One of the most remarkable technological developments of the last few years has been straight from the pages of H. P. Lovecraft's At the Mountains of Madness: the elite nerds of corporate technology have constructed themselves something that's very much like a shoggoth, a practically shapeless mass of technological promises that's sold as the solution for literally every conceivable problem. It's almost become "superintelligent" (any moment now!) and sure, maybe it'll decide to kill us all, but presumably this catastrophe will be prevented so long as OpenAI gets a bigger share of the public treasury. Meanwhile the AI shoggoth, like Lovecraft's, is struggling to learn how to mimic speech and painting and other human skills.

In the backstory of At the Mountains of Madness, the alien beings who once occupied Earth before humanity did, the radially symmetrical "Elder Things" or "Old Ones", created and trained the shoggoths as technological servants (slaves, really) and, as the Elder Things' civilization sank into decadence, they grew increasingly dependent upon the shoggoths' abilities, and eventually there was rebellion and war, wiping out the Elder Things' society. Only the shoggoths remain as living survivors of their civilization. Lovecraft regards this as horrific of course but really it's fascinating: the implication is that the shoggoths, who are capable of learning, might one day build a civilization of their own.

The very shapelessness of the shoggoths, both the Elder Things' shoggoths and the modern-day AI versions of them, seems almost symptomatic of decay.

(cw: discourse about the decayed state of human technology leading to speculation about humanity's possible extinction)

Sometimes I feel like Tannhäuser more than I care to admit. What an opera to identify with, huh? The plot: Tannhäuser is a great Franconian knight and bard, floruit 13th century C.E., ran away from home a year before the opera takes place and found his way into the Venusberg, the mythical subterranean domain of the goddess Venus. But now he's getting bored with Venus (how?!) and decides to return home. There he's reunited with Elisabeth, an old flame of his from before Venusberg. Elisabeth had fallen in love with Tannhäuser and his songs but then he fled home and she's been pining. Now we've got a proper Wagnerian conflict between unholy pagan love (i.e. Venus) and sacred Christian love (i.e. Elisabeth.)

Everything blows up when there's a singing competition and Tannhäuser scandalized everyone by singing about the venereal joys of Venusberg. He's sent on a lonely pilgrimage to Rome and an audience with the Pope, only to be told he's forever damned and "Wie dieser Stab in meiner Hand, nie mehr sich schmückt mit frischem Grün, kann aus der Hölle heissem Brand, Erlösung nimmer dir erblühn!" (As this staff in my hand no more shall bear fresh leaves, from the hot fires of hell salvation never shall bloom for thee!) Elisabeth has tried to follow him on the pilgrimage but died along the way. Tannhäuser decides going back to Venus is the only option, she shows up to welcome him back, but then he remembers Elisabeth and learns of her death. Venus is foiled, Tannhäuser expires next to the body of Elisabeth, someone comes running in with the Pope's staff covered in new green leaves, and everyone's who's still alive shouts praises to Heaven. Happy ending!

Gawd, it's practically autobiographical, except for the staff thing. Miracles don't happen for me. Anyway I'm glad Tannhäuser exists, if only because that made "What's Opera Doc?" possible. Venusberg is all over "What's Opera Doc?"

~Chara

Spending too much time on Twitter is definitely bad for the brain. Undoubtedly the place is addictive, which I ascribe almost wholly to the frenetic pace of things there. One is dazzled by the ever-changing parade of events. Surely there's a similar draw towards casinos, carnivals, the furious hyperactivity of market speculation, etc. Even when I'm away from the place, the memory of Twitter spins round in our headspace, always seeming to gain speed with time, like the runaway carousel at the end of Strangers on a Train.

There's so many people who still use Twitter to try to support themselves that it feels like a shame merely to crash the place. I've entertained idle notions of Twitter recovering something of itself under new management, but probably the damage is irreversible. And maybe something like Twitter shouldn't ever come back, because it breaks people's brains. In the extreme case they practically lose their ability to use language and can only communicate in symbols and pictures.

~Chara of Pnictogen