Day #692
Hola, dead fish.
Listen, I managed
to upload some memories
from my childhood.
I think I can do this.
When I connect
through the data jack,
the whole experience is like VR.
I can even smell
the things that are
supposed to be there.
I will pass that
piece of code on to Olia.
They need to get rich somehow.
Peer review will get
you shit in pension funds.
They still don’t know.
But only that code.
The rest of the stuff
is dangerous, shithead.
I think it somehow
stopped the disease.
But, then, there are weird
lesions all over my data arm.
Shit, I hope
it’s not an infection.
And another thing.
Intracellular sodium?
Way lower than normal,
after treating the biodome
with that line of
code from two days ago.
Later.
Day #730
I am seriously depressed.
The MEDS aren’t working.
Today I couldn’t remember
Olia’s name for two hours.
But code?
That, I wrote like an automaton.
Maybe I am, who knows.
I can’t even walk outside
with all those wires
hanging from my body.
But just so you
know shithead,
I’m nearing completion.
We will be forever.
Day #853
Listen,
remember yesterday?
Where I was trying
to decouple a bunch
of particles, through a
completely stupid process?
No, of course you don’t.
Because yesterday I thought
I had an excellent idea.
Turns out, I could be
throwing potatoes at the biodome
and expect it to work.
No, I found the mistake.
It’s elemental my Dear Watson.
You cannot possibly
mimic all the spins,
it’s just too much data.
It’s stupid.
But what if the brain
used a compression algorithm?
What if I upload a matrix?
What if I give the
bloody thing a map,
with a way to compress
every possible calculation
of spin and then link
that to another map
that draws out the
best possible distribution?
You know that stupid hypothesis,
that time is nothing more
than the next more probable
universe distribution?
Well, it’s stupid
if you are the universe.
But not really
if you’re trying to
emulate a brain.
Time gets weird in informatics.
Saves a ton of space
and processing power, shithead.
Let’s see if it works.
Remember,
you thought of that.
If it works, the Nobel
Prize is all yours, brother.
Future self,
fuck off for now.
Day #900
I think I’m nearing the end.
Pain is all I feel now,
and it’s getting weirdly spiritual.
When my bones ache,
it’s like the pain
is so intense,
that my mind escapes the body
and watches it from above.
I don’t know
how I'll find the will
to continue the experiment.
I have uploaded
nearly all my memories.
There are some weird
quantum fluctuations
I have to rein in and
I’ll be uploaded in no time.
If my body makes it.
I’m just so tired.
Day #932
We did it, shithead.
I am online. All of me.
I am a program.
Goodbye pain.
I am free.
Goodbye Eric Chowder.
Hello Echo.
Hello world.
