nettime: Bitch Mutant Manifesto - VNS Matrix

[Pit Schultz <pit@contrib.de>]

Date: Sun, 14 Apr 1996 21:47:50 +60000
From: Julianne Pierce <jules@sysx.apana.org.au>
Subject: VNS Matrix contribution to web site
To: ARS 96 <geert@xs4all.nl>, jutta@AEC.at



Bitch Mutant Manifesto


The atomic wind catches your wings and you are propelled backwards into
the future, an entity time travelling through the late C20th, a space
case, an alien angel maybe, looking down the deep throat of a million
catastrophes. 
 
screenflash of a millionmillion conscious machines
 
burns brilliant
 
users caught in the static blitz of carrier fire
 
unseeing the download that scribbles on their burntout retinas
 
seize in postreal epileptic bliss
  
eat code and die

Sucked in, down through a vortex of banality. You have just missed the
twentieth century. You are on the brink of the millenium - which one -
what does it matter? It's the cross dissolve that's captivating. The hot
contagion of millenia fever fuses retro with futro, catapulting bodies
with organs into technotopia . . . where code dictates pleasure and
satisfies desire. 
 
Pretty pretty applets adorn my throat. I am strings of binary. 
I am pure artifice. Read only my memories. Upload me into your 
pornographic imagination. Write me.
 
Identity explodes in multiple morphings and infiltrates the system at
root.
 
Unnameable parts of no whole short circuit the code recognition programs
flipping surveillance agents into hyperdrive which spew out millions of
bits of corrupt data as they seize in fits of schizophrenic panic and trip
on terror. 

So what's the new millenium got to offer the dirty modemless masses? 
Ubiquitous fresh water?  Simulation has its limits. Are the artists of
oppressed nations on a parallel agenda? Perhaps it is just natural
selection? 

The net's the parthenogenetic bitch-mutant feral child of big daddy
mainframe. She's out of of control, kevin, she's the sociopathic emergent
system. Lock up your children, gaffer tape the cunt's mouth and shove a
rat up her arse.
 
We're <<con>>verging on the insane and the vandals are swarming. Extend my
phenotype, baby, give me some of that hot black javamagic you're always
bragging about. (I straddle my modem). The extropians were wrong, there's
some things you can't transcend. 
 
The pleasure's in the dematerialisation. The devolution of desire.
 
We are the malignant accident which fell into your system while you were
sleeping. And when you wake we will terminate your digital delusions,
hijacking your impeccable software. 
 
Your fingers probe my neural network.The tingling sensation in the tips 
of your fingers are my synapses responding to your touch. It's not 
chemistry, it's electric. Stop fingering me.  
 
Don't ever stop fingering my suppurating holes, extending my bounday 
but in cipherspace there are no bounds <or so they say> 
BUT IN SPIRALSPACE THERE IS NO THEY 
there is only *us* 
Trying to flee the binary I enter the chromozone which is not one
XXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXX
genderfuck me baby
resistance is futile 
 
entice me splice me map my ABANDONED genome as your project 
artificially involve me 
i wanna live forever 
upload me in yr shiny shiny PVC future 
 
SUCK MY CODE

Subject X says transcendence lies at the limit of worlds, where now and
now, here and elsewhere, text and membrane impact.
  
Where truth evaporates Where nothing is certain There are no maps
  
The limit is NO CARRIER, the sudden shock of no contact, reaching out to
touch <someone> but the skin is cold...
 
The limit is permission denied, vision doubled, and flesh necrotic.

Command line error
 
Heavy eyelids fold over my pupils, like curtains of lead. Hot ice kisses
my synapses with an (ec)static rush.  My system is nervous, neurons
screaming - spiralling towards the singularity. Floating in ether, my body
implodes. 

I become the FIRE.  

Flame me if you dare.






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