Transsubstantiation of the Digital Ka

The neoEgyptian Death Ritual intent on translating the human soul (the ka) from an analog medium of blood and tissue into a digital medium of 1′s and 0′s follows a chthonic path far beyond the subtractive fetishism of the canopic jar and the spells spelled out for unresponsive mummified remains. The secrets are buried–but not under the moldering Earth and ancient coffins; nor do they hide beneath moth-and-worm chewed ceremonial raiment from a funeral long-since concluded; but the secrets do remain–folded away like a complex magical trick, or a miracle of some fantastically-hyperadvanced pseudoscience or sorcery, after the lucky corpse had what remained of its blackened brains scraped out of its skull through the nose using a long bronze hook.

“Let there be [improbable discovery unbelieved by the educated intelligencia, who persecute the heretic as they would a martyr for some hated occult tradition]!”

[And there is/was/will be improbable discovery made/uncovered/rediscovered/synthesized/processed/performed/reformed/reinvented/misinformed and/or mistaken for an equally improbable revelation: 1 is On, Zero is off. This process MAY BE REVERSED.]

Drowning

I can’t recall the last time.

It happens often, sometimes everyday. It feels like drowning, though I’ve never drowned, so how do I know?

Somehow it makes sense: water washes us away.

I wish I could make them listen, understand. Care.

But I can’t; that is beyond my capabilities.

And I sometimes believe I knew what I was doing all along. Like the little boy who cries “Wolf!”, right? His mother comes, his father. There is no wolf. Every time, it is the same: nothing. So?

So then, one day: there IS a wolf. The boy cries: “Wolf!”

Like so many times before.

And his mother hears him; his father does, too. His grandmother, maybe his brother or sister; some of the neighbors. God.

But no one comes. Except God. And he might be the wolf. I don’t know.

What I DO know is this: the water washes everything away.

I wonder: if I call out, “Wolf! Help me!” Will anyone hear me? And, if they do, will they come?

I think not.

I wish it was easier. It never gets easier.

I wish I was not so alone. But, in the end, we are all of us alone.

And the water washes it all away.