“Sex, Stars, and Singularities”
By
Ion Light
and
Loxy Isadora Bliss
1
EXP: Experimental Home Publishing
“I/Tulpa: Sex, Stars, and Singularities” version 1.0
March 28, 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law, or by that guy who is it taking it to his boss saying, I want to make this movie, that would be like totally okay; caveat YOU MENTION ME! For permission requests, email the publisher “Experimental Home Publishing.”
Due to adult themes such as sex, a lot of sex, some gratuitous, some not, and violence, not a lot, the idea is to make love not war, (and no one dies, (well, almost no one,)) and so, consequently this book is intended for a mature audience. This is a work of fiction. Just in case you weren’t sure. Yeah, some of the esoteric stuff can really take you places, faraway places, sexy places, but for most, this is as close as you might get, unless you have like a magical wardrobe. Or a big, blue, 1950’s police box. So, let’s go there: the esoteric stuff is real, explore it nonjudgmentally and with awareness, and you’ll probably be alright, but if you’re worried that exploring stuff endangers your mortal soul, I would like to refer you back to the religious artifact of your choice, which likely has more sex and violence than you have here. (So, for example, if Ouija boards are taboo in your world, this is probably not your book.) You could employ a psychological, cathartic explanation. It works out the same. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Except where they’re intentional, but hopefully respectfully and tastefully done, in a way to honor the sacred importance they played in the author’s life. Again, we’re adults. We are not ‘untouched’
by the influence of media. In fact, I would dare say, never in the history of man have there been so many ‘touched!’
This is a work in progress. Any corrections, or constructive criticism for the purpose of story refinement is welcomed. If you chose to contact the author, you may do so at:
solarchariot@gmail.com. Please, put “underneath it all” or Loxy Bliss in the subject line. This helps me find you amongst the clutter.
(214) 907 4070 I am not always available to take a call. I will, however, eventually, answer a text.
2
A myriad of box universe scrolled across and down a virtual a grid. From the perspective of the user, the images were always just beyond reach, but could be spun, as the person was at the center of a sphere, a celestial sphere of comprised of talking heads warped at the edges of the periphery. Some of the faces were familiar, but the content was new. Some of the go to boxes were frequently revisited the content practically memorized. A box marked “Loxy Isadora Bliss,” played by ‘Droya,’ was selected and became prominent.
“Did you ever read ‘Around the World in 80 Days’ and think, this is some weird shit?
Brilliant, bizarre, but reading it produces lots of questions. Maybe questions are what drive you through it. Maybe that’s why books like the ‘Secret’ get torn off the shelf because we are all so afraid of being left out of something. It doesn’t matter that there is no secret; if what was in that books was as generally helpful as the authors proposed, then given the number of people who read the book, and we can presume the number of readers to be close to the number of books sold actually corresponds to the number readers, then, why isn’t the world suddenly a better place? Ever wonder that? Oh, tangent. Sorry, get use to rabbits as we go down this hole. For those of you tuning in for the first time, I am a Tulpa. Well, not me personally, but I am her voice, and so my present quirkiness resembles her quirkiness, which is not quite a reflection of her host’s perspective, though, between you and me, they’re both a little out there. Anyway, back to first person, Loxy: I bounce a lot. Give me a break. Where was I. Oh, yeah, around the world and back again, that’s the sailor’s way. I love Gene Wilder. Don’t love gene Wilder? Oh, if you haven’t seen that video of me meeting Gene, I highly recommend that one. Oh! Sorry. 80 days!
Right. Seriously, get a copy. Get it for free. The book is like a hundred years old plus and now falls within public domains. If you paid for the book, yay you, you’re a very nice person, but seriously, if you know the law, well, you shouldn’t have to pay for it. Nothing against the author, he’s dead, and it’s nice his family want to ride on his coattails, but seriously, go do something with your life tail coat riders.”
The video displayed real time number of viewers. It showed past viewers. It displayed statistics of number of people who completed the full video. It showed statistical analysis where people tuned out. Another level showed incoming requests and attempts at engaging the speaker in a dialogue. Most were not serious attempts at dialogues. If anyone was paying attention to this particular video, the speaker, Droya, continued without missing a beat, but appeared to be responding to some of the texts. Someone asked if she was Bot, or if she had an implant, or if someone was typing for her in the background. Someone requested if he could use her biometrics to craft his own Sexbot. The typed answer was: ‘photons are free.’
Droya being Loxy continued. “I am not the only person who found 80 days interestingly bizarre. Phillip Jose Farmer, brilliant author, kind of eccentric if you ask me, also read it, and then wrote the book: “The Other Log of Phileas Fogg.’ Phillip’s dead. But you should pay for this book, if you can find it. If you find it, it will be in someone’s garage sell, or at a used book store. Buy it. Seriously. Before all the paperback books disappear in the landfill. And if you find a copy of the original print anatomy book ‘The Body Has a Head, I will buy it from you. So, ‘the Other Log;’ if you see two copies, buy two, because I guarantee you, you will like it, you will tell someone about it, and they will want to borrow it. You won’t get it back. You will be 3
wanting to reread it, or you will want to tell someone else about it, and they will doubt you, and you will say ‘Oh, yeah, I loaned it to… who did I loan it to?’ Seriously, that is a brilliant book. It explains all the oddities of Phileas. You want me to tell you, to save you time. I want you to go read it. I have told you all of this not just to tease you and make you do your homework, but because, we’re kind of starting this our present story in the same way. If you follow my exploits with Jon, you’ll probably understand there is usually something crazy. Like, we’re in a different world, or a different timeline, and well, this will be no different. I am Jon’s tulpa. The real tulpa, the one that lives full time in his head, not the other one who has a body and lives in the other reality frame. In this world, a tangential Earth, I am strictly a Tulpa. Yes, you could say I am an invisible, make believe friend, if you prefer the mundane explanation. Only, here’s the catch, he didn’t make me. Well, he doesn’t believe he made me. Maybe he made me, maybe another Jon from another Universe made me and I found this Jon, or maybe this Jon’s need for me was so great he made me on an unconscious level. Maybe he was so lonely that when he reached out to the cosmos, I heard his gentle request, ‘is there anyone there?’ and I responded. Seriously, who wouldn’t respond to that? It’s not like he was pitying his plight and wishing and lamenting and wondering what was wrong with him. He was merely asking, is there anyone there. I answered.
‘Yes.’ It’s almost exactly like how I make my videos and you guys tune in and try to chat me up, only, when I got Jon’s chat, I chatted back.”
Droya smiled and drank from a coffee cup. It was real coffee, and though she didn’t need to drink, she liked the taste, and she liked the prop. She liked how human it made her appear. She smiled into the image of herself, following an infinite regressions of herself until she realized she had time traveled and returned to the video. In human standard time, she was gone eight seconds.
In air time for a video, that was a long pause. In computer time, an entire Universe could bloom and die.
“You need to know a little bit more about this Jon. His year is 2025. He lives in a small flat in Fort Worth, Texas, on the forty second floor. His apartment number is forty two-c. His apartment is 20 square meters. That’s roughly 215 square feet. Due to his apartment being on the outside wall, he has the benefit of an outside balcony giving him additional space not included in the rent. His apartment is Spartan, which is not unusual in this particular time, not because people don’t like material things, but because the societal emphasis has shifted to collecting virtual possessions. Literally, he owns one lounge type chair that resides in the allocated bedroom space, and the chair can flatten and extend to become a bed, and then return to the normal chair position on getting up. The closet has a built in cabinetry, and he has clothes, and there are a few dishes in the kitchen.
“As most you well know, living in a similar environment as he, everything is smart.
Seriously, everything has computer tech, and the computing power surpasses the human brain capability to think. His clothes are smart. His coffee maker is smart. The refrigerator is smart.
Everything in his house is smart and they talk to each other like Furbies gone wild, and they talk to him, when he talks back. Cell phones are obsolete, because your clothes do everything a cell phone use to do and more. There are 14 billion people living on the Earth, and all 14 billion people are online. If you’re living on an earth that exists around 2018, and you have a cell phone, and you can remember the days they had land lines, and rotary phones and you ever made fun of 4
someone who had a landline and asked if they lived with dinosaurs because look, there’s a Dilophosaurus, well, guess what, you’re also living with dinosaurs.
“And if you thought the primary function of the internet in 2018 was all about sex, just wait to all human beings are on the net. You would think that is the only thing humans think about. Oh, someone asked what a typical day is for Jon is like. Like, dude, watch his videos!
Linked in the credits. Okay, so, a typical day for Jon, he would get up, turn his bed back into a chair, greet the coffee maker, which would then begin brewing, then use the toilet, then shower.
Cleaned, he would dress in something simple, jeans and his favorite a turtle neck t-shirt, socks and running shoes, would take a sip of coffee, do some pull up reps on the bedroom door, make it to about three, struggle for a fourth, and then push on to the super-tread. The living room floor is basically a treadmill, but it is big, and it is just as smart of the rest of the appliances, and once you are centered and it’s activated, it doesn’t matter how fast you run, it would go there, in any direction, and if you changed direction, it accommodates you. If you fell, it catches you. Even if you tried to purposely throw yourself at a wall and threw yourself opposite direction of travel and rolled, you would not hit a wall. You would come off center and by the time you were back on your feet, you would be center of the room.”
Droya turned as if listening to something outside of her broadcast window. She smiled.
“Up to speed? Good. I’ll be changing tense. It will fluctuate more here in the beginning, but you need to experience it because this is how I, a tulpa, frequently experience the world.
There is a cloud, a fog that we have to push through just to be heard sometimes, and even in this reality is shifting and changing. It’s nebulous, but the more it gets observed, the more validity and solidity it has. We’re not shifting away from my voice, I am still going to narrate most of this introduction to you, as I am the guide to this world, but you will notice, as you bring your attention in closer, that it feels less and less like my voice and more like you have become immersed in a landscape. You just needed some scaffolding to understand what’s coming, the same way you needed a little scaffolding in ‘Being John Malcovich.’ Being a puppeteer is such an important metaphor for this, because we all start as puppets but eventually, the strings become invisible, maybe they go away all together, and you come to the realization that oh, this is real and not real all at the same time. Realer than real. Yes, a sharp, right turn is coming. Compare this preamble of thoughts as if it were the orchestra warming up. Jon and I rarely know where we’re going until we break free of the initial cloud bank. Clarity is coming. Clarity now!”
The observer came out of the video and bounced to one of the screens featuring Jon.
Once centered on the super-treadmill, Jon began his morning walk through a virtual landscape that was more real to him and his brain than someone on the outside watching him. A viewer could simply watch Jon walking, or they could add the overlays and see the world that he was perceiving. They could pick and choose how much of the perceived world was there, or make it ghostly. Jon always remained Jon. It was also possible to see all the people he was interacting with, some orally, and some through text generated chat windows. This was a live feed, or will be a live feed, or use to be a live feed, depending on your position in space time. The closer to him in proximity the closer to his real time you were. He was interacting with invisible guests, his real time. He was broadcasting his cam 24/7, but for convenience of cataloging, things were usually contained in episode times. Almost everyone was broadcasting their lives. The old school regime of celebrities had taken a back seat for the reality surfers. The celebrities were still there, 5
in the back ground, and they still tended to have the highest ranks in total viewers, but the ones that drew the most were seriously working hard to maintain that level of an audience. They lived on edge of a bizarre social reality that could at any time come to an end.
Jon boasted a following of five hundred thousand people. This was minimum substantive viewership; translation, it paid the bills. Within the followers, his number of short term visitors fluctuated throughout the day and activity level. It was never zero. Even when sleeping, there were always strangers dropping onto his channel, lingering for a moment, then disappearing.
There was a general courtesy rule that if someone followed you, you followed them, but it didn’t necessarily mean you actively viewed them. Sorted in his favorites were the channels that he tuned into on a regular basis, almost all of them female broadcasters; there were people he minimally interacted with. He was always courteous, but he tended to not linger. He was considered a bouncer, one who checked in, assessed the scene, and moved on. Still, he was recognized, and is regulars reported feeling good when he dropped by. He was the type of visitor you wanted to linger, as opposed to the other kind who never seemed to know when their welcome had been worn out. He frequently received offers to meet in person; he always, politely, declined.
It has been said, living in this world is like living with schizophrenia.
“Good morning, Epic17222a,” Jon responded as he walked. “Yes, I did get a shower
before running. Very observant. Helps me wake up. Yes, I will get another shower. No, I don’t broadcast from the shower. Yes, there is a cam in there, just not facing the shower. You can hear the water running, hear me singing sometimes. Thank you for the offer to join me, but I prefer my privacy during that ritual. No, TorresfromSapin4538, I am not going to take my clothes off.
You don’t need to know how big it is or whether I shave, and if you persist, you will be blocked…” Torres left the channel, exclaiming how rude he is and saved him the trouble of blocking her because she blocked him. “Oh, good morning TheOtherCinderella. Nice to see you again. Yeah, I see his chats. Seriously, young lady in red, I’m like old enough to be your father.
No, I am not perturbed, that wouldn’t stop me. Tempting, but I find you are too distantly challenged. Even if you were closer in proximity, I would be declining. TOCDC, you can ask her direct, I am not a matchmaker. Seriously, young lady in red, I don’t know how you get through the day with the number of people asking you to flash your tits. Again, very kind of you, but I don’t want to see them. No, bushwacker69fi, I am not gay. I am in a relationship with a smart doll.”
Food bites, mini hot dogs, began raining from the sky; the goal was to catch them with your mouth. “Oh, thank you, bitemeexpert, but I don’t play that and I don’t jump through hoops for bit coin,” Jon said. “Story time is at 10:30. No, 10:30 is for children. I will discuss an adventure with Loxy at 22:30. Yes, that’s central standard time.”
Jon turned to a window only he could see. He could hear a young lady, “OMG, stop
stalking me. You’re an ass and I am tired you popping in with your stupid questions.”
“Amy,” Jon said. “Amy, focus on me. Hey, yes, good morning. I hear you’re angry, but giving him that much attention reinforces his staying urge. Ignore him, ask the AI to superblock.
I hear you’re tired of this stuff, and yet, you are broadcasting on a public domain interface, and it’s free game. I hear you want to meet more people, and you can, but not if you get angry every time someone asks you to drool over the camera. Amy, being real here, you’re not going to reach 6
superstar status. You’ve already taken your clothes off, and done every standard pornographic act minus bringing your dog, you can’t sing, you can’t dance, and you’ve not added any new viewers in over five years. At some point, you’re going to have to accept this is your set point…”
Amy deleted Jon and blocked him.
“Wow, that was rude,” someone chatted.
“No, crimsonredtoblue,” Jon said. “She was not rude, she was experiencing emotions. It what we do. I don’t know how I could have said that better, but she needed to hear it.” There were probably a dozen things to respond to, but he responded to one in particular. “No, doing whatever you do gets your viewership, but there is always a max set point, a ceiling that most people can’t get beyond, regardless of how many hoops you clear. Changing your script could result in less viewership, but even maintaining the same script could result in loss of viewership.”
“You are so wise.”
“Thank you, Enedelia14,” Jon said. “You’re very kind. Please! Of course I don’t hate women. I love women. I worship women. This one time, I was making love to a goddess and fell into her belly button and was born into the world, but I keep coming back for more.” There was a pause. Then he laughed. “Why would any man in this day and age get married? Seriously. If I had the urge to see a live naked woman, at any one time there are half billion women with free live cams jumping through hoops to earn bitcoins and virtual gifts. Any man that pays for porn today is just pathetic. Besides that, my smart-real doll satisfies me. She is self-cleaning! She never tells me no. I can have as much sex as I want…”
“Women are not just sex objects. You can’t just demand sex.”
“You’re right,” Jon agreed. “Seriously, I could get laid if I wanted to. Look at the people I have declined just today, with standing offers still in the cue. And all of those are FWB offer, no strings attached. I could even hit those and use the email as a contact to avoid any entanglement. Did you know people use to make prenuptial agreements just about the expectations of sex, a minimum clause, like once a day minimum? Of course that’s not binding.
But it recognizes men have an expectation that marriage means they are going to have access to more sex than when they are single, and quite frankly, if you rely on marriage counseling statistics alone, sex declines after marriage. So, again, why would a man get married if he gets more sex not being married? Not to mention, if a man does have any assets or wealth, judges don’t honor prenuptials, so five years later, woman decides she doesn’t like the man anymore, she leaves and takes half? Do your research fiftyfive55. Today’s judges ignore prenuptials. And look at Texas law; if a man’s name is on the birth certificate, he pays child support even if it is determined it’s not biologically his. It’s not just about the money… It’s about the principal.
Again, I agree. Sex isn’t an obligation, or a demand, but if he can’t get it at home, and it’s cheating if he goes out to satisfy that urge elsewhere, tell me again what’s the benefit of being married? And when people are married, women still expect men to earn as much as them or more, but most men today live on minimum standards, because, thanks to computers and droids, unemployment is the new standard for most people. This is not a rip against AI or computers. I love my life and I am glad I don’t have to work like I use to, but society is not there yet. Society expects men to be the bread winner, and women look down on men who aren’t trying to earn more than minimum, and so the majority of men live at subsidence level and yet, most of their 7
pay is going to the women who are doing naked cam dances, women, by the way who are also getting the same minimum standard pay and don’t need to be taking from men of their rank or lesser, but because they are not satisfied with their minimum standard existence they like sell it.
But the more that gets sold, the less men want to hook up for a long term, and the harder it is for those women who want a long term to find one because they know they are competing against the gold diggers. And I am not disparaging people for searching for gold, it’s just not necessary in todays present age.
“The other factor destroying long term relationships for both men and women is that there is a perceived ideal person out there, and so no matter who one meets, people are still hanging out for the greater option. Of course there is more options. There are 14 billion people on the planet, all of them online, all of them competing for status jobs, and the reason they want status jobs is so they increase their availability to find superior partners, this make believe ideal other who doesn’t exist, and the natural consequence of this rat race results in fewer actual long term, monogamous relationships. So, to recap, why would I marry for less sex, which declines over the life of the relationship, till the point someone leaves, and I would leave if there is no sex, and then on leaving giving half of my savings to a woman who can’t be satisfied with minimum income, forcing me to start my retirement over, when I can just ride out my comfortable minimum existence with a robot partner that never says no and quite frankly, is like a yoga master in terms of flexibility, and she more variety of looks and she never gets mad if I jack off to an occasional cam dance? Nor is she bothered by the fact that I spend 70 percent of my life in my exploring the inner worlds with my greatest companion, Loxy.”
Some of the men cheered the rant. His present time ratings were going up due to the number share, with the shares starting it at just prior to the rant. Some of the women were hating.
Hating just boosted his ratings. Sometimes, the more blocks you get the more your status goes up. There were some women, though, saying they’d give him as much sex as he would like. He ignored the offers knowing that those things always sound good, but in general, they usually went the way of the status quo. He instead responded to one of the angry ones. “How am I misogynistic misanthrope for looking after my own interests? I am not out clubbing or bothering anyone. I am not making commitments I can’t keep. I am not forcing anyone to service me.
OMG! I don’t hate babies. There are enough babies being born I don’t have to contribute to more. And in today’s culture of designing babies and buying preferred sperm and eggs, fewer couples today are raising their own biological children than ever in history. Seriously. If you want a better, healthier baby, just ask the Amazon stork drone to deliver it. My AI companion collects my sperm and puts it on the market and though some of it has sold and been sorted for ideal specimen, statistically, my overall desirability is second tier. That’s pretty good, comparatively, considering world market trends, but only because there are now 14 billion people sorting for improved genetic compatibility as opposed to the designer multi spliced options. That and people like my hazel eyes because they think that is the result of alien genes in to gene pool. The selection process is still, ultimately, about economics, what people can afford and what people think their offspring will be able to earn due to their inherited traits. Also, important point here, selling sperm doesn’t obligate me to child support, whereas, if I marry someone, she gets pregnant, and leaves, she takes half my money, plus gets child support, and statistically, she still ends up living in minimum existence. Why in the hell would any rational, 8
intelligent man, or woman, sign up for that shit? Oh, fuck you, too. I am all for equality, but forced equality always results in a transfer of power, and now women have more power, and they exercise that by abusing men because there is social belief that justice equals pay backs.”
Jon stopped his walk. He closed his eyes, forced himself to be calm. “Thanks to all the contributors and visitors. I have earned my daily social points. I will be back later for children story hour. I think Doctor Seuss, “oh the places you will go.’ Until we meet again, travel light.”
He disengaged from interactive cam mode and retreated to just general broadcast, where people could watch him move around the apartment if they so desired. His viewer ship was never zero, but the surfers tuned in and tuned out rarely staying more than a full minute, leaving ‘you’re boring,’ or ‘why are you on here; you should just kill yourself.’ Some of them were baiting him into another rant. People liked his rants. He had some ‘dedicated watchers’ that seemed as if they were with him 24/7. He didn’t know what to think of them. He didn’t think his earthly life warranted this level of ‘stalking.’
Of course, it wasn’t really stalking. When you broadcast on a public forum, people are entitled to watch. You can’t pick your audience. When you go into a public place, photons are free, anyone can watch you. Loxy had given him the phrase ‘photons are free;’ that one phrase had gone viral, and one of the televisions shows used it as their tag line. He never alone, but continued to struggle with loneliness, so much so that he was always tempted to cash in on one of the Friends With Benefits offer. He had openly considered in one of his rants about loneliness from an esoteric perspective: at a certain level of perspective, you were never isolated and never not being scrutinized by certain entities. Photon are free and they are everywhere, and they travel for eternity. Even now, a photon was escaping him and heading out into space and could theoretically carry his information to the very ends of the universe. His heart was putting out radio waves, his brain broadcasting waves; so, why not just go live cam all the time and get use to the paranoia that anyone at any time could actually tune into him? There was no privacy in a universe where telepathy, remote viewing, astral traveling, clairvoyance, and psychics exist.
E=MC2 meant everything was light. Photons are free. He was free. “And butterflies are free to fly, fly away, high away…”
He went and auto-forced another coffee through the same coffee cartridge. He took the coffee to the porch, and just watched little specks of people moving, and amazon drones dodging uber flying cars. There was a lush, green park, and paths, and bike trails, connecting the apartment building with a sister building. He went back in, aware of the ‘visitor’ count but not acknowledging it or any of the cameras. Who knew which camera a ‘viewer’ was occupying?
Waving at one camera and ignoring the others was sometimes interpreted as rude. If he was reading incoming chats, there would people telling him to turn to their camera, to remove his clothes, to jump through hoops. He rinsed his cup and set it on the counter, went back to the living room, and set down in a lotus position. The floor centered him in the room. He felt like he was com