Imagined Lost Writings of Alan Turing
God’s mind is a cosmic concerto. Cello strings
throb through mathematical
space. The Creator’s language
is vibration, congealed into nature.
I unveil a grid behind numbers,
principles engraving Mind: 1
cracks open the shell of 0, one
code, a binary string.
Shards explode into unnumbered
patterns. Nazi mathematicians
devise Enigma—unnatural
shape-shifting ciphers. Its language
unleashes slaughter: Ghosts languish
throughout Europe. Those who win,
crush laws, crush nature.
A judge binds me in legal strings:
“Gross Indecency.” I flee to mathematics,
sure I’ll be pardoned, England’s number-
one cryptologist. Vilifications numb
me: newspapers’ barbed language.
Listening to concerti’s thematic
more aspect of my character, strung
to ensnare me. (A purer nature
sparks the Electronic Brain of my nurturing.)
A man with a syringe glares. I go numb
as he pumps hormones into my veins’ red strings.
Chemicals swim, dissolve desire & language.
But nothing deletes my calibrations: one
source, one immaterial material, mathematized.
Injecting an apple with a mathematical
dose of cyanide, I kill my nature—
deemed unnatural—take one
bite, another. My arm grows number.
Vortices in my brain blur language.
A record plays Brandenburg Concerto No. 3, cello strings
sawing through numberless sequences. Human nature’s
one Edenic apple smashes to the floor. Languor gauges
my life’s mathematical string—untying, uniting me.
***
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