Narrative Statement — This is System 1

System 1 was no ordinary spaceship, System 1 was a Bioship.

   But not only that, it also hosted quite a diverse — however well-wired — all male community of space travelers, a formidably ongoing Dudecamp, as they referred to the august pack they themselves unequivocally displayed. They fostered, no, they permanently caressed a brotherly ideal kind of friendship which they entertained in a diligently dignified, easily appearing as overly naive manner. Of course, this was an awesome setup for adventures, and adventures they relished consciously and humbly. Lightsabreless Jedi knights in their own regard, the universe never got tired of serving them with ever new ones, ever more bizarre, mysterious, magical and totally disturbing ones, ones with frogbear invasions, others with environmental collapse prevention on a planetary scale pessimists would prefer to describe as (planetary) “life extension”.

   Life would live no matter what, however the healthier and more advancedly balanced a given life, ultimately, the more fun and learning. This they knew at System 1 like on, or rather within, no other spaceship bouncing along the endless darks of the cosmos, higher dimensions included. So they haven’t crushed into higher dimensions much lately, these places lacked the chaos ingredient a little to hard as to qualify as adventurously recommended. These places just weren’t made for materialistic musings. Anyway, they accessed them a lot through inter- and subchronical tripping methods gained and gathered through adavanced Biohacking techniques and/or potions.

   Generally, it was the same as with every other craft. Everyone went kinda wild about it once they found out about it, tried around a little, got some supporter shirts here and there and similar efforts, maybe ran some experiments, certainly tripped and partied a lot, developed various mental apps and dexterities, read about it, talked about it, but left the business to the businessman in the end. So everyone knew their basics and whatever they would make their routinely uses of, but couldn’t handle the real deals and tasks — maintaining and running a Bioship, for instance — or build up a deeper and wholly sophisticated understanding on the subject. It was left to be learned by the nerd, the one who just loved doing it the most.

   At System 1, the guy to go for when it came to Biohacking, was Boss Licina. Boss because that’s what he was called by the crew. Not exactly his crew, dearest Reader, ‘crew’ would merely refer to every other shipmember, respectively, in a classic trimusketeerial sort of fashion. One for all, all for one. Although the terminology of ‘boss’ clearly pointed out some reverence, not only regarding the essentiality of a decent Biohack IQ on board, but also his captivating and fatherly, partiarchical brand of persona. Very useful guy, he kept shit ordered, made sure wherever organics were to be consumed and/or emitted, what exactly to do with them. Also, which particular intake variations one should utilize upon their own material sensations they used to describe ‘bodies’, with each of them having their own one, of course.

   The Biohacker had the substances, and without substances, there wouldn’t be much to go about. He operated between the inhabitants of the Bioship and the Bioship itself. Yes, System 1 itself was a living thing, some organic life going on. It shielded its inside from the nasty conditions of Outer Space, while simultaneously creating a flawless costumer experience for its passengers for as long as they knew what they were actually doing down there. System 1 definitely liked the adventurous attitude of that Dudecamp going on in there, but even System 1 had its issues going with Boss Licina. No dispute they couldn’t settle so far.

   Presently, however, even System 1 was concerned about its class-A Biohacker, as this thoroughly educated person ran straight into an intake accident and ended up both getting a pretty badass hit on his big and bold head and morphined. The only information welling out of his usually rampant mouth right now was some bubbly slobber. Nothing exploitable.

   Much more importantly and thereby indeed concerning, though, this whole mess was only able to manifest, because Boss Lacina and System 1 as of now had a respectable asymmetry going on in both their states of time, as they had to measure their chronological positions on quite a bitchy accuracy on System 1. Also makes total sense, because, as the smart of you already figured out but will still get a little hard on when now finally being served with the cakey piece System 1 was not only regulating the three dimensional spacial membrane it represented, but also one of its own along the dimension of time. Legend has it, at one point that being simply decided that all the questioning of the purpose and significance of these virtually overwhelming ideas — as there were love, god, happiness, the free will, choice, right and wrong — was just a waste of time and that the best way to behave in a quantum universe was, after all, quantum style. Keepin’ it random, keepin’ it shufflin’.

   System 1 knew how to maintain a proper timeline for its population, that was part of the service agreement, and, truth be told, even a Bioship has to live for something. Not that there’s not a quadrillion more of Bioships located in this ever expanding universe, so how insignificant could that particular (System) one possibly be? See. Even a Bioship can fall for depression at times. No joke here, it can get serious. Face it. Do you know the reason behind it? Why the universe came up with it? What was constantly evoluting organic life supposed to lead to? Was there a goal? Certainly not to harness all its qualities and intelligence to one day arrive at this exact question again. Why was there even life out there, where it is, statistically speaking, 99.9999998 per cent dark and cold and empty? Here you go. It can not only be depressing, it also is, for god’s sake. No, no, no. Sorry folks, the god discussion got canceled for today.

“Will he make it?” (very concerned, and also quite moved)

– “I don’t know man…” (relatively indifferent)

“No, I’m fuckin serious! Will he make it? Talk to me!” (growingly concerned, maybe a little bit of a high pitch)

– “Well, if you asked like this, let me try on an honest and scientifically bulletproof answer to match your effort and overall norepinephrine situation here — since he undoubtedly made it every time so far, chances are likely that, this time, he will somehow make it again, statistically speaking, that is, if we assign an equal possibly of not-making-it to every single will-he-make-it scenario. You feel better now?” (It’s called sarcasm, wiseass!)

“So you say you got no idea whatsoever?” (cynically)

– “Look at that blood still running from his ears, looks like his brain got melted into some red wine sauce and gently poured out gravy boat style. Normally he’d make it. Wonder why he doesn’t speak. Could be the morphine.” (unchanged tone…)

“You fuckin serious? He should be up and running kinda soon bro. That time disproportion we have going here kinda freaks me out.” (very insistent)

– “Yeah, maybe. It’s strange. We’ll have to see. Our bottleneck problem right now is that the only proper surgeon in maybe a .11721 light-years radius is the only knocked-out guy in the room. Let’s dub it ‘fate’ and call it a session. Stay confident. The Boss would never exit like this, way too tenacious. I mean, come on! Look at him. I bet he only got something he really needed to dream about. Maybe I should see what I can do for him, chemically.” (deal!)

– “Bring him back as soon as you can make it happen, please. I absolutely do not trust this calmness going on here with some nine hours off. I don’t wanna talk about what happened the last time we were so far out of tune…” (somewhat relieved)

“That smell! Didn’t go away for four months or so, worst time of my life, I had no idea how depressing constant bad smell could be, just given the time.” (somewhat… ceremonial?)

They laughed. Truth goes like this. Neither of them had any idea about what was going on inside Boss Licina’s badly deformed hydrocephalus, or whether there was any activity left at all. Since there was no way for either one of them, including the truly afk Boss here, to ever find out about that, and considering the pain alone he had booked for the upcoming days, plus his impulsive nature and colorful imaginary capacities, the following clip ( Š200.- ) might really serve as a great stand-in, don’t you think?

Then a tremor struck all of System 1. They looked at each other, both highly alert. In mirror motion they time-checked, they looked each other in the eye, they time-checked again. The disparity had grown another few minutes…

   These were distinctly NOT the good news. Time is literally running out for System 1.

   (Alternatively ‘out from’, I mean, think this Bioship, folks…)

Narrative Statement — This is System 1

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