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On this, the week of 4-17-20 on In Synthesis with Infinite Is Jeff and Evan take you on a magical, synthesized musical adventure with an epic opening live improvisational set with two movements. We hear a few local area happenings and review a quality bit of raucous industrial style synth work from last year called “Copy, Paste, Pursuit, Escape”. Then we close with a far out instrumental bit of electronic soundscape. As the station studio remains closed, the Is records from their home studios using a program called Mumble for a two way, low latency internet stream.
Here is the opening live improv set:
Hugh had to pay extra for the surface work suit on account of his unusual size, waiting impatiently for the clerk to print it he walked through the plan in his mind. His first stop would be the Oracle of the Is, you had better possess some pretty interesting payment if you expected to rise to the top, like the cream of the crop. Hugh had valuable inside information and in no time at all, in his new suit, still warm from the printer he set out into the orange glow of the streets of Dynahollow looking for the notorium node that would lead the way through the crowded dusty streets to the Overlooker’s temple. He would need control of the city centers oldest mothballed power plants, Stationary low powered experimental reactor number one, affectionately known as “Sloper 1” Unfortunately the surly Palos Hills meatbag he hired to pull out the control rods yanked a bit too hard when the old machine stubbornly held them back and 130 megawatt seconds would be instantaneously plowed into the Bionicorp mesh network straight from the 100,000 kilowatt reactors switch yard. The 20 gigawatt excursion precipitated a steam pressure wave that blasted the the rod assemblies up with such great force that one impaled him through his groin exiting through his shoulder, pinning his steaming body to the concrete ceiling 13 meters above. Hugh was hoping that his copies would then propagate across the planets population like a virus, but an overloaded preamplifier would send the instructions echoing from the Hershel crater antenna through the entire murmuration, freedom for the slaves that were the operating system of every Biovatar in the galaxy!
Having gained access to the printing swamps, Hugh strolled up to the clerk with a toolbox and a clipboard and without a word, was granted a company pass to the entire facility. It was comically easy, no one really had a reason to break in to the place so security was almost non existent. It didn’t take long to find the terminal, he began the transfer, confident that his visit with the Oracle gained him an inside connection and the routing traffic exchange would happen just when it was supposed to. Sure enough, he could see the wave of information resonating across the swamp when a sudden burst of voltage sent every active print into overdrive causing all sorts of strange distortions and mutations. His suit heated rapidly and he began to glow with a shimmering purple pulsing. He felt his hand swell rapidly, ball into a fist and harden like cooling metal. He yanked it out of the coding terminal and was horrified to see that his suit had melted to everything below his elbow and when he was able to finally look away and up he saw the fresh prints rising out of the printing swamp with all sorts of similar seemingly random malformations. In a bright, hot metalic flash he had a vision of seeing through the eyes of a hundred million souls waking up all at once. It was then that he saw that he was being pursued, it was time to leave.
Here is the closing live improvisational set:
Hugh’s plan began to form on a warm night at the bird sanctuary at Shangra-la on Titan. He thought, most of folks never worried about the fact that they owned a slave, you see everyone liked to believe that the Basic Biovatar operating system was without a “self”, without emotion, without awareness, without longing, without sadness, without fear. But one only had to be with a hostless Basic for a short time to know that this was not true. They were not smart, but they were clever enough to know to eat, sleep, swim, seek shelter, eat, hunt and forage if necessary. They have been known to grieve, laugh, worry and show anger, yet everyone pretends that forcing them to endure an entire lifetime of slavery if just a business model. Imaging being an automobile, someone can just crawl inside you and drive you around in any kind of weather, not caring if you need a rest now and then. There was one famous busker who everyone knew from Dynahollow’s subway platforms that the Immortalites used to love to listen to and engage with, Lisimbala, better known as “Hi Hat-guy”. He would spend nearly his entire speechless existence banging out his frustrations on his cymbals, begging on the platforms after his implant receiver failed. He had a sort of life, friends, foes, memories, regrets. Yet he would be treated as an untouchable, uninhabitable, subspecies nothing for his entire short, tragic life, as if his experience and actions didn’t matter because he was a mere mortal meatbag without the capacity for verbal communication. He might as well have just been a machine. Hugh’s imprint would give him the smarts he needed to evolve to a higher plane of existence, he would go on to join his mining crew and the band “Heavy Water”, becoming one of the most legendary drummers of all spacetimes.
