Saturday, November 8, 2014

The Hungry Ghost In The Machine {Excerpt, "The Bridge Between the Worlds."}

http://ppireading.blogspot.com/

Tuesday, February 25, 2014          Set; 9:38 A.M. April 23rd, 2031                Brussels, Psychic Competitions


                   I take Jennifer's right hand with my left and walk to the back door of church, back under the trees. "So why did you ask me about the infinite repartitioning of memory using meta formal logic strings to encode imprint data?"

                  "I started thinking about the way you compared the Super Normal Sensory Stimulus Response, with superior intelligence." She slows down in the shadows of the trees rosy dappling sunlight. Gentle rhythmic breezes drive the warmth all around us, the leaves making dancing fingers of sunlight massaging the air. She goes on talking as she stops and faces me with her back to the open river bank. "I remember reading your Propositional Assertions." "Your statistical models distinguish personal differences as the dynamic of an x variable" "There must always be more Socially Recursive Boundary Definitions to find." "You say this is how we see ourselves as different or the same, and these boundaries are always growing and changing" Jen looks right into my eyes. "But the problem for me is when do we stop redefining ourselves relative to each other?" "It seems to me like every time you find another variable, you will always find new polarities the directional momentum for each trait and characteristic is always in mutual transition." "I mean are we really that diametrically dynamic or is that just another one of your writers tricks?"

                   I know she isn't trying to be sarcastic, but I like well thought out questions. "That's not a question, you're trying to dialogue." "Right?"

                   "No, you're right." She says "I'm just getting started" She turns and starts to walk toward the north side of the church, past the back door toward a garden wall that is over grown with vines and shrubs. The Lilacs have just started opening, as does so much more inside of me and all around us.

                  She continues, "You wrote about, CONTROL DOMINANCE Versus TRUST DOMINANCE." "And those "DUEL NECESSARY CONFLICTING VICES of Baseless Optimism and Rational Pessimism." "About the CONFLICTING VIRTUES of Over Dependability and Un Expressed Expectations." You talked about how everything in human nature is just a modeling for a distribution, and that at the heart of all our Presumptive Values is merely the symmetrization of variable personal social dynamics, pro and con." "All these mappings have cycles and waves of predictable eventuality, today will be yesterday, as of tomorrow, blah blah blah, etc. etc."

                  I nod in total agreement. "Jennifer, you're highlighting my embarrassment as the self doubting psychic." "But as much as I agree with all your objections, I ask you to review the findings." Jennifer leans against a cool bare spot on the brick wall looking at me. She is framed by the budding vines in the perfume of the earliest spring blooms. I myself am like this older neighborhood with all the mature trees, established perennials and deep healthy roots in the fertile soil. "If you remember, in my "Surreal Novella" I always recommended Splitting the Bias." Her fresh flawless skin is glowing as her eyes begin to sparkle. I know I'm getting to her point. "In all of our "Mutually Defined Socially Recursive Boundary Definitions we have Biases, Polarity." "Remember?" "This is by definition the dynamic sensitive boundary thats responds to changes in public and personal opinion biases." "Statistics have proved, People do change perspectives, It just takes time."

                  "Yes, I remember all that stuff about your shared social properties of the Collected Symmetrical Coalescence." She affirms, "It all makes perfect sense to me. Splitting the Bias is nothing more than getting people to resolve conflicts through clarifying boundary definitions." "Nothing new there either." "And I also knew there probably wasn't any other way for you to prove the existence of Meta Formal Logic without using Intuitive Induction to map out Shifting Opinion Biases in responses to social change" (At this moment, I swear even the birds are singing in harmony with her with her lilting assertions.)

                 She goes on, "But the TRUE HOAX?" "Confessions Of A Professional Psychic?" "That was cruel!" "Did you have to trick people to get us to believe you are telling the truth?"

                 Now I believe we are getting somewhere. The warm wind is blowing stronger through the treetops. In the pink morning sky a storm is coming. Jennifer is right on target. I've always felt like a fraud, even telling the truth. I would have to be dead, not to notice how humble and unsuspectingly beautiful Jennifer is right now in this balmy warm windy Belgian Spring morning. I can't see what's coming and I like it. I look up through the trees, to smell rain yet to fall. I see dark clouds come to shelter us, providing comfort and sustenance. Soft thunder announces the changes foreshadowed by the productive "Night Before our Morning After." I haven't seen anything yet. I don't even care. She holds out her hand feeling the first mist to fall before larger drops reach us here on the ground. Suddenly that feeling of suspense and free fall kicks in. We are in trouble. I again take her hand and gesture that we need to go inside, again she stops.

                   "I can't go in with you yet." She's crisp. "You need to face this alone." "Your friends will be here to help you, I need to prepare for someone." Jennifer then says with conviction, "We aren't finished yet, I will come and find you later." She clarifies, "I still don't know what happened last night behind the scenes, or what lead up to this rollout event." Jennifer knows more than she's saying, and I'm a little uncomfortable with her abrupt mood change. After decades on the job you'd think I'd be used to it by now.

                   The warmth of light is gone, I take to the door and pull the handle. It feels like cold night in here. The basement of this old church was converted to casual venue for intimate entertainment and lectures. The sweet smell of ancient must fills this old building reminding me of antiques.

                   Gretchen approaches me looking tired and depressed, "Phillip, we are in trouble." "The price of both Oraca and InterSpace stock are plummeting." "This was always a real possibility, but I didn't expect the boards would be colluding, hedging against our inevitable dismissals." "Their claiming that we are conspiring to misappropriate "their" company software." She says, "They claim our stunt is an international violation of company copyrights, wiping out their exclusive proprietorship all of our Games Systems, even yours" "They must have found out last night and filed suit against us in the U. S. in the wee of the night." "I've heard subpoenas are coming and warrants aren't far behind." Gretchen is noticeably shaking. I was just a tool and I went right along with it. These kinds of proxy fights have dogged me ever since I first started documenting my analysis systems for P. P. I. Services. The stock holders have always threatened to withdraw their money if I couldn't provide the business securities (copyrights) that would insure their investments. This was to be my primary motivation for creating phantom limited liability partnerships in the first place. Who knew? There's no protection from mass change.

                  "Gretchen, you did this on purpose" I say with concern. "I will support you in any way I can, but this whole event is so unlike you." "You were the person I came here to extract." I think out loud "I myself like a little controlled uncertainty." "But my research clearly asserts, People prefer the sure deal, but not you." "Why were you making waves now?" Gretchen?!?

                   There is a shocking blast of blue white light knocking out the electricity with explosive thunder. Lightning hits the building shaking the foundation, leaving us in the dark. It is night time under the cloud of darkness until circuit breakers reconnect power illuminating the pitch black basement. Gretchen is holding on to me. This is the woman I always knew her to be, powerful, vulnerable, impetuous.

                   Quivering she steps back and says, "This is too weird." "I'm in love with Gunter and I'm just too scared to not have a job." "I know I can always do freelance code writing, but I just hate not being in control of my own work." Being the head of this corporation just got to me." "I love the work but I hate the games that go with pretending that I even care about money." "The more money I have the easier it is to loose it, I couldn't stop myself from wanting to sabotage my retirement at the top of my career."

                   Gunter is coming down the stairs with a big happy grin on his face, "Did you hear everybody, We're getting sued." "Isn't that great?" He laughs. There is another blast of lightning and thunder this time a little further away. It seems the tension is being broken. He see that Gretchen is noticeably upset and hugs her. "Oh Gretchen, I'm sorry, you are such a dear." "We'll get through this just like we always do." Gunter feels terrible for celebrating folly. "We only did this so we can be together, don't my cry sweetheart" "I'm with my family again." "Oh Gretchen, I'm so sorry." "I thought you knew, this will probably blow over."

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