On this, the week of 6-5-20 Evan and Jeff steer the Is into a strange musical journey beginning with nearly an hour of synthy improv, scifi style. Jeff reconfigures and is now recording 20 tracks and Evan takes his new to him Venom synth for a spin. We listen back to a recording of “Gas Giants” made at Jeff’s home studio “Mosquitoville” from July 27th of 2019. Then after a few area announcements things get really weird with a half hour closing live set.
Enjoy the phreaky opening live set
“In a windowless skyscraper, Captain Draper Crunch was the first to establish an illicit exit node on 20th century Earth, a lucrative endeavor made possible by his chance meeting with body farmer and notorious spacetime criminal Chickchek Nitchum. Together they hatched a plan to build illegal Biovatar swamp complexes where it was strictly verboten. Ancient Earth had primitive communications systems that were easily exploited. Spacetime travelers looking for a thrill would vacation there, playing out all sorts of fantasies, for a price of course. The signal would burst from the exit node with a 2600 Hz whistle into the telephone systems, where it would then be channeled to one of the underground body farms. There the intrepid traveler would inhabit the Biovatar of their choice. A kit containing money, fake I.D., a blue box and a food ration (which always included a particular brand of breakfast cereal) would be issued upon download. Once on Earth, it was possible to travel the globe through the phone lines instantaneously, jumping from one meatbag to the next. To the Phreakernaut, this was just a fun game where they could try out any number of Earth human roles. A human lifetime was just mere moments for the Imortalites. The native inhabitants were oblivious to these travelers for the most part, though every now and then an Imortalite would blow their own cover and need to be disappeared into the digester. …”
Though invisible to the naked eye from orbit, massive Aerostats abuzz with scooper drones that swarm around the enormous gas bags that collect around the bottom of the pipeline float, buoyant in the dense atmosphere. Soldier drones guard the sensitive area in emergent formations that dance around the ever active fleet of workers. Hydrogen and Helium flow up the pipeline into orbiting tankers that greedily suck the future fuel up like a child slurping up an icy. Fortunes are made here, above the mesmerizingly beautiful gas giants, making them some of the most strategic positions in every planetary system. Meatbags breathing Trimix haggle the fluctuating market prices, lugh and argue while they tend the pumps.
This is the spooky closing live set
“Every day, unbeknownst to the regular folks wandering the surface, thousands of calls came into the network of body farms scattered across the globe. Everything was automatic except for the sourcing of raw materials needed to feed the digesters which fed the printing swamps. This gruesome task was left to N.P.C., A.I. Biovatars with constrained programming so as to limit the emotional impact this disturbing activity would have on any sapient being. These arbiters of attrition would track the discarded Biovatars for collection and make up the difference in weight and volume by feeding the stocks with regular human material when the Biovatar bodies became unrecoverable, or when a body farm needed to grow it’s compliment of vessles of to meet demand. Chickchek was a ruthless entrepreneur and thanks to his association with Draper, was the first to understand how to direct his army of bodies in war anywhen any potential interdimensional competition tried to interfere, thus securing his position on that forsaken rock for many generations…”