The Illinois by Frank Wright, king of the wangers.
The High Cost of High-Rise
Okay, I’ll admit it – The expertise to scrape the sky, To build a hundred storeys high, The maths we truly understand, The engineering we command, To know the stresses held in steel, To take such plans and make them real… Okay, I’ll admit it, It’s a pretty bloody big amazing deal.
But just because we can, That doesn’t mean we always should, That competence is only good – That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t care, That towers often overbear, That carbon cost and energy To work the lifts is never free – So just because we can It doesn’t mean we have to boast so cleverly.
“No Free Will” can mean two different things – The first of these is in our brains That we’re simply biological robots, Thinking we’re free but forever in chains.
The second is that the Future exists, It already exists, so it has to arrive – And the only way from here to there Is to give up choice and to let fate drive.
According to boffins, it’s out of our hands, That we’re all algorithms just floating in space, And the only uncertainty’s not us, but quantum, And anyway time is all over the place.
Now I know pressure, and I know predictable, And I know duality – a body and a soul – But minds are physical, products of biology, Not separate from bodies, but under their control.
And yet…And yet… Honestly ? I mean, yes, I get what they’re trying hard to say, But it doesn’t sit with me. I don’t feel a slave even on the dullest day – You know, I’m feeling pretty free. And yes, we could be programed so we never notice anyway, Or maybe we’re just bluffing. I mean, we’re self-aware – does that count for nothing ?, Not that the universe would care. But when it’s down to tails or heads, To blues or reds, Or jazz or blues, That barely even matters which we choose – Well…have we still the power to refuse ?
And as for that time thing…what’s there to discuss ? How did the future even get ahead of us ? They say it isn’t set, That we still get to select, Except, of course, except, That the causes haven’t happened yet, But all of the effects are in effect.
But come on, we all know that it’s bollocks ! Of course we all get to make a choice, We’re not all living in a virtual simulation, And there is no cosmic script that we must voice, Now normally I show respect to scientists, But normally they have to prove their stuff – So I’ll rely on common sense and take responsibility, And I’ll be free, at least – or free enough.
You come so soft, sweet Twenty-Ninth, The sum of quarter-days – You take unmissed those surplus whiles, And solar-annual strays – And whether you are bursting Spring Or Winter’s final greys – You come for free, or so it seems, Through mathematic ways. We owe it all to Julius, Who’s clock the Earth obeys – He holds in trust your orphan times, And four years on, repays.
Is there any reason why A zero should be naught, Except that that is what we’re taught ? But just to wonder, by-the-by, If we could write an oh for ten, And only turn the corner when We reach eleven once agen, And double-digits start. And when we get to twenty, so We’d write it as a one-and-oh. (Perhaps we’ll call it ‘tenteen’, though, To fit the part.) It all works fine till ninety-nine, Then ninety-ten for a hundred dead – With still just two within the bed. But the twins then run to oh-and-one, Till oh-and-oh for a hundred-and-ten, But dammit, we should be triple by then…!
Nothing happened, and ev’rybody laughed The calendar had clicked all four digits over With not a single meltdown or mem’ry overdraft Indeed, the new Millennium was very much in clover We ridiculed the doomsayers, tarred and feathered verbally, And claimed we’d never for a second fallen for their con – Our tech was indestructible, whatever their hyperbole, And got on with our daily lives as if the sun still shone. And the calendars clocked, and on we went, All thanks to the graft of the geeks we smear – The lack of excitement their greatest testament. We’re welcome. Happy new year.
Sketch of the bas relief on the Altar of Domitius, showing different stages of a census (the original is one long strip, here split in two. Judging from the armour, it likely dates from just before the Marian Reforms of 9894 HE.
The Counting Carol
[parts in italics are sung by all.]
The Romans go from house to house, Just counting – The Romans go from house to house To count each man and dog and mouse, And grub and flea and bug and louse, In city, plain and mountain. And when they knock upon our door To tally up our stock and store, Then what shall be our docket score ? But hark, [knock knock] But hark, [knock knock] But hark, I hear them knocking…
I count twelve notes that make a scale. So one last time, let us regale ! Twelve are the jurors, twelve are the scribes, Twelve are the inches and twelve are the tribes, And after a twelvemonth’s high society, Then twelve are the steps to dry sobriety.
Eleven players form a team, Be they ladies, be they gents.
Ten is the base of our number sense, Where digits get a neighbour.
Nine are the months of labour, From conception through to birth.
Eight the planets, like the Earth, Orbiting the Sun we are.
Seven diff’rent grades of star – Oh be a fine girl, kiss me ![/Oh be a fineguy, kiss me !]
Six domains of life we see – Do kings play chess on fine green silk ?
Five is the hour we harvest the milk, Five, five per day to thrive ! Five are my fingers, five are my toes, Five is the starfish and five is the rose. A hedgerow rose ? Well, I suppose. There’s always five on one of those. Five are the petals and the leaves she grows, Attracting the bees and attracting the nose.
Four are the forces, I propose, Forces nature shall have it be – Electromagnetic and gravity, And the strong and the weak attraction.
Three each science branch or faction – Bio, chemo and physio learning. Three the dimensions through which we’re turning, And three the hands on my watch tell time.
Two is the first and smallest prime, Two is the first of the even-kind. Two, oh two, you’re one behind, You’re second-best at bestest.
And then came one, and so we rest – We’ve counted each and ev’ry guest. For one is one, the last and first, The very best, the very worst. For one is one, is most perverse – The all-enclosing universe.
This is intended to be a cumulitive carol, like Green Grow The Rushes, Oh or that other one whose name I can’t recall. It starts from 1 and works its way upto 12, with cut-down verses to speed things along (they’re only sung in full when they’re introduced and on the final time). Thus the penultimate verse is like this:
The Romans go from house to house, Just counting – But hark, [knock knock] But hark, [knock knock] But hark, I hear them knocking…
Eleven players form a team, Be they ladies, be they gents.
Ten is the base of our number sense, Where digits get a neighbour.
Nine are the months of labour, From conception through to birth.
Eight the planets, like the Earth, Orbiting the Sun we are.
Seven diff’rent grades of star – Oh be a fine girl, kiss me ! [/Oh be a fineguy, kiss me !]
Six the kingdoms of life we see – Do kings play chess on fine green silk ?
Five is the hour we harvest the milk, Five, five per day to thrive !
Four are the forces, I propose, With the strong and the weak attraction.
Three each science branch or faction, And three the hands on my watch tell time.
Two is the first and smallest prime, Two is the first of the even-kind.
And then came one, and so we rest – We’ve counted each and ev’ry guest.
I am aware that although their are twelve notes in an octave (not counting the repeat of the root-note an octave higher), only seven or so will be used in any given scale – well, except the chromatic scale of course. Yes, that’s it, that’s what I really meant, I wasn’t being ignorant at all…
I’m also aware that current biology only recognises three domains of life (bacteria, archaea, and eukaryotes) though the latter is often further divided into four kingdoms (animal, fungus, plant, and protists), which of course totals six. But these days there are many competing schemes, and so I called them ‘domains’ here because a) it makes it clear not to take it too literally, and b) because it scans better.
Anyway, current thinking has it that eukaryotes were born from a combination of an asgard archaea with a mitochondria bacteria, meaning that the current living descendants are more closely related to humans and dandelions and baker’s yeast and kelp and slime moulds than they are to all other bacterias and archaeas. Well, sort of…
And yes, I know those are double plurals – but hey, it’s Christmas, the season of giving!
My soul is just software – An algorithm, a sub-routine, A program that is self-aware, Yet coded into ev’ry gene. A viral meme, a blinking light, A data-stream, a dancing sprite, This neural net that runs my thoughts Is nothing more than ones and noughts.
My soul is just software, Processing through my cerebral RAM, Buffering often and cluttered with spam, A self-written program to tell me ‘I am’ – This ghost in the thinking-machine Is just a bug in the wiring, Is just a random mis-firing, A one where a nought should have been.
Musical AI version generated by Suno.com – find more of them over here.
Have you heard how crime is falling, Muggings at an all-time low ? Murders, rapes, are miniscule Compared with fifty years ago. So when you’re walking back tonight, The odds are very much in favour Of you getting home alright.
So when the shadows rustle And your heartbeats dance a jitterbug, You’re almost surely not about To face a psycho or a thug. The cold wind sighs, the lone fox yelps, But rest assured you’re probably okay – I hope that helps.
Rhyming Couplets 