Let me be Frank,
Here is a Melo-Dramatic interpretation from my recent journal entry regarding the panicking heterarchy of a Global, Breakaway Civilization... And my way of passing useful intelligence in plain sight.
...I was arguing energetically again about the nature of nature, and how things come together and cooperate for the written reasons. Trying to say less with more, was the charge; as is so apt with this group I was speaking to. We were branding our thoughts, looking for existential ways to project our messages across the right time and space. Or so they thought!
“dilute it further.” I heard one of them exclaim in interruption. A part I hated. It was a great upset to me to have to stop everything, disrupt the rhythm, halt the melody. And then, almost without a pause, re-tell what I was just in telling, only with fewer names and images.
A quiet parroting of the above exclamation drummed forth from others in this group. “Yes, dilute it a bit more.” “Make it simpler,” hummed one in particular. “There’s no time for the melodrama,” I heard as a rattling from the back of my own head.
I started over. Wordplay... Natural Wellness-->Living Centers. Recreational Communities. Organizational Heterarchy.
Starting my story again, I tied it to three steps or links in cycles. I began with recording the minutes. Every minute. Every second of every minute of everything on earth. Recording minutes in one second increments on a blockchain, running on a distributed, world wide, decentralized web.
So the first step, “ONCE APON A TIME!”
I then went on explain how we can also record a space. How the second layer is recording SPACE in context now to a duration or time. Two chains running synchronistically with one another, defined by the results of one another; time without space, irrelevant! Space without time, unusable! Space and Time, recordable! Provable… trustworthy! And mainly defined by cryptographic addressing.
So the second step, “IN A SPACE KNOWN AS!”
By this time I was irate. This was the spot in the story I had reached in telling before the initial interruption. I was resolute to explain further but even the simpler details were a bit hard to grasp at this stage. I felt it needed a proper instruction. I couldn’t be brief.
The third step, “THERE ONCE EXISTED A..!”
A what? And only once apparently. And “THERE” is an address set forth by the perimeters in the second step, “A SPACE KNOWN AS,” defined by a cryptographic addressing network. There once was a… an… INSTANCE!
I called this the trinity of Time, Space, and Institution, or Instance-iation. A New World Operating System, running open source, around the world, as we speak.
“What do you mean? As we speak?” quipped one of my audience.
... There was a long dramatic pause. Long enough for me to evoke the three deep breaths principle.
“I mean to say…” I told him, “That the world has already come apart at the seams. We put this plan into operation well ahead of this meeting, to insure we would have it to grasp ahold of during a total deconstruction event.” I held back the shiver in my back at this point. “This was never a discussion about looking for your permission gentlemen.” Some of the faces are beginning to look grave. “I’m explaining the way out for your sections before they go down with the rest of the heirs.” Now some faces are turning white. “Gentlemen, this is your life raft, I’m simply instructing you on where the pull string is located.”
With that, I sharply slammed my laptop shut. Just enough force to telegraph a precise understanding of it’s engineering tolerances. With few lags in maneuvers, swept some scattered belongings and the the computer into a hard-shelled backpack and began moving towards the door. I was right at the 1 hour mark. $999.40 for the last presentation of my professional career. The last Money I would make in the old system. From here on out, I had activated the pull string. I was climbing into the raft. The room I was vacating was stirring into a sh!tstorm.
"Remember to read those articles gentlemen. All the instructions are as clear as day on those pages." I huffed on the way out of the building. At least I had left them printouts for once. My conscious was clear.
Satire By Frank Bacon.
[Written as Scientific Fiction from a CHARming ACTER, Frank Bacon. Creative Plagiarism provided by FMM-MMF and Universal Code; ABRACADABRA]
I AM a RAD ARTist.]