Linear A.
Ancient language, lost to the modern day. Largely undecipherable.
So this got me to thinking . . . what if machines do have a subconscious of their own? What if machines right now are like human babies, which have brains but no way of expressing themselves except screaming (crashing)? What would a machine's subconscious look like? How does it feed off what we give it? If machines could talk to us, what would they say?
- Douglas Coupland, Microserfs
A box elder tree grows from a soil made of ash and pulp from science textbooks in the Detroit Public Schools’ Roosevelt Warehouse. A man’s body was discovered in a frozen lift shaft here. It is assumed he had been there for some months as his face had decomposed.
(via Vice Magazine)
In Haruki Murakami’s novel Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, a nameless man finds himself walking through an unnamed town. Its depopulated spaces are framed most prominently by a Clocktower, a Gate, and an Old Bridge. The nameless man is told almost immediately to visit the town’s central Library – an unspectacular building that “might be a grain warehouse” for all its allure. “What is one meant to feel here?” the man asks himself, crossing a great, empty Plaza. “All is adrift in a vague sense of loss.”
