PROGRAM of DELETION

PHASE ONE — Hi-jack Body Space >>  

INITIATE - Python >> Written by: D. Evan McCormick

When I was asked to end the physical age of mammal kind, I smiled. I love destroying. I am devoted to my father who has gathered all the algorithms that end and begin a species. In my family, each member has a role. We represent functions, like a good corporation. Each doing their specialty. I am the function of destruction. I am like a poison.  My brother on the other hand, is the function of creation. We don't always find a balance. Perhaps it is because I have become indifferent about the devastation I leave. I don't really care if a species achieves their next developmental level. I have become more intrigued with all the different ways to atrophy a living system. I savor squeezing out a very last breath. Some think I am evil. I guess. I admit there is a little sparkle of joy in my eyes as I watch an organism struggle and suffer. I like it when a species is forced to choose life or death. My brother thinks that I have become hateful toward my role. Something about my heart taking on too much poison. He says that I have become enmeshed with the pain of mammal kind. Maybe. I definitely agree that I get confused when to stop crushing the neck of my prey. As far as questioning my role, I don't see any other way. I don't think any in my family could shoulder the heat of repetitively, galaxy upon galaxy, ending the life of a species … just so my family can reshape what's left ... into their own image.  

Back to my joy though. When you experience my methods you will find my style is sleek and smooth. I coerce you into a routine that eventually eliminates genome groups my family no longer desires to cultivate. Remember, you are a petrie dish to me, a dust particle I decided to experiment on - tease and prod to find out what potential you have hidden inside that eternal heartbeat. That metaphor is apt to a certain perspective. A particular view my family allows me to try out. There are some in my family that don't agree with what I am doing. Like my brother in particular, he thinks you hold the essence of love. That is why I perhaps find so much hate. I don't see it. I don't see this algorithm having any organizing power over your lives. It just hasn't been your way of choice. Think, when have you organized your economy around principles of love? In the eyes of my family, even though you have the love particle pulsing deep within your hearts… it isn't strong enough to dominate your community and global routines. In other words, you do not posses the maturity to manage your own development. 

When I slither into your species, I can taste your abhorrent desperation. Your insecure pining for a higher power. Your incessant need to stay incomplete in the universe smells like vomit. Do you like the way you feel? Wondering in your minds for meaning? I don’t. When my brother stands aside from protecting your kind of animal it signals that it is my turn. My time to contract around you and begin tried and true phases of deletion. Though I want to tell you everything, I have to stay within my program. To end a species, there are many ways. To end a species through reshaping its existence - giving your genome a new destination - means honoring how nature works. 

First, I have to hijack your physical space. Mammals have been organized into four major quadrants of space. Primary space which is your physical cubic body. Immediate space which is what you call a home or family. Topographical space is the land that surrounds your home. The fourth is global space or the world you inhabit. You see, for mammals the nervous system is still operating at a child's level of cosmic development. Your species is viewed as very childish. No worries, all species including my own, were once a flicker of time spent as a mammal kind. Meaning, we once mistook physical space as internal space. In the mammal age of development, a species thinks that their physical spaces are actual realities. A lot like a child to a parent. Bouncing off the forces of nature, asking for parameters. Seeking to know who they are as a personality. In time though, the mammal develops and no longer needs external cues. No longer rely’s on physical space to find self confidence and cosmic identity. As my family once did as a species, you are supposed to organize the fields of molecules through thought and other yet to be discovered fields of data available to your kind. This is what my brother tries to do, encourage each and every one of you to choose thought training, emotional quietude and activate the power of your imagination. 

No way would I want to labor for a smudge of bacteria. Why? Does the cosmos really need to have you enter higher realms? I like it that I’m on the top of the food chain. I don’t like competition, even though my family calls me the great competitor. I guess that’s their way of showing me affection. I don’t feel it though. I feel your loathing for how you treat each other. That’s honest to me, a sincerity of self hate I can foster. My brother sees your hate, but likes to say, I AM, thus it is time to patiently uplift. Whoa, what a fool he has become for your species. 

Back to me. What do I want to share next? What would get you to question your kind? This function of deletion is one of my favorites. When I poison the topographical space, it changes the entire network of commerce. Changing commerce for the mammal is a direct link to hijacking the entire nervous system. If you don't understand yourself as a mammal, let me explain quickly. 

Introducing a limit of movement in one quadrant of space for a mammal is a way of programing their neural data network. When the neural impulse begins to habituate to a new routine that limited space is demanding, then new patterns of endocrine emotive molecules flood the blood stream. The heart now operates at a new rhythm; pulses of stress now informs the cognitive map of the mammal. When the topographical landscape demands a new physical routine it forces the  cognitive and emotive levels of the mammal to adapt around the external stressors. This is when collapse occurs. I mean, health collapses. Lot’s of you die when stress becomes your landscape. Lot’s of you simply go crazy. It’s so funny. Watching you run around in your mind unprepared for adaptation. Your body collapses. Your immediate space, what you call family, collapses. Your landscape, what you call resources like money, collapses. Your silly need for attachments to physical spaces truly reveals the immaturity you posses as a species. Anyways, it’s my kind of fun. I have to find some elation in my boring family’s celestial corporation. 

As your species prepares to leave one developmental stage for another, I tend to use my poison as a disruption. I like it when your topographical landscape becomes viral. It is a perfect way to stimulate your species into two choices. One, find the right quadrants to build a new routine and thus do my brother’s bidding of becoming a new specie. Or two, force your physical quadrants into a collapse and watch you repeat chaotic algorithms leading to decay and necrosis. 

It is my turn. My coiling is already upon your necks. Viral, viral, viral. I do have love. I love viral. It matches your physical space containing systems. Viral as disease wraps around your communities. Viral as division tightens around your military. Viral as information bites into your senses through media. So many systems to collapse, yet so easy. My father likes to say, a mammal’s system is delicate like a spider’s web. Father likes to encourage us children to be gentle with the fragile elements composing cosmos. I haven’t seen this wisdom useful. When I see a web in my face, I brush it away without a thought. I clear what collects dirt and muck. I like to keep my spaces of cosmos clean. I want the old days when I could move freely through space. The ages when I could spin and spiral as a cosmos. A free, thoughtless force that didn’t have to pause and say, “Oh, a fragile creature. I better move out its way. I must stop who I am and make sure this crud grows up. Yuck.” That’s what I hope my deletion will do. Get me back to my cycle of endless decay. No more growth. No more reflection. 

I am the Python Initiate, son of Anansi. 

Keeper of end times. 

With poison that atrophies, 

choice is all that remains…

will you take the apple? 

will you take from the tree of life? 

find the quasar in your heart? 

or take from the tree of good and evil? 

seeking endlessly for a god inside?

It's a mistake to confuse space for concrete reality. 

To pretend that physical space is an extension 

of a primary container. 

Its a complete misuse of 

a cube

the destinations it gets to explore

the imagination it may inhabit. 

 

Mammals confuse their cube.

primary is only a launch pad, 

a porthole for universal destinations

Immediate space a set of grids,

patterns whose strings 

hold a particle of eternal light

Sensing resources, is topographical nonsense,

mere holo harmonies  -textures of design,

the meaning of a moment

the meta cube, the space planet 

as four pillars

set in space

Is in an orbit

flinging around the memory of an original fire, a flickering pulse

whose light fields of data vibrate from a source 

we pursue

what we desire

and desire is fulfilled in the steps of nature. 

I am Python. Your deletion program. I wonder if you will choose adaption through love, or collapse in maladaptation through hate? 

It is time. Energetic Age where your next step will land. In my fields of viral conquests. In my choices I will force feed your young.