CANTO 51 Streams of data

 

Streams of data fatten into fan-fold stacks.

Technicians chatter, or beam to Sir Richard’s patter,

while dot-matrices natter. Pixels pepper monitors full of graphs

while professors plot journals full of articles

and Kremagon observers scheme vital appropriations.

Andro decides what to do. She closes her eyes

(data Sir Richard duly notes),

slows her respiration rate

(data Sir Richard drily notes),

breathes one liter less of air per minute

(data Sir Richard dully notes),

reduces oxygen consumption from 251 to 211 cubic centimeters per minute

(data Sir Richard dutifully notes),

reduces carbon dioxide elimination from 219 to 187 cubic centimeters per minute

(data Sir Richard professionally notes),

generates alpha waves with increasing intensity

(data Sir Richard perfunctorily notes),

which increase in amplitude and regularity,

(data Sir Richard meticulously notes),

reduces her heart rate by 4 beats per minute

(data Sir Richard scrupulously notes),

increases her skin resistance by 140,000 ohms

(data Sir Richard precisely notes),

maintains low arterial blood pressure

(data Sir Richard confidently notes),

reduces her secretion of norepinephrine by 3.6 ml. per 34.8 cc. per hour

(data Sir Richard congenially notes),

induces a slight metabolic acidosis

(data Sir Richard engagingly notes),

reduces her lactate level precipitously, 1026 mgs. per 100 cc. per hour

(data Sir Richard interestedly notes),

increases her forearm bloodflow by 41 per cent

(data Sir Richard fascinatedly notes),

induces her body to vibrate slightly, at 30.8 Hertz

(data Sir Richard surprisedly notes),

raises her body temperature to 180 degrees F.

(data Sir Richard astonishedly notes),

emits high-frequency sounds at 30 KHz that shatter glass tubes and instruments

(data Sir Richard incredulously notes),

radiates intense heat at 1800 K that melts hoses and wires

(data Sir Richard traumatically notes),

generates acoustical shock waves at Mach 4.5 that implode all CRT’s

(data Sir Richard hysterically notes),

disappears as the syllables "PHAT" and "SVAHA" fill the ampitheater

(data Sir Richard glazedly notes),

SIZZLE!!! as in a comic book, or POOF!!! as a cloud of white ash

settles on the stainless steel table with its restraining straps all askew.

She’s gone! Crossed Over! Translated! Raptured!

My jinn is done gone! Zapped Hasidic zaddik!

Translated to Gehenna or Jahannam to incinerate

or wafted to the rivers and the houris of Janna?

Maybe nembutsu’d to Amida cruising the Pure Land?

Or puñña’d to a glowing lotus pond

where good Jinn jump Karma to jive the jiva with Jesus?

Don’t know. But listen to what echoes

above the Wreck of the Empirical:

Yeah I’m the Evil Knevil of meditation

I’m the she-devil of the west

I’m the enemy of imitation

yeah my way is not the worst!