Our slow descent into rovocab...

Seven hundred and sixty three. The slithering missiles fished down slowly, the moon glinthe off rain. That's the secret box there one the ground. The seed of a coded message decoded by hapless apes.

CoUnT function - mess moves in.

Talking about... Numbers? The new math-talk.

Remember when you were a kid and the kids in the bathroom started talking to you while you were in the stall? In robot voices, slowly at first, a monotone here and there, a questionable glance, a syllable stretched out, glitch in.

The fourth graders rebellion. The adorable game drones, mind tuned into a secret visual frequency. Eyes full of infotainment tricolor death-bursts, fingers muscle-memory affinity-bonded to trigger-pulling. From our externalized electronic fear-net the focus moves to the control, the square-eyed spirit crosses over... Ah! To have a hundred million ant-bodies to flow through the land in, to chew-suck every drop of food off this cold, pitiful ball.

What I am talking about is, do you remember when the gang brought you aside and told you about the robot voice? Do you remember how it felt, how it flattened the thousand flavors of sound into a single stream? How the voice found itself into your song, and how that song was a square, a constant click-track disguised as a thobbing four-beat? How this feeling bloomed inside like a neon light split, but still glowing, blowing out like a sun-puff in your earthy cave-mind? How your fingers found the keyboard, your ears the most constant beautiful voice, your hypnotic hypnosis hynotized forever and ever and ever, automatically?

And this voice? The words that machines taught you, that you loved to learn? The terminal etymology, the second cut-up language, the confidence in metal? The robot vocabulary. The rovocab. Not even noticed.

Consider those born speaking in the robot-voice. Do they even understand the human voice? Consder, as an excercise, your best robot voice. Right now, as you are reading this, try to find the digitally-flattened code that runs behind your baby babble. Can you hear it now? Give voice to the tones, or, if you are alone, keep them in the back of your throat. Now try to hold this tone in a cage, catch it where it lies, try to stop it from entering your animal-life. Can you or can you not? And for a lark, imagine this - as your everyday voice is to your robot voice, your human voice is to your everyday voice. That is, there is a vast invasion of language by the mechanical mind. This is not an abstract. We are talking about now now now. Because there are two flavors of robot-voice; the one you learned in school, and the real one that we speak all the time now, which doesn't "sound" like a cartoon robot-voice, but is one nonetheless.

So we look to talking sense, then turn around. What is the nature of "gibberish?" What about "tongues?"

Here's what I said that was wrong: There are a thousand codes buried inside you, in your flesh and blood, in your eyes and brain. Your wet self is a million times denser than a DVD. Introns and exxons, exxeggers, extra useless hangers-on - trillions of unaccessed bits floating around useless. And rarely uncoded. But the odd readings of the code are what we are concerned with tonight; the stray reader heads moving the wrong way up the track, letting out a decorated chain of movie molecules that drift into the swishing travelway up into the grand decoder, blood flows up the stairs. Then the trillion-times cross-referenced code hits the receptive spot and the chain of causation moves up an order of magnetude. The genetic "gibberish" becomes "tongues." The brain's gibberish is still a first-magnetude nonsense-set, but it is writ in our native operating system. That said, all tongues are sorted through gibberish, but not all gibberish contains tongues. Take your pick; one contains a golden nugget, scrambled, one is unscrambled compost dirt.

So if it's all codes making moves on codes, what is the point of defending the human voice against the magnetic reformation?

I don't know about this sliced-up lecture tonight. You don't have to fight the magnet unless you surround your body with iron filings.