Moonseeds

Micro-organisms in a particularly crowded network of life begins to cross paths and mutate. Just as the incredible density of the brain produces original thoughts by exponential possibilities of recombination, the lines and paths in certain locations does the same, briefly produced densities of life that recreate “primordial soup” hyper-evolution. In Central Asia or China, depending on who you ask, rats begin to interbreed and intermingle as carriers of the soupy mass of bacteria through them, combined and recombined until new offspring was created. One of these had success beyond the normal, becoming bloodborne as said rats traveled vast land distances. From one small seed, the greatest relative loss of human life documented occurred, as the Black Death swept over Europe, bringing down in predictable patterns the lives of countless people deprived to vulnerability by the perfect mix of environmental conditions.

Interpretations abound as the wreckage scatters through the world. The audience delights in the final scene as Legasov explains to the court the minute scientific details in an arrogant attempt to explain the unexplainable. The burning core of reactor 4, torn open to a twisted mass of hair-like metal coiled wildly around the screaming fire of the inside, encased in total concrete darkness, defies any attempt to reason with it. Legasov desperately attempts to smother it and in some ways he succeeds, tamping out extremities of pollution, but can never undo the eternal resistance of the explosive center itself. The same can be seen in the black waters across the Titanic, the face of the truly alien as it annihilates oncoming, something defying any understanding of existence by its total anti-relationality to human affairs.

The moon is said to cause insanity in some commentaries by the fact of its being an object which escape the one-ness of the sun. The sun forces one to never gaze directly upon it, its light projecting warmth, its disc brighter than bright, its image screaming it out, as if it were its own name “I Am That I Am”. The moon emits light, schizophrenic trajectories of linguistic light that cast wild shadows through the cold and abyss, that bathe in soft blue, that draw distorted, hallucinatory illuminations. No longer “the best disinfectant” now the best liar, the liar that twists even lies from their stability into illusions into the pained chaos of true delusion.

“Now everybody-“ and the rocket strikes, LA or London? The arc completes at its terminus, the only move now is back. Workers dig into the wreckage, dig until the parabola is completed in reverse, down in the negative numbers to come back around and find it again at the origin. The goal is an ellipse, a complete whole which can act as some sort of fetish to explain the wild lights of the moon, the half-arc of delusionary blue light. The ellipse is always imaginary, the trajectory implied in reverse, the crescent half-completed to satisfy the craving to make a fetish out of the wholly-alien.