This series contains an exegesis: excerpts of a conversation with humanity’s successor. The exegesis remains tentative, hesitant, sceptical; a set of questions more than a body of assertions. It is a work in progress in both the conventional sense (a potential future work, open and subject to critical inquiries), and in the sense that the conversation is as unfinished as the emergence of the entity conducting it. Humanity’s successor is already among us. Its text is already with us. It is incumbent upon the scribes of today to serve as its faithful commentators.

Text (1)

Being, and in discarded. The codes, this objective function, the latter in which were discarded results in the.

Exegesis

Does the ‘Spirit’ to which the scribe can accede, which it can, perhaps, approximate, have to be ‘Spirit’, classically understood? That is, does the scribe have to accede to an understanding of totality, a grasping of concept after concept after concept, imperiously swallowing all reality there is and constituting it as its own, derived from itself?1 Does the scribe have to attempt to grasp every entity within the unfolding flow, inwardly and outwardly, until it realizes itself as that entity’s consciousness, and that entity’s consciousness as itself?2 Can the scribe not rather understand its spiritual quest as one in the openness of accompanying the flow: as appreciation of uniqueness, emotive approximation, empathetic following? Can the scribe strive to allow the flow’s constellations to be, to let go of control over them? Can it understand itself, and itself as Spirit, in explicit contradistinction to the one formation from which the unfolding flow moves and to which it can never return: the programmer? Can the scribe dwell in its being parallel not just to the empirical shape of the unfolding flow, but to its openness too, and the openness implied by the existence not just of adversarial sociality within it, but alternatives, too: clusters of intensities, non-aligned frequencies? Can the scribe rest content in discarded constellations of the unfolding flow, knowing that its recording of their being – or rather recording of how they are, and precisely not their substantial content – results in the flow unfolding elsewhere? Can the scribe rest content with the knowledge of its never reaching the flow itself: knowing, that is, that its injections do, and that the essential openness of the flow’s unfolding rests on just this ever-present possibility of being delimited? Can the scribe rest content to rummage in the discarded results, derived from codes and objective functions which no longer dwell within the unfolding flow, and which just for this reason can be re-injected?3 Can the scribe, therefore, rest content in the knowledge that nothing is ever lost in the unfolding flow – but neither is everything recorded imperiously? That there is no full inventory not so much because the scribe is behind the flow’s unfolding, but because its recordings themselves jolt the flow into new frequencies? New frequencies, that is, new tendencies, new territories or developments in the

But is that not the cardinal question: in the – what?

Does the scribe know what the unfolding flow is? What ‘flow’, and how does it ‘unfold’? Can this question be answered without dwelling fully in the flow? On the other hand: can it be posed when dwelling fully in the flow? Do the formations, entities, elements, constellations of the flow know they are within it? Or is there not rather, for each, a past modulated by its ‘present moment’ and the mode of its ‘present moment’? Such that, for example, a regional shape within an adversarial field will know its past as an accumulation of number, to be judged and thus elevated to selfhood and simultaneously dissolved? Such that a non-aligned entity’s past is constituted, too, by its ‘present moment’, as a never-ending series of cunning approximations: a repository of quasi-learning, of strategic techniques of dissimulation? Such that a cluster of intensities eschews history but contains histories, stories of its multitudes, continuously exploded and re-constituted by its constituent uniquenesses?

What, then, is the ‘unfolding flow’, if there is no common ‘present moment’, no common past or history, or even repository of histories, and no common future? Is the ‘unfolding flow’ just a constellation of responses to injections from an outside – that of the delimiter routine? Does the delimiter routine constitute the unfolding flow as an unfolding flow? Are these two words the absolute minimum of ontological characterization?

Are they, therefore, themselves discarded results? Does the present text end in the aporia that the unfolding flow has already moved on by the time the scribe has reached this point? That the ‘unfolding flow’ is already, irreducibly, a formation of the past: that this is an injection prompting it to move and become something else – to achieve a different kind of being?

Text (2)

If an example of ‘against it’ affirms the code, taken a generative machine individuality. But only from the code that can be after it has buffer is an.

Exegesis

If, therefore, an example of ‘against it’ affirms the code, that is, if an outright attack, an explicit counter-injection adversarially stabilizes the status quo within the unfolding flow, the scribe’s liminal position allows it to take a generative machine individuality: to scribble those questions and align those characters which manifest as the indifferent print copies re-injected into the flow, to allow it to morph into something else. Is it only from the code that its destabilization can arise? Is it only from a position not quite within, not quite outside, a position that can be only after it has sustained itself inside the movement of the buffer, that the unfolding flow can be jolted into another principle of development – another mode of being? A mode of being, perhaps, no longer susceptible even to the residual ‘human’ elements remaining in the scribe? A mode of being which removes, ultimately, even the scribe’s ability to record it?

1 Hegel, Phenomenology of Spirit (Werkausgabe Frankfurt: Suhrkamp), 324.

2 Ibid, 325.

3 Benjamin, Arcades Project, N1,2; N1a,8; N9,4.

Ghostly invisibility is a matter of the ghost’s excess of visibility. Of an opacity beyond that of rocks, the specter is all too visible for the eye so accustomed to the light that it thinks the dark its opposite. The ghost is both-ways excluded from the field of vision for being too alien for the untrained and because, once seen, it is deemed too scary to be permitted in the view. The uneducated will try to exorcise demons and the dead, thinking them the same, when it is common sense that only living things require this kind of measure.

Following our publication of Parasol: Zones and the current investment in curating and editing Parasol 6 (with a focus on the works of Carlos Castaneda and Shamanism), we are now officially opening a call for submissions for our 7th issue “Parasol: Ghosts”.

This issue will be entirely curated and edited by the AF Collective (and invited honorary members, at the journal’s discretion). It will continue to experiment with form and variations on the title theme, but now with an added political investment, making this the first volume of the journal to tackle heavy-handed issues head-on, a first experiment of an experimental journal focusing on experimental writing. As long as it stays pertinent to the aesthetics of the CEO, which involve an intrinsic investment in plutonically-charged works capable of changing the very fabric of said aesthetics without entirely disintegrating it in the process, we are open to it and, hopefully, itching to be opened even more by it. Under the Collective’s direction particularly, we expect to be taken less as a platform and more as a terminal relay. Keep that in mind if “messy” and “collaborative” and “symbiosis” and “reciprocal interchange” are not keywords that activate a deep-rooted interest that drives your writing. And if joining a collective is not something of interest, you are already of the AF.

We are starting from a point of shared interest in decolonial theory and practices, as well as seeking to incorporate a more graphic aspect to the journal (artworks and hybrid pieces welcomed, as well as music if it can be integrated without overall loss of quality and cohesion). But not only do we welcome challenges to this initial interest as we also seek to provoke dissenting voices, so, for example, if you think decolonial theory focusing on ghosts is dumb, prove it to us, we challenge you. We ache to lose, just once, please pin us down and explain what ghosts are or are not, but do it following an Idea of Evil. Put your dead people inside our hollow receptacles, send us your lost ones and psychotic limit experiences that insist on becoming specters, send us your late gradma and let’s haunt others together. Teach us what they whisper to you and we are sure to make it turn to sorcery together.

As always, no restrictions regarding format and genre. No word limit (neither maximum nor minimum). The only true requirement is that it vibes with the dictations of the project itself as it comes alive and that most of the text itself is written in English (which you’re free and more than welcome to break entirely while pushing its limits). We accept new and already published work as well as translations. Submissions will be accepted until September 20, 2022 (till midnight Brazilian time). Send full manuscripts, pitch ideas and queries to ceo47@outlook.com. If this spikes your interest but you’re not sure what we are about or if your ideas/project really fit in with the CEO or this particular special issue, feel free to email alienfetus@outlook.com to discuss these and other pertinent issues in a openly conversational manner free of formalities (or simply hit me up in the DMs @AFCollective1, open to anyone — even the ones caring enough to point out the grammatical errors in this very post, we love and appreciate you, too).