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Victoria Vesna
Fear of Deletion and the Eternal Trace


[intro] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

I kept this dangerous awareness under control for a long time, and never would have brought it into the light of day had it not been for the accidental creation of a body of digits now distributed everywhere. Endless copies of the reflection of the physical sensation I carry could be created, and it would be impossible to control spread of this knowledge. I fear the consequences. I don't want the responsibility of ushering in an age of Noend. Having it out there circulating makes me very nervous.

How did this happen? Well, I was playing around in a corporate form with some friends and, just for fun, output a headless body attaching meaning to it that clearly states the fact of no end. It is encoded into the reflective genome and by accident I patented the thought and submitted the information without giving it more time. My friends were amused and we laughed for a long while about how freaked out people will be when they come into contact with the Noend. But, here's the worst part: the body is without a head, so it travels and makes contact endlessly and with no judgment. I have no idea how many data bodies have been infected because I disabled the tracking and made the tracing invisible. Since I am so terribly busy, I haven't had time to decode it or see how much damage was done before I delete it.

So I proceeded towards the edge of a road to nowhere, and asked myself the same question, over and over again: when I delete it, will a permanent trace remain, like on the steps of Hiroshima, in the system? Is this a pointless act that simply will bring everyone's attention to something I am trying to hide? My stomach would contract, my chest would tighten, my head would become dizzy and my palms sweaty at the thought of having the digit body reveal to all that come across it that they will never die... How will the system of the corporate body I reside in react? I am afraid for my existence and do not want to risk having my net connection cut off.

How did I comfort myself? I reiterated the Buddhist chant that it is all an illusion... I stared at my flesh and reminded myself that it is a chemical composition that will decompose as soon as it wears out and needs replacement. The flesh returns back to earth while your essence floats around waiting for it's number to be called. There is nothing mysterious or mystical about the process - it is mathematical - your points are calculated, and that's that. Normally, it is only during this interlude that you know there is no end. Funny how we spend our lives wondering if there is something after death, hoping to go on. We create elaborate scenarios to ensure that a memory of us remains, just in case that's it. But, when in Limbo, you have the enlightened viewpoint that makes you desperate. The thought of endless cycles exhausts you. You wish to disappear and become dust in the universe, but then you realize that you are already but dust, conscious dust. And, what do you think is the great incentive to go ahead and move up the ladder? When you reach a higher level of existence, you do not have to fear a horrifying death, the memory of which remains in your next existence. Plus, you gain access to the databases of production and are able to input the race, age, philosophical background, genetic history and even decide on what form you may next assume. It is not clear however, what happens with bodies made of bits. My suspicion is that they stay the same forever and remain attached to you no matter how much you progress and how many forms you may take. These digital bodies, that some still refer to as avatars, are created by people playing around and not realizing that they are outputting thoughtforms that remain in the system forever. My fear was that even if I deleted the body it would remain and continue spreading the realization of endless existence. Nevertheless, I firmly made my decision to delete it, even though I fully realized that death digits will haunt me. Still, it is easier to have the trace of a grave floating endlessly with me than of a headless body.