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Neskribita

by Coppice Halifax

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1.
Neskribita 01:08:01

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UR SLATE / SECTION X - 17463.space/ur_slate_sec10.png

UR SLATE / DISTRANS TELEKOMM REPORT - 17463.space/ur.txt

2021.10 OBSERVATION REPORT: For another three weeks, the Slate hummed forward with its strange outputs, all the while giving us a continuous feed of numerical information that we were using to print a few dozen of these weird little plastic hexagons in the 3D printer. It began to feel like a factory line job, after a while - not something any of us had any patience for, given our academic pursuits, arguably running in the opposite direction as far as our potential vocations were concerned. I spent the time focusing on the 10th section of the etchings on the Slate instead, bored by the monotony of the whole affair, waiting for some kind of change or purpose to our work. Several times over, we discussed giving up, certain that we were just going to be doing this forever, like trying to calculate Pi and hunting for meanings and patterns within it. This led us further down even more philosophical considerations - What if doing this kind of mundane and repetitious work was in fact the long and necessary task that would bring about some new age of enlightenment? What if we were moments away from summoning the divine? Worse, what if we were advancing toward some much darker destination? What kind of end was waiting for us here, at the terminus of all this work and supposition? We decided, somewhat definitively, that humanity never got anywhere by playing it safe - in for a penny, as they say - so whatever final act this Slate had in mind for us, we must accept it willingly and completely, otherwise we may miss something important in the interests of self-preservation. Truly applying the scientific method is both egomaniacal and egoless - the act of trying to learn more places us in a position of dissatisfaction with the things laid out before us, while simultaneously feeling like the noble and necessary work required to move ourselves forward, with the assumption that this progress is what our maker would have wanted for us.

But who can speak for God?

Perhaps that is what is at the heart of all of this. The Slate itself - God's first and last will and testament. The detail of his design, the purpose of his plan, the one physical aspect of the thing that created this universe, and any others we can or cannot know about, here in front of us, beckoning us to examine and explore it like the apes in 2001, pawing at the monolith.

And, just as our discussions turned deeply introspective and cosmic, and we felt renewed in our vigor for a seemingly endless task of punching numbers into a printer...it stopped. We almost didn't even notice it, but it stopped. The Slate went silent, no more vibrations or reactions of any kind. All of our instruments kept on recording and relaying, but there just wasn't anything happening. The only thing left for us to do was to try and assemble all of these pieces we printed out, which we hurriedly and chaotically threw ourselves into.

It took about a week, and felt just like putting a puzzle together when you're a kid, but more unfathomably satisfying and disappointing all at once. We feel fairly sure that we've done it correctly, since many of the pieces are almost totally unique from all the others - eighty-three little hexagons, specifically - but we have no idea what it is or what it could be for. The pieces all stack up vertically to form a wand or a pole of some kind, which measures an eerily exact eight inches in height - this exact number is more or less the only reason we feel this is the correct arrangement, it feels very deliberate somehow. The top, non-flat, end of it terminates in a pointed three-sided pyramidal shape, sort of like a spear or a stake. Someone remembered the Staff of Ra, a plot point in Indiana Jones, which needed a headpiece to be attached in order to fulfill its purpose completely, and this seems to be an idea we can't shake. Something is missing from this object, and until or unless the Slate begins broadcasting again, I fear we now need to take a completely new tack to figure out what comes next.

A good time to note also that the instruments fooled us a bit last week, while we were assembling the pieces - We'd left them on and recording in the chance that the Slate came back to life again, and slowly we heard a swelling chordal sound emerge from the control room speakers. I ran in to check the meters and sure enough, it was a very long running self-oscillation, likely from the positional placement of the piezo mics around the Slate, and the gain we'd left cranked hoping to widen the band on the reception a bit. For posterity's sake (and laziness, I should admit) we recorded an hour of the sound and put it in the file.

So, back to the drawing board again. The only piece of information we have left to consider is what we had when we began - the Slate and its etchings. The tenth reads as follows:

"Vibration, once again a descendant of that dawning arc, gave way to forms of sound, clusters of arrangements, moments of with and without, bearing the weight of awareness, echoing across generations and etched into a surface."

It almost seems laughable - "bearing the weight of awareness" when we're just like those apes, fumbling around in the darkness.

credits

released October 20, 2021

Recorded at Distrans Telekomm, October 2021. Mastered by The Analog Botanist. Photograph of the Ur Slate and reproduction of text courtesy of the Distrans Telekomm lending library. Used with permission. This is Milieu Music number EARTH 70, entry #70 in the Deep Earth series. milieu-music.com analogbotany.com

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Deep Earth Dayton, Ohio

TEMPØ PULSØS MALFØKUSITA

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