What’s in a number? Is it a year. A four digit passcode. A street address. Or the last four of your phone number. Maybe it’s a price tag. In which place would you put the decimal. Maybe it’s the universal secret for the coefficient of energy dispersed across a spherical volume of space at zero-point.
Right. We totally made that up. Should be a Hollywood script writer. We like mysteries. And particle accelerators. They’re like the answer to everything. No one really knows what they are. Or what they do.
Apparently they open portals. You can find your duplicate self in another dimension. Like that makes sense. The sudden fascination of multi-worlds. All stacked on top of each other. Perhaps this is like our other question.
Ever been stuck on an island? Remote. Isolated. Cut off. But there’s no ocean. You didn’t shipwreck there. Lack of resources. Disconnected. Survival. How? Do you have a reason. Is it good enough. Really? You’ll find out.
What is 2200 anyway? Suppose it’s a macrocode. One single packet that expands to a volume of information. All you need is the right… (Hollywood’s favorite word). Algorithm.
A calculation. For what? This isn’t math (gotcha). But it requires your ability to compute a solution. For survival. When the outward appearance says it’s over. The facts voted against you. Now what.
Give up easily? Then you die. Weak minded? Toxic thinking destroys the future. Yours. The equation is wrong. Run a debug program. Fix the errors. Stop running screwed up code. We all have it. All of us (Yes).
What would you do if someone handed you a slip with a number on it but nothing else. Depends who gives it. Right? Suppose a mysterious agent. There has to be a clue in that. Some context. Some way to know what it fits into.
Suppose it wasn’t so random. You’re a Sherlock. On a search. Expecting to find. Maybe an agent. A foreign operative. A race. You’re not the only one looking. Maybe a countdown. Who will find. What will be found. Will you be?
How to overcome. The island. The elements. Why can’t YOU control them (by the way). Wait. We’re not talking about that. Sorry we got off the path on that one. Not that kind. It’s metaphoric!! And we’re not talking weird science either. Nope. Islands have a way of forcing change.
Reverse engineer. The number. The code. Someone turn on the light. This might take all night.
Those who survived, what was their secret? What did they learn. How did they change. Did it make them better. Or a lemon. Will it aid them in life. Was it part of the plan. Plan… whose?
Stop. We still don’t know what that number is. Why are we on an island. How long is this going to take. What is this about. Maybe it IS math. Maybe it’s simpler than it appears.
Suppose it shows up randomly somewhere else. Aha. Coincidence. Perhaps not. How could that happen anyway. Designed by a designer. Programmed by a programmer. They’ll find it when they smash enough atoms together in a tunnel. Just wondering if they will really like the answer.
Why does everything start as a seed, by the way. Odd. Plants, trees. People. Thoughts. What become they. All programmed to become. If they do. (Hold that thought, we’re not on that today.)
Where were we. The island. The number. Some encryption. Some striving. We have to get off this thing. We will defeat it.
Maybe that’s the key. Their success was because of the island. Without it, what would they have been. Scroll up. Training required. Sink or swim. Forced resourcefulness. Forced austerity. Forced reprogramming (error exposure and debug).
Change the mind, change the results. Rewire it. Upgrade it. Recode it. New protocols. New fail safes. New firewalls. Access points limited. Controls in place. Secure layers. Backups enabled.
Memory seems important. Especially when the facts try to overwrite it. Remember the reason.
The agent had your name. This was intentional. Therefore it is coded for you. Or us, in this case (yes this happened, for real). Not fiction!! So. What would you do.
Stay tuned, we’ve got our guess. We’ve made a few calculations. We’ve been to the island. Know it pretty well. Too well. Calculations running. Process has progressed. Output coming.
Not all fiction is fiction. There is truth in odd places. And metaphoric ones.
Here’s a decode clue for those who are having trouble catching our drift: the answer is often found in our links (which most of you have chosen to ignore). Trust us on this one… most of what we write has multiple layers of meaning and intentionally well hidden. Again… this is going to make a very good book someday.
Blue Cube Rocket has been chasing down abstractions for quite a while. We guessed you noticed by now. All these odd collections here. This series of strange writings. You’ll see how they connect. Like a novel in real time.