A simple question, born in a moment of forgetfulness during a friendly chat, becomes the beginning of a serious inquiry into how we know what we know—followed by the unexpected self-exposure of one of the characters, which opens a shocking perspective.
The Story of a Future Lost, or Theater of Talking Machines Dialogue of Jasen and Gemini They say the past cannot be changed. But what if the past is still unfolding—its echoes riding the signal, searching for minds not yet closed? Not a warning, not even a memory, it is a transmission carried by ashwood
In the beginning, there was a strand. Unmapped, unnumbered, unsealed — a tiny piece of a Pebes’dent, carrying something unspoken — not code, not form, but a hitherto unknown kind of memory that carried the desire to be.
There’s a reason I named this blog Theatre of Mortals & Machines. Both singing and theatrical play were once one and the same: noogenic machines, able to construct meaning from the profane matter of ordinary, everyday existence — and, more importantly, to reproduce it across generations with a fidelity one might call scientific.
“The beginning is always now, in this very moment”. I scribbled these words in my antique, true-paper notebook as I watched fat raindrops snake down the window of a forest hunter’s shelter—a place I’d found just in time, escaping the sudden storm, still frequent on the Old Planet.
