Consciousness, Literature and the Arts
Archive
Volume 6 Number 3, December 2005
___________________________________________________________________
The
Second Coming as an Emergent property of Global Semiosis
by
Introduction
The
following piece is an excerpt is from a larger creative work intended for
publication entitled The Second Coming as an Emergent property of Global
Semiosis. It is chiefly influnced by my interests in semiotics,
self-organized systems theory, and Zen Buddhism. If it can be catagorized at
all, it might be described as a kind of postmodern science/fiction/philosophy/,
only losely narrative, experimental in form: a collage of textual fragments.
Think of Richard Linklatter's film Waking Life, or David O. Russell's
film I Heart Huckabees. One reader compared it to a dialogue with
Stanislaw Lem, and another called it "a successful mix of nuttiness and
profundity." I take both
comments as compliments. I'm
not a big fan of certainty, which I (and any number of physicists,
mathematicians and philosophers) would suggest is impossible; and I think much
of twentieth century art is trying to deal one way or another with the obvious
unessentialness of context(s) and form. Nothing new there. But, the content in
my work is somewhat original (I'd like to think, at least) in that it takes on
language and consciousness and identity directly and perhaps comes up with a few
new playful notions. The science of consciousness studies is generating a lot of interest.
There are many angles of approach, and one of the most interesting to me is the
role semiotics plays in the formation, not just of “self,” but, potentially,
of reality as well. This is the subject that emerges from a converstaion
between the characters here: Dr. Eva Pointsman, and a client in her therapy
group, Sam Paradise. As we enter the text, the Dr. is curious about Sam's
messiah complex, and also about his involvement with a fellow patient who has
mysteriously disappeared.
*
* * * *
After
the others had all left, Dr. Pointsman returned to the room, to the small circle
of chairs, and she sat down in the chair directly across from Sam.
“You’re
starting to get some ideas about me,” said Sam, suddenly grinning.
“Dr.
Pointsman wanted to say that that was the first time she'd seen him smile, but
she knew she couldn't dismiss his remark.
“I'm
not sure how to take that remark, Sam.” We're
alone now, just the two of us. Is he flirting with me?
“You’ll
take it the way the story decides.”
“What
does that mean?”
“It
means that we are characters in a story. Everything you say and do is in a
story.”
“Oh
really? Hmm...no free will, I guess?”
“There
is only one authentic act of free will and that is to simply let go:
to cease all judgment...to say an emphatic ‘yes’ to existence.”
“Do
you mind if I take some notes?”
“One
other thing, however, the author thinks he/she’s writing the story. The reader
thinks he/she is reading the story. They aren’t. The story writes and reads
itself.”
Dr.
Pointsman retrieved a pen from her purse and jotted a note on her legal pad: Seems
obsessed with a range of abstruse nonsense with vague spiritual or metaphysical
overtones---it’s almost pathological---obsessive-compulsive? Mild autism?
Psychosis? Mild? MY GUESS:
Delusional Disorder---subtype: grandiose!------somehow exacerbated by his PTSD
“For
a moment I thought you we're flirting with me,” she said as she wrote.
“Do
you want me to? I mean, perhaps you unconsciously projected that thought onto my
words.”
Dr.
Pointsman gave Sam a wry frown. "That remark you made about ‘getting
ideas about you’ is latent with innuendo, Sam, and you know it. Don't play
games with me.”
“Is
it?” said Sam. “I apologize. I
am beginning to be able to think and speak analytically, but nuance and innuendo
are much too subtle for me yet. Bringing the body in is tricky. It will still take some time.”
Listen,
Sam,” Dr. Pointsman began, in a friendly, patient manner. Your role in these sessions is not to…not to...save the
others, as you said you intend to do. Your role here is to try and heal
yourself. This is a hospital...you are a patient. They way we deal with our
problems here is by confronting them. And, frankly, you seem to be avoiding
them. You offer nothing to the rest of us about your problems. I can only assume
that you're suffering some personal pain, some emotional unrest, some
anxiety...some mental difficulty at some level, or you wouldn't have sought help
at this facility to begin with.”
“No.
I came here because I am a Reality Mechanic, and my assignment is to re-adjust
this particular confabulation, because too much awareness is getting stuck in
this insidious, labyrinthine cul-de-sac you people call your reality.
It's like a weed in a garden. If it doesn't get pulled, it might overrun
the garden.”
Dr.
Pointsman scribbled a further note. Misanthropic (probably depressed) and all
this proselytizing---this flowing nonsense----this adolescent
egocentrism---and----a messiah complex!
“Sam,
you are a fascinating person, and your presence here over the last few weeks has
been insightful, in many ways, for the rest of us. But, I'm going to recommend
that we make an appointment with Dr. Storie, so that we can further evaluate
your condition, and see about a weekly private session, because I'm not sure
that group work is what's best for you right now, and I think, also, at some
point, we might want discuss possible medications...as an option, of course.”
Sam
looked over at the door as though he saw something there. Dr. Pointsman’s eyes
reflexively followed, but she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, just
a door open to the corridor; though it did seem strangely quiet, and, for some
reason, she became then intensely cognizant of their aloneness, together, not
just in that gloomy, windowless room with its tacky, carpeted walls, but alone
in the entire building, save for the night maintenance man who, she remembered,
must be somewhere about. She pictured him down in some cramped and dirty
basement office with his feet propped-up on a cluttered desk, a Viceroy dangling
from the corner of his mouth, squinting through a haze of cigarette smoke at
three-month-old People’s magazine he’d found in a wastebasket in one
of the Dr.’s offices---I am the last thing on his mind.
“Is something wrong?” she asked Sam.
“I
guess I won't be able to save Vivian after all,” said Sam, with a melancholy
shrug.
Again,
the doctor studied Sam for some clue on how to interpret this statement.
“So...does that mean are we in agreement about what I said?”
“I'll
think about it,” said Sam. “I may not have to return to the group. I may be
able to accomplish my mission without returning. Sometimes it doesn't take much
to get the process started. There's a kind of catalytic effect. Once the new
language is learned, return is inevitable...and the language is easy to
learn...or, I should say...see. It's
always simply a matter of seeing. It's a bit like an optical illusion. It's
always right before us. It's simply a matter of seeing it. Once you see it, you
always see it.”
Sam
was about to stand, when Dr. Pointsman quickly said,
“Sam, do you mind if I ask you a few brief questions?”
Sam
settled back into his chair and nodded that this would be fine.
“Umm...do
you ever feel as though people are staring at you?”
Sam
shook his head no.
“Do
you have nightmares?”
Sam
offered one ironic “Ha,” then added, “only this one. But, thankfully, I
can awaken any time I please.”
Dr.
Pointsman raised a brow, but continued. “Do you ever hear voices?”
“You
mean in my head?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Dr.
Pointsman relaxed and said, “Do you believe that you are Jesus Christ?”
“That’s
an interesting question”
“Do
you?”
“Well,
first, let me say this. It’s a complex issue, so bear with me.”
“All
right.”
Maybe I can pick up on his Gestalt here.
Your ancestors were
semi-conscious/automatons functioning with a kind of habituated proto-language
*
* * * *
Now,
if we refer, once again, to semiological difference, of what does Saussure, in
particular, remind us? That language
[which only consists of differences] is not a function of the speaking
subject.” This implies that the
subject (in its identity with itself, or eventually in its consciousness of its
identity with itself, its self-consciousness) is inscribed in language, is a
function” of language, becomes a speaking subject only by making
its speech conform---even in so-called creation, or in so-called
transgression---to the system of the rules of language as a system of
differences, or at very least by conforming to the general law of differance…
------Jacques
Derrida
“First
of all, reality is about to undergo a radical transformation. An
incomprehensible, hyper-complex, global semiosis will emerge in the form of an
increasingly virtual cyber-environment as information and cyber-technology begin
to self-reproduce exponentially. This is ho-hum news for many of you already.
Anyway, to each individual mind, or ‘self,’
this global semiosis will appear chaotic because no human mind will be capable
of grasping the vast complexity of its structure. Reality, from the view of each
subjective ‘self,’ will become chaotic with no apparent context. Eventuality
reality will fall apart, and it will be especially painful for those who try to
hold onto meaning. The only option will be to let go into the conditional
semiotic turbulence. This will mean the death of the
‘self,’ the individual self, because the ‘self’ is a function of
narrative gravity and at a certain critical point the velocity of information
flow will be such that you will all be blasted from the confines of that
gravity…all of you. See?”
“Ummm…are
you Christ, or aren’t you?” asked Dr. Pointsman, giving up her notes and
resting her chin on her fist.
“It
depends…you see the central question is: How will all this information get
organized? You have to
understand that at one very significant level, the figure of Christ represents a
personification of a collective semiotic phenomenon that began around 500 BC.
You call it the Axial Age. That’s when the concept of the ‘self’ emerged
from the flow of signs. That’s when self-consciousness, and thus
consciousness as you know it, appeared. It happened like this: during the Axial
Age population density in certain areas of the planet catalyzed a critical
threshold of social interaction. Self-referencing sub-programs latent in
language centers in your brains and in conjunction with the prefrontal cortex
were triggered to function. The ‘self,’ a linguistic entity, is both a
property of, and organizing principle for, this flow of signs. This novel entity
liberated human consciousness. So...Christ is the Word, as you say. Yes.
He is the personification of the individual ‘self,’ of the presentation of
felt, conscious intentions, of human self-awareness into an existential
world, the organizing principle for what was becoming an overwhelmingly
complex symbolic environment in ancient times. And clearly, technical societies'
most fervent intention, whether it recognizes it or not, which is also the will
of the Word, is to mediate enough information to establish a heavenly
environment for the mediated ‘selves’ to exist in for eternity. But that’s
not going to happen. History tried to be a story big enough to constrain and
shape all this information and consciousness, but public history is breaking
down, as is inevitable as the amount of information increases, into a plethora
of relative private histories and interpretations. This eventual fragmentation
into cells is common in many dynamic systems.
“Now,
stay with me...you see, just as the new found ability of the brain to mediate
information engendered consciousness as you know it 3,000 years ago, a breakdown
in the ability to mediate information represents the end of history as you know
it today and the end of consciousness as you know it as well. This is
dispensationalist eschatology for a postmodern world, right? Will there be a
story big enough to contain all this information? Who will write this story?
Will the impending phenomena of exponentially increased information flow present
you with a new Logos, a new Savior, a new catalyst to, in turn, make a conscious
fact of a hitherto inconceivable way of being in a hitherto inconceivable
universe, just as the emergence of self-consciousness created what was
inconceivable to consciousness prior to it? Will a second Christ return as some
higher-level Logos to act as a kind of catalytic converter to all this
information?...to write a new story, to return as the emergence from a
complex system of symbolic flow: a new constraint, a new organizing principle,
another kind of ‘self,’ of an inconceivable nature, another Christ?
“Now, to answer your question, Am I Jesus?...You are
creatures of signs, you exist in a semiotic environment, and so, just as
you personified the emergence of the semiotic self as Christ, you will
probably personify the next emerging semiotic constraint as Christ as
well...and, who knows, somehow in the random vagaries of how history works, my
name may get associated with the change, and, so, that’s why I say...it
depends.”
Phenomenological
cul-de-sac
*
* * * *
The
Dr. shook her head as though to shake off a trance.
“Well! Okay...um...so, then, let me get this straight.
You do think that you may possibly be Christ?”
“Christ.
Soul. God. These are just words. Water is just a word. If you
want to know what water is you have to take a sip or dive in.
Now...yes, I might be Christ, but only in the sense that my name may
become a symbol for the conflation of a massive amount of information in
process...yes.”
“More
than a few good people would be greatly offended by what you just said.”
“Of
course they would. Remember Giordano Bruno?”
“Umm...was
he a patient here?”
“No,
he was a Reality Mechanic like me. They burned him at the stake back in 1600 for
telling the good people of Rome that life and mind were part of an ever-changing
universe and that distant worlds might harbor intelligent beings. You’re
right, the good people, as you call them, will always be offended by the
truth, try to burn it at the stake in so many ways, because it's scary to have
to let go of the ignorant concepts that pass for reality, because even fear and
ignorance, as long as they are reasonably self-consistent, can hold the world
together. Thankfully, courage, genius and vision do not turn away, they seek to
make sense of the chaos and understand it. They struggle to redefine the
world---even as their contemporaries ridicule or loathe them and scream
‘folly,’ scream ‘madness,’ even as the unimaginative and narrow-minded
scream 'evil.’”
Sam
paused and Dr. Pointsman remained silent. She did not really follow or take
seriously what he said, but she felt a certain passion in his voice that she did
not, for clinical reasons, want to undermine.
“Ignorance
can pass for reality because the first priority of thought is simply to order
consciousness, because the fundamental problem of the mind is how to order
individual and collective consciousness. It starts with totems and ritual, then
little by little signs are agreed upon; order in the abstract emerges. That's
what the fruit of knowledge did, Doctor. That's when you all fell...from
the Zero. The human ‘self’ is merely another accident of evolution that
evolved to help order the flow of information.
It's a trivial by-product of an informational organism too vast for the
intellect to comprehend. Your universe is a vestige: a phenomenological
cul-de-sac: a cosmic exile and you're trapped inside its bubble and don't know
it...that's why I'm here...to save you, and...well, it's a process driven by
paradox and tension and it's festering like a kind of tumor, and it must be
readjusted.”
Sam
fell abruptly quiet. “So, this
is feeling,” he whispered. “This is desire. Yes, this is where it gets
tricky...careful, careful.” Before Dr. Pointsman could respond, Sam continued
full of energy. “If you increase energy through a fluid system something
interesting happens. Do you know what that is, Dr.?”
Dr.
Pointsman managed a half-hearted shrug. “Umm, I'm afraid not. What happens?”
“Eddies
appear.”
“Eddies.
You mean like whirlpools?”
“Yes.
Now if you think about it...what exactly is an eddy?
Well, it’s nothing more than the shape of the fluid responding
to a physical dynamic. Decrease the flow of energy to the system and the eddy
disappears. Increase the energy and it appears again.
Where does the eddy come from? Where did it go?
Can it be said to even exist?”
Dr.
Pointsman glanced at her watch. “I'm
sorry, I'm afraid you've lost me.”
“People
used to think the sun revolved around the earth.
Copernicus showed us different. He
showed you that what you took for reality was in fact just an optical illusion.
They called it a Copernican Revolution because it represented a
revolutionary shift of consciousness. What I'm saying Dr. is that your species
is on the brink of a Conceptual Revolution so radical that the first Copernican
Revolution will pale in comparison. You
are about to see that what you take for your reality is, well, it’s nothing
more than an optical illusion: the insubstantial shape of information
flow.”
Dr.
Pointsman telegraphed another glance at her watch. “Sam, I have one last thing
to ask you about.”
“What’s
that?”
“What
did you do to Wanda?”
“I
told you. I returned her to the Zero.”
“Where
is she?”
“Wherever
she wants to be?”
Dr.
Pointsman had heard enough. “We may be able to help you, Sam. I may be able to
help you. I’m going to make an appointment for you to see Dr. Storie. You’ll
be getting a call.” She stood up,
very tall and erect, and slung her purse over her shoulder. Then, clipboard
firmly in hand, she walked briskly out of the room.