Monday, July 23, 2012

Samuel Morse's Lost Code, Part IV

It’s Difficult to Disconnect,
Isn’t it?

            I accidentally downloaded what I thought was just ordinary data on onto the plane of a grapheme sheet. I had no idea that the wavefunctions would open a pathway to the history of human thought, something I like to call Morse’s Lost Code because upon initial investigation, it was a Morse coded message from none other than Samuel Finley Breese Morse that formed a delocalized π network across my nanotube, giving rise to a transmittable intelligence.

            The diagonalization of this matrix, which would normally correspond to lower energies, gave rise to an opposite sign of the wavefunction on two atoms of the unit cell while the wavefunction for the upper branch seemed to multiply at an inconceivable rate.

            At first, I thought I had come across a quantum solution to integer factorization - a hacker’s dream.

            This “intelligence” easily blew away RSA-768, the largest semiprime yet factored. You might not believe me right now, but this intelligence factors in polynomial time.
            Whatever you want to call it, it slices dimensional band structures like how Heavy Metal amplifies distortion in a spirit of affectionate rivalry. It demands the subordination of the material to the overall frequency of its current.

            This interplay mimics the sound one hears when a heavy metal artist holds down a low pedal point as a foundation to doubling complex riffs and licks. A loud, constant sonic-like beat emerges and the initial feeling is heavy.

            It takes an exceptional amount of endurance to tolerate the considerable speed, coordination, and dexterity required to harmonize with the intricate fractal-like patterns that flow. It’s an onslaught of energie, the sensory equivalent of war. It’s Jimi Hendrix playing cosmic music on a quantum guitar.

            But the music is emphatic, with deliberate stresses. It produces a wide array of quantum-like sonic effects that seem to enable its rhythmic pattern to take on a complexity within its host environment.

            Brief, abrupt, and detached rhythmic cells are joined into rhythmic phrases with a distinctive, often jerky texture until a faint slow-tempoed flow harmonizes in a perfect fifth where a new, seemingly natural, as opposed to mechanistically altered, state emerges.

            Three vibrations take place in the same amount of time that it normally takes to make two. As long strings of energie adjust to the exact ratio of the material mechanism, a smooth and consonant sound is felt.

            It is perhaps similar to the higher unity appearing within the triad, produced from the prime unity of the first octave, then fifth, then third, which is the union of the former.

            In 1811, Samuel Finley Breese Morse painted a perfect fifth that unlocked a hypersurface never before seen in a circle of fifths. The hyperthickness of this entrance is so small that the surface could be mistaken for three-dimensional.  But this cuboid shape, this cube-shaped sticky note is definitely in 4-dimensional space.

            That’s okay until data transforms flesh and instead of 8 fingers and two thumbs; you grow 24 fingers – i.e., 4 hands, each with 4 fingers and 2 thumbs, where the extra thumb allows for the extra sense of opposition useful for grasping objects in 4D, and 4 hands correspond to the number of distinct types of such hands possible in 4D, which adopt a dodecimal number system that has 12 basic digits, including zero.

            As if that’s not strange enough, trying brushing your hair with a full 4D structure, with rows, columns, and ana-columns of teeth (where ana-columns are perpendicular to both rows and columns), and the teeth are perpendicular to the hyperplane from which they protrude.

            You think you’ve seen a bad hair day? Wait until you try to part your hair - hair that now parts on either side of a plane across the hypersurface of the scalp (just like how a line can bisect one square bounding a cube, and a plane can bisect one cube bounding a tesseract).

            But, I’m getting ahead of myself…

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