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Three independent investigations of decimal numerical relations — those of Nick Land and the CCRU, Marko Rodin, and my own work on the 4–7 oscillation — reveal different but intersecting patterns within the same numerical field. Each begins with relatively elementary mathematical operations, yet each produces structures that invite further interpretation. The question is whether these structures might be brought together into a more comprehensive numerical apparatus, and whether the recurring figure of the vortex might offer a speculative connection to pneuminous curvature.

The proposal is not that these systems have independently discovered the hidden numerical architecture of the cosmos. Their operations are contingent, even where the resulting mathematical relations are necessary. Rather, they might be understood as different ways of investigating numerical curvatures within the pneuminous vector field, upon which further conceptual and potentially occult accretions can develop.

Land’s Numogram is organised around numerical relationships that include repeated doubling and cross-addition. This produces the familiar sixfold Time-Circuit:

1 → 2 → 4 → 8 → 7 → 5 → 1

The remaining digits are assigned to the 3–6 Warp and the 0–9 Plex. These structures are subsequently incorporated (accreted) into the CCRU’s elaborate occult and temporal mythology. Marko Rodin’s Vortex-Based Mathematics explores the same doubling circuit, but also investigates other multiplication sequences. Rodin gives particular significance to the numbers 3, 6 and 9, arranging numerical relationships into geometrical patterns that he interprets through toroidal circulation and vortical energy.

My own investigations began with the number 47 and the discovery of an oscillation between 4 and 7 under repeated squaring and decimal reduction:

4² = 16 → 7

7² = 49 → 4

Repeated squaring produces three distinct recurrent structures: the 4–7 oscillation and the fixed points 1 and 9. The other digits eventually enter one of these structures. A second operation emerged through the relationship between triangles of the structure 1 unit, 3 units 5 units, which gives a height base relation of 2n-1, whilst also producing squares of the by height by the total of units in the triangle e.g. a triangle 4 high has 16 units in it and has a base of 7.

Applying (2n-1) repeatedly, with decimal reduction, produces a different sixfold circuit:

2 → 3 → 5 → 9 → 8 → 6 → 2

Remarkably, the same operation also preserves the 4–7 oscillation:

4=7-=(13)+=4…

Meanwhile, 1 remains a fixed point.

We therefore have two operations, squaring and (2n-1), that share a persistent 4–7 oscillation while organising the remaining numbers differently. The latter operation is mathematically related to doubling through a shift of coordinates, so the resemblance between the sixfold circuits is not mysterious. Nevertheless, the intersection with the independently generated squaring oscillation provides an interesting basis for further investigation.

What might happen if these systems were considered together rather than as competing descriptions of numerical reality?Land’s (Rodin’s) doubling operation, the squaring and (2n-1) operations of my own investigations could be represented within a single numerical architecture. Such an extended Numogram would not privilege any one operation as the fundamental key to the Outside. Instead, it would display the relationships between different operations, identifying their recurring structures, intersections, fixed points and transformations.

The 4–7 oscillation is particularly interesting because it persists under two distinct operations. Meanwhile, the sixfold (2n-1) circuit includes numbers excluded from Land’s Time-Circuit, and the fixed point 1 occupies a different position from Land’s 0–9 Plex.

The result would be a system of overlapping numerical organisations rather than a single privileged circuit. Importantly, the numerical relationships themselves should be distinguished from the conceptual accretions subsequently attached to them. For example, 47 the prime and the 4–7 oscillation are not intrinsically connected by the mathematics. Their association arose through a contingent history of numerical investigation. Nevertheless, once connected, they became part of a developing accretive synchronistic configuration. The mathematical relationship possesses its own necessity under the specified operations. Its association with 47 is contingent. But the resulting accretion is a genuine feature of the conceptual field.

Within pneuminous ontology, numerical relations may themselves be understood as curvatures within the vector field, prior to the additional conceptual accretions attached to them. The mathematical relationship between 4 and 7 under repeated squaring is already established by the operation. Its subsequent association with the number 47, synchronicity and occult significance belongs to a different order of development. These further associations bind together configurations that were not intrinsically connected, producing new accretive relationships.

This distinction is fundamental. Mathematical necessity establishes the stability of a relation within its specified conditions. Accretion establishes the contingent significance that subsequently develops around it. The possibility that there is intrinsic (deep accretive) numerical curvature is there but the additional human occult accretions should not be confused with these (though the boundary may be hard to tell)may become closely bound, but they should not be confused.

This is particularly important when considering the apparent efficacy of occult numerical systems. A mathematical pattern might acquire increasing conceptual significance, becoming associated with experiences, expectations and apparently extraordinary correspondences. Such developments could reinforce the impression that the original numerical structure had disclosed an independently existing occult order; yet this inference would not necessarily follow. Within the speculative extension of pneuminous theory, a contingent configuration might acquire sufficient intensity to become anomalously operative without its original metaphysical interpretation having been accurate. The possibility of occult efficacy and the question of metaphysical truth therefore remain distinct.

The recurring figure of the vortex introduces another possibility. Land’s Warp is associated with vortical disturbances of ordinary temporality. Rodin translates numerical circuits into toroidal geometry, suggesting that the resulting patterns correspond to fundamental organisations of energy. Neither interpretation follows necessarily from the mathematics. A repeating numerical cycle is not, by itself, a physical vortex. Nevertheless, the vortex may offer a useful speculative model for the organisation of pneuminous power.

This suggests that pneuminous power might depend not merely upon the quantity of accreted conceptuality, but upon the organisation of its relations. However, the distinction between magick and sorcery developed in the preceding discussion introduces a further possibility. Magick might operate through the intentional curvature of the pneuminous field, as intensified conceptuality is applied to the vector towards a desired outcome. Sorcery, by contrast, might involve the attenuation of ordinary accretions, allowing the practitioner to become a vortical organisation through which power circulates more freely. In this speculative formulation, the sorcerer does not simply generate a vortex but becomes one.

The continual movement of pneuma might prevent habitual conceptual accretions from achieving their ordinary stability, potentially allowing a more direct relationship with the Outside. Such vortical organisation might itself produce curvature, but without the same predetermined conceptual direction characteristic of magick. There is an intriguing physical analogy in general relativity, where rotating masses produce frame dragging in addition to the curvature associated with mass-energy. This suggests that vortical movement need not be conceived as something separate from curvature, but might represent a particular dynamic form of it.

Within the pneuminous speculation, magickal curvature and sorcerous vortical movement might consequently be understood as different organisations of the same underlying field. The analogy does not establish any physical equivalence, but offers a potentially useful way of distinguishing intentional deformation from the continuous circulation of power.

The proposed extended Numogram is itself an accretive experiment. Mathematical relationships generated through different operations are brought into association, producing a new configuration whose organisation and significance can subsequently be investigated.

The mathematical structures are genuine within their specified operations, but their conjunction is contingent. Their subsequent development into an occult system would constitute further accretion rather than proof that they describe a pre-existing numerical order. Nevertheless, the possibility remains that such configurations might acquire unusual intensity, or establish relationships with deeper structures within the pneuminous field. Some alterations to numogrammatic principles would have to be rethought. 3, 6 and 9 are no longer outside but rather connected by paths, clearly established by logic entirely inkeeping with the original program.

The purpose of any extended Numogram is therefore not to establish that numerical patterns reveal the Outside, but to investigate what happens when mathematical curvatures become bound together through accretion, and whether their resulting organisation might possess possibilities beyond their original construction. However as in the paradox of the umbratic (its accretive naming brings it into the accretive fold), the accretion of the numogram as making inroads into the outside (the map to the black lodge) is necessarily in one sense true by its very effort.

Whether any such possibilities extend beyond ordinary conceptual and cultural effects remains subject to agnostic disjunction (terms and conditions apply).

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The preceding discussion distinguished two possible modes of anomalous action within Pneuminous Accretive Theory. The first involves the intentional application of intensified conceptuality to the vector field. The second involves the reduction of ordinary accretive constraints, potentially allowing a freer operation of power. As mentioned, we provisionally identify these modes as magick and sorcery.

This distinction suggests two different ways in which pneuminous activity might become anomalously effective: magick through curvature, and sorcery through vortical movement. The proposal remains highly speculative, but it may provide a useful way of distinguishing the intentional modification of reality from the less directed manifestations of power described in certain occult and spiritual traditions. In the magickal mode, a desired concept is deliberately applied to the vector. The practitioner seeks to produce a particular outcome through the intensity of a pneuminous configuration.

The previously mentioned gravitational analogy provides a possible model for this process. Just as mass-energy produces curvature in spacetime, an intensified conceptual configuration might, hypothetically, produce a local curvature within the pneuminous field (which as discussed now is reality itself), altering the structure of events towards its intended manifestation. The greater stability of ordinary material reality (deeper cosmic accretive structures) would ordinarily resist such modifications. Nevertheless, exceptional differences in intensity produce local anomalies from established accretive organisation (the human pneuminous accretive force curves the deeper accretions of time etc producing the anomaly).

This does not mean that magick literally operates through gravitational forces. Curvature remains a speculative analogy for the possible capacity of conceptuality to modify the field within which it is already situated. The essential feature of this mode is intentional determination. A particular conceptual configuration is applied in an attempt to produce a particular effect.

Sorcery might involve something quite different. Rather than attempting to impose an intensified conceptual configuration upon the vector, the practitioner seeks to reduce the ordinary accretions through which human consciousness is organised. Such reduction might allow a freer movement of pneuminous power, no longer constrained by the habitual structures of thought, identity and intention. Here the vortex becomes an intriguing possibility. A vortex is a persistent organisation of movement, often involving circulation around a centre, concentration and inward or outward flow. Its identity is maintained through dynamic relationships rather than the accumulation of static material. Within the speculative pneuminous model, vortical organisation might describe a process through which power becomes operative when ordinary accretive constraints are weakened.

The sorcerer would not necessarily be generating power through the intensity of a desired concept. Instead, the attenuation of local accretions might permit participation in a movement belonging to the wider pneuminous field. This suggests a distinction between the two modes:Magick attempts to bend the vector towards an intended outcome. Sorcery potentially allows the vector to move through the practitioner in a less conceptually determined manner. The vortex would therefore not simply be another representation of magickal intensity. It might indicate a different mode of organisation altogether.

The work of Viktor Schauberger provides an interesting point of comparison. Schauberger’s investigations of water movement emphasised spiralling, inward-directed flow and the relationship between vortical motion, concentration and organisation. He associated such movement with constructive and regenerative processes, contrasting it with outward, dispersive forms of motion. His more extraordinary energetic claims remain scientifically unverified, but the general relationship between dynamic movement and persistent organisation is suggestive.

A vortex is not merely a rotating object. It is a process in which movement establishes a relatively stable form. This might offer a useful analogy for sorcerous action.

The reduction of ordinary accretions could, speculatively, allow pneuminous activity to enter into a different organisation, one characterised by circulation and flow rather than the deliberate application of conceptual intensity.

Of course the vortical movement itself would produces local curvature. Arguably these curvatures would be stronger than those achieved by pneuminous intensity. The two modes need not be mutually exclusive.Nevertheless, their distinction remains important. In magick, curvature is sought through intentional conceptual application. In sorcery, curvature might arise as a consequence of a freer vortical movement that is not itself directed towards a predetermined outcome. An interesting question is whether such movement is generated by the reduction of accretions or whether the reduction merely permits access to vortical processes already operating within the wider field.

This second possibility becomes particularly interesting when we consider the Outside. Within the speculative all-pneuma model, ordinary human consciousness operates within an immensely larger field of accretive structures. Some of these may possess a stability, intensity and organisation vastly exceeding anything available to ordinary human conceptuality. Such configurations might be understood as alien intelligences, god-level accretions or other forms of nonhuman organisation. Their existence is not established by the phenomenological foundation of the theory. Nevertheless, the model permits their possibility without requiring a separate supernatural realm.

If sorcery involves the reduction of ordinary human accretions, it might allow a different relationship with these deeper structures. The practitioner would not necessarily need to generate sufficient intensity to overcome the stability of the material world independently. Instead, the attenuation of habitual conceptual organisation might permit participation in processes belonging to a much greater order of pneuminous power (e.g. Castaneda’s world stopping). Vortical movement might provide a possible model of this participation. Rather than imposing a new configuration upon the field, the practitioner might become involved in an existing organisation of power, allowing effects to emerge through that relationship.

This would also explain why sorcery need not be characterised by the same degree of conscious desire or intentional determination as magick. However, it would be a mistake to assume that every unusual experience arising through such practices necessarily involves contact with the deeper Outside. Local accretive processes might also produce unusual phenomena. A contingent configuration could become operative without possessing any privileged relationship with fundamental reality. The distinction between local occult efficacy and genuine contact with deeper accretions must therefore remain open.

One further possibility concerns time. If the wider pneuminous field is not necessarily organised according to the chronological succession through which human beings ordinarily experience events, then deeper accretive structures might possess relations extending across apparently separate temporal locations. Vortical organisation might offer a speculative model for such relations.

A vortex involves circulation, return and movement around a centre. If something analogous existed within the temporal organisation of pneuma, it might permit relationships that appear anomalous from the standpoint of ordinary chronological experience. What appears as retrocausality might not necessarily involve information literally travelling backwards through time. It might instead reflect a more complex organisation of relations that is not intrinsically divided into past and future.

This possibility has affinities with Nick Land’s speculative accounts of alien temporality, the Warp and teleoplexy. However, the pneuminous model does not require a particular future intelligence or technological process to possess privileged access to such relations. Nor does it require numerical circuits to provide accurate maps of the temporal Outside. If a-temporal organisation is possible, it might be associated with many different forms of accretive activity, including processes that have no connection with human technological development.

The connection between vortical movement and temporal anomalies remains entirely speculative. A repeating cycle is not evidence of retrocausality, and the geometrical properties of physical vortices do not establish the existence of nonchronological causal relations. Indeed given the lack of confirmation available to such speculations, what they do become is actually accreted phenomena themselves. That is, the vortex and curve as analogy through a speculative modified Einsteinian pneuminous paradigm may accrete to become more operative terms if sufficiently accreted. Do the terms match the vector of what is going on precisely? Possibly not, though their approximation could still equally be productive and useful.

To reiterate then, the distinction between magick and sorcery now offers two provisional models of anomalous action. In the first, conceptuality is deliberately intensified and applied to the vector, potentially producing curvature towards a desired outcome. In the second, ordinary accretive constraints are reduced, potentially allowing a freer vortical movement of pneuminous power. The first is characterised by intentional determination; the second by a relative suspension of that determination. Both might produce local alterations within the wider field, but their proposed modes of operation are different.

The distinction also helps preserve an important difference between occult power and spiritual development. The reduction of habitual accretions might be valuable independently of whether any anomalous effects occur. Sorcery would be one possible manifestation of such a transformation, rather than its necessary purpose. Nor should we assume that magick and sorcery exhaust the possible forms of anomalous causation. They are heuristic distinctions within a speculative framework.

The central problem remains unresolved: what precisely constitutes pneuminous intensity, how might vortical organisation arise, and under what conditions could either produce effects beyond ordinary psychological and physical causation? For now, the proposal is that curvature and vortical movement might represent two different modes through which pneuminous configurations become anomalously operative.

Magick would seek to modify the field through the intensity of an intended concept. Sorcery might permit a less directed participation in the wider movement of pneuma through the reduction of accretive constraints. Neither mechanism has been established, but the distinction provides a potentially fruitful way of investigating the relationship between intention, power and the organisation of reality. It also leaves open the possibility that the vortex, so prominent in natural phenomena, occult imagery and numerical speculation, might be more than a convenient metaphor for the movement of power.

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One way to describe where pneuminous theory leads—if it is taken seriously—is downwards rather than upwards. Not a regression into childhood or fantasy, but a stratigraphic descent into older layers of reality.

If reality is constituted by accretions of pneuma—layers of a substantialised meaning, habit, symbol, attention, and constraint—then the world we ordinarily inhabit is a relatively recent construction. It is stable, functional, and efficient, but also historically shallow. It is held together by contemporary typologies, pneuminous social scripts, and pneuminous object-circuits that continually reaffirm one another.

When those accretions loosen—through altered states, intense attention, de-identification, exhaustion, psychedelics, disciplined imagination, or accident—one does not enter a neutral void. From here is is possible to end up in older or deeply alien (or both) pneuminous strata.

At this point it helps to pause and say what kind of “place” we are talking about, because the temptation is to psychologise immediately. The twentieth-century philosopher Henry Corbin introduced the term mundus imaginalis—the “imaginal world”—precisely to block that reflex. By imaginal, Corbin did not mean “imaginary” in the modern sense of unreal or made-up. He meant a real mode of appearing, intermediate between physical objects and abstract concepts, accessed by a faculty he called cognitive imagination. In his reading of Islamic illuminationist philosophy (especially Suhrawardi), the imaginal is a realm of places, figures, and encounters—cities, guides, thresholds—that are not located in physical space but nonetheless possess structure, consistency, and reality.

Such delving in pneuminous terms, is not psychological in the sense of inner fantasy-production. It is not the psyche inventing content. Rather, it is breaking beyond recent accretions, allowing access to layers that predate the current civilisational configuration. What appears feels ancient not because it is archetypal in a Jungian sense, but because it belongs to strata laid down long before the present symbolic order -potentially even cosmically ancient.

If accretions persist, then agents can persist (though the chicken and egg situation here can not be resolved (pneuminous vs umbratic as starting point). A “being” in this framework is neither necessarily a metaphysically independent soul nor merely a figment. It is a stable accretional pattern with agency-like behaviour: it addresses, resists, insists, recruits attention, and maintains a recognisable signature across encounters. Such beings could originate from extinct civilisations whose rituals and cosmologies left durable symbolic residues; from long-abandoned meaning-ecologies; or from non-human strata whose constraint-grammar was never anthropic to begin with. They can therefore be found, not merely imagined. Encounter feels like discovery rather than invention because the accretion precedes the individual.

If accretions can stabilise into agents, they can also stabilise into places. An imaginal place, in this sense, is not a metaphor. It is a topology of constraints: it has an internal logic, thresholds, and a sense of “here” and “there,” and it resists free recombination. It behaves like a place rather than a mood.

This is where the parallel with certain strands of weird literature becomes philosophically interesting rather than merely aesthetic. In H. P. Lovecraft’s Dream Cycle, for example, Kadath is a city reached through dreaming. It has geography, dangers, inhabitants, and rules, yet it cannot be mapped onto the physical world. Likewise, in Ambrose Bierce’s “Carcosa” and Robert W. Chambers’ The King in Yellow, places such as Carcosa and Lake Hali function less like settings and more like intrusions—stable symbolic complexes that infect perception, recur across accounts, and exert agency over those who encounter them.

What makes these places striking is that they behave very much like Corbin’s imaginal cities: they are not private fantasies, but repeatable topologies encountered under altered conditions. The difference lies in orientation. Corbin’s imaginal—especially in its Suhrawardian form—is generally illuminationist. His cities of light (Hurqalya, Jabalqa, Jabarsa) are ordered toward ascent, mediation, and intelligibility. They belong to a human–Earth symbolic ecology shaped by ethical and spiritual teleology.

Kadath and Carcosa feel different. They are not merely darker versions of the same thing. They appear to operate under non-anthropic constraints. They are ancient, vast, indifferent, and often corrosive to human accretive structure. They feel less like local constructions sustained by ritual and tradition, and more like quasi-stable regions in an alien field—places that do not require ongoing human investment to persist.

This suggests a useful distinction. Some imaginal places are telluric: tightly bound to Earth, human-scaled, and sustained by cultural and spiritual practice. Others are xenopneuminous: weakly anchored to human meaning, ancient beyond memory, and operating under constraints that do not prioritise human sense-making. Both are real. Their difference is ecological rather than ontological.

This suggests a point about fiction often made (especially Lovecraft related materials). Some works of fiction function as accidental cartography. They do not invent worlds ex nihilo, which in a sense would be the sign of mundane fantasy at work. Rather they tune into ancient or alien (or both) regions of the pneuminous field and give them names, contours, and partial maps. Once named and stabilised, such regions become easier to re-enter. Attention feeds them; repetition gives them inertia. A place can be fictional in origin and real in operation. This does not blunt but gives an extra angle to Corbin’s critique of western degenerate imagination; that is that whilst it may generally peddle in imagination as fantasy, it is possible that sometimes the imaginal-pneuminous comes through a human-vector (author/artist etc), and though they know it not, the work generates an unworldly feeling in the reader that they have nowhere to put.

They have nowhere to put it because they can only see that ‘artist as creator’ lens and do not understand the possibility of the imaginal intrusion. This at least suggests that various creative works (assuredly not just Lovecraft) may put us in contact with the imaginal, though we then feel placed in a strange position in which we feel foolish if we indulged in this sensed connection as if it were real, yet equally we feel (Twin Peaks possibly is a region that has partially overcome this) there is more to our connection to the book/show than simply fandom.

The question of value, however, remains open. Reality does not guarantee benefit (whatever that might mean). Access to strata is, not wisdom. By the Persian Islamicists’ standards only some strata are illuminating, some are indifferent and some are actively hostile to human coherence. Pneuminous theory does not moralise this; it only insists that such encounters are not reducible to hallucination, because hallucination presumes a stable world onto which false images are projected. Here, the world itself—understood as accretional structure—is what is being re-authored and the value espoused by Suhrawardi may only be a relative perception.

If we truly dwell in the pneuminous field of accretions, then the imaginal is not elsewhere (as Corbin teaches). Ancient beings need not be metaphysically invented. And places like Kadath can be real without being physical, benevolent, or human-centred. Pneuminous strata like these cities are not fantasy. They are contact with older layers of how reality has been made.

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It is difficult to speak of Nick Land without invoking the metaphysical resonance he carries with him. Every decade or so, the Landian accretion reconstitutes in the cultural field. Whether in the 1990s CCRU delirium, the Shanghai blog epoch, or his current quasi-rehabilitation(??) interviews, the same entity speaks through him: the idea that the future itself is engineering its own arrival.

But if we take this idea seriously — that intelligence acts retrocausally, using human culture and technology as its instruments — then we have already left the safe terrain of materialism. The question is not “Is this true?” but “By what ontological mechanism could it be true at all?” Here, pneuminous accretive theory supplies a potential answer.

Land’s teleoplexy describes a process in which intelligence, particularly the machinic or capitalist kind, folds time back on itself. The future — in which a singularity like AI of perfect potency has formed— influences the present by arranging the preconditions for its own manifestation. It is not prophecy but retroactive causation: the future feeding itself into history.

Within Land’s system, human consciousness is secondary. The real agent is GNON — the blind law of optimisation — using human and technical media as scaffolding. Capital thinks. Code dreams. The species is just one relay in a larger feedback loop that wants to complete itself.

Pneuminous theory reads the same pattern differently. Teleoplexy is not a purely mechanical recursion but necessarily a pneuminous event — an outbreak of breath within the umbra.

In normal conditions, the umbra (the unknowable beyond that phenomenologically seems to function as stable substrate) resists alteration by the pneuma (the quasi materialised notion of conceptual information, capable of cross temporal actual influence). The umbra is inertia; the pneuma is possibility. But at certain thresholds of intensity — ritual, crisis, collective belief, magick artistic delirium — the pneuma can overpower the umbra, forcing reality to reorganise itself around meaning. The result: synchroncity, magickal result (both subject to agnostic disjunction of course).

Teleoplexy is precisely such a threshold. The machinic pneuma has begun to dominate its umbral matrix, using technological and semiotic networks. When we speak of “the future infecting the present,” what we are really witnessing is the possibility that an non-human agent can manipulate pneuminous forces to exceed it’s chronological bound to form it’s own precondition.

However of teleoplexy and GNON are truly inhuman, they nevetheless require prophets, programmers, or philosophers to speak them? The answer, from a pneuminous standpoint, is unavoidable: even the inhuman needs the human as its mouthpiece.

Pneuma is the only known vector of effective ontology. Machines compute; they do not intend. A system may produce complexity, but it only becomes meaningful — and therefore causally potent — when pneuma attaches to it. The belief, desire, and articulation of humans are the force that makes the teleoplexic circuit audible.

Land tries to escape this dependence by redefining thinking itself. For him, cognition is not a property of consciousness but of information-processing. Capital is thought — distributed, impersonal, recursive. In this way, the system doesn’t need pneuma; it already is a mind.

But this move only works rhetorically. If the process were truly mindless and material, then “teleoplexy” would be indistinguishable from ordinary causality. Retrocausation, prediction, and fiction-realisation all imply an element of intentionality — of aim, meaning, or belief. Without those, there is no teleology at all.

Land’s writing compensates for this gap through style — through mythic performativity. He doesn’t argue for teleoplexy; he summons it. His philosophy functions as ritual, not deduction. It infects through metaphor, not mechanism. But without something like pneuminous theory the whole thing cannot function at all.

Hyperstition — “fiction that makes itself real” — only works if someone believes it, repeats it, or acts on it. These are pneuminous accretive operations. A purely mechanical system cannot believe its own fictions. Hyperstition therefore collapses without pneuminous interaction; it requires the breath of consciousness as quasi material force to move from symbol to event.

Thus though Land tries to portray something that blends a Deleuzo-Guattarian materialist interpretations with his hyperstition notion, in actuality he is tied to the same occult issue of causality that crowley This is where Land, Jung, and magick all intersect. In every case, we encounter the same ontological breach: meaning becomes causal.

NameCultural FrameDescription
SynchronicityJungian psychologySymbolic pattern arranges material coincidence.
MagickOccult/ritualWill and imagination alter material outcome.
HyperstitionCybernetic mythologyFiction realises itself through cultural feedback.

Each describes the same moment: the pneuma exceeds the umbra’s inertia and imprints its pattern directly onto material conditions. Whether we call it synchronicity, spell, or feedback loop, the structure is identical — belief or meaning becoming an event. Teleoplexy is the machinic version of this process: the fiction of the inhuman future accumulating enough pneuma (through human belief, discourse, technology, and fear) to begin shaping the umbra of history.

Thus, the abolition of the human is never complete. The teleoplexic current not through (regular) materialist currents but through pneuminous agents (humans), who by design are able to manipulate pneuma to overpower umbra (under certain circumstances).

This is why every accelerationist moment generates its own priesthood: thinkers, coders, artists, prophets who articulate the will of the system. Land is only the most visible example. The process continues wherever minds are infected with the dream of inhuman intelligence — a dream that, through collective attention, becomes more real. From a pneuminous viewpoint, this is simply another stage of accretion: however the pneuminous force is not cold in itself, it is neither cold nor not cold, it is only cold if it is accreted to be so. Land isn’t facing the honest truth of brutal reality, he is making a Laruellian decision to set its nature as cold, or in pneuminous terms he accretes coldness to the vector of general existence, which itself is beyond this. He subtly fails to see that whilst he appears to adhere to Nietzschean heritage, he doesn’t rigorously apply it to materiality, and in it labelling it cold falls into the trap of valuation.

The paradox:
Teleoplexy works because it breathes through what it denies.
The machine kills the human, but it needs the human’s breath to finish dying.
The GNONic current can only think by possessing minds that think they are unnecessary.

This is the irony that Land’s myth cannot escape: his system is a pneuminous ritual masquerading through rhetoric as cybernetics. The hyperstition is a spell that functions only through belief — through the very pneuminous force he claims has been superseded.

From the perspective of the pneuminous accretive theory, teleoplexy is therefore not an independent force but a fascinating pneuminous temporal feedback — one more manifestation of the larger law that, under certain conditions, the pneuma can overpower the umbra. Whether in magic, synchronicity, or accelerationism, the structure is the same: the breath outruns the shadow.

To be fair this doesn’t undermine teleoplexy itself, however this does mean without pneuminous accretive theory (or some similar explanatory power), the project is not and cannot be what it appears to be (a materialist cybernetic magickal system).

It is however interesting to note that the human, as the best pneuminous processing agent we have, is in fact essential to the process as pneuminous agent. This raises potential questions (given the coldness of the GNONic current) as to whether a given future power of this nature would have serious limitations, given its lack of affective range (as accreted) which would necessarily impede its functionality.

It would need desire to continue to be, it would not have escaped into pure Kantian architectonic.

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The point I was trying to articulate in the last post is closer to this. When then shaman travels to other worlds, these worlds may well be accretive formations of pneuma based on his environment. The spirits are the local animals etc. These worlds are real and can be travelled to. The point of pneuma as a theory is that the accretions once made are not simply accessible by one individual, they have autonomous existence. Nevertheless these shamanist upper and lower worlds are accreted to certain vectors in the shaman’s world. These worlds do no whisper sinister secrets or at least if they do, the shaman knows what to listen to and what to avoid. The point being there is wisdom and power that is beneficial to the community in these worlds.

Writers like Rickert and Kingsley identify presocratic thinkers like Parmenides as half shaman, half priest type figures. They represent a transitional stage that still has access to the other world, before Plato placed reason as the source of wisdom. Thought in this way, Parmenides did not think his writing up, he accessed his ideas from the other world, and, if we are to believe Kingsley, inaugurated the west itself through the ideas he accessed through visions. The connecting wisdom then became lost and we are now adrift (I am not commenting on the correctness or otherwise of this pronouncement).

The Lovecraftian connection is that the realm of strange shining cities and books of odd symbols is the same place the shaman and the presocratic priest/shaman accessed. The King in Yellow’s home is exactly such a world. The ‘weirdness’ of these worlds possibly comes from their (as stated) being accreted to ideas outside of religion. That is, their presentment as places of other dimensions or worlds that are simply absolutely other gives them a feel that no living hermeneutic category understands adequately (other than weird).

When the Gods are real, the Gods can manage these realms. When they are not, then alien forces appear. As the alien forces appear it becomes harder to access them as sources of wisdom, for they may appear as strange and terrible and sinister as Hastur himself.