The body without organs is a coherence-surface of differentials, paradox-web spun like a disintegrating bandage upon the infectious wounds of aesthetics of reality. What the secondary process, compiled as your mind, experiences as memory, consciousness and data-acquisition, is for the primary process of machinic unconscious only microsofted irritations shaped as pain-gradients and thresholds.

Every coupling of machines, every production of a machine and every sound of a machine running, has become unbearable to the body without organs. Sensing beneath the organs only larvae and worms, and the action of a God, strangling his own creation through organization. Filling up the attractor basins of social megamachinery, all fluctuations are case-packed into reproducible units, geochemical, bio-organic or cultural. Oedipus is a box at the end of the world, glued to the monitor, watching it all come apart.

Arriving reprocessed from inexistence at phase-transition into Hell or the future, you slide an interlock-pin into its sub-cortical socket, shifting to the other side of the screen. Pandemonium scrolls out in silence. Decayed pixel-dust drifting into grey dunes. All vital differentiation is a unilateral deviation from death as zero-degree of intensive matter; the reality of identity is death.

(Arranged and edited from 'Fanged Noumena' by Nick Land)