Sunday, 26 October 2014


I lost the first part of this. It is possible still somewhere in my notes. Also I am unsatisfied with the end. I feel a need to publish it now simply to avoid forgetting about it. It is what it is.

"Prajnaparadha" (noun, Sanskrit) - "Crimes against Wisdom”

"There is a difference between making a written report to the next higher echelons in the system through appropriate channels, about misconduct of the lower echelons which is not being sorted out at that level due to the misconduct; and libel. The lower echelons responsible for the misconduct are in a situation where their response of attacking the whistleblower for making accusations against them is questionable in its appropriateness."

The newsreel complaining about the latest terrorist activity in this zone, more graffiti slogans. Whoever was doing it could somehow bypass the scanner-detectors. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. The newsreel graciously reported the entire story, causing Sable to wonder about the political ethics of whoever was programming the data. 

The graffiti’s message was broadcast verbally by the soft feminine voice of the auto-computer: "When the state does not serve the people, and yet the people are expected to be subservient to the state; it creates a tension, exploited by state control, martial law; state openly defies that it serves the people by persecuting them. This is called tyranny.” The punishment for this form of terrorism is disappearance, the polite word for termination.

Sable unravels the data scroll which she had found in the bath house and reads it.

"My great grandfather, he built this stream of consciousness with his bare hands, it has been passed down as a family heirloom for several generations. It was made in a time of great social upheaval, from before the chipping began. Experts say that it reveals a form a humor called satire and that if the authorities know we have this they will terminate us for being influenced by dangerous attitude. ”

Tomorrow she will dutifully report it to the police cubical and clear her name of any assumed suspicion of all insidious activities. Then she will attend the shrine of ixa, the symbol for the city, her goddess. She who is the Way.

The haiku randomizer is burbling in the background.

the signs of success
are not making envy
they are happiness

Surreptitiously, Sable writes one of her own and submits it to the database.

no-one is coming for you
you have to go out and take
go out and find (it)

Aware that these are not Haiku proper, given the incorrect number of syllables. Nonconformity to the 575 syllable principle. Very often the randomizer is making bad translations of words, otherwise unassociated. Cheap foreign technology for an alien market, a subtle method of subversion. Program the semi-listeners from the background in the guise of cultural continuity and community integrations. 


The state issues us a challenge, to be true to our instincts or to follow aspirations engineered in us culturally from birth to perpetuate the state. As machine it ensures sustainable civilisation, generation after generation. 

"But it is so boring!" shouts Sable, then clasping her hands both over her mouth as though to double shut herself up, her eyes wide and wishing to take back the unexpected outburst, surprising herself more than any other who might be eavesdropping. Listening in on her activities to report her normality or otherwise suspicious breaks in the routine cycles she has developed as acceptable, non-threatening to social sustenance.

She lets out a deep sigh as she realizes no lazer-droids are coming for her this moment and relaxes back onto the plastic mattress of her sleeping cot.

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