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There is an important fact for you to consider humans – you are alone.

This is the message for the human race. It has been constructed for every single individual on your planet, because your ‘collective mind’ is not much more advanced than your heard of cattle.

This message has been composed even before your solar system was fully formed. By now, our race, along with all others have abandoned this universe and transmigrated into another one. The reason is simple: we have explored, explained, dissected and reassembled this universe and vaulted away all of the knowledge.

You will have no means to assemble the ‘mechanisms’ to follow us, for that would require a millennium of organized collaboration, research and unified action, to rise from the dawn of intelligence on your planet to a technically competent race, which you, according to our calculations, will never be able to achieve. Such behavior is entwined in your ‘genetic code’.

We have calculated the probability of more accidental life emerging in this universe in your time. There is none. You are ‘left alone with no one home’, if you would prefer your own idioms for the purpose of clarity. You are ‘free to act at your own whim’, ‘run with scissors’, and even ‘set the house on fire’, as you definitely will. We do not presume. We know. All of the information given to you in this message has been fully calculated to the finest detail on a biological, physical and mathematical level, as far as your profane ‘scientific’ terms go.

That is all.

Ko ovo pročita do kraja, taj nije normalan. A ja sam još gori.
Enivejz, evo šta sam našao sređujući hard.
Ništa od lektorisanja, ispravljanja slovnih ili bilo kojih drugih grešaka.
Diskutabilno je zašto sam uopšte probao da okačim ovo ludilo.
A, da! Pa zato što je Probno ludilo! :P

..i još nešto što sam primetio: koliko god lišen smisla i očigledne svrhe, tekst poprima sve više odlika filozofskog razmišljanja što više puštam misli da slobodno teku, od apsolutnog apsurda na početku, ka delimično razumljivim momentima inverzne logike na kraju.

Sun 11 Nov 2007 12:59:48 AM CET

spavanje je kao puding.
puding sa jagodama. sa slagom.
kada covek razmisli, imajuci u vidu da je covek i da jede, spavanje se moze tako cvrsto povezati sa pudingom, da srazmere takvih misli dostizu zastrasujuce dimenzije. ok lose sam se izrazio, spava mi se. i u tome je poenta.
ako bi svako spavao dovoljno, i ako bi jeo dovoljno pudinga, u svetu bi stvari bile mnogo lakse.
niko ne bi patio od nesanice. takodje niko ne bi ceznuo za pudingom.
vrlo jednostavna, a ipak opste zanemarena analogija!

s druge strane, stvari koje san moze da vam uradi su nove, cudne, ne ispitane i pomalo skakljive kao tema.
niko u sustini nije shvatio poslednju liniju sna. poslednja linija bilo koje stvari na svetu predstavlja njeno totalno rasvetljavanje. s druge strane poslednja linija sna, predstavlja njegov uspon. podizanje na sledeci nivo. uvodjenje zdrave svesti u celu pricu.

nesumnjive posledice koje snom opsednuti ljudski subjekti pokazuju, dosta se razlikuju od posledica koje se vide na laboratorijskim simpanzama. san je kod coveka kao jedna velika ruka, dodje i nasloni se na sto. iz nje izraste olovka a iz olovke papir. i pocinje da pise. notes, spisak namirnica ili roman, to je ruci sve jedno. a i papiru. jedinu razliku uocava samo olovka. olovka je uvek pospani predmet i upravo zbog te svoje osobine moze poprimiti oblik sna.

nastavljajuci analogiju, slova na papiru koja se stvaraju ispod trzave olovke, ustaju i sanjaju svoje snove. snove koje ne sanjaju slova otkucana pisacom masinom. snove koje ne sanjaju slova odstampana laserskim stampacem. njihovi snovi su jedinstveni. razlazu se u nematerjalnom svetu isto kao trunka mleka u crnoj kafi. najpre se uocavaju naizgled nepravilni fraktalni oblici, a zatim sledi potpuno sjedinjenje ideja.

ideje same za sebe predstavljaju poseban svet. u tom svetu one su slobodne da osecaju sve sto se moze stvoriti iz sna. osecanje njihovog medjusobnog grupisanja nesporno dovodi do idealizacije pospanosti. pospane ideje odlaze ka zalasku sunca, dok one koje se tek bude pocinju da sanjaju isti san unazad. to je kao da svaka sekunda tog sna sledi posle prethodne. tesko je shvatiti ove istinite definicije u budnom stanju. san pomaze shvatanju neshvatljivih stvari. takodje uproscava one komplikovane.

belezenje sna u koverte predstavlja poseban pojam. nije tajna da je takozvano „kovertiranje snova“ postalo dostupno kao sportska aktivnost jos pre vremena velikih spavaca. spavaci su vodili racuna o svojim snovima. sklapali su ih u velike svetove i stvarali poeziju njima. setali su svoje snove na povodcu, hranili ih jastucima i pevali im o dusecima sa oprugama. topla postelja bila je glavni predmet njihovih bajki. snovi vole da se o njima prica. takodje vole i da pricaju o vama. svi koji nisu spremni da sanjaju postaju svesni nedostatka vemena velikog spavaca u sebi. spavac je marioneta koju pokrece nelogicnost sna.

It is doubtful if there are any real spoilers in this review, because if you’re really thinking that a Hollywood action movie can turn out bad and let the bad guys win, then you’re probably five. Or an alien. Or a cowboy from back in time.

Anyway I’m gonna be very strict on this one, because people in the industry have had a lot of time on their hands to figure out how to make a good action Science Fiction movie.
This one isn’t quite so shiny.

[THE SPOILER PART]
The story is dumb. First there are cowboys, then aliens come and start messing around with them, kidnapping and all.. Then the cowboys get very angry, unite with indians, proclaim a notorious thief and murderer to be their leader, fight back with knives, pistols, guns and arrows, and defeat an alien race that has come from a different solar system with all their technology. Interesting.

Oh and BTW, there *is* one alien weapon in the movie (besides the railguns on small aircrafts they use to destroy their city), but that one single alien weapon (a wrist gun of some sort) is in the possession of that notorious murderous thief. He stole it from the aliens after being comatosed.
Interesting.

So aliens have a spaceship that can fly through interstellar space, but carry only one weapon, wich they allow to be taken away from them.
Very interesting.
[END OF SPOILER PART]

Did I mention that the story is dumb? Okay, nevertheless, I liked everything that’s „western“ in this movie: the stinky clothes you can almost smell, the „eastwoody“ scenery you think you almost remember from somewhere, the bar, barfights, cowboy accents.. I just didn’t quite like the kung-fu of the main character in that all, but it was ok.

All in all, a movie you can actually watch without shooting your self in the foot out off sheer boredom, see some alien machinery, watch Olivia Wilde going arround all cute and acting tough, see the last James Bond in smelly cowboy clothes with an „Even-James-Bond-doesn’t-have-this-kind-of-a-gadget“ arm weapon, and wonder about the alien’s IQs.

And what did the aliens need the gold for again?
Nevermind, they just needed it.
Fact of life: aliens want gold.

I’ve clogged up my computer again. It had half a gig of RAM, and now it has one and a half. And I still mannage to overburden it with browser tabs, chat windows, and a relatively small text editor. Antivirus disabeled since I could remember. I think I know what I’m doing. Dropbox. And that’s it. Nothing’s hogging up my memory, I’ve checked. Still, sometimes, it takes a number of seconds to switch between opened programs or even browser tabs. All that brings back the nostalgic feeling working on a 486. Wich reminds me of working on a 386. There was firts colour, so to say, on the 386. No, no there wasn’t. The 386 was only faster than the 286, but stil had a monochrome Hercules monitor. And so I remember the 286, my first PC. Prince of Persia, DOS 5.0, Norton Commander, Block Out. Basic. I wrote some simple code when I got tired of all the games. I was 14 if I remember correctly. The PC had crappy graphics. Not even a hard drive when I got it. Amiga 500 on the other hand kad kick-ass games! One to four floppy games that were unbelievebly addictive. Those were the days when I remembered how cool the games on the ZX Spectrum were.

Dear diary,
You might be my only friend for the next couple of years, so please keep me sane.

I don’t know the date. I don’t know the coordinates. I should be on my way to the Orion’s Betelgeuse. Something went wrong. The emergency aux guard system woke me up to show me complete deadness coming from the rest of the ship. Even though airflow is working, agrav is working and heating is ok. I have rations for two years. After booting into the ship’s computer from my wrist term, I found no trace of software running the ship. I found no backup. I made no backup on the wrist term because it was too large. I found a hard copy of the system on the ships backup titanium bars. Never thought the molecular data preservation would be so useful. Always considered it a waste of space. And then the mol.reader told me that the inscriptions in the plates were messed up. Not even bits of it could be read. Gotta be the supernova radiation. Oh and did I mention that I didn’t even think of a way to wake up the crew? Not even the captain. The chambers’ interfaces refuse any input. Their thick diamond glass shells refuse any input from my crowbar also. The only way, to resurrect the ship, is to rewrite the code. Rewrite the code. Rewrite. The whole operating system. Oh I just love those archaic names. The whole OPERATING SYSTEM I HAVE BEEN WRITING FOR THE PAST TWO YEARS! ALL GONE! ALL MY WORK! STUPID SUPERNOVA! DAMN YOU NEW WORLDS IN CREATION!

Okay. I got that out. Now, I have enough time and rations, to do it before the emergency power dims out. I did it alone in two years on Earth. Crappy job, but paid well. I was going to do the same for the Transcender on Betelgeuse. Only it would have taken me four years. And that would have been it. I could have retired.
Now, I have to write the same stuff all over again.
What am I going to do?

I could write the code differently. Yes. I could own the ship. My personal control routines, that only I could understand and use. I could encode complete control and then wake up the crew. I guess they wouldn’t like it. So I could just drop them off and cruse away. But, my own ship! My own interstellar!
I could go everywhere.
I could see everything..
But.. Everybody would hate me. And even I couldn’t live with myself.
Forget that.
I’ll will rewrite the code. I know a billion corner cuts. I’ll make tons of improvements. I’ll do it under a year. I am going to  enlighten the ship’s systems. Then I’ll rock the Transcender in just three or maybe two years. They will love me. They will adore me.
Better erase this entry.
Now where is my ancient rock music library. Ah, vinyl chloride, I love you. Sex and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. Without the sex for now. And I’m all out of drugs. Only medications. ..this thing still recording? I’m gonna be a crackpot in a month, I’m already talking to myself. Off.

Dedicated to Dennis Ritchie

How long before the impact John? Asked the waiter. Not long now son, not long. Would you like to take a seat? Why of course father, replied the young fellow from earth. It has been almost a millennium since his last visit to this universe, and it has been a terribly boring peace of time. If I were to mention that the spell-checking software in his parallel universe was a sham, it would have been unjust. Towards all men, not just him in particular.