6-18-2525. Blazingly hot.
Boston ruins.
Dear One,
I made it down here! My bicycle gave me all sorts of trouble, not the least of which was my buttocks chafing on the plastic seating. I spent my first morning poking around the ruins. After my big find in DC, I am doubtful that anything more can be gained here. The place is a chaotic mess. Not only is it hard to believe that there once was a famous conservatory (or two! or three!) here in what remains of 'back bay's fens' - nothing much! - it's hard to believe people lived here at all. I scrabble over the blasted landscape looking...for what? I can't say. Anything that might connect to Hunter.
(Later.) I gave up on Back Bay. There's nothing out there but rubble. I might have remembered that from before. I headed back to the Public Library site. You remember me telling you about my previous visits. You'll recall especially the story about the 'librarian,' that old toothless fellow who haunts the mostly still intact subterranean floors. I always found it funny that 'librarian' means somebody that lives in an ancient library building and not one who deals with or knows about 'books.' Of course, there are no books. As I've complained endlessly, there are only these chaotic stacks of parchments, rotting in haphazard piles. The thought of digging through mounds of these (again) is disheartening. Of course, it was in one of these piles down in DC last year that I miraculously found the mother lode of Hunter materials. I guess that's spurred me on. Here I am again in the stinking stacks.
Because of the overwhelming heat, the librarian was way back in his lair. I had to get past all the piss soaked, shit smeared territory of his outer perimeter. I found him dozing on his rotted couch.
"Charley!" I had to shake him to wake him.
"You again. I thought I'd seen the last of ye with your endless scrabbling around in me stacks for stuff about...who's it?"
"A composer named Hunter."
"Composer!" He spits out this word like it hurt his knees to think of it.
"Yes, I'm back. I want to get back to the piles. You care where I start?"
"Hell no. Just don't fall or drop a stack on yourself. I don't want the bother of having to dig your sorry carcass out of here."
You have to admire the hospitality in this place, dear! So I'll let you know how my findings develop. I know you won't be getting these pages much before I'm back to give them to you, but it helps to keep personal notes, to be thinking of you, and writing you as though I were speaking to you face to face. It provides a break from the rigor of actual academic writing.
(Later)
One wishes there were water to wash the stink. I've been looking for things relating to Hunter and things he mentions about Boston. In particular, his allusions to Mara Monetti, the actor, and Bonkowski. Perhaps that man had a career. I thought perhaps I'd be able to find something about them here. Anything would be good, right? Nothing but pissy fingers. I did, drum roll please, find some stuff about Google, the company. I found a big packet of material that outlined the early history of the firm and the various structures and entities that led to its demise. Fascinating stuff, and quite voluminous.
To summarize, quickly (light is failing fast):
1. Google was an information collecting service. They had huge machines called servers that housed data that they allowed their customers to access. People, ordinary people, stored all sorts of material on these servers. The material was shared in a huge network of interlinked 'sites.' (I know! It's just fantastic!) This aggregate of sites was called the 'web,' like those made by spiders. I assume these spiders were much less threatening than ours, since they speak of the web often and without apparent cringing. Maybe their spiders weren't the size of cats! Anyway, the web had many facets. People could contribute freely to their own spaces called 'blogs.' I saw that 'blog' was short for 'web log.' The term was used as both verb and noun. (I extrapolate that Cal Hunter was blogging, that he had a terminal on this 'web' and used it to blog. His materials, the narratives, were, I'm supposing, once a blog.)
2. In addition to Google, there was a rival company called FaceBook. Many other rivals are mentioned (Twitter, Groupon, Linkdin, etc.), but it's not clear how these enterprises interconnected. FaceBook and Google got into some sort of snit. The rivalry blew up around the same time the USA social fabric was under strain because of the of economic disaster of the late aughts. According to the materials I found down here, as the USA government became unstable, the amount of 'blogging' about it was unbelievable. Some of these ancient pages are not in blueberry, or even the older ballpoint. Some of these are actual printouts from the servers, the hards, and thus directly reflect the blogs. It is really remarkable once you begin to understand what you are looking at. Ancient, yellowed pages, falling to pieces in your hand that are actual printed documents (and yes, who has the patience these days to rig up a press!) that mirror what was once seen on screens that we can only imagine. I can almost picture these people, so long dead, staring at their flickering - or maybe perfect! - electrical power operated screens, reading each others expressions as they 'tweeted' - I'm trying new vocabulary! - about the demise of their government.
3. The government changed hands and the new rulers took over everything. Taking advantage of FaceBook's willingness to tattle on Google, selling or giving away the data to the new rapacious government, and vice versa, the government sabotaged the two firms using their own greed as a lever, then straight away took over Google and FaceBook, and shut down many others. The government plundered the personal data. They worked with lightning speed, killing anyone who expressed anything but a very stilted, narrow opinion. I see descriptions of the 'pledge.' It has to do with 'one man, one woman, free market, no tax, no spend, small government,' etc. It's very confusing, but it is clear that the 'small government' faction was legitimately elected and then went on a bender of illegitimacy. This government isolated many people from others, but because of the nature of the web, it survived in a more than marginal way, being copied, printed and 'rescued' by vigilant 'illegal' action well into the Great Collapse. There is much blogging about the 'climate crisis,' 'global warming,' and 'climate change.' It's not like our ancestors didn't know what was about to wipe them out! Still , they were unable to act. The new rabid, murderous government was opposed. At the same time, there is evidence that certain powerful people tried to create an advantage for themselves. There is the expression, 'they threw the public under the bus.' (I surmise that a bus was a carbon powered vehicle of enough size to damage the public.) Although there were 'prophets of doom,' the people back then were incapable of grasping what they were in for.
4. In the end, as we repeat in our peans to the balance of nature, 'we very nearly joined the dinosaurs in extinction.' Google and FaceBook are long gone, save for the cynical expressions that echo the names. I confess, it is a mystery why we even know about Cal Hunter. He plainly gets involved in alternative lifestyles. Perhaps there were so many more better known artists that could be more easily eradicated. Can you believe there once was a musician called "Lady Gaga?" Perhaps I should study her instead! I guess Hunter made it into our consciousness for the pure caprice involved in trying to kill everyone you don't agree with. We know of surviving communities that still practice it, and even eat their victims! The trouble is, you can't do it. You end up making enemies as devious as you yourself are. And then, at last, you have nature, impossible to govern in her imbalance, and that does what the rabid government can't: wipe everybody out.
Almost. Here we are. (Miles apart.) Well, I've been writing in the dark, and I'll sleep on this stack. A scholar's mistress. I miss you, dear one.
6-19-2525 Boston library ruins. It's hot down here, I'm glad I'm not outside.
Dear One,
I woke up on "pay dirt." (Don't you love how I use these 600 year old expressions? That's why you love me, I know.) I fell asleep but I tossed and turned and knocked a bunch of stuff loose down here. In the first light, I was holding an ancient newspaper fragment, a Boston Herald. The masthead was torn, so I only got part of the date. 2019. As my eyes focused, though, it wasn't the date that caught me, but rather the headline. "Boston Native Composer Executed!" Blessed Balance of Nature! I could not believe my eyes when I saw the word Butkowski in the text. Scanning it, I learned that Bonkowski wrote an opera called "The Fatal Ticket." It was banned, and the government executed him. There you have it!
This trip has been well worth it. I'm heading back.
