A Predator of Information

Our songs will all be silenced, but what of it? Go on singing.

Up and at 'em in the magic kingdom

30 July 2017 1:59 PM (dream)

I dreamed I got kidnapped and muscled into a helicopter to be taken away to Disney World. Walt Disney was still alive and actually welcomed us when we landed.

We went to the Forbidden, Dark Quarter of EPCOT Center, where all the old teaching machines were kept after being decommissioned. They'd been shut down after every student they'd taught went mad or at least highly eccentric in later life, and had just been abandoned in place in dark, dusty classrooms with cheerful wallpaper and bright colors.

We tried starting some of them back up again to see if we could get them working, but they all kept falling into stereotyped movements and verbal tics or having what seemed like cybernetic panic attacks.

Except for the last one, it seemed lucid but very animated and violent, hurling itself at people to try and rip them to pieces. The Disney Mainframe couldn't shut it down remotely and instructed one of us to climb onto it and push the triangular button that would shut it down and make it purge its programming, and so they wrestled with it and finally hit the button.

The machine shut down and I cold see the software flinging out of it through abstract, conceptual space, so I wrapped my memories of some area of mathematics around the people I was with like some astral cloak to shield them, and when the software impacted I felt dazed but mostly unharmed, except when I tried to think back on that area of study, instead I would remember a very colorful rogue's gallery of anthropomorphic software defects each with life stories and dastardly accomplishments.

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