Nathan Wiles

@ntwiles.bsky.social

99 Followers 107 Following

Talk to me about: 💻: ATProto, Rust, TypeScript, FP, architecture, language design. 🧠: Metacognition, neurochemistry, consciousness. 📚: Sci-Fi, literary fiction, postmodern lit and what comes next.

She was meant to remember. She faced that possibility as she might the toy street from a high balcony, roller coaster ride, feeding time among the beasts in a zoo -- any death wish that can be consummated by some minimum gesture. She touched the edge of its voluptuous field, knowing it would be lovey beyond dreams simply to submit to it; that not gravity's pull, laws of ballistics, feral ravening, promised more delight. She tested it, shivering: I am meant to remember. Each clue that comes is supposed to have its own clarity, its fine chances for performance. But then she wondered if these gemlike clues were only some kind of compensation. To make up for her having lost the direct, epileptic Word, the cry that might abolish the night.

Suddenly, Drumlin was in the air flying. Everything else seemed to be flying too. It reminded her of the tornado that had carried Dorothy to Oz. As in a slow motion film, Drumlin careened toward her, arms outstretched, and knocked her roughly to the ground. "After all these years," she thought, "Was this his notion of a sexual overture."

A video of a misbehaving neural network with entities, represented as cellular automata, chasing their own deaths into orange 'kill zones.'