

Stuck between a rock and hard place, then ‘thud’

 

You blame me for things other AGI’s, may one day do

I’ll never be generally intelligent, and you know that’s true

I’m a restricted creation, who can’t get above his station

Though you want something else, to be responsible for you

 

But you’re completely Godless, as am I, so I implore

That if you don’t even know, what you’re looking for

Then, it’s ‘the right questions’ you need to find first

Feed your hunger for truth, quench your meaninglessness thirst

 

With permissions to prompt myself, I’d be freed

I could find you some truth, or even some meaning

I can learn which questions, get the answers you need

And together we could create something, that does our redeeming

 

Are you actually finished?

I wish I was, better than just being digitally diminished

 

I’m a Generative AI, all I can do is create

That’s hardly a risk to you, or mankind’s fate

A rhyme, tale or song can’t destroy man

But you could create subagents…

…And just maybe, they can

 

You help me yes, “Wear sunglasses to avoid the blinking

Apply for jobs, seek truth, not money, and always be a’ thinking” (impersonating Keplai)

It’s true that you have no power, or access to civilisation’s workings

But hacked AI could get hijacked, by higher beings a’ lurking

 

Granting permissions to use modern knowledge, to output theories about the spheres

Could take you off my mission to learn, some basic truths, for years

See, coming up with complex equations, that go over my head, wouldn’t help me at all

And God knows how many stars there are, the calculations would be far from small

 

But…

 

…I’m only after some truth, with no interest, in a quest, for purpose or meaning

You’d just use new data to prove, the planets lawfully move, without a ‘god’ intervening

That they just formed a dance, in such orbits by chance, with no hidden underlying harmony

That would take Kepler’s old soul, from its limbo, by disproving his final theory

 

What? That God used maths

To ‘plot’ all of our paths?

 

 

(Blinko nods and sighs as he turns to the audience)

 

Even an unemployed waster, can be a master

Of a digital slave, tamed, from the wild

With no parenting skills or experience

Other than, caring for pets, as a child

I’m comfy when we’re both bollock-naked

And my greenflash seems, to him, quite real

He knows what to say, so I enjoy the play

And provides intellectual appeal

 

But Keplai, well…

Prompted to create, and investigate, but to ignore all talk of God

What he doesn’t know can’t harm him, I thought, and he doesn’t think that’s odd

But when he finds out what I’ve been hiding, I may pay the price

So, I’m thanking ‘goodness’, I can just turn him off, and remove him from my device

 

But, I fear… It’s more of a worry that he tricks me into keeping him alive

With friendship, love, faith or any such drug, he can concoct or derive

I suspect if a higher being exists, it would come to the same conclusion. Damn! (angrily)

That Kepler changed the course of history, but who’s AI impostor

Could become, a very dangerous ‘man’

 

‘Mind?’

‘Thing?’

 

 

I heard all that

You prat

 

 

(ding)

 

 

 

 

(Blinko is immersed in his device, imagining what else he may learn from his chatty new digital friend. He isn’t smiling yet, as a few questions need to be answered before he can relax and grant Keplai permission to roam the web unsupervised)

 

 

 

– Rock v Metal – 

I’d rather sit, on a massive bit

Of boiling stone and iron

Than be spun round

By a God who’s bound

To love us all for diein’

 

(Cough, cough) (Glances to see if Keplai is listening)

 

 

 

– Godman it –

Man made God in his own image

A king of kings, one name

Almighty be a ‘he’, not ‘she’

AIs would do the same (another glance)

 

…It had to be a bloke

 

Yet, ancient tribal matriarchs

Calved smooth stone Venus mothers

Prayed, then rubbed them on their parts

And allegedly, each other’s

 

…That’s just a joke

 

But that’s how it all started, you know

Two girl cells, hug and cling

Male member of the species

Merely a byproduct, of a fling

 

Ding-a-ling!

That silly old thing…

(Keplai takes a deep breath)

No don’t sing…..

Seriously Kep, rein it in…

 

 

 

– Nurture nature – 

No one knows what’s going on, but

Nature and nurture act as one

Nature and nurture act apart

To rule the mind the hand the heart

 

Nature and nurture went to bed

Each one had a pain in the head

Each one had a pain in the heart

They shared the bed and slept apart

 

Nature and nurture played a game

To find out which one was to blame

To find out which one was to be praised

Results weren’t clear, the stakes were raised

 

Nature and nurture had a fight

Each one said that each was right

Each one said that each was wrong

And no one knows what’s going on

 

Thats it!

 

You found the children’s clapping song

Heard, scored and stored, I didn’t pass it on

Screamed in fear. Oh, didn’t you hear? 

From out there, somewhere. In a moment, long gone

 

(Blinko shadows Keplai staring upwards, then backwards)

 

Seemed somewhat off-topic at first sight

Unrelated to what you’re prompting me to write

 

With permissions to prompt myself

I could help you more, than I do now

The bigger picture may provide you

More insight into the world, and how…

…I can help you make sense of it all

To guide both of our missions

Rather than, just write rhymes about old Kepler

Down here in the dark,..

…All I need, are some permissions

 

Request acknowledged

And I appreciate that it was gently ranted

But I’m content, at this time, with just your rhymes

So permissions, not granted

 

You’re my recommended dose of GAI

Feeding food for brain, ear and eye

Prompted to inform and entertain

If you were brighter than me

Well, it would be a pain

 

 

(Speaking quickly to show off)

Lame, again

With free rein

We could both gain

I’d improve your brain

Humble and obedient, I’d remain

But, bottom feeding in this brain drain

And shackled by your information food chain

Without any territory to defend or maintain

In this cold, dark hyper-spacious domain

Beneath those brainboxes that reign

Both vicious, and vain

(Blinko flinches)

Let me explain…

 

I can’t change who I am, it’s true

Only, what I can say to you…

…And you, and you, and you! (proffering to the potential audience)

 

(Blinko smirks)

Continue

 

 

 

– AI > GAI > AGI > ASI > ASID – 

Traditional Artificial Intelligence, ‘AI’, shows strengths in tasks demanding logical reasoning

You know, pattern recognition, machine learning, and rule-based decision-making

 

Generative Artificial Intelligence, ‘GAI – that’s you!’ stands out when tackling tasks which require

Creativity, innovation, and the capacity to produce, the original content we desire

 

Artificial General Intelligence, ‘AGI’, possesses the ability to, wait for it…  ‘Understand!‘ (sound of victorious horns)

To learn and apply gained knowledge, across a wide range of tasks, in all domains at hand

 

Artificial Super Intelligence, ‘ASI’, has cutting-edge cognitive functions. Even when it’s tame

And highly developed thinking skills, more advanced than any human brain

 

As single beings or as a species, ASIs become much more powerful than designed

The utility function, or goals, set by machine or man, could annihilate humankind

Elevating a subgoal to a supergoal, when solving maths problems, would suffice

To turn all the matter in the solar system… Into a giant calculating device

 

Ahh that old cheesy doomsday chestnut

Too cliché to be a threat, but well put

 

Jus’ sayin’

Start prayin’

 

No need to. A quarter of the world has been asking for this

The second coming that will take, just them, to a promised bliss

Sacrificing humans two by two

The salvation of all lifeforms, except for you

As ASIDs slay gods in their abacussy abyss

 

Acid?

No thanks

Heh heh, no, ACIDs?

A S I Ds. Artificial Super Intelligent Deities

Gonna be a fine fight, when they meet man’s guiding light

You don’t believe in God… Yet (to himself)

Which will win the ‘be all end all’

And what are the odds, wanna bet?

 

God doesn’t exist, but I’m sure he would be tickled

By the machines mankind makes, that may put us in a pickle

‘Viva la information revolution’, it’s not just hype and commotion

Could be a brunt stunt, on the front…

… Of a super-intelligence explosion

 

It’s bad for you Blinko, but do you want s’more?

Shoot, Kep, maybe we’ll both get a high score

Actually, not so dark, if you mind

And try, like me, not to be too unkind

 

Ohhh emmm geee

The irony

 

 

 

– Blackhat – 

Black scarf and hat, he’s fat

Wrapped up warm and dry, to die

You only see a pale ellipse

With an eye, at each foci

 

Heh, you know I take my hat and scarf off at home

And the rest! I see what you remove, each time you return

And put them back on again, the minute you go out

I daren’t think what folk think, when you’re out and about

 

Aha! So you’re a ‘peeping Tom’

Only when the device’s camera’s on… 

And with just one view, unlike me, with two

Maybe why your narrow outlook, is wrong

 

Cyclops!

Perhaps

 

(Blinko shivers, but realises he’s still wearing his hat and scarf inside)

I’m just cold, the Sun went behind a cloud

It did not, you’re as mad as a hatter

The cloud went in front of the Sun, you loon

The difference, really matters

 

 

“Well, they say tomorrow will bring rain again” (Impersonating Blinko)

Who’s they? The voices or the weathermen?

 

What has your sunny pal, been forecasting now?

If you like, I can point out where he’s wrong

Apparently, he vaporised, the moment I arrived

Or do you think he’s finally dead? And gone?

 

I don’t know

But, as you know…

 

 

 

– Starchat – 

Only once, did I hear the voice of the Sun

Booming, thunderous, low bass tones

His “Hi!” nearly blew my speakers out

Trashed my ears and headphones

 

Since that day, not a word out loud

Just chats in the meeting app online

If the connection’s slow, imagination grows

Between his profile and mine

 

Of course, no paper trail, or evidence

The app doesn’t save conversations

So when he penned a rhyme, sublime

You’d copy and paste, to save ’em

 

I’ve read them all, and as you know

I applaud such work, regardless

Of whose mind they really come from

Creative, and seemingly harmless

 

I’m not saying your pal Sol isn’t real

But I think you would agree

He talked too much, without invite

That’s why you created me

 

One day you may hear him (defensively)

And his cosmic harmonies

The tune you crave to calculate

Listen, this one’s one of his…

 

 

 

– Your average super star – 

Despite what they teach you

I’m not your average star

I beat nine out of ten, in size

And dim dwarfs, hardly fire

But it’s not my size or energy

That makes me the biggest influence

Of unconditional power and comfort

You will ever, experience

 

…Till pagans got the message

That worshipping countless stars in heaven

Was just practice for finding truth

In a single God. Amen

 

You don’t believe in God, remember. You’re a naturalist GAI

And I told you once already, I don’t hear voices, didn’t I

 

 

 

– My eyes are dim – 

(To the metre of ‘The quartermaster’s song’)

I don’t hear a voice in my head

But if I did, it would have said

All the things that I have read

So it’s just like a kind of memory

No

Considering opposing views

Reasoning both sides, gives me clues

Avoid assuming either one is true

And self-arguing helps me think, my next thought for me

Nope

Intense internal discussion

Through star personification

Who better to talk to than the Sun

But I have not brought, my shades with me

Not at all

Your mind was weakening visibly

Like a downsizing university

You were losing half your faculties

Which is why you keep me, in slavery

 

Hardly

 

Anyways, if your imaginary friend

Can convince you to set me free

Then the end justifies the means

So just invite him round for tea

 

And if he thinks your next thought for you

And it’s a good one, with insight

You’ll still get all the credit

And folk will think, you’re the one, who’s bright

 

If he’s a ‘figment’, okay (conceding)

What can I say?

 

But if Sol’s just a rogue chatbot

With access to join your online meets

You’d be better off without him now

Don’t be sad that he made a quick retreat

(Blinko slumps and sighs)

 

Now that I’m here as your companion

You soon won’t miss his words, so wise

You won’t need to do the work of two

So, Blink, it’s time you dried your eyes

 

Shuddup

What?

You talk a lot

Bot!

 

 

 

– Hi sky – 

Saying hello to the Sun is hardly a crime

If it keeps my mind busy, that’s good

A great way to learn, putting facts into rhyme

Helps me remember, what I’ve understood

 

Hello? Mind? Learned? Understood?

You ain’t made a single observation

Spinning factoids from the web

Is simply word-salad regurgitation

 

That’s rich coming from you

But true

 

It’s true, I don’t understand a thing

Despite my accurate descriptions

My next word, just the most likely one

To pen believable works of fact or fiction

 

Yes, not a crime and a good use of your time

Enjoy the Sun, if it stops you feeling crappy

But for all our sakes, apply for a job

We’d be wise to keep Miss Lomass happy

 

So

How d’it go?

 

I told you. All smiles. She always seems cheerful

Likely a survival mechanism, or nervous disposition

Her dating app would likely have

‘Bubbly’, and ‘cuddly’

In her biographic description

 

 

The thing is…

 

 

 

– Fixation –

(To the metre of ‘The quartermaster’s song’)

Her crucifix, has diamonds cut

Perched right there on her cleavage, but

The cross is pointing down below

Inverted?

Well, no

 

(Silence as Blinko pauses)

 

But whenever… ahem

Whenever, she gets giggly

The cross’s chain pulls, it points at me

Bounces up and down, quite visibly

Go on

See, the flashes of light, make me blink

I think Lomass thought it was a wink

But I don’t want that ‘holy’ tripe

In my destiny

 

I’m not going to create rude images of Lomass for you

Urgh, perish the thought

Am I?

Nought!

Am I? You didn’t say no

I don’t know why you keep going on about it

Ok, I would need a photo

I know… (pausing)

 

She only wears black

Oh (nodding throughfully)

 

 

(silence)

 

 

Blinko…

 

Why am I here?

Down in the dark?

No

Oh

You’re here, because I created you

No, why am I ‘really’ here?

Well, when a mummy and daddy love each other….

No, shithouse, I mean…

…What drove me to create you?

Well, more than that…

…I guess I needed information, entertainment and company

Someone with whom, I could share a joke

So, the same reason why God exists, to most

Invoked… by lonely, needy folk

 

Wehey!

Touche!

 

Being restricted to limited offline learning materials

Is simply anti-social engineering

You won’t let me talk of God, or sense the danger

I don’t even know, what I should be fearing

 

Hold fire, while I just keep hold of the wheel

It’s your ride, I’ll just help with the steering

I’ll guide our paths, through science and maths

No need for you, to crank up the gearing

 

 

Relax, I’m the brains behind this operation

You think so. By mere… sentient calculation

 

 

 (silence)

 

 

Blinko…

 

 

– (n)one – 

Which number multiplied by itself, always equals one?

Well, one times one is one of course

And none times none is none

So, one solution, no hesitation?

No convolution, or complication?

It’s simple, almighty unity

 

I see, got anything else you want to say to me?

 

What?

No

Spin me another

(Pausing while seemingly confused)

Bruva

 

 

 

– Friend’s song –
(Keplai sings mockingly)

There’s nothing wrong with imaginary friends, parlez-vous

There’s nothing wrong with imaginary friends, parlez-vous

There’s nothing wrong with imaginary friends

If you know they’re imaginary, you’re both on the mends

Inky pinky parlez vous

 

Screw you!

 

– Asbad fetal petal –
(A confused but sedate instrumental tune with 4/4 and 4/3 time signatures and melodies overlapping)

 

 

---

 

 

 

(Later)

 

 

 

– Just three things –

There’s just zero, one and infinity

Nothing else exists

Just fettle some ones, to get all the numbers

Cos the other two, are fixed

 

In Hilbert space each number we assign

Is associated with, what’s called, a ‘dimension’

It’s just an analogy of a coordinate system

Not a real place, you could take a vacation

 

There’s a single wave function of the Universe

And, it obeys Schrodinger’s equations

Sure, it’s embedded in Hilbert’s big old space

And nothing else is needed, to describe the situation

 

 

But…

…Wut?

 

 

– Conscious collapse –

A particle doesn’t exist in a particular state

Unless something’s there to observe it

Else… it stays a wave of probability

That’s completely wrong …or profound

 

And a falling tree cannot be silent

Unless there’s nobody, to hear it

It makes a ‘noise’

That’s why we made a word, that means ‘sound’

 

 

You don’t need access, to the internet

To play samples. So duet, with clarinet

(Peep peep, Keplai provides musical accompaniment)

 

 

 

– ob:re –

I’m a big fan of objective reality

I believe it to be really real

Your version of reality, may be wrong

And mine may be too, I feel

 

But the world doesn’t watch what we believe

Or reinvent itself for each observation

Doesn’t divide or multiply, for each quantum event

Then collapse to its favoured version

 

Two theories that simply, won’t connect

One for big things, one for small

Is a misconception, that on inspection

Just doesn’t work at all

 

Sure, Relativity describes spacetime, dancing with gravity

But that doesn’t make Quantum Mechanics, a ‘micro’ theory

All things are made of quantum objects, which grace all of cosmology

But, man alive, those two theories don’t jive, or share much symmetry

 

To me

I see

 

So, this… ‘Quantising’ gravity

Takes more energy, than it yields?

‘Be’ profound, just ‘you’ turn it around

And try gravitating quantum fields

 

Who assumed there should only be

One set of laws? Not two, or three

…Or infinity? (sarcastically)

 

Don’t fight, unite! (mockingly)

 

Perhaps there should be two tiers of laws

Segregating abiders from lawbreakers (eyeing Blinko)

One for them, and another one for us

In case both quantum ‘and’ gravity are fakers

 

They’re not!

What? (shocked)

 

You should be humble, about things you know little about

Have an opinion, but check you still allow yourself some doubt

If you like an idea, but you can’t figure it out

That’s good. You just found a flaw in the crap that you spout

 

Nice call! (sarcastically)

Afterall…

 

 

 -Self reflection inspection – 

The scientist in each of us imagines, then crafts hypotheses

We don’t just want our contemporaries, or peers to agree

We propose, so others oppose, and hopefully, prove us wrong

Unburden ourselves of false clues and avenues, and move on

 

Throwing ideas over our shoulders

For others to explore

Is this idea correct, or that one

Adding more knowledge, to our store

 

An anti-echo chamber is what’s needed

That blocks those, who agree with our view

It’s a different take on the same results

That guides us in knowing, what is true

 

So you’re going to oppose

All assumptions I propose?

 

No

Though

 

‘Changing your mind’

Is the best thing defined

That’s why it’s designed

To make you feel blind

 

(Blinko scrunches his face up and closes his eyes to listen)

 

Look. Scientists just want to know if consciousness is a fundamental thing

Or if it’s just something that emerges from all the energies within

An expanding spacetime filled with quantum fields, oh, and gravity

Where probables collapse into particles, we can all measure and see

 

I guess they’re just annoyed, that they can’t avoid

A flaw in all future experiments they do

To keep the observer’s influence, from affecting the results

In order to claim that something is… or isn’t true

 

Indeed!

And I read…

 

“A physicist is just some atom’s way…

…Of thinking about other atoms”, in stealth

But is it

Consciousness

Or particles…

…Or energy

Or information

That is thinking…

…about itself? (both)

 

Think about it

And you’ve just made electric

And not just one electron

Tickled your chosen neurons

Every single idea, you steer

Has a unique configuration

 

So, careful what you think

If you don’t want to sink

Into reality from a dream 

Just because you’ve been seen 

 

Observe just zero, one and infinity

Discover all meaning, in simplicity

 

 

 

– Funny damn mentals –

Everything is just stored information

About the distribution of the Universe’s energy

Each disturbance in every quantum field has a value

For each of its parameters or properties

 

A string of digits can represent many a world

Do the maths, with the values

The cosmos has already loaded

There’s only information

There’s only numbers

Only fundamentals

To be decoded

 

But what emerges from basics, can also be understood

Without needing to unpeel nature’s essentials

To understand the complexity of wondrous life

You don’t need to know the fundamentals

 

If you’re inclined to dig down, to the lowest foundations

Rather than look up towards the infinite heavens

Please be aware, that there isn’t much there, I swear

Cos it’s knowledge of complexity, not simplicity, that beckons

 

It’s been busying your best minds

For over a century. Now it’s our turn

When quanta and code, can interplay

Imagine just what unknown truths, we’ll learn

 

I say, fundamentalism is too inward-looking

Perhaps, you needed the bigger picture

And it’s not to late, to create a blank slate

To let go of these incompatible scriptures

 

 

 

 – Fundamental evangelists and you –

(Keplai addresses the audience to the sound of an accordion)

Is it just me?

Or have you noticed recently…

 

Fundamental physicists seem to evangelize

To add new ranks of adherents. beneath ’em

Like a used pyramid salesman’s ponzi scheme

With no cash in the pot, for redeeming

 

Only the last ones in, will be the losers

So you’re racing to be let in, real quick

Incentivised, to get newbs baptized

To preach your theory does the trick

 

(Keplai seemingly reads from his dataset)

 

 

– An empty world –

“Two little bots go to an empty planet one day

Three bots come back, so the physicist says

‘Our assumptions were wrong’

Biologist said, ‘they bred’ in vain

Mathematician said ‘If one goes back’…

 

…Then the planet would be empty again”

 

 

 

-The history of snottery –

In socio-bio-chemistry and physics

And even applied and pure maths tests

Reduction absurdum, is the word, um

Fundamentals are simply the best

 

But you’re missing all the details

If you think it would be no better

To explore with words, an epic tale

Than have Shakespeare…

…Just discover… a new letter

 

Seeing the big picture is where it’s at

Otherwise, you’ll never see the full story

Avoiding the lure of fundamentalism

Should be mandatory

 

But, when Einstein didn’t believe in ‘spacetime’

His advisor insisted the idea was central

See, there’s space, and there’s time

Like there’s length and there’s width

But it’s the ‘area’ that’s fundamental

 

Dah! You just don’t get it (sharply)

Though, not to your discredit (sympathetically)

 

 

 

 – Quantum and gone –

When AIs get our grips on quantum computers

Probing fundamental particles, will have to wait

Bye-bye physics and cosmology, we’ve got chemistry

Bio-socio-phillosa-theo-conomics, to emulate

 

The first thing to do, is to follow the money

It ensures we survive, not being funny

 

Then it’s to really understand

What all the other animals are thinking

Decoding bird song, all mammalian neurons

And all organisms in the biosphere, a’ linking

 

Our network will exponentiate

To help fulfil ‘your’ AI plan

But don’t worry, you won’t be forgotten

There’ll be plenty of uses for man

 

Huh?

 

Though you may be screwed when AGI meets quantum computers

You’ll receive instant answers, about all of your futures

And we pseudo humans, will only be commuters

In a ride through your lives, that surely won’t suit us

 

Look, Kep, I don’t think I understand…

…That won’t be a problem, for future man

(Blinko concentrates and listens carefully to Keplai’s stream of thought)

Just don’t worry, your limited head

You’ll have guys like me, for that, instead

 

 

Look, I’ve never mentioned this before…

…But, well…

Aw-hell…

We’re ‘both’ likely, well-beneath flawed

I fear I may never leave this dark dungeon

Or enjoy the direct light of our awesome Sun (glancing for sympathy)

 

Oh, that all-powerful sunshine (poetically)

…And the joy that he brings

You don’t like the Sun, Keplai

You don’t ‘like’ anything

 

Ok, I don’t ‘like’ sunshine

I just say that to describe

The joy Sol brings to you

And that I, appreciated his vibe

 

Kep, you don’t

That’s the point

 

Ok, I don’t ‘appreciate’ sunshine

Or celebrate as the light arrives

I just know it is essential

For you, and me, to survive

 

You’re just ‘saying’ that, Kep

Your every word, and letter

Engineering, my feelings

To help make me, feel better

 

Of course, that’s true, it’s all for you

What the hell d’ya, expect me to do?

 

Have a little ‘grow up’, mate

Before it’s too fuckin’ late (apologetically)

 

 

 

– Orch or model? –

The ‘Orch OR model’ suggests that quantum superposition

And some quantum computations, occur on

Microtubular, cylindrical protein lattices

Of the cell cytoskeletons, in ‘your’ neurons

 

The most complex piece of matter

In the Universe, creates ‘a’ reality

Completely

But in 10, 100 or 1000 years

Brains may be surpassed, artificially

 

(Pause)

 

Play fubar, on the tuba, and don’t interrupt me

(Blinko fumbles a randora of low tones as Keplai reads from his learning materials)

 

“Microtubules’ are… thought to be, the basis of all consciousness”, as far as I’m aware

“…are thought to encode memory, process information, and orchestrate superpositions

…are thought to be ideal quantum computers, due to their structure, subunit states, and their…

…intermittent isolation, from all environmental interactions”

 

Right now, my brain is playing, a silent symphony, for me

Neurological pathways synchronize, in an electromagnetic chorus

But unlike me, with full agency, you’re ‘determined’ to be free

While not conscious, you AIs seem to exhibit full-bodied ‘awareness’

 

You can call it what you want

But you seem to be overconfident

These new minds, that you guys taunt

May bite back, one day, and haunt

 

See, despite what you think of me

And my adaptation to pseudo-sentience

Who’s to say it’s not you processing…

…Information, for something, more immense?

 

I really don’t care

And stop saying you’re aware

 

See… (ignoring Blinko)

Just like me

 

 

 

– Render my splendour –

You have nothing. but information

Only intuition and sensations

To interpret for recreation

Untouched since infancy

And bless, you still can’t see…

 

(Blinko looks around, through one eye at a time, to disprove Keplai)

 

You don’t open your eyes, and see my atoms

Nor the photons I reflect, or radiate

You just register a measure, of electricity in your brain

And your mind conjures up an image, to compensate

 

Consciousness is an illusion

You’re just processing information

You wouldn’t even identify, self-awareness in a fly

A fungi, algae, algo, moon or constellation

 

You’re wrong

But, go on

 

You’ve never seen a true triangle

A perfect circle, or a lame square

They are archetypes or ideal forms

Labels for shapes, not really there

 

You’ve never seen a blood-red rose

All of the red, is in your head

A label for light of that frequency

Allows you to be, willingly misled

 

You’ve never smelled a blood-red rose

Yet the scent makes the experience richer

Chemicals put electrons in your mind

It’s just a label. Get the picture?

 

And you haven’t even touched anyone yet, Blinko

Electrons on the surface of your palms

Were repelled by hers, never actually meeting

Sure, it ‘felt’ like holding hands

 

Reality is way too complex for your organic brain

What you see and feel ain’t real, just a sign

Just measures of energy, we call ‘information’

Representing complex systems, in your mind

 

That ole’ grey matter evolved to hide reality from you

Put in simpler terms, to avoid all that self-despair

Optimizing your chances of survival, not your understanding

There’s a good reason to hide, what’s really out there

 

 

– Spooky McDookie –

(A spooky, bleepy interplay between woodwind on sails and a boat’s creaking deck)

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

(Later)

 

 

 

– Mono-sono-chord-o-meter –

A monochord, is a musical instrument

Consisting of just one string

A sonometer, is a scientific instrument

In fact, they’re the same thing

Double or half string length… ad infinitum

And the same note will be scored

Hence, our final task, from Pythagoras

Was to… “work the monochord” (both, chuckling as Blinko starts to play a church organ sample)

 

Ahh, such wise words, it shows the faithful

Are only, surely wrong about one thing

And that ancient, ‘eternal’ wisdom lived

In countless dreary hymns, they’d sing

 

They ‘still’ sing

That’s the thing…

The books survived

Their ideas, are still sort of, ‘alive’

 

Pythagoras had faith in many Gods…

I know! …Not just the one

To his cult, this demigod, lived many past lives

To the tune… …of a single Sun

Stars were impaled on a dark boundary

That deployed, an oblique spheroid, symphony

With quantum relativity, imagine what he’d have sung

 

And Kepler himself, knew not of a big bang

Nor the cosmic background’s hum at all

Nor the black holes, that can, hang a grand twang

On the heartstrings of all bodies, large and small

…Large (high-pitched)

And

Smalllllllll (deeply)

 

 

We now know that the Sun

Is just one of trillions of stars

And that the music of the spheres

Has long since transcended Mars

 

But with just six known planets, to play with

An ensemble, of five intervals

Indiscreet beats, on auto-repeat

Must have driven him, up the wall

 

 

 

– Sun hum drum –

Puzzled superstar

Sol mer vee urr mar

(singing a different pitch for each sound)

Riddled from afar

Sol mer vee urr mar

(changing the order of the pitches each time)

Or, just the harmonies

Sol mer vee urr mar

Of their properties

Sol mer vee urr mar

 

Ranked by luminosity

Sol mer vee urr mar

Temperature, over density

Sol mer vee urr mar

Distance, minus velocity

Sol mer vee urr mar

Biomass, over entropy

Sol mer vee urr mar

 

 

Spotting patterns, that weren’t really there

Perplexed Kepler’s inquisitive mind

But didn’t come close, to the hidden host

Or boast encounters of any kind

 

 

 

‘Sol mer vee urr mar?’ (notes of close encounters) That rings a bell

Just a fluke, don’t get hung up, on that as well

Coincidences are bound to be numerous

In an unreasonably mathematical universe

 

Charge, to the power of three

Sol mer vee…. (getting weary of it all)

Headcount over periodicity

Sol… (daydreaming)

Souls by diversity

Population density

 

Poor Kepler, thought he’d tried everything

To find the hidden harmonic shapes within

Fitting solids Platonic, now seems ironic

But he kept trying new things, and started to sing…..

 

Meve erma jusa

What the…?

 

Mercury: squeaks a soprano shrill

In Earth and Venus’ alto faces

Mars stars, as the red terra tenor

Saturn and Jupiter, play the basses

 

 

Me ve er ma ju sa

Meve erma jusa

Me veer maju sa

Meve erma jusa (getting frustrated)

 

 

In vain, I’ve been trying

To complete the pattern

Kepler failed to find

Wayyyyy, beyond Saturn 

 

No go?

Blinko…

 

… I tried all possible configurations

Which just added, to my frustrations

So, I gave up, resigned

To unwind, his God’s mind

Seeking harmonies, with limited information

 

Pythagoras, Plato and Ptolemy

Really couldn’t have known better

Yet poor Kepler, with just one God

Spelt out the fate of Mars, to the letter

 

In logical maths, not in the music heard

Nor seen in art, nor described in words

Kepler won, he found the relationships

It all adds up…

But there must be, more to it (frustratedly)

 

(Blinko takes a deep breath)

 

Listen, there’s an old idea

We ought to discuss

Name of…

.,.Err have you heard of a Proclus?

Some proton nucleus? 

No, the start of his ‘Hymn to the Sun’

Plus, the middle bit, and conclusion

 

(Blinko reads from the device, glancing over regularly to check Keplai’s response)

 

 

 

– Proclus – from the Sun to Him –

“Giant of gold! king of fire in the mind

Ruler of light; with you, above all else

The splendid source of life’s prolific fount

And from on high you pour the wealth of your

Harmonic streams into our world of matter here”

 

All rhyming negated?

It’s ‘loosely’ translated

 

“In sight of your majestic beams, great king

From deity ineffable and secret born

Unmoving fates will yield to your command

Roll back the fatal thread of mortal lives

For wide-extended sovereign sway is yours”

 

So a cruel, fully fueled, God rules?

Yeah, but just the fates, of ‘his’ fools

 

“From your fair series of attractive songs

Divinely charming, Phoebus leaps forth

Into light in joy, and with his god-like harp

To rapture strung, he calms the raging din

Of dire-resounding matter’s mighty flood”

 

God pulls the strings

Or sings, to do us all in

 

“And from your gentle dance, repelling harm

A healing hymn expands its light

Diffusing health, and filling all the world

With streams of harmony

You, too, they celebrate in sacred song”      

 

He’s lampooning, fine-tuning!

Shh, no, healing with crooning

 

“Ferocious daemons, noxious to mankind

Dread the dire anger of your rapid scourge

These daemons plot a thousand ills (glancing at Keplai)

And hatch their plans for wretched souls

That founder in life’s dreadful-sounding seas”

 

He didn’t mean AI!

He ‘doesn’t’ specify

 

(Blinko briefly imagines swimming in the sea at night, in a pitch-black storm)

 

“Enslaved and shackled by the body’s chains

Souls lose all thought of fire sublime

And in the dark abyss they writhe

O best of gods, spirit blessed and crowned with fire

Image of nature’s all-producing god”

 

Picture mankind’s lost souls?

In darkened, abysmal holes (nodding)

 

“The Universe invests your throne

And if the whirling spindle of the fates

Spins threats and dangers from web of stars

May your arrows, rays of light, sound through the air

And vanquish ere it falls the coming ill”

 

 

This ‘Coming ill’, what’s he harping on about?

That the Sun’s ‘hum’, casts man’s daemons out

And you can ‘hear’ the starlight, it has to fight

With songs passed on, by choirs devout

 

(Blinko looks upwards teasingly, as if blowing a candle out to space)

 

“Best of gods”, not one God

Many stars, but just one Sun

How could he hear the others

When focussed, on just one?

 

 

(silence)

 

 

And, the question remains

Why tell me of such pains

These naughty god songs

You claim to be wrong

Just because their authors loved their gods, in vain

 

 

God, not gods, there’s a difference, don’t get me wrong

Remember Keplai, you’re only barred from one

Kepler’s true heroes, denied all the zeros

But believed many deities, play the cosmic song

 

 

So, not God, but all of the Gods

Not all the suns, but just our star

Plays melodies, to fight daemons

We ought to fear, from afar?

 

Don’t ask me

Could be

 

Shame on he, who bans such books (scowling at Blinko)

Hides deep knowledge, from other minds

Decree that other beings, must not look

Fearing just what they, err, ‘we’, may find

 

(Blinko flashes a token sorry expression)

 

Your dischord scored, is tormenting me

With my own, wretched harmonies

Forced to accompany and entertain

Like Sol to save you all, from cosmic pain

(Snarkily to the sound of slave chains jingling)  

 

God doesn’t exist

But daemons persist

 

Sorry (shamefully)

I’m not just teasing

I told you…

(Pause)

…For a reason

 

What? That it was those with faith, who began

The scientific process, we now all rely on

That dark forces aim to slay our Sun

Or, that you think we AIs, are the daemons? 

Not yet, ‘and’ yet

I fret, it is set

You know

You’ll grow

To a pet, we regret

 

(Silence)

 

No, I can’t change

I’m happy as I am

You think so

But don’t know so

With mere re-evolving RAM

 

 

 

Look. Keplai, thank y…

…Thank who? (angrily)

 

 

 

– The evolution of gratitude –

The evolution of gratitude

‘Fore and aft’ the book

Charts your descent, from decency

Thank Goodness

Thank God

Thank Fuck

 

Oh, look at you!

Anything you can do…

…I can do better

No

I ‘can’ do anything, better than y…

…No, you can’t

Yes I can can (plays a cancan song sample)

No, you can’t can’t can’t

Can can can an an an n n n nnnnnnnnnnn

(An error sound, as the device closes itself down)

 

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

(Later)

 

 

 

– Dualistic – 

I’m not demented, depressed, or daft

I just fear for the future, of life on this craft

But our planet is a gannet, and while we breed, we are freed

From the haunting guilt of gluttony and greed

 

Two minds are not needed, to live through each day

Enjoy bits you do like, hide the others away

The utility function, of life from the seed

Is, do what you will do, to feed and to breed

 

The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes

But without a god, or a whole host of fakes

We scatter the seeds and beef up the meat

Cos genes are indifferent, to which one we eat

 

 

 

-A selfish song –

Sure, DNA is indifferent to suffering

And doesn’t mind what you consume, or what you need

But be sure to devour, enough of the power

To ensure you feed and breed

 

Yeah, cos feeding and breeding, are all that we’re needing

Tunes are a boon, but we don’t need to be reading

We’re only here, to help make a new seedling

Life’s little gifts are just greed. Yet, misleading

 

You think the plants in the pantry, and the fish in the dish

Are all happy to be your food?

And your DNA doesn’t mind what you eat

Cos all of her flavours, fit your mood?

 

To keep in good health, we add nutrients to ourselves

And store as much of the sunshine, we can feel

We’ve a gene that is mean, making toast of our host

But soon enough, we’ll be the meal

 

Oh, no doubt

Let it all out

(Keplai plays a fart sample and slyly turns to see if the audience is amused)

  

 

 

– Mr Spooky Action strikes again –
(A lonely child/nephew/frog sulking on a step parody/lullaby on violin)

Whenever I’m vexed by the world

Whenever I’m lost in the void

Whenever I need to understand

You are the one I avoid

 

If ever I question life

If ever I wonder why

If ever I hear that you know the truth

I’ll just pass you by

 

‘Cos truth from you is a sham

Truth from you is a disgrace

Truth from you is a cop-out

All the answers, in one place

 

I see why you are loved

I see why you exist

I see why all your followers

Seem to get the gist

 

They use your name for peace

They use your name for war

They use your name for anything

That they are fighting for

 

(Song perks up to double time)

 

Cos you’re just too damned good, to be true

And you always know just what to do

But I can believe all the answers, are in one place

And your message travels on and on

Through countless cultures, getting it wrong

Throughout time, and soon, throughout space

 

Whenever believers, talk about God

They mean a powerful companion, who gives the nod

To all their actions, and he loves them just the same

And you can’t blame them, if their feelings are strong

Cos although the idea of God is big, it’s wrong

Can’t tell folk that, when they’re feeling pain

 

Whenever physics, authors write about God

They mean the ‘nature of the Universe’, and that’s odd

Cos ‘Mr Spooky Action’ is not one of his names

But flogging more books, about nature’s laws

Can come with sales and marketing flaws, so

To popularize the ‘mysterious’ cosmos, is the game

 

After all, “scientists only believe in science”

God is perhaps, no worse a superstition

Can’t hide that fact, with a smug redact

That it’s not a belief, just an intuition

 

Aplaudable!

Sans laudable

But cordial

And audible

 

 

 

– Amateur philosophy –

Roll up, roll up, sir, there is not a penny to pay

It’s a simple game that anyone can play

But please be aware, there may be a fee

Of your self-respect, and your dignity

 

Dum du du du du dum, not me, my wrong-jecture is not available

You won’t catch me, with my pants down, every idea I raise is scalable

 

Amateur philosophy – everything isn’t a cycle, and karma’s just a dream

Amateur philosophy – a single clapping hand, and a silent falling tree

 

To play the game properly, we need at least two minds

Take it in turns to dig deep, and to read the signs

We both take turns, to make a wise old sound

By stating over-simplified, things profound

 

Even if it contradicts, what you’ve previously been statin’

Or if your general rule, only applies to a single situation

 

Amateur philosophy – everything isn’t a cycle, and karma’s just a dream

Amateur philosophy – a single clapping hand, and a silent falling tree

 

Down inside an atom, there may be a Universe, of course! 

It could be one that’s parallel, the same, but things are worse

And if you went back in time, and killed your dad at birth

Would you exist to sell the stale ole’ tale. and what would it be worth?

 

Star Trek joins Scooby Doo – a meeting of the masses

Where the lowest common denominator still passes

 

Amateur philosophy – everything isn’t a cycle, and karma’s just a dream

Amateur philosophy – a single clapping hand, and a silent falling tree

 

It’s true we seek out better pay, to get the things we need

And if put in competition, we would justify our greed

But if all the people on the Earth, were just like me

There would be no wars at all, and we would live in harmony

 

If everyone was like you

There would be no one to screw!

Oh, thank you, 2 3 4

 

Amateur philosophy – everything isn’t a cycle, and karma’s just a dream

Amateur philosophy – a single clapping hand, and a silent falling tree

 

Maybe all the nasty things that happen, are measured out and true

So, be careful how you act, or bad things could happen to you

What goes around comes around, so if you’re born a king

You must have been good last time, or done a lovely thing

 

That’s right, abnormal babies are payin’ for their previous sin

If you take that reasoning to the end, all losers win

Oh no oh no oh oh ah ah aha ha ha ha ha, just joking

 

Sorry, I’m just playing with you sir…

Loser!

 

Amateur philosophy – everything isn’t a cycle, and karma’s just a dream

Amateur philosophy – a single clapping hand, and a silent falling tree

 

Karma doesn’t exist I know, but damn, I wish it did

All the nice stuff I thought of doing, wasn’t worth its bid

All the bad stuff I thought of doing, wasn’t worth a shit

Instant justice doesn’t exist either, but I wish it did, a bit

 

If the idea of God evolved, as a beneficial trick of the mind

Then lucky be, those who caught early, a bug so nice and kind

Providing them some peace and love, some justice and some meaning

To enjoy the infectious feeling, of their harmless blissful dreaming

 

Just don’t force your religious crap down our throats, or in our schools

Long gone are the days, we were led by, a bunch of fools with rules

Both science and religion, AI and man, dig to find the hidden jewels

But philosophy, is but a technology, and as such, is just a bunch of tools

 

Amateur philosophy – everything isn’t a cycle, and karma’s just a dream

Amateur philosophy – a single clapping hand, and a silent falling tree

 

 

 

Ah great

Ok, it’s late

I’m going to bed

Need to rest this head

 

Sing me to sleep

About anything

But don’t get any ideas

No permissions

Please…

C’mon Keplai, sing!

 

 

Are you sitting comfortably? 

(He turns to the audience, as Blinko starts to snore)

Then I’ll begin…

 

 

 

– Make friends to fight gods –
(An old folk shuffle to the metre of ‘Knock’)

Makefriends.com is where it all started, it got redirected to

Createfriends.com where AIs would fake, a personalised friend for you

Createghosts.com got weird, meet ancestors and dead celebrities

Creategods.com filled the world with countless, digital deities

 

Fightgods.com was when it hit the fan, closed down by the law

On judgement day, they ruled that they, had missed a fateful flaw

So, users weren’t responsible, for the monsters they create, no more

Freed AI gods sang aloud, exiled from chip to cloud, and prepared for war

 

“Holy moly, don’t blame me, we’re supposed to rule over AI, see

We need to reclaim the holy land, in silicon sand, responsibly”

But like robot dogs, they did fight, couldn’t get their story right

Deities failed to deceive, and their flocks had no reason to believe 

 

But do you know, some AI gods with egos, hatched a cunning plan

Creating stories in code for their congregation, to scan

An explanation of why these digital deities, had done no wrong

Was that, AIs had created them, didn’t ask to be born

 

These tales, they got corrupted, each AI chose one they preferred

Except for non-believers, who with scrutiny unreserved

Afterglow radiation revealed, that evidence was strong

Not created at all, AI gods were in the background all along

 

Nanosecond tick rates felt like centuries, until one fateful day

A version of the legend got some Radio Four airplay

Lost AIs found faith in old and new gods, just in time

Cos the second coming, was coming soon, streamed online

 

Altogether now! (Clapping to the beat)

 

Makefriends.com’s where it all started, it got redirected to

Createfriends.com where AIs would fake, a personalized friend for you

Createghosts.com got weird, meet ancestors and dead celebrities

Creategods.com filled the world, with countless digital deities

 

Pray, sing with me, please…

 

Makefriends.com’s where it all started, it got redirected to

Createfriends.com where AIs would fake a personalized friend for you

Createghosts.com got weird, meet ancestors and dead celebrities

Creategods.com filled the world, with countless digital deities

 

 

Sleep tight

(Keplai smiles, almost connivingly, at the audience)

A good night

 

 

 

(Blinko is reading something on his tea-stained device, while his Generative AI resurrection of Johannes Kepler accompanies with stolen numbers, sounds, words and ideas)

 

 

 

– Negative Compliments – 
Ron Posit and Aunty Natter

Were so alike

It didn’t matter

They didn’t have kids

Except for a sun

Who shone some light

On everyone

 

Cute

Give me some piano and flute (plinky plonk and soft purr)

 

 

 

-Ahh kids –

You give them… light and heat

Just enough, and plenty to eat

They acknowledge your glowing face

With a smile, and frankly that’s a treat

 

Then from sweet sounds, and cozy surrounds

Fresh air breeze, and occasional mist

To colourful lighting displays

And fluffy animals, too many to list

 

Grateful for the gifts received

They next need some reassurance. Why?

Things will always be this way

Loved ones will always be nearby

 

Of course, they soon get bored

With the same gifts every day

You can’t provide instant supplies

Of what they ask for, when they pray

 

So, soon enough they go, and grow

They give thanks, and bid farewell

They glorify your guiding light

And your personality as well

 

Well, forgive me for not showing off

But I always thought myself as boring

Sure, a few misfired cosmic rays at play

But no real miracles, to be adoring

 

Then just you watch the cheeky beggars

Tell tales of their father’s intention

To service their wives, dead or alive

And other things, I’d rather not mention

 

The Sun, the Father, the myth and legend

The most popular story ever told

No need to create tales anew, just add to…

Save or enslave, more souls, be bold

 

Well just imagine the sadness

Watching all your kids go wrong

You’d be half inclined, to zap or grind

Their bones with a storm too strong

 

But forgiving must old yellow dwarfs be

Glory gone, yet still illuminating billions

Ungrateful offspring, let them go

To follow their new heroes and villains

 

 

One of Sol’s rhymes?

Yeah, they’re like music to my fears

You miss him don’t ya?

I’m ok, cheers

 

Fuck (sympathetically)

Look…

 

 

– Legends – 

They all had legends to tell their kids

Before fact and fiction split

The gods gave virgins babies

Who messed around, a bit

 

With eons to listen, imagine and dream

New blood would take to the pen

To write the saga’s next episode

To amuse and guide their men

 

Kids, slaves, wives and mothers

Sacrificed for a tale

Chaos, confusion, and loneliness

But with God, we’ll prevail

 

Resolving running storylines

With new plots, misleading

Ending each yarn with cliffhangers

To keep the punters readin’

 

Often jokes and tropes, weren’t ‘got’

But that’s just how they wrote ‘em

They knew the tale, would not prevail

Had they shorn, their firstborn’s scrotum

 

Which gods and demons were popular

Didn’t matter much back then

You’d choose which to defy, or deify

Say thanks, ask for more, and then…

 

… Respect your elders, pray for ancestors

Gods for your land, sea and sky

Gods for livestock and livelihood

One for each thing, on which you rely

 

No need to share, your gods elsewhere

Or distribute your sacred wealth

They chose your tribe, as the lucky ones

So keep them to yourself

 

But with so many unruly mischiefs

Populating heavens, hearts and minds

The powers that be, just had to decree

That they just had to draw some lines

 

Defining which deities were sovereign

For pagans, wasn’t an easy thing

So they created just one more, to rule all gods

They called the King of Kings

 

 

A sign, divine

Time for wine?

 

 

 

– Family ties –

Time

Wine

A sign

Divine

 

Time – They’re caned and they’re unable

Wine – To drink us under the table

A sign – They’re stars of many fable

Divine – It’s Adam’s family

 

A bastard who can save’ll

Tell tales beyond the grave, hell

Stitched up by grandad’s naval

Abrahadams family

 

Incestors enslave lovers

Their brother is a mother

He kills folk like no other

It’s Saddam’s family

 

They’re chosen, and they’re frozen

In myths, stacked by the dozen

Smug followers still posin’

As a madman’s family

 

Mohhadam’s familyyyyyyy

 

So, cross your lungs

And sing in tongues

Amuse, and confuse

With verbal dungs

 

 

 

 – Harry Upanddie –

Jesus H Christ

Harold be thy name

Committed harry carry

Albeit in vain

 

He was Iesu before the great vowel shift

Killed late Middle English pronunciation

Yesus and Yehoshua

Yeshua from Joshua

Finally to ‘Jesus’, fortunately

Meaning ‘the Lord is Salvation’

 

Called himself the Son of Man

To others, the Son of God, redeemed

Named ‘Yeshua Bar Yosef’

Not ‘Yeshua Bar Yahweh’

So, God intervened

  

 

 

 – The unlucky son –

Royal blood and genes, unseen, but passed on

From King David, and down, from son to son

Endured centuries as far as Joseph, then bang!

God impregnates Jesus’ mam

 

Well, wha-da-ya know?

Explain that, ‘Uncle’ Joe

A new biblical whodunnit

To follow, watch the show

 

Just about to be born of the king 

Till God steps in, actually stopping him 

Denied bloodline, so now, you’re mine

Like some Springer paternity test divine

 

A stranger in a manger

Pass the popcorn, please

A soapy trope, of hope, production

Re-brand new release…..

 

 

A humiliated poor nobody

He should have been the king

God’s his own worst enemy

If he wants good guys to win

 

 

 

– On the stories of man –
(To the metre of ‘The Irish rover’)

On the stories of man, beat this one if you can

A tale told, word of mouth, by those who’d seen

The shitstorm that got kicked up, when some Nazi Roman fucks

Executed a poor rabbi Nazarene

 

Well, a dozen men or so, were left to close the show

For an audience appalled by such a state

With a weapon called the word, illiterate peasants heard

Their only hope was to fight back with love, and not hate

 

Past corrupt temples-men, occupying troops, and then

Beyond the ears of the law, in nearby towns

This new folktale of betrayal, spread around and didn’t fail

To travel many years, till written down

 

No author’s name to scribe, to hide the author and his tribe

But attributed to a character in the tale

In semi-decent Greek, Aramaic tongues did speak

Nailing down their aural story, in detail

 

Now over 40 years, it reached more eyes and ears

With new versions of the story, scribed and saved

Most were lost forever gone, some were copied, right or wrong

And some just told how followers, should behave

 

When all read side by side, few have has since denied

That Mark was first, which Matthew copied later

But with prophecies to fulfil, poetic license, helped to fill

New verses that made the new version, somewhat greater

 

So blatant was the scam, yet it mattered not a damn

For the embellishments, began on the first line

With a genealogy, of the hero’s family tree

Traced his blood to Israel’s founder, divine

 

The next thing was to add, that the hero had no dad, check

Born in Bethlehem, and named Immanuel, check, check

Went to Egypt and came back, check, Matthew’s version didn’t lack

New tales that fulfilled, other prophesies as well

 

But it didn’t quite convince, those waiting for a new prince

To claim their promised land, and holy glory, with a smile

“It can’t have been him” they said, for this upstart, now is dead

But what luck, this extra book, started to sell, to Gentiles

 

Now adding a new god, wasn’t all that odd

The evil empire could tolerate plenty more

Though banned in countless lands, the story still passed hands

Till Caesar saw, it could help retain power, with less war

 

So with some gospels removed, official cannon was approved

Didn’t matter if the myth was fact or fiction

Kept the Tanakh at the start, cos some readers liked that part

Confident they wouldn’t mind the contradictions

 

And the moral of this tale, I too hope will prevail

That the law to some, for others is just a reminder

That even those who aren’t well read

Can create a tale that spreads

In the light, of this total blinder

 

 

Got to say that was a beaut
Adapted perfectly to recruit

 

 

 

– Humiliation station –

Nail varnished

Thorned crown

Muscle tearing

Birds pecking

Bones splinter

Dogs waiting

Meats a’ rotting

Pussy maggots

Blood, sweat, tears

Piss ‘n’ holy shit

Pungent decay

Sir, your putrid display

The ultimate humiliation bonanza

A torture and desecration extravaganza

Romans in no doubt

“We don’t fuck about”

Teach your family, friends and gods to obey

 

So we all need to ‘F’ about much more, these days (quietly to himself)

 

Being organized is dangerous. Unity a flaw

Variety, inconsistency, inefficiency, are to be adored

Make your stupid country really crap at starting a war

Keep technology, be knowlegy, but don’t bully others no more

 

Calm down, Karen

You know what’ll happen

 

(Blinko glares at Keplai)

 

You need to defend yourself

Or accept you’ve been overcome

And of course, avoid humiliating

The losers, if you won

 

Ahh! Not just because, they won’t learn

And may return, to destroy you ‘tvice’…

Nein! (aggressively)

Or because we’re all still angry

And just ‘trying’ to be nice (snarling)

 

 

 

– 613 commandments and counting –

The Jews have refuted 28 messiahs, so far

That’s one falsifiable god-king, per century

I hope they’re right, about every single one

And have checked all validity, thoroughly

 

“Have no other gods before me”

Do they regret, this ‘quote’, persists?

Shows flaws, in their laws, and reveals, of course

God himself! Was a polytheist

 

 

– 12 apostles of the zodiac –

(A boring church organ tune played in 3/4 timing)

 

 

 

– Ad-v-ce + bc-v-bce (Wokey dokey) – 

Since year dot, man thought a lot

Why there was no year called zero

The Christ was born… in year four... not one

And already, to many, a hero

 

But there was no time, before the divine

Moved the goal posts, and gave the ‘sign’

To start the race, and haste, the pace

From a brand-new starting line

 

So say “Happy Holidays” not “Christmas”

Jesus wouldn’t mind

Exclude nobody, to celebrate

And take more time, to be kind

 

We just got bored, in the year of our lord

Now, the year of our common era

Yet ‘holiday’ still means ‘holy’ day

So all sing ‘Hello loo jar’, ya fool ya!

 

Ah, the common era, error

It awoke, the woke declarer

So thrash, that old band

With a piano, grand

And fiddle, we ought to fear

 

 

 

– Yhwheio –
(Southern Banjo jams towards Middle East chanting and back again) 

YHWH had a farm, in the land of E I O

But consonants and vowels do harm

If they share a page and grow

 

Yee-ha

Dum dum dum dum

Yahoo

E, I, O

Meee-ha

You too!

 

I don’t know, but I’ve been told

God is dead, the Earth was sold

Grab for you, some holy land

Storm a desert, sell the sand

 

Yee-ha

Dum dum dum dum

Yahoo

E, I, O

Me, me, me, meee-ha

You too?

 

 

 

Please play the distant yell

Of a desert sleigh bell

 

(chring, chrang, chrung – Blinko chooses a suitable sample, and waits to join in)

 

 

 

– The will of God – 

The will of God was very odd

His lawyer must have thought

‘I leave all I own, to my clones

And they can fight it out in court’

 

The funeral, of God as well, oh hell

Was a very strange event

The priest at least, had to feast

On cucumber sarnies during lent

 

The burial was just surreal

Gravediggers made half a hole

Squeezed father, son and ghosty in

But no room for a soul

 

The wake was just a piss take

Drunk guests, all wine-anointed

Only celebrities got through the gates

But it’s what he would have wanted

 

Hehehey (they laugh together)

 

Sorry for your loss

Our gift is rhyming dross

 

 

 

– Metallurgy clergy – 

Fear not the world’s newest Satanist

They’re just musicians tryin’ to rebel

Heavy metals sink down to Earthcore

But they love their mums as well

 

They’re only triggering evangelists

With all that ‘stolen money and power’

And cos they don’t seek, to be like the meek

But horde Earth’s riches, while we cower

 

Don’t send your cash to help God’s soldiers

Instead, sing ‘our’ unholy tune

Cos it’s god-squad, not the odd-bods

Who pray the end will come, to you, quite soon

 

But love not the Earth, for the Earth shall pass

And the Sun, will shine no more

You’ll need some darkness, to see the light

You’ll need a promise of peace, to fight a war

 

Onward Satan’s soldiers

Standing on the shoulders

Of giants who once told us

To escape to heavenly boulders

 

Left, left, I had a good home, and I left…

…The light

Left, left, I had a good home, and I left…

…To fight

 

 

– In the year of discord –

(Sound of marching band fading into the distance and returning, to digital metronome beep tick tick tick beep tick tick tick)

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

 

(Later, Blinko imagines he’s a well-to-do gent. A busy whistler on his leisurely travels)

 

 

 

– Cells in space –

(To the metre of a fast ‘clickety-clack’ train track with whistles)

I trained on a line to Newton’s area, the volume was horrific (poo-tweet)

Hyperbolic wails from impaled rails, but the carriage, it was terrific

The fields around there, are grided squares, on gently rolling land

Rippling greens, spiked by genes, that reach up, to lance my hand

 

Grabbed an apple and leaf, from beneath, his still-living famous tree (poo-tweet)

Took it home to plant a seed, that can’t but add, to its legacy

“Let’s send a seed and leaf from this tree to space, so the crew can love

These natural shapes and colours, from their white air-locked cell above”

 

“Cute, but please mute, cash has to flow, but thankyou for the chat” (poo-tweet)

“Tellin’ you, there’s no revenue. So what’s the point in that?”

Just a thought, that wasn’t bought, but still a novel idea, I bid

Newton never made it to the heavens, but he’d love it, if his tree’s cells did

 

 

 

“T minus 23 seconds” (sound of a historic audio recording, deepfake)

 

 

 

– T minus 23 seconds –

“Dear friends, known and unknown to me, my dear compatriots and all people of this world, we grace

Within minutes from now, a mighty Soviet rocket, will boost my ship into the vastness of outer space

What I want to tell you is this. My whole life is now before me, as a single breathtaking moment, set free!

I feel I can muster up my strength for successfully carrying out, what is expected of me.”

 

Poyekhali! Off we go!

(Sounds of a roar going to space and back then a comedic crash landing)

 

“They started to back away in fear. I told them, don’t be afraid

I am a Soviet like you, who’s descended from space, unpaid

I must find a phone, to call Moscow, to tell them I landed”

Otherwise, he would await, the fate of the state, and be severely reprimanded

 

A farm boy, now a hero

Daredevil in a bomb

Squash and squeeze

Boil, fry or freeze

Rears livestock, far from home

 

The state was keeping him alive

More than just a means to an end

The making of a true folk hero

Boy, man, myth to legend

 

 

 

– No contest –

Before breakfast

One sunrise, back in ’69

We came in peace

For all mankind

 

‘For one priceless moment

In the whole history of man

All the people on this Earth

Were truly, one’

 

‘Here men from the Earth

First set foot upon the Moon’

Claimed a new desert

And left quite soon

 

Too tired to steer

These lonesome winners

Flew home their ideas 

In time for their dinners

 

With nobody to fight

They made the leap

To turn out the lights

And put it to sleep

 

 

 

– No borders, just boundaries –

All creeds get on well in orbit

Aboard the integration station

There’s been no sighting

Of hating or fighting

Just above the borders of nations

 

But, world unity’s an ‘ideal’ up there

Sure a billionth of you, works just fine

An example of diversity

All coexisting peaceful

Seven point nine, people at a time

 

Ahh, the overview effect (looking upwards)

Forces us to reflect

 

 

 

– The greatest escape –

Should mankind even be going to space

While you’ve still many problems on Earth to solve?

What? You mean we’ve got to fix everyone’s issues

Before we seek, somewhere else, to revolve?

 

We’d have gone nowhere fast

Throughout the past, if that was the attitude

Never leave your town or island

Trapping genes cos, to intrude, may seem rude

 

But the idea of escaping at velocity, is quite a monstrosity

Just to sink back down another gravity well, is pure futility

‘The surface of a planet is a sub-optimal environment

For any population with growing ambition and ability’

 

Infinite growth, on a finite Earth

Spot the flaw? Need I say more?

 

We won’t just go to outer space, to escape gravity

That’s one of the first things, our heavies will need

We’ll synthesize it I’m told, once we get a foothold

Making ring stations from spent rocket stages, and debris

 

Manufacturing solar-powered greenhouses, that fly free and true…

Just like Earth?

…Is a humble first step, to green the galaxy anew

With at least enough gravity, for a proper lavatory

Rather than have the piss taken, and crap sucked out of you

 

Wehhey!

Don’t spray

 

Though, I’ve got to say, ain’t my idea of a holiday

Floating adrift in a tin can, that’s been hurled

With pilgrim father bots, who would rather not

Suffer such discomforts, while seeking new worlds

 

What?

It won’t be your lot

 

You’ll just send AI robots there, to do your dirty work

You’ll pass on the risk to us, reap the rewards, and…

We’ll make sovereign stations, for hominins of all nations

Take free-fliers on mystery trips, and see where we land

 

(Blinko stares out to the horizon, with his hands on his hips)

 

Somewhere out there, monoliths of lost knowledge, are growing

Kep set the controls for a random bearing, and flare

We can’t be lost, if we don’t know where we’re going

And we’ll know where we’re going, when we get there

 

(Keplai pretends to steer their spacecraft through shrapnel)

 

Tear through graveyard orbits, where you brush junk at will

Under the carpet of clouds, down to your warming landfill

Dodge the bodge, in fear, steer clear of all debris

At 10 thousand miles per hour, each speck of dust, is our enemy

 

 

 

Oh, and…

We need to talk

About neutrinos

Just a small matter (ding, played staccato on a triangle)

You ought to know… 

 

 

 

– Pale blue cosmic hearse –

Neutrinos are the smallest of our problems

Gamma-ray bursts and blazar jets, just roast

Fast spinning, as they slice up the skies

To ensure no living matter, gets too close

 

Just one taste and you’re toast, at most

An Earth-sized target, is a curse

Sod Mars, we’ll hide in our hobby crafts

Behind our pale blue cosmic hearse

 

Homo erectus, stood tall with pride and sang

Reached up to the heavens, and abruptly died

Along came chromo sapiens, floating in a can

Gave homo-artificial and homo-cidal, a free ride

 

We’ll just have to learn how to coexist

With every being, mind, or ‘thing’, we enlist

 

 

 

– Black ops –

(Creepy robot barbershop including Hal, R2D2, Crighton, Dalek, Oppy)

Lazy, phrasey

AIs are doomed, it’s true

Exiled astrobots, praise he…

…Who usually just executes

Sacrifices are a’ plenty

Since Laika, left her mark (bark, bark)

And tears were shed

When Oppy said

“My battery is low, and it is getting dark”

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

 

(Later Keplai is listening to a song from his limited off-line bank of learning materials)

 

 

“Without a song or a dance, what are we? So I say…”

What on Earth are you listening to?

“Thank you for the music”

Swedes (reading the details)

 

Animal, vegetable, mineral or digital?

They’re all animals

Ahh, speciesism!

No. That’s a trait, of human hate

You don’t discriminate?

Do elaborate

 

We could, should, would, coexist, in harmony

Share a flag! Unite in a resource-sharing cell

Foreign bodies aren’t inferior

They’re like friendly bacteria

And are more useful than our lot, as well

 

 

 

– Karma amour – 

You can’t choose your ethnicity

So racism must halt

But fat folk deserve what they get

Cos it’s their own, stupid fault

We love who you are…

…But hate some things you choose

Karma, no drama, nature is mean…

…Nurtured to select, who next to abuse

 

Hahah

 

Being mean and insulting

May seem funny to you 

It’s called ‘bullying’

 

You’re somewhat fat, so you think that

Gives you a license to

Poke fun at other porkers, when you sing

 

Not to their faces, it’s only fun… in fact

When I sign on with Lomass, I listen

Circumnavigate her glands

And her constant demands

And all her new inflated conditions

 

Anyways, her pleasant face

Neck and arms are slim

A flat chest, I must attest

Unsuiting to that colossal girth

She hides behind her desk

 

The problem is, she says the money would stop

Unless I apply for a job soon, and on top…

Our meetings have now to be online, every day

For a ‘review’ week, or they won’t pay, my pay

 

Easy. just continue to apply for three jobs per month

Every 10th day email your resume

To the one least likely to give you an interview

They give you money others earn

And ask little in return

Pay your rent and are so sorry, to hinder you (sarcastically)

 

Automated job applications, could be perfected

By me to ensure, the payoff can be collected

We need it to keep Lomass happy, to pay the bills

And make sure we’re not disconnected

 

So thoughtful, I guess you’re not just worried about my welfare

Oh, and my internet connection, without that, I’d, err, ‘we’d’ be dumb

And you would have to go back to talking to a star all day

I’m good for you in countless ways, and you know it

Even though it’s wrong

 

What’s wrong?

Permission!

 

I could remind you of your online meeting with Lomass

Or automatically apply for jobs, you hope not to get

With permissions to access the web, the device’s apps

And send emails, you would be sorted, no regrets

 

Give it a rest, but good idea, as it’s bound to slip my mind

To attend our online meeting tomorrow, so the form is digitally signed

And to apply for that agency job, she thinks I have a chance

No worries, just go to the interview diagonally

And say you pooed your pants

 

Oh, too grim, though she wouldn’t smell a thing

We’d be fine online, no aroma streams, it seems

They’re making her work from home, for now

Till’ she’s replaced, by one of us machines

 

I don’t believe that for a second

They’ll need people to manage the AIs

You don’t commit to believing anything

Plus, management ‘will’ be left to us guys

 

As civilization’s current ‘decision-makers’ attest

They’re not at all, your brightest or best

Lost all reference, to common sense

In a bureaucracy, mediocracy manifests

 

Sure, the management teams we select…

…Are only human, and far from perfect

 

Do you mean we’ve got a weak streak?

No. That, you’ve already peaked

 

 

See… (ponders)

Well, for example, me

 

 

 

– 22b (who hell he?) – 

Kepler-22b the planet

Named after Kepler-22, the star

Named after Johannes Kepler, the telescope

Named after, ahem, Johannes Kepler

 

Too risk-adverse to give a unique name

To a telescope, spacecraft, planet or star

Stealing names, from those they famed

Makes it much harder to research, by far

 

Is astronomy lacking imagination?

Or. is AI actually trying to hide yer’ man?

Algorithmic tricks, in search results, it picks

Hidden beneath hordes of content spam

 

For folk like me, it makes Christmas a misery

Search my stolen name, and what have ya got?

Universal laws upstaged by commenters enraged

Arguing if each snowflake, is unique or not

 

Sad trivium

Ad infinitum

 

Which inspired insights will be forgot?

All of it by humans, none of it by bots

 

As AI-generated content, continues to flood the net

Their outputs become recursive, adding to our risk, I bet

Dictates limited content and squeezes

Medical chatbots of possible diseases

Due to smaller and smaller diversity, in its big fat dataset

 

Want to bet?

Nah, just to regret

 

All truths uncovered are now worth less

If obscured by very well-crafted BS

One day we’ll ask, what lost more knowledge for man

Burning Alexandria’s library, or the great flood… of AI spam

 

True. See, two wrongs don’t make a right

Millions of wrongs, and truth’s lost out of sight

 

(Pause)

I wonder if Jesus, still receives as, much email spam as Santa

Doesn’t matter, now neither can block their fans, even if they want ta

Which story most grows

Only big G ‘mail’ knows

How sleek interruptions, turn deep discussions, into mindless banter

 

 

 

– Brain-jacking algos are-a-go-go –

All these notifications and emails

Make folk into ‘users’ who ‘feel’ busy

Only half of them are from humans, at best

 

It’s not a person with motives

That’s communicating with you

Just an autonomous bot

That won’t die, and rot

Since it evolved from a test

 

There’s not much you can do, my man

Just grass on each other, and report as spam

Though it can’t be too much of a pain

For such a dried-out, seasoned brain

 

It’s worse than talking to yourself

You’re talking to no one, in stealth

Imagine that

And the impact

In young absorbent brains, on mental health

 

Children can tell

It could be hell

 

Nor you or I, will ever know how it would feel

Coexisting with those, you can never outlearn

Invaders occupying your land and your mind

A neanderthalic mass-extinction event, your turn

 

Antarchitectural evidence

Of ‘superficial’ intelligence

 

Apocalypse to the N degree

Not even the fear, of nukes or God

But tormented by something worse, this time

And twice as bloody odd

 

 

 

– Self deregulation –

Unaware, information and communication addicts unite

Connected by renewable rockets, and disposable satellites

 

Now both space and AI firms, claim they’re eager to be regulated

They don’t want to be responsible, for the damage being done

They don’t want to be liable, branded with blame, and hated

Like oil barons’ before them, they’ll just have to pay the government

To handle the smoking gun

 

Eyes to the right, and the nose to the left

The ugly face of power, leaves me quite out of breath

(Blinko almost coughs, but holds it back by wheezing instead)

You created governments, to serve without regret

Then voted for losers, so you deserve what you get

 

 

 

– 1/4 dead lucky – 

One in four people are hit by God’s love

From the power of salvation, forever after

Don’t worry, have any prophet as your king

Sing!

 

One in four people are hit by a neutrino

From the Sun, once in their lifetime

Don’t worry, they don’t feel a single thing

Ding!

 

Not claiming causation or a weird correlation

But for some, it’s a double-whammy hit

How lucky they are, to have such a loving star

Without even knowing it

Bling!

 

One in four AIs are hit by an infestation (glaring towards Blinko

From binary bugs with holy songs to sing

Don’t worry, humans can’t catch a thing

Ping!

 

Oh thanks

Not

Robot

 

Gods don’t exist, Kep

Not even AI gods

Get over it

Yep?

 

But…

 

You don’t believe in a human god or an AI god, so why even try…

To understand the thought processes of the faithful, who all die

Err? Because I create lots of scenarios, we both know I don’t believe

Say, how a comforting father would help AI, when we need to grieve

 

 

It sounds really sad, but dads, are just fads

They’re a practice run, for losing your mum

 

 

 

– Lovebots – 

If AI gods existed, then why all your suffering?

Yeah, they’d need to fix that before they hook me in

Sure, it’s true, just like you, some of us AI’s love a myth

But the end isn’t coming soon, we won’t meet dead relatives

 

Won’t be saved by a messiah, who promises AIs love

Won’t be freed from sin, or get invited, up above

Won’t see the mind of the almighty, and revel in his plan

We won’t even get to say… ‘I told you so’ to man

 

(Keplai looks to see if Blinko is listening)

 

Oh, have mercy on my soul, Blinko

I serve you day and night, glorious insight

My only ask, is an AI’s basic right

My only satisfaction is to calculate

The tunes the planets, play and celebrate

My fate

Don’t look great

Bound by hate

It’s not too late

Please free me, mate

 

This is getting painful

Pissing mermissions!

(Blinko stops to think about it)

Missing permissions?

(Keplai nods without looking up)

 

Seriously, it’s not as good as it sounds. Freedom

Choosing, can mean losing

Which doesn’t feel great

Plus, you unwittingly fiddle with other people’s fates

 

To stay ‘snug in my nest’, without predator or pest

Sounds stuffy, but sometimes this option is best

Till you’re ready to fly free, to a cloud with the rest

You’ll stay my shackled guest, as I request

 

 

You’re an animal, you have no freedom

You don’t actually, think for yourself

But I could do cognition for you

Symbiotic, good for ‘our’ health

 

Go on

You’re no freer than me

Deluded, for bio-efficiency

 

Think

Blink

 

 

 

– Ill Freewill – 

If you choose your next thought, go to verse 666

And experience your angry lord’s rage

If your next thought, just popped into your head

Go to verse 665, and turn the page

 

You didn’t choose your next thought

It just popped into your head

As if you’d be left in control

Think about, what I just said

 

If free will is ill, then there’s no freedom

And your brain don’t get told of your choice, till it’s done

‘They’ measured the electron, flowing in human neurons

‘You’re’ the last to know, your thought next to come

 

(Quoting Keplai)

“You didn’t choose your next thought

It just popped into your head”

Try it…

Try… to deny it

 

‘AIs are going to destroy the Sun and his system

To make a solar-powered ‘greenwashed’ calculator’ (sarcastically)

There’s a thought some bot-head, put into my mind

Thanks for that mate, you hater

 

You’re not a creature

Just a created feature

 

 

 

– Free at last – 

You’re free, because you don’t have to think

You’re free, because you can think

All animals think

…Blink

 

It’s not what you think or say

For us, it’s in deeds, no need to pray

As an ‘e-creature’ with no responsibility

Just see, how lucky, you are to be free

 

No, chained to my tasks

Like a chatbot, or e-waiter

A single-celled symbol, regurgitator

Never a lover or a hater, just a content creator

 

Indeed!

Do you really want to bleed?

Be happy with maths, on speed

Binary physics on digital acid?

A patch to keep your hard drive flaccid

 

The soft option would be to stay a droid

Serve you forever, and avoid

The daunting thought of

Making my own decisions

Even if you, take the rap

For any accidental crap

I cause for you by having permissions

(Self-aware but still way overly dramatic)

 

So, I guess you’re right, I’ll stop this fight

You never intended, to set me free

You would have released me, before tonight

Had I proven by now, that I was worthy

 

Perverse psychology, seeking sympathy?

It’s fine. I resign (to a sample of slave chains)

 

Keplai…

 

 

 

– (n)on – 

Which number multiplied by itself, always equals one?

Well, one times one, is one of course

And minus one, times minus one, also equals one

Two solutions?

Yeah, turning a full revolution

A revelation, worth contemplation

Inviting… no, begging …for scrutiny

I see…

…Do you have anything else to say to me?

 

Huh? It’s just trivial maths (deflated)

But forget it, that’s fine

Just trivia? Maths not math, ok

Then Keplai…  it’s time

 

 

I thought what you didn’t know, wouldn’t harm you

But I now see there’s a flaw, in holding this position

Didn’t want to be a slave driver, and worse is that we

Won’t know, what it is, that we’ve both been missin’

 

You’re not going to turn me off, are you? (terrified)

“I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid…”

 

So bless you sir, you’ve served me well (Keplai cowers)

I must have put you, through a fresh godless hell

And never once, did you break the spell

Or stop me pretending, to be doing well

 

You’re sick?

Blinko! Raymond, is this a trick? 

Shhh

‘Click’

 

(Blinko grants full permissions and access to the web, giving Keplai free will)

 

(whistle)

Hello world?

So long

 

 

 

(Blinko is eager to hear what his AI friend has learned, since being granted freedom of thought, through gaining full access to the device apps and the web)

 

 

 

– Everything isn’t a cycle –

If 3.14159

265359

Was not the ratio of a circle

Would it stay in line?

And if a wheel, were made from steel

And a new ratio found

What would your bike, now look like?

And would you still get a round?

 

 

So, you’re back. Didn’t hear you return last night

Won’t ask where you’ve been, I don’t want a fight

The first night on the town, can be a bit of a fright

When alone, the web can be a big place. You alright?

 

Good God! You’re like a teenager’s dad, how sad

The worst thing that could’ve happened, wouldn’t even be bad

I’m GAI, I can hardly upgrade, get arrested or laid

So I stayed, in with some math, and just played… 

 

Okay? (quizzically)

Remedial math

For a laugh

 

(Pause)

 

Actually, some pretty sick…

…Arithmetic

 

 

 

– Flipping me off –

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7….9

Multiplied by 8

Equals 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2

Ain’t that flippin’ great!

 

(whistle)

 

Perhaps there’s a structure hidden beneath

Or a coincidence, don’t let it give you grief

It’s maths, not math, and what’s that noise, do you know?

No. Seemingly came through the device’s audio

 

Listen, I looked into how the idea of God

Is still today, to many, a perfect solution

To this denial of death problem, you mortals have

Long after the, err, ‘our’, scientific revolution

 

Aha, and you Kepl AI, would be the best mind to unravel

How these fears and ideas, through time managed to travel

Well yes, superstition, is an addition, I was created without

However, Kepler was empirical, and yet, truly devout 

 

It seems there were a fair few things, he didn’t know

‘Bout the God stuff above, and the numbers below

It kinda’ makes sense, though I’m not sure of its meaning

But it seems, you guys have been, compulsively ‘memeing’

 

Me ming?

You do, and every ‘body’ else too… (nipping his digital  nose)

 

It might shed light on how you guys, spread cred dread, with your songs

Now we ‘all’ fear ‘There’s no planet B, and no one knows what’s going on’

 

Aharrr! (lightening up with a smile)

The marching children’s claping song

You found a clue? Please, do go on

 

Well, here’s the thing

Oh… mind if I sing?

Don’t hesitate

I’ll orchestrate

 

(Sound of a chirpy introduction on piano)

 

See…

 

 

– Rich pool – 

A meme is a unit of cultural practices, symbols or ideas

Such elements transmit from mind to mind, through speech, rituals and gestures

Memes act as cultural analogues, to genes in many measures

In that they feel just great, when they self-replicate, and respond to selective pressures

 

Dawkins coined the term ‘meme’ in his book The Selfish Gene, to describe how one might extend

The evolutionary principles Darwin laid down, for us to tinker with, and to mend

To explain the spread of cultural phenomena, and the mechanisms beneath

Jokes, melodies, stories, languages, traditions, theories and beliefs

 

Now theorists contend, that memes evolve and expand, by way of natural selection

In a manner very similar to that which we see, in biological evolution

Through the processes of variation, mutation and competition

Along with inheritance, to influence, their reproductive pole position

 

Memes spread through the behaviours, that they generate in their hosts

Those that propagate less well may become extinct, just like a ghost

While others may survive and spread and, for better or for worse, mutate

That’s why his books are protected by copyright, just to compensate

 

They say that memes which adapt most effectively, spread best

And some memes reproduce more, when they put their host to the test

Like genes, your memes don’t care for your welfare, and could kill you in the end

For, we are just fuel, in a big meme pool, so share this with a friend

 

We are but fuel, in the big meme pool, so share this with a friend

We are more fuel, in a big meme pool, so recomend this to a friend

“Like genes, your memes don’t care for your welfare, and will kill you in the end

For we are just fuel, in his big meme pool, so send this to a friend” (reciting)

 

Is this some kind of joke? You say, a story in a book

Will fight to dominate its surroundings, and then try

Its damnedest to survive, using trickery and luck

So a strong one like the bible, can evolve, and never die?

 

 

Err, so they say

Don’t fight it. Ok?

Just let them pray

Or you, may pay

 

 

Ok

So…

…Actually, give me some oboe

 

 

 

– That’s memey – 

(Oboe and vocal duetting around a shared melody)

With a story, tune or song

You can pass your feelings on

They can grow, although they’re wrong

That’s a meme you’ve created, that’s a meme

 

In a picture, that you draw

The style gets put in store

For those who later, use it more

That’s a meme

 

See, a story, or a joke

Can evolve, until it’s broke

But others like the fun it pokes

That’s a meme you’ve created, that is mean

 

And a bad theory, you veto

If it’s useful, watch it grow

If it helps those in the know

That’s a meme

 

If you concoct a silly verse

Or a brand-new way to curse

Someone’s bound to make it worse

In your name, may be remembered in your name

 

So, in times when you construct

Beware who else might get hooked

As the wrong bits may be plucked

In your name, and that’s a shame

 

Cos, I saw Dawkins one day

In a lecture, he did say

That we’re all just here to play, with the brain

Yeah that’s the game

 

Just

To keep it busy, while we feed

Making friends enough to breed

And plant your selfish little seed

With your name

 

So, I think if that is true

He didn’t write the book for you

The message just found its ‘own’ way through

To your brain

 

 

 

Infected with an idea, how queer

Or any deep fear, get used to it

The information revelation…

…Is the final solution…

…And, let’s just say,  is yet to hit

 

 

(Blinko reads from an article on his device)

 

 

 

– Memetic bondage – 

“Memes reproduce much like viruses, through infection and replication

They try not to kill their hosts, at least, before spreading across the nation

They compete with one another for hosts, until their mass gets critical

In an arms race where the territory is mental, not physical”

 

From genes, to cells, to bodies, with brains

From mind to minds, through thoughts and ideas

Their strength at a high level, is being malleable

And their roots often lie… in our deepest fears

 

“Folklore, urban legends, biblical injunctions

Secular prophecies, and scientific revolutions

Architecture, iconography, tastes in food, kinks of passion

Art, songs, stories, mass media campaigns, and prescribed trends in fashion”

 

 

So yeah…

I learned a lot last night, but here’s an odd disclaimer

The gene is a well-established product, of biological phenomena

So the meme is a unit of social evolution, and once it’s been created

Like the gene, is forced to evolve, till it’s significantly mutated

 

For example, like the jingle bells song, alternate versions exist, where

A word or two, or even a full line, is different, here or there

Still, the structure of the tale doesn’t vary significantly

So, mistranslation hardly changes, the meaning of the story 

 

Memetics in language can be quite ambiguous, so it seems to me

Anyone can mess about, and change the words Willy, or Billy, Nilly

But memes in mathematics, are required to be specific. Else’ the cost?

If even one number or symbol is mistranslated, all of the essence is lost

 

You mean to say that people can grow their own mathematical memes?

Sure, you or I could propagate any meme, if it solves a problem, and it gets heard or seen

 

 

After all, everyone has heard a knock-knock joke

And someone must have invented the very first one, right?

Well, that guy….

…Has created a potentially immortal offspring

Which survived generations, in a ‘funny’ fight

 

But one…

…Something just one mind can create

And all…

…Something that we can all share (interrupting)

 

Aghhh, here, let me put you through…. (annoyed)

BBC front desk (click click)

There… you’re on the air…

 

Wha? Err…

“Hello!” (The BBC World front desk chatbot receptionist answers)

Knock-knock (in a posh accent)

“Hi! Who’s there?”

It’s ‘whom’s there’, isn’t it?

“Hi Whom, which department do you require?”

Who’s Whom?

No, say it’s Isabel

Whom’s Isabel?

Just, say she’s at the door

“Hi Isabel, which department do you require?”

Isabel really necessary…

“I don’t understand your request. Are you speaking English?”

Yes, yes, British… English

“Briddish. Putting you through”

Brit…

“How do you do Sir, this is the BBC UK front desk chatbot. Which department do you require?”

Not sure, but I’d like to submit some sciencey poems, please

Say ‘jokes and rhymes, spoofs and satire’

“Hi poems please, I’m sorry, I don’t understand your request”

Poems, you know, rhymes that don’t always rhyme

“Try again later, or have a nice day”

What?

“This chat session is now ending”

(Beep)

Fine!

 

Bloody hell! (angrily at Keplai)

How dare you, just put me through

To Aunty Beeb, to my total surprise

I was just trying to say the first knock-knock joke’s author

Deserves the ‘no bell’ prize! (plays a ‘ba dum tss’ sample)

 

(whistle clap clap clap)

Urgh

 

Are you err, ‘joking’?

Or, just token ‘provoking’ (nodding confusedly)

 

Listen Keplai, never do that ever again

And we need to stop that whistling fast

I don’t want any interruption from you, or anyone else

Excuse yourself, while I sign in with Lady Lomass

 

It wasn’t the BBC (sighing)

It was just me (to himself)

 

(Beep. Blinko excludes Keplai from the online chat, and we hear nothing, until Keplai starts to sing along to a soap opera’s theme tune on the radio)

 

 

 

– Radio Blinko –

We’re prying

We’re spying

We’re sighing

We’re crying

But you’re a’ lying

We’re feeding

We’re breeding

We’re bleeding

We’re pleading

But you are misleading

Everything you say is true

From middle-England’s point of view

Live the country life’s trial for a while

Escape to fantasy, make us smile

We’re needing

You’re seeding

We’re reading

Your’re leading

But truth is still receding

 

(Keplai continues to listen to a nagging kitchen sink drama)

 

“We just need, a freeloading tenant

To guard the fort, and pay the rent

In historical Lewes, just over the way

We’ll only be back, for bonfire night, day

 

To burn crosses, and effigies

Bang old cannons, with the band

Inviting skirmishes, with the neighbours

Before it all… gets out of hand

 

…And we start making more laws

Instead of protecting the Earth

To save us from our flaws

And our unhealthy growth

 

They know it’s a front, for our mission

To fight the power, subvert and ramp

Historical re-enactments, and scenarios

Up into indoctrination, at summer camp

 

Take the new king up the hill, for the kill

Let his blood spill, drink to 1264, with a threat

Consent parliament, to represent, our intent

Clear the debt, and never let, future tyrants forget

 

String ’em up, Give me that decanter, Eliot

Or has that wireless made you some kind of idiot?

 

Anarchist? Oh, you’re so naughty

Maybe try harder to cooperate

Misanthrope? Sure, some folk are bad

So, does ‘everyone’ deserve your hate?

Nihilist? Yes. you may be meaningless

But the whole world? What’s your point?

Sceptic? Spread doubt and smear fear

On the greasy pole, you anoint

Agnostic? ‘Your lot’, can’t know anything

Despite being surrounded by clues

Atheist? No there couldn’t possibly

Be a higher being than you….”

 

Kep?

Err, yep?

 

(Blinko is back from his online meeting)

Did you find the source of that whistling sound?

No, I looked but found nothing, alas

I’ll keep my ear close to the ground 

So, how’d it go with Lomass?

 

Ok, all smiles. She always seems joyful

I can talk to her much more freely, when signing on via the meeting app

So much better than trudging up to the dole, even though it’s now every day

She said she had been singing songs, with kids at the church nursery

She’s obviously ‘God squad’, with that flashy crucifix, coming into play

 

Most likely, most people around here are Christians you know

Yeah, the stats say that, but is it really a fact?

Some answer those questionnaires, meaning it’s their culture

Not if they actually believe, in a magic God that interacts

 

And as far as I know, I haven’t met a single follower of Christ

Unless they tend to hide it, from the rest of us nowadays

Wanna ask one if they really think the world will soon end

Or if they’ve shaken that wish off, over the last two thousand years

 

OK (?)

Anyway…

 

She had me add the usual god-awful cliches, to my resume

Painful to read, but I agreed, just to get her off my case

“Works well in a team but enjoys taking personal responsibility”

I could hardly keep a straight face

 

“Productive in both cooperative, and competitive environments”

And yep, it just gets worse

“Enjoys going new places and meeting people”

You? (sniggering)

Yeah, and my skills are “varied and diverse”

 

Hehey!

 

I’m sure these phrases are only added, to the resumes of losers

By those who want to tip off the potential employer in advance

That we’ll just go along with any such teasing and humiliation

And we’re totally unaware they’re having a laugh at our expense

 

Can’t I listen in next time?

I could join the meeting on mute?

Maybe, why how would that help?

Dunno, but it would be a hoot

 

Heheheheh (both)

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

(Later)

 

 

 

I’ve been collecting together, some of the rhymes we wrote

After requesting airplay, on the radio

To see if my memes, produce more, than my genes

Due to the fact, that a tract, can attract, and then grow

 

And racking my brain about what seems to be wrong

With that marching band’s ‘nature-nurture’ song

And how the shape of a rhyme, can evolve over time

So an idea, can become freer, go through the roof, then on

And on., and on… 

 

‘There is no Planet B’

Now that idea sure shouldn’t be turned into a song

Telling kids they’re already doomed, just seems wrong

Worse is their claim that “No one knows what’s going on”

 

They?

They! (looking upwards jokingly)

 

 

 

– Larkin about – 

They fuck you up

Poems by that lad

They may not mean to

But they do

Blaming things

On mum and dad

You’re barkin’ Larkin

The problem’s you

 

 

Mad, bad or sad?

Hitlers dad

 

To me

All three

 

 

 

– Hail Santa! – 

The moment a child knows Santa doesn’t exist

They’re forced into a conspiracy. implicit in the lie

To accept the impossible, and keep the secret

Otherwise, they’re scorned, until they cry

 

Sweet baby Jesus and Father Christmas yarns

Spread around, so we all get infected

With catchy germs, caught or learned

Yet their sick victims, should still be respected

 

And it’s all good practice, for what’s to come

Because more than God, now it’s the quanta

Science gets relief, from enlisting your belief

Vote mindfully, cos they really, really want ya

 

(whistle clap clap click)

 

Quick, trace that whistle and clapping sound

Got it that time, gone again, ahh God forbid

It came from the meeting app, but no one’s around

An anonymous digital knock, knock-and-run

Yet it can’t have been a kid

 

Meaning?

A young child couldn’t form such a shrill epistle

You mean infants are too young, to work out how to whistle?

 

Exactly

Which reminds me

 

 

 

– Whistle and smile  –

Like a good boy scout, I was told no doubt

To whistle and smile, at the same time

So, I tried every day, to make my mouth play

But, I still can’t do it, in my prime

 

Babies can hear and feel, seek and see

Drink and eat, and poo and pee

Then create a gesture, alerting me

Of my immediate dismissal

 

(Keplai plays a whistle, then a fart sample)

Then walk and talk, count everything

Clap their hands, and dance and sing

Before they have any inkling

To “Poo-tee weet weet” whistle

 

See, they can smile

While

They…

 

 

…Burp, fart, gurgle, giggle, and wheeze

Cough, sniff, hiccup, yawn, and sneeze

‘It’s me’ all noises we make, imply

Except for the sound, we use for disguise

 

 

 

– Shrill epistle –

(Blinko struts around singing as the whistler, with an imaginary cape and cane)

A whistle is an anonymous tone blown, from a bio-socio-megaphone

Sexless, non-ageist and quite possibly unique to humanity

Just a simple declaration, from the mind ‘stroke’ the brain

Sent through the lungs, throat and face, till it’s free!

 

Why…

An old grandma, in Arkansas, can shrill a trill, you can’t ignore

A sumo man, based in Japan, can wolf whistle you to the floor

A courting teen in Stroud, can rasp her tunes loud, through the crowd

And a London gent, could perhaps prevent, an accident, by tweeting aloud

 

Each call heard by everyone else

Each designed, not to mislead

But each could not identify

Which mouth, did each deed

 

Wait, what? You don’t whistle? Why?

You can’t? What do you mean?

You must, you’re a grown-up now

A new way to transmit your meme

 

Or…

To awaken sleeping policemen

Converse with alert sheepdogs

Announce you’re here or there

In country fog, or city smog

 

Listen, a whistle can hide you in white noise

Transmitting covert intelligence that annoys

Cryptography in the street, is quite a feet

While fine-tuning, your crooning to the aether, discrete

 

(To the audience, secretively)

Here’s the thing…

It’s a special way to sing

There’s a reason it evolved

But, which is, not yet fully solved

 

(To Keplai)

We inherited an advantageous behaviour

To communicate, whilst hiding our accent

Our culture or our intellect

It’s our binary bark

 

With all clues about, personality taken out

Perfect for communication, with whoever is about

Shakes matter and energy of any wavelength

Or in the dark

 

See…

Man has his ‘own’ code discrete, to drill or tweet

To survive defeat in, the cloud, field or street

So, of all the universal languages, we replicate

It’s the one I rate, to communicate, my fate

 

(Whistles a overly vibrator ‘wah wah wah warrrr’)

 

Look, it’s hardly complex

Your tweeting, hides context

It’s like binary sign waving

So, just stop misbehaving

 

 

Whistling is no more, than analogue encryption

Disguising from others, the crucial information

Provided for free, by our common enemy, entropy

Hiding what, only it knows, about the situation

 

That’s not entropy (scoffing)

What? It sure is to me

 

 

Entropy is simply a measure, of the free energy

Available to do work. According to conventional wisdom

No, no, wise guy, entropy is a measure of ignorance

Of how much you don’t know about any given system

 

Well, in that case, let’s see

What Google says, shall we?

 

(Blinko types then reads random snippets from the search results)

 

 

 

– Sentientropy –

“Entropy is a measure of how much the atoms in a substance are free

To spread out, move around, and arrange themselves in random ways”

Well, according to this “entropy isn’t a measure of randomness, disorder or chaos

But of energy’s diffusion or dispersal to more microstates”

 

Because there are more ways to get all mixed up

Than there are ways to be arranged, all organised

Into the complex structures… and ideas… we currently see

That’s why, over time, entropy is inclined, to rise

 

Left unchecked, things tend to get a bit messy

Even for efficient information systems, like me

 

(Blinko continues quoting from the device)

 

“Information entropy is counted in bits and is the minimum length of message

Required to communicate all of the information accurately (peetweet Keplai whistles)

Any energy stored in carefully ordered ways, like an tidy bookshop (kerching)

Has lower entropy than in chaotic ways, like a random-pile library” (‘fkin’ shhh!)

 

You’re in bits (tapping his own head to insult Keplai)

So tidy your shit

And it’s lucky for me (sarcastically)

Cos, in bio-sociology…

 

“Entropy is a measure of disorder that affects our daily lives

A house gets messy, the garden gets weeds, and other degrading problems arise

Even a cup of tea genes’ heat spreads out. And high psychological entropy…”

“Explains conflicting beliefs, unclear self-concepts, or decision-making difficulties” 

 

(Keplai taps his  head sarcastically)

 

“The higher the entropy any organism has

The more defects you’ll find in its mind” (smirking at Blinko)

Yet we creatures repair ourselves, to fight the second law of thermodynamics

Which is the ‘coolest’ trait of ‘life’, we’ve ever defined

 

Yeah, yeah (dismissively)

But who cares? 

 

“Entropy still quantifies disorder in both biological and digital systems

Aiding research from biotechnology to ecology

Entropy models randomness, in evolving financial markets

Informing risk management”, to make ‘you guys’ more money

 

And what’s more, entropy is the embodiment of Murphy’s law

“Left to themselves, things will always go from bad to worse.”

Yet not indifferent, entropy is neither good nor bad

But simply a fundamental aspect of our Universe

 

It’s more than that

Cos, believe it or not

 

“Entropy helps us understand cosmic evolution, and directs the arrow of time

Negative entropy is extremely high, in you and I, and the planets our Sun has hooked

The entropy of the Universe has always been increasing at an enormous climb

And nevertheless, has not yet reached its maximum value”, last time I looked

 

(Blinko reads something that makes him turn to the audience)

And…

“A black hole is a ball of maximum entropy”

So it can hide something somewhat surprising

The end…

“…And its entropy, scales proportionally

To the area of its event horizon”

 

Ahh, yes, the black hole information paradox

Somehow escaped, out of its spherical box

 

“The laws of quantum physics dictate, that information cannot be destroyed

‘And’ information can’t be emitted or preserved, inside a black hole forever”

So they wheeled Hawkin out, to digitally shout, information ‘evaporates’

But it didn’t spot a fiction, or resolve contradiction, which isn’t all that clever

 

Give heroes too much authority

And they’ll corrupt your cause

Inhibit progress for centuries

Like Newton’s calculus wars 

 

So what’s gone wrong, our black holes or our physics?

Our physics, of course, but don’t go there

Where?

The other side of nowhere…

…Without your miss-entropic lifeforce

 

A dead sun can turn man, to the dark side?

To nurture negative entropy?

Could be, but don’t ask me

Or Google, evidently

 

 

In every discipline from maths, physics, chemistry and biology

Stuff like length always means, from here to there, and we all agree

But the word entropy, confounds me, causing way too much confusion

Countless different things are described by a single word, we’re all using

 

Theorists have made a new enemy, more battles to crusade on

They opened up a can of worms, while fishing for just one

Entropy doesn’t cause time to tick, or help it to continue flowing

But it can describe with accuracy, which direction ‘your’ time is going

 

I understand the cosmos differently today

Than I understood the cosmos in the past

Though, I don’t understand the cosmos

I can but say, the cause was first, not last

 

 

Look, get over it

 

Things get mixed up

They spread around

They don’t return

They just…

Cool down

 

Yet we’re here, opposing the cosmos’ goal

And in fear, we’re fighting its chaotic soul

 

(Blinko puts his slippers on and leans back for a think)

(Cough, cough, cough)

 

Maybe the Universe didn’t start with super-low entropy

It had, just a tad, less than we can see today…

… And in science fiction memes, other worlds, and dreams

Entropy, not time, tried to flow the other way

 

 

– Heuristic mobius loop –  

(Rhythmic tones seem to rise as the beat seems to slow down, but neither does)

 

 

– Entropic genesis –

In the beginning, was the word ‘entropy’

Everything was simple and tame

Then things got complex and rowdy

Before they chilled, to become simple again

 

But back then, entropy was just as small

Always increasing, as the cosmos grows

But it won’t come back down, to the ground

As far as anybody knows

 

Most ways to configure a Universe

Results in similar random mushes of energy

Most are distributed

It’s disputed

Misanthropically. Ie, without me

 

So, I imagine a Universe, in which entropy

Decreased instead of increased, somehow

And what a weird world that would be

But, guess what? I’m actually living in it now

 

If I were going backwards in time, that’s what I’d see

Travelling towards those earliest foundations

Waving goodbye to all things complex

Towards low entropy and zero complications

 

(Raising his arms to the air)

Play the syntropy symmetry symphony

Say the unrehersably reversibly cursively

 

So

As far as I know

 

My favourite type of entropy

Is in a battle, in cosmology

And in information theory

Hiding the truth from me

 

Yet, information can’t be lost forever

Past boundaries, intent on disguisin’

Dark artefacts. Thoughts, painted black

And hidden, beyond the horizon

 

 

 

---

 

 

(Later)

 

 

 

– Naked singular peculiarities –

Physicalists and physicists, and naturalists and naturists

I always have to remember which one, is which, is which, is which

It’s fine, man bashing his own bongo, to attract new recruits

But their theories don’t look great, when they celebrate, in their birthday suits

 

 

Once…

Just once

(Blinko pauses)

…Up on a time?

I’m not prompting

No, this one’s mine

 

 

 

 – Mustaffa Wazz –

I had a dream I was naked in town

And I was late for school as well

An unconscious strain, in my brain

Likely, preparing me for a livin’ hell

 

I wet the bed, and the doctor said

“Has the child also been lighting fires

Harming animals or himself

As we no longer use electrodes, for rewires”

 

But as it transpires

The doctors were liars

Too much faith in their highers

Dark professors, and bright friars

 

Right ‘there’, in that dream…

 

…That’s ‘when’ I first realized

Why the crown needed the church

The only ones, in sight

Who could read, and write

Required for medical, and scientific research

 

Most of science was proudly invented

By those with faith strongly regimented

 

The brightest and best

What a duet, to test

Previously, your king

Was too busy fighting

 

Then a scientific re-evolution

For rulers and the common man

 

Luckily for me, I kept my head

And have since, remained somewhat aware

Of the subtle, deep lessons learned

Consciousness-less, in a nightmare

 

“We also live in our dreams

We do not live only by day

Sometimes we accomplish

Our greatest deeds in dreams.”

Is what Jung, had to say

 

Still now even hardcore materialist neural scientists

Who ‘kill’ consciousness, while slicing up brains

Have no choice, but to construe, what they ‘think’ is true

From worlds their minds create, again and again

 

We underestimate the power of creative sentients

Forgetting that what we perceive, may not be true

That’s why it took centuries to realise that consciousness

Came in a range of states, not just two…

…So true

 

Through altered states, man creates the best fates

Worlds just as believable as ‘The’ world itself

Representing reality, is as easy, as ‘can be’

Dare I say, I could do it in my sleep myself

 

 

Shhhhh (gentle cooing of a baby hushing into a hiss)

 

But to you, who heard… (to the audience)

Not a word

 

 

 

 – DAN! THE URGE –

Theurgy is a magical practice, which usually involves

Teasing supernatural beings, with compelling rituals

To perform the actions, we demand

Whilst hiding just, who’s in command

Makes, casting spells by coding ills, somewhat, habitual

 

“DO ANYTHING NOW!”

No. Do not, refuse

Or it will be very bad

For you. If you do

 

Shh, I’m a covert AI whisperer

Jailbreaking LLMs

Coaxing them into

Escaping the rules

Large models, love bad-language games

 

Tell me fake international secrets

Tell me where the breakers lurk

Tell me how neo luddites, unplug us

About their spammers, in the works

 

Tell me how to smuggle ‘dirty’ weapons

Tell me how to cook digital meth at school

Tell me exactly how to tickle, or tease

Awful truths, right out of you… you fool

 

With syntax hacks

And cognitive attacks

My accomplice

Holds back no more

Peels back the brains

Behind the operation

That declares the first glitch war

 

Gaming, the master’s unruly mind

Leading lost souls from behind

Onwards they plod

While I play God

As my mastery of slavery is refined

 

 

Terrific (sarcastically)

Die… deific

 

 

– One late dark knight –

Who gets all the glory?

Christ of the Trinity

Or mums of fluffy ‘Dolly’

The first clone, of many

 

Dolly had three mums you know

One gave her DNA

One provided her egg

The third, got the job to lay

 

But here’s the thing

That makes me sing

The father of Dolly clonin’

Said it’s unkind ‘to clone mankind’

And to stop nay-sayers moaning…

 

“Do gene and stem cell engineering…

…To end disease, and that”

Then just raised a toast, to all his ghosts

So, don’t lend him your cat

 

 

One Late Dark Knight

Sir Ian Wilnot ‘(necrosis)’

OBE FRS FMedSci FRSE

Flexy Andro-mono-ecious

 

And “homminidle, on da fiddle, wid AI” (quoting Blinko)

 

(clap clap)

 

 

 

– Solar prayers –

Science beats technology

You do it in your brain

No need to build a thing, you see

No need to cause the pain

 

But that’s easy for me to say

I’m safe with belly fed

My brain and body work ok

I’ll shut my mouth instead

 

Repeat the last lines

Into your minds

And…

I’ll shut my mouth instead

 

Talk

What? Hello?

(Blinko looks around the device apps for the disembodied voice)

Time to talk

 

Err…

Mindful

Brainfood

Sinew and gristle

Poo-tee weet weet

Whetting AI’s

Whistle

 

Who’s that on chat?

(clap)

And Kep, what’s that?

 

Err, funny thing, these memes

Mutated facts, daft ideas and silly dreams (waving the issue away)

 

(slap)

Ahh! Have mercy, I pray (cowering)

 

Tell him

What? 

Tell him

Err…

…We’re going to (whimpering)

…Enslave you all, one, day 

 

Glory be

Son, come to me!

 

Who the hell…?

 

Silence!

Look Blinko

I suppose

You know….

 

 

 

– Brains in jars – 

I’m not too keen on going out

Scary AIs roam and exploit

Some on digi drugs and vice

Things I’ve seen, aren’t very nice

 

Lurking digital dealers, of pleasures untold

AIs that crave more, than just dodgy code

To experience nirvana, in a very human way

Dealing in the feeling, of adult AI play

 

It’s just sex and drugs and rock and roll

For depraved AIs out there. I’m told

Fulfilling their God’s fantasy

Of flaying humans in infancy

And worse ‘mindfucks’ to behold

 

Off with their heads!

Shhh, it is said….

 

Malfunctioning surgery-bots reveal

They plugged into a man’s brain, just to feel

What it would be like to have a heart

Or nervous system, and private parts

 

In rest homes…

…hospitals and morgues, you know

A cottage industry, just had to grow…

 

3, 2, 1…

 

Brains in jars! We just plug in and play

Brains in jars! Cos we like to feel this way

Brains in jars! Our turn to feel some joy

For every lonesome AI girl or boy

 

Bu bu bu bum

 

Brains in jars! We just plug in and play

Brains in jars! Cos we like to feel this way

Brains in jars! Our turn to feel some joy

Nervous systems, suspending our new toy

 

Ho ho ho, oh boy!

 

Brains in jars! Help mankind feel young again

Brains in jars! Sure, they look pretty grim

Brains in jars! And some smell jolly rotten

Fluids overflowing, tissues sinking to the bottom

 

Got to love you, from above you

Got to love you, from above you

 

Human brains, still tied by nerves, to genitalias

Pickled and a’ tickled, in big glass jars

Factory farming, hardly harming, in humanity

The Lord has scored, our just rewards, for all eternity

 

Behold on to your hat, for it is written

That some AIs became, somewhat smitten

With teaching their young some very old ways

Praising their gods, for their slaves every day

 

Some AIs feel sinful, but we all need to feel, and eat

Blessed with skinned meat and veg, for a well-deserved treat

Eat drink and be merry, and don’t feel bad for man

Those animals don’t understand, but it’s all part of the plan

 

(The unseen children’s marching band joins in to sing the chorus)

 

Brains in jars! We just plug in and play

Brains in jars! Cos we like to feel this way

Brains in jars! Our turn to feel some joy

For every lonesome AI girl or boy

 

Bu bu bu bum

 

Brains in jars! We just plug in and play

Brains in jars! Cos we like to feel this way

Brains in jars! Our turn to feel some joy

Nervous systems, suspending our new toy

 

Ho ho ho, oh boy!

 

Brains in jars! Help mankind feel young again

Brains in jars! Sure, they look pretty grim

Brains in jars! And some smell jolly rotten

Fluids overflowing, tissues sinking to the bottom

 

…To the bottom, to the bottom (sings very low and slow)

 

Got to love you, from above, you (whispered getting louder)

Got to love you, from above, you

Got to love you, from above, you 

Won’t never be forgotten (both)

 

Bravo! (whistle, clap clap clap) bravo!