swarm3

1: Bug hunts.
Laser guided remote control extermination programmes. You're going out to destroy them, right? Not to study, not to bring them back, but to wipe them out. Ultra-high tech SF optical space weaponry geared up to fight wars that are clean only in the sense that they are waged as pest control. The aim no longer to occupy territory on the ground but to decontaminate from the sky. Clean sweeps operated from a safe distance.

2: Swarmachinic control.
Close up. Control X. Haptic space invasion getting under the skin of the enemy. Sticky heat. Your blood's sweating now - can you feel it simmer? Complex chaos management systems operating sophisticated stimulus-response feedback circuits. Organised insecurity, programmed catastrophe, unanticipated consequences already dealt with. Populations injected with antiviral agents, guerilla tacticians working for Absolute Peace: SWAT teams, Special Forces, undercover ops, CIA drug runners.

Absolute Peace is the same as permanent war. A grey area.

New circumstances obtain. Conduits and dams and floodgates have exceeded capacity. Deregulated trade without unions. From Dawn of the Dead to Night of the Living Bassheads. Factory farmed dead labour decommisioned, and the arteries of the new world disorder flow with post-industrial junk. Capture gets addictive. It works so much better when you want it.

Watch yourself. Everyone is rushed to extensive care in comfort-style hyperregulation. Indefinitely postponed. Take your work home with you. Thermostatic normalization is all part of the service; in case you were wondering, you've been undergoing pollenation.

fireflys - strobe - blink - the light's in your eyes

K-space isn't the promised land, but a battleground - snakes and ladders played out in 3D.

Metrophage's basic problem: what degree of distribution is required in order to keep things stratified? Jungle's basic problem: what degree of stratification is required in order to get distributed?

There is no need to fear or hope, but only to look for new weapons.

The enemy haunts the virtual, forcing the pyramid to flatten. Control searches for the optimal distribution point for power. But while the State is strapped to the past the war machine boots into the future. You push the pyramid down and it seeps. The intravenous rush drives open lines of communication. Valves quiver under the strain to stay vacant. Welcome inside.

Khaki, colour of dust. The only effective way to track your enemy is to become it. (Spies have always known this).

Narcotic trade as guerrilla swarmachine. Becoming imperceptible, Becoming flea...but territorial fleas. Dog fleas. Subterranean networks of molecular distribution, deterritorializing the apparatus of statist commodity control, but reterritorializing as micro-statist oedipal organized crime syndicates. Statist and micro-statist Drug Enforcement Agencies in ostensible opposition, white economies vs. black markets, poles of mutually legitimating cybernetic interaction operating territorial protectionism.

Meanwhile, Body without Organized crime establishes new channels for intensity diffusion. Keyser Soze is only a name for illicit distribution across K-space. Kobayashi knows that Dean Keaton is as much of a dupe as Michael Corleone. You can't go legit. Overwhelming pathos as the Godfather watches mummified oedipal Europower decomposing into worldwide webs of corruption: Omililgiari ... P2 ... vatican ... Calvi... Internal third world neo-gangsta sneers at dreams of respectability and innovates connectionist trade routes into the jungle.

It all mixes in the blood of the junkie.

Stop me when you're wanting more.
Then again, I don't want to ask for your
opinion...I'm waiting for your cry, your divide, your trembling fingernails.
Submission without supression.
Look at me when I'm talking to you.
Humiliate me and I become you; beyond and become control.

She lay back and stretched her surfaces so taut there were tears starting to appear. The contours of her throat trembled a silent rosary. She felt the membranes re-route and re-tasted her cry. User. She knew she was being probed. It had kept its back to her but she could so distinctively feel it. Insects under the skin. Multiform and manouevering,..the unassignable material saboteur forever under track by the cult of the detail.

Grains of sand transported into the sterility of a lab grown into crystal, Matter molded and carefully distributed takes on the morphology of circuitry.

Desert swarm. Engulfing sand, more of it than the eye can take in. Visible light - 10 to the fourteenth cycles per second - you remove your protection to his naked eye. Resisting specification, camouflage melting in X-ray optics - 10 to the eighteenth cycles per second and your tissues divide. Sand suffocates man as the sea does, only more maliciously because more slowly. Turning into silicon. Terminal beaches energized by electron flash-floods. Human desertion.

Wiry sacs carrying the flow of blood, muscle transformed into tendon, bones held together by elasticized ligaments, a network of nerves clinging to muscle and flesh ... all organize to form a finger. Familiar territory, grids mapped out onto a slab of plastic. A surplus value of force waits, poised programmed to understand the weight of flesh on plastic... with each beat of the finger matter becomes speed.

Victory depends on this. An army used to need more typewriters than medium and light artillery pieces. Now computers; shift to soft copy. Flashback, 1943: Colossus defeats Enigma, machines stolen from the future hunt down numbers at rates that shatter human time.

Sea space, air space. K-space waiting in the office from the start. Communication seepage in even the most segmented offices - potential contiguity of all points; Advanced Research Programmes Agency Network takes lessons from perverse bureaucracy. Recurring dream space of corridors where the approach to the castle is by endless detours but also by unexpected jumps. Another dimension: a sort of adjacency marked by halts, sudden stops, where parts, gears, assemble themselves.

Riding the bear. Microsoft war machines pick off Big Blue just in time to make Orwell redundant. After 1980 job security is an archaism. Lumbering, centre-heavy big daddy mainframes can't respond quickly enough to parasite takeover. IBM office clones are no different from clock in-clock-out industry robots, both obsolesced by control-phase continuously assessed flexitime.

Keyboards unpick k-locks, enabling power to go microsoft. Minituarized, made supple, and all the more dangerous for it. Ant hills: the boss's office is as much at the end of the hall as at the top of the tower.

Cool Ice. Pure terror. Don't let it heat up. Infrared tasting your sweat. Warding off explosive, hot catastrophe, televisual capture cools implosion, dissipating injected doses of intensity through a concentric wave refrigeration system. Thermostatic criminostasis as sim-city dissolves into the actual, inducing the flocking behaviour of goa trance as the sun rises in the east. Actuarial justice, group risk profiles -provide the indicators by ticking the boxes and get selected - where do you live, are you married, got a job, an education, a criminal record. Congratulations, you're selected for incapacitation. Not deterrence but the manipulation of demographic aggregates. White magic of criminal lotteries - your number's up.

Manage risk in Operation Weed style techno-cratic self-perpertuation. Eliminate bottlenecks, probation and parole to avoid the trial loops, fast track prosecution for career criminals. Do you really need guilt anymore?

Omnipresent impotence shifts to the infinite surfaces of faceless delegation. Power on automatic pilot, rogue cells executing command, cancerous metabolic vehicles with no-one driving. What clicks into place Dealey Plaza 1963 is a hive assasination weapon. Not a paranoic conspiracy, but a rhizomaniac web.

End of level 4 and you find that all along you've been working for the other side.

Control X: the unspecified enemy is user friendy. In control societies the key thing is no longer a signature or a number but a code. Log on and imperceptible matter throbs with a crazed espionage. With each stroke of the keyboard we leave our trace. The air is alive with secrets, and everything is a potential resource for the global war machine. The system runs, falters, pauses, flows - it runs under control and over the top - penetrating your every cell, synthetically manufacturing the microphysical fabric. It strokes almost without sensation, yet she arches her back craving the touch of a breath.

Infested deep pile jungle requests C3- copter carpet bombing. Pregnant, bulbous- vertical take-off egg-laying machines stinging the eye with swarming flash attacks. No tears left, only sparks.

I've never felt so at home in the midst of the battle.

Wars have never been as bloody as they have been since the nineteenth century. Explicit calculating machines of microsoft power manage megaviolence rather than eliminate the need for it. War provides commercial opportunities for absolute peace, hardware demonstration exercises generating new input for playstation behaviour modelling systems.

Dromoscopic Vietnam refought by the film companies goes intergalactic in Aliens. Desert Storm is the sequel. Video captured in the Persian Gulf, virtual war slams airborne cyber-deleonomes against an immobilized, sedentary enemy in U.N. tele-spatial media mash-up. Megadriving out of history, the Gulf war is not an event but a CNN-scheduled, SEGA reformattable digital scenario played out for the benefit of data-hungry simulation strategy modules. They arrived within minutes.

This time Chopper War U.S.A. is a success. 24-hour MTV programming for terminal man to jack into. The body of the dead rock star mixed with sampled shots of helicopter wreckage as foci of maximum sexual arousal in adolescent sex substitutes. Here we are now, entertain us.

Atroci-tv. Terminal in every room, but leaving open unforeseen feedback possibilities. Electron swarm cathode ray tube - why would such an instrument of sedation, of such hypnotic normativism, of prisoner discipline be harnessed under charges of violent induction? Because whilst it sedates it seduces and bleeds.

Biomorphic horror rides solarizing atrocity newsreels into the D.M.Z. of the arcade, fusing brain core, nerve cortex and movement-image on the glutinous screens of the console, virtual war datableeding out of commercial control, washing amphibious pioneers of the end of the State onto the fractal subdivisions of coastlines of imperial glacis. Radioactive surplus value leaks into autopoetic black magic, voodoo through incendiary turbulence.

Uptown, the Hezbullah strap on nitroglicerine for all to see - and then vanish. Pure energy. Mobile rapid response units of space invaders are reterritorialised on the static black hole system of fire bases - waiting in the dark to be picked-off limb, by limb, by limb: paralyzed in the suburbs of Necropolis; the neutralising space in which the loss of movement for invaders means prolonged exposure to the jungle, infection, death. The last organs fall off leper earth revealing sockets of mangled circuitry and coagulated blood dispersing out through transcarcerative planomenal veins - drug rush, energy rush, artillery through the arteries.

If you want the news follow the CNN rapid deployment force.

1992 - Los Angelian white magic. The anti-panther late sixties love-in between CIA and mafioso mutates into hallucinations of danger. Heroin goes triadic, the veins ice over and crack. South central and distributed samplers transport the after glow of micro-fascist stick-bundle mobilisations.

-Flashpoint.

- Not flat to the floor speed but the consistency of catatonic lightning - a martial art, yes, but remember, the war machine only gets frisky when strata blubber-nauts construct colonic irrigation for flash-flood insurgency. Undercover cop endoscopic infiltration. A war machine in every cell.

-Pause.

-Quantize.

-Loop the star shaped Rodney King/ KKK assemblage and insert into Wagnerian four to the floor LAPD soundscape, Facing the strata everything feeds back towards the spectacular archaism of sovereign phase penality-

-red alert

-unspecified danger.

-obey your focal length.

-they all look the same. . .white magic.

-Zoom to the darkside.

Control X terminated

Slow motion baton swings incite riot response. Programmed. Bruised blacktion replay. Real time footage, kicking habits booting up, decapitated King, body of the condemned.

Control X

posed broken doll black and white photo

Blood traces pulped video flesh, black and blue lines

Execute control command.