Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Time to upgrade

Version 7.0 officially released today.

Notes:

TRISTAN v7.0 is the newest, but probably not the final iteration of Tristan's adaptive-organic supercomputer software
.
This upgrade adds/restores certain functions, most notably:
  • the ability to make good use of steaming buckets of free time
  • enhanced (enchanted?) rudeness
  • a "new approach" to prophetic and pontific speech module design, with higher throughput of thrown stones
  • improvements to bastard detection
and
  • new innovations to the 'use actual knowledge to give crackpot theories credibility' engine (GORMIPLEX™2000©)
These are some of the major overhauls in what is a package of revisions to make life more interesting for everyone within range of a bottle throw (increasing daily with new exercise routines). TRISTAN v 7.0 comes endorsed with an Honours degree in Physics.

This has nothing to do with New Year's res., promises, personal vision or life-goals. It is a compatibility upgrade effective immediately to slimly reduce the probability of a mental overheat during Orbit 24. Please note that the Same Old Kernel will continue unaffected, no upgrades were necessary due to its inpenetrable security and scrutineering.



To put it in ridiculous terms, this is yet another example of mind over mind, a mentality warping itself into a Klein bottle of fractal intra-ideology. Pouring itself out over its own surface, it defies traditional geometric arguments in a wonderful landscape of blazing wireframe and circular references. In a flourish, the whole thing becomes liquid metal and drips into the void, skittering in all directions across the broken space-time. Then, as if by sheer determination, the drops begin to converge - one by one they freeze into a four-dimensional sculpture of such beautiful shape. For a brief moment you see its true form - its higher dimensions are like a knife poised edge on to your perceptions. Before you can appreciate your place in this impossible scene, you are snatched back into the mundane reflexes of propagation, unaware and immediately forgetful of what you had just witnessed. A survival reflex, more than anything; the rock of Time compels all who behold it to break their skulls against it. To physically hold the past and future of Everything in one's hands, yet be powerless to shape it, is more than the human mind can take - the popping of wormcans builds to a deafening roar as the brain attempts to rearrange itself for the slow recovery.

What was that about. [?]