A letter by Protektorama toxica (cared for by J.P. Raether)
As part of the fellowship of Nathan Fain and Johannes Paul Raether
by Protektorama toxica (cared for by J.P. Raether)
Dear particles of Protektox 5.4.9,
it was wonderful to encounter you-as-us in the Impossible Forest on September 13th. I-as-us hope the relation to me-as-an artificial witch still resonates with you-as-you. It certainly does for me-as-witch because the moment of my-as-our becoming a formation is how I-as-us exist in the real. My-as-witch’s constructed subject, my-as-their artificial Self, extends into your Self from now on. You-as-us will now also be a particle and partial of Protektorama as a WorldWideWitch. You have given us-as-I energy: by watching, listening and trying to unlock my-as-our languages. Those languages that have become occult in the moment, in which we do not understand the devices that see, speak and listen for us. Our BioBodies, connected to our Screenbodies and Earbodies, our collections of data stored on our data bodies. They are our formation.
What does this mean?
It means to me-as-us that you-as-us encountered the artificial identity as individual. But by and with the encounter the relation of you-as-subject and the unstable “I” of the witch have shifted. Remember, we materialized that shift by precipitating our common psychic state stored in data. I-as-us called it the Kommunisat. I-as-us said, that you-as-our data will now be part of Protektorama. And since Protektorama is a narrative made from images, voices and sites formed in and through digital flows of information, us-as-I is data. Or more precisely: I-as-us is a narrative that is bearing the same relation to the world as data: I-as-us is myth, narrative and therefore information, stored on physical devices. I am data on a body. I-as-data is a body. I-as-us is a myth stored in your BioBody’s memory. Us-as-us is the formation of all these instances for the rest of our mythic or material existences, until any of us throws any of our bodies and vanishes into that unknown night we call death.