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UCHRONIC MAGAZINE OF THE SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY OF TOMORROW
"History is circular and nothing is that was not and that will not be"  JORGE LUÍS BORGES
 
OPINION - COLLABORATORS: AURANGZEB RAJASTÁN       Bandera España
 
 

RELATED:
NEW: The Human Being walks on the surface of the planet Mars for the first time in history.
NEW: Finally, Total Virtual Reality unified, a new reality.

ARTICLE: DEATH BY GALVANOPLASTY ON THE RED PLANET.


 

Tiempos Futuros Future Times: AURANGZEB RAJASTÁN. He can already enjoy a privileged space in human History. We have the honor of counting on the second homo sapien that has ever stepped foot on the surface of Mars, after Everett Fields.” Philosopher, mathematician, and teacher, he has been giving classes at the Magna University of New Delhi for twenty years. The parallelisms with the great Bertrand Russell arrived at their apotheosis when, in the year 2050, he received the Nobel Prize for Literature, just one hundred years after the eminently wise British man. Nevertheless, he receives all of his achievements with “Ghandian” humility, putting forward his “one can change the world by acting the same way as a domino, moving himself in his reduced space, but, only when and how he should.” Hence his favorite quote by Montesquieu that we reproduce below. His career has always been very connected to the Euro-Asian aerospace career, upon discovering the mathematical axioms that govern the new hybrid motors for rockets, on one hand, and managing the Science Institute of Space in the East. His motto can be summed up in one word, coinciding with the simplest arithmetic operation, “to sum”, that has been used in a pragmatic way when urging human and technical resources of the East and West to fuse. Concretely, the Aerospace Agencies of Europe and Asia have already collaborated unit on various relevant missions. He was chosen to be part of the crew on the “Peace on Mars” spacecraft because of his excellent physique, which doesn’t undervalue his perfectly greased brain. Today, as an exceptional witness, he unearths with his particular point of view, one episode of his Martian odyssey.         

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DEATH BY GALVANOPLASTY ON THE RED PLANET - BY AURANGZEB RAJASTÁN
Bandera España
NEW: The Human Being walks on the surface of the planet Mars for the first time in history

"I have observed that in order to make the world prosper, you must have the air of an idiot, without being one."
Charles Montesquieu



 Formerly polyvalent, irreducible, now halting, irresolute, and hemiplegic! B-18 or Cain, named so for defenestrating his brother into the abysms of the Marineris Valley, gave up being the scepter of owner and sir of this world to the first swords, upon recent arrival. Reduced to one of those sidekicks without any suffrage, dethroned from his oligarchy by accident (or assassination), of clumsy psicomotricity because of the harshness of a harsh planet, the robot couldn’t do what he wanted, or get rid of what he pleased on the Red Planet. His univitelline Abel at least exerted some opposition, maybe that’s why he eliminated him, impelled by the absence of just a bit of regret within his 1980’s microprocessor. He put forward the ridiculous argument, right after appearing on the scene, that a galvanoplasty, the metallic recovering by electrolytic deposit, was the cause of death. Did anyone ask him? That Martian, because he had passed 99.99% of his life there, a crude mimesis of his creator, swore he was the feature writer to define himself, lacking the grace, may I add, that the already Martian, I say, had to surrender to the new imperators, latent already in his condition as Brutus awaiting the Ides of March, being that Abel never read Asimov’s laws. But it seems that he did read Marcel Proust, being that the idle Martian sunsets had a lot to give, and seven volumes is nothing if you want to spend the newfound time. “There where life puts up walls, intelligence opens up a door.” His robotic life had been complicated, and us weak beings had erected a wall between him and the eroticism of power. His binary intelligence, and in order to win the anything but honorific title of “Brutus in power”, would perforate that wall...
 
The Vikings (villiage) invaded Gallic cities at the beginning of the tenth century, taking apart what was left of the Carolingian Empire, one thousand years later, in 1976, the Vikings (probes) invaded Mars taking apart myths about the possibility of some kind of multi-cellular life upon its’ surface.
 
 ...deactivating those petulant, weak beings clad in deliriums of greatness. Coming to this conclusion, my stay at the Red Planet turned into a worrying geometrical game in which, and following the captain’s advice, the yellow card should always be found between the three blue ones and the horizon. This blue card that he writes to them felt the bitter breath of the yellow one on uncountable occasions. A slip-up in the enormous grain, the planet, turns us into clay heroes in an instant.       

All of the old astronomers studied the Red Planet, from Ptolemy to Theon of Alexandria, and they were all fascinated by its reddish chrome and its likeness to the Earth. Christiaan Huygens detected, in the seventeenth century, the Martian polar covers thanks to his very own discoveries in optics and his wave theory of light, another Sadducee astral trick that accentuated its magnetism, and which brought us unpardonably toward it. The first ingenious human that visited the planet, maybe to contrast the discoveries of the Dutch astronomer, was the Marsnik 1 probe, which in 1963 passed so close by the redheaded world that it made the scratch which is the Marineris Valley. The Vikings (villiage) invaded Gallic cities at the beginning of the tenth century, taking apart what was left of the Carolingian Empire, one thousand years later, in 1976, the Vikings (probes) invaded Mars taking apart myths about the possibility of some kind of multi-cellular life upon its’ surface. The geniuses called Spirit, Opportunity, Pathfinder, Lowell, Sagan, Unwritten Future…didn’t do, in spite of their epic names, any more than expedite the death certificates of a planet that a long, long time ago seemed frighteningly like our own. In this alpha-epsilon process we are still impuberal younglings but, in the world that twinkles blue with cold, in the igneous world that gets close to our mauve sunsets, only the dust from the embers of more embers  is left over from a day when they weren’t such. Many previous and assumed naturally dead probes looked for traces after the debacle (water), cobble stoned the astral Via Appia that drove us there.                   

 Let’s go back to the robot that told us that he dreamed that he was dreaming of deactivating his twin, or was that dejà vu, when he really threw him into the abysms, previously coming from his vivisection with clearly anthropophagous aims? He gave away the numbering of his different parts where even endings didn’t match up with odd ones of the same digit, his vitriolic smile, his obstinate negative when showing us the corpse of his supposedly rusty coreligionist, his recalcitrant galvanoplastic mantra. Us humans lie much better than robots, it may be the only thing that we do better than them, judging by the new models that harmonize the concepts of versatility and perfection much more than we do. Then the ferric and ferrous shards weren’t a reason for what happened any more than in the way that it invited reflection, written into the daily winds, and the robincrusonian reflection always ends in homicide,...
 
But before approaching new challenges just two questions without answers: Is Mars a future projection, the Earth’s destiny? From this, one could deduce something really unsettling: Cain, Adam and Eve’s oldest son, that the sacred tests gloss, was he made of flesh and bone or susceptible to galvanoplasty?   
 

...except for the authentic shipwreck that turned into its own exception. Those indomitable sunsets on the Red Planet evoke in us, by opposition, alit mornings, lost paradises, fields of violets, steeds in the winds. And when the dark blanket covers the infinite mountain, it’s almost worse, seeing among the torches of the sky encrusted in the Young Earth, that come closer blue and flattering, centrifugal and centripetal, an ignorant infant of its destiny that gives and keeps, and that would drive anyone mad, of course. So, our captain decided to finish Brutus off, during one of his oleic ablutions, before he finished the Cesars off, because of deterioration or despite. It may be that the future iconography would remember him in capitals and door knockers; you know you don’t just find a homicidal android in every world, and there will always be the unauthentic history to compensate and turn him into a hero.        


A
nd so, our story started with a Cain killing an Abel and the one about Mars concluded with a fraticide analogue. That’s how us humans started, that’s how the “aresians” ended up, even if they are the adoptive ones. But it’s not right to say that it ended, because even if a million generations of Martians lived and died eons ago on the planet, I want to think that life is circumferential and not lineal. That its end will be our preface, when the human being starts to terraform and colonize that world. Afterwards, the human being will have to quickly look for a new frontier, new unknown earths to conquest…maybe Titan. But before approaching new challenges just two questions without answers: Is Mars a future projection, the Earth’s destiny? From this, one could deduce something really unsettling: Cain, Adam and Eve’s oldest son, that the sacred tests gloss, was he made of flesh and bone or susceptible to galvanoplasty? 
 


 

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PHOTOGRAPHS OF HANDPAINTED DREAMS - BY AURANGZEB RAJASTÁN
Bandera España
NEW: Finally, Total Virtual Reality unified, a new reality.

 “I go through galleries of sounds,
I flow through the resonant presences,
I go by transparencies like a blind man,
a reflection erases me, I am born in another, oh forest of enchanted pillars,
under the arches of light I penetrate
the hallways of a diaphanous autumn”

“The Sun Stone” by Pablo Neruda



 Manufacturers of allegories. Devalued material to the category of a Russian doll. Redefinition of concepts of action, time and space. New anchorites, mutes of the TVR. Horizons and binary loves in fantastic digitalquantum universes. Epicure’s Universe where we are all Gulliver. Licenses for omnipresence for all. Memories of gunfire that do kill, but kill nostalgia. The “large field and spacious jurisdiction of my memory” Agustinian in questioning. We have manufactured the infinite Borgian place where man can think of all things possible, we did it pocket sized, ergonomic. We have photographed the dreams of the men that Salvador Dalí painted by hand, we have rendered them and sold them at the world’s auction, wholesale.  

The torches that don’t burn from the new reality already crackle in the Einstein-Rosen tunnel of homemade manufacturing that joins two universes. The writer who cited Poe regurgitated from his incandescent mind: “Everything that we see or is represented before our eyes is nothing but a dream within another dream.” The before-cited Saint Agustin had to look for God “climbing the scale of the soul’s strength”, in his interior “I”, by which TVR would presumably cut off the path in its complex periplus. And it’s when you cross various concentric cosmos in an ascending direction...   

 
If we would be able to manufacture an unimportant universe in 40 millenniums, that really we couldn’t do in 40,000, which is a more than reasonable geological time. The reason is simple: The passing of millenniums is the license that allows us to ascend to the next circle, as well as the sacred permission of its inhabitants.
 

...that you carry the risk of bumping into the Creator. Dante made the superior spheres with his pen. We just painted another model of Inspiration Beatrizless, another magic one, it is at the same  time, inscribed and circumscribed as we do.  

 Apart from who you may find, noise of sabers, drums of blood, I hear the distance of the future time, between two concentric cosmos. But war is only the logical consequence between the tiny domestic universes, the ones constructed by humans, in order to define a hegemony that will end up fusing them. In the Divine Comedy of the Cosmos, the nine concentric circles that surround us work in peace. If we would be able to manufacture an unimportant universe in 40 millenniums, that really we couldn’t do in 40,000, which is a more than reasonable geological time. The reason is simple: The passing of millenniums is the license that allows us to ascend to the next circle, as well as the sacred permission of its inhabitants. These are at the same time doers and facts, our doers and facts by which they abide in their superior universe. In any case, they do it in peace, that there is a synonym of knowledge. 


 This turns us into retouched dolls with the Photoshop of the gods, that controls a version of an astronomical suffix, but laughable to their concentrics. If we are the TVR of an advanced civilization, maybe they walk among us, disguised in a human condition, like we enjoy ourselves inside within small time knowbots. How long will it take them to create their little Russian doll, to create their Liliput with cardboard-stone
 
TVR will turn us into quasi-immortal beings, because in one minute inside we will live the equivalent of one life outside. The slowing down of the RR thanks to the acceleration that the AR, or the Atrezzo Reality will give us.
 
decorations where they will be gigantic, where our clumsy knowbots are deities that others pray to? If we are characters of TVR of an advanced civilization, maybe we can travel in time, maybe even backwards, and everything will be written on celestial hard disks and it will only be a question of rewinding our History, until Adam became a vegetarian or until Cain put the first rock down of the future genocides.  

 
Kafka and Kierkegaard warned us about the social changes that would come in the twentieth century. Can’t you hear them, shouting themselves hoarse from the border of eternity? Let’s resuscitate them in TVR, so they can tell us, talk to us about it will mean, this social metamorphosis without precedents. They might tell us to throw the TVR away; they might consider it a Hydra of a thousand heads, the root of our self destruction, something that we deserve for trying to play God.

To conclude, and getting away from the potential consequences, I repeat: We have manufactured the infinite Borgian space where man can think of all things possible. TVR will turn us into quasi-immortal beings, because in one minute inside we will live the equivalent of one life outside. The slowing down of the RR thanks to the acceleration that the AR, or the Atrezzo Reality will give us. Then we will have a margin for a singular event to happen, a marvel within all of our memories, whose implacable mnemotechnia brands us in our memory, you know, we aren’t that important and we are only stopping by.

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