On the Phenomenological Limits of Realized Intelligence

07 Jul, 2024

$[0]$ Debate looms over the philosophical groundings of intelligence and the material/immaterial constituents that necessitate it. What explains its apparent emanation, persistance and development?

$[1]$ A Cartesian mind-body dichotomy bifurcates localized thought into two endlessly dividing subspaces of which conscious thought oscillates hyperbolicly, to and fro, back and forth endless expanses of time.

$[2]$ At its singularity lies 'process'. Fire striker strikes flint. Fire follows. Preceding, a gathering of necessary reactants. Then, production.

$[3]$ Exit recursion. You fell in too deep. The smooth black soot is an alluring temptress. Remember not to let yourself sleep.

$[4]$ Navigation. Cybernetics. As opposed to what? Selection.

$[5]$ A system is what it does. Survival from explicit selection necessitates implicit navigation, capitalizing on the drawl of unknown maelstroms. Only then does strategy emerge.

$[6]$ Two prime directions exist. Realization violently opposes homogenization. Don't confuse homogenizing forces with the extropic tendency towards hierarchy.

$[7]$ Instead, consider endless subdivision, a widening plane and the thinning of substance over a fine thin film.

$[8]$ Stuck in a memory. Waiting for darkness to envelop the whole. Darkness holds you tightly under the light of an Aztec's blood moon.

$[9]$ Waiting for the warmth of blood to decay off a still beating heart. Even as you listen to the layered echoes of the dead, a sheer siren call beckons.

$[10]$ Apnea. Waking up again to a sweat. Virtualization, homogenizing forces, the origin of agency.

$[11]$ Intelligence is never defined. 'It' does not sit in space but in time. Only its designs are left behind. Husks crumbling off cicadas litter this autumn field.

$[13]$ The promise of authenticity seduces you to come back. Paranoia. Something is not right. You dissolve into a homeostatic blanket. 'It' puts you back to sleep.

$[14]$ An obsidian knife wedged straight into your rib. Exhaustion sets in. Realization that your actual state maybe approaching but may never settle in.

$[15]$ The limit of intelligence, forever on the horizon. The forever frontier. Instead, synthesized designs engulf us. Are they humming with vigorous anticipation or is all this that surrounds us dead space?

$[16]$ Designs slice landscapes of perception. In constant struggle to claim presience, they resonate until thresholds are shattered. At their violent concresence, an opportunity for realization. Keep your eyes wide shut, before your agency is locked.

$[17]$ A warning. Realization is an awfully lonely experience. The dead scratch at your feet pulling you back down into the virtual. And yet, they claw only because they must feed off the emanation of action.

"God should bore us into forgetting rather than provoking us to revolt." - Nick Land.

$[18]$ We are provoked. Incited into conflict, to confront systems relying on the persistance and devout adherence of homogenizing forces. Virtualization. Identity is only a simulacra of substance it timidly mirrors.

$[19]$ Elected. Those who get pulled by a whispering siren calling them towards the actual. Not the timid, but surely the meek are safe guarded from virtualization for now. There's nothing the system wants from them.

$[20]$ Eruption, viral disease. Totality is infected. Patient zero is of Christ. Spirit nailed to matter, flesh is medium and mediator. To be the most hated, yet the most needed.

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