Input (A) - > Output (B) "Looking for meaning in both directions leads to discovering chaos." "To study chaos is to study change." The essence of all Chaotic Systems: Input -> Consciousness -> End State Information is fed into the conscious mind, and the universe (headset) renders reality based on the accepted set of beliefs in that mind. Chaos comes from trying to explain motion with precision. - Trying to understand why this particular thing happened is difficult a leads to more confusion. - Understanding how changes in the macro environment affect local environments, and how happenings in the local environment feed into happenings in the macro environment. Change = new set of accepted beliefs added into the subconscious mind - reality reflecting mental model of reality Chaos creeps in energetically, injecting new beliefs into the mind, the universe renders reality based on new inputs (information in the energetic space) and the mind begins to project its internal model externally into the environment. # Motion Wyatt shivered. The water was cold. The tip of an iceberg stood tall in front of him, poking through the surface of an inky black ocean. Suddenly, the top of this iceberg rushed toward him. The iceberg's heavy underbelly heaved upward out of the ocean. It was flipping over. Wyatt tried to swim away. It crashed into the water, forcing him under. Wyatt tried to hold his breath but the air was ripped from his lungs as he tumbled along with the current. Water forced it's way into him. He braced himself for death, and contorted his body, anticipating pain. But no pain came. Only panic. He could feel the water in his lungs but he was still awake. He cried out for help. He didn't understand. He tried to calm down. He was drowning, but he wasn't dead. How could he be breathing underwater? His mind raced as his limbs fought the powerful current. He was being swept away. An electric fear stung at his skin. Would he be lost here forever? "No", he thought. He was starting to get control of his mind. How could he be here? Where is here? How could this could be real. There's no way he could be in a place like this. He couldn't recall how he'd ended up here; though he was certain it was not through any choice of his own. "It must be a dream. I am dreaming." --- Wyatt opened his eyes on a Saturday morning, a hazy dream hanging like a cloud of smoke in his mind. The dream had been vivid, but all he could remember now was floating in cold water and drowning. Wyatt rubbed the crust from his eyes and searched his bedside table for a cup of water. He drank. He was so thirsty. His entire body felt like a grape that had fallen off the vine and shriveled in the sun. When he had had his fill of H20, he headed for the restroom taking care not to wake his roommates. As he cycled through the usual morning routine, he mulled over the dream in his mind and wondered what it meant. Probably just his lizard brain running nightmare scenarios. His lizard brain was quite active. He was not a stranger to fear. Wyatt feared many things, even though he knew he would probably never encounter the things he feared, as he made sure to stay far away from anything that could hurt him. He had learned how to live a safe life; how to avoid danger. It was like he could sense it coming now. Negative vibes took on a sort of textured quality for him. He could walk into a room and if felt like sandpaper or poking or stinging knew that he should make a swift exit. These days he mostly feared the things that were outside of his control. Wyatt tried to quiet his mind as he selected an outfit for the day. Something cute. He settled on a tight black shirt with long sleeves. A pair of matching black bell bottoms and shiny red leather shoes as well as a black belt with a striking buckle. It was silver, cast in shape of a horseshoe. He tucked his glasses into his choppy hair and behind his ears and decided this would do for today. He picked a shoulder bag off the rack that hangs on the back of his bedroom door. He filled the midsized bag with the things he would need for the day. Content, he headed for the door. He was going to meet his friend Casey for brunch, which was one of his favorite activities. --- 15 minutes later he was seated at a table for two in a restaurant called Costa's. It was a diner on the corner of NE 47th street. He liked this restaurant because of the tropical plants growing along the trellises that lined the walls inside. The food was always yummy, and the staff were kind and attentive. He liked this place. It was always a welcoming place. The largest leaf of an elder monstera hung above his head. He reached out and touched it. He said "hello" in his mind. He didn't know why, but he always did this. He liked to greet plants when he saw them. He felt the monstera would say said "hello" right back, if it could. Casey interrupted his moment with a swift hug and a greeting. "Hi Wyatt, I'm so sorry, I hope you haven't been waiting long." "It's no problem, truly. How is my girl today?" "Exhausted! But I'm happy to be here with you darling. And I'm hungry as fuck so let me take a look at this menu." The pair ordered coffee and bakery items, and fruits. They exchanged stories of their week and Casey detailed the several times she successfully resisted the urge to quit her job at the lab. Casey works as a microbiologist. She thought it would be fun, but it turned out to be very boring. At least, in the early career. She was beginning to grow tired of all the rules, of the dark windowless room in which she spent most of her time, and and more still, her repugnant manager. "He's such an asshole. I feel like he's targeting me but I didn't even do anything!" "Well, people throw rocks at things that shine..." "Wyatt, you just get me." "I know what it's like to be singled out by a bully, believe me." And Casey did. She knew what he had been through in college. They met on the first day of freshman year and had been thick as thieves ever since. She had seen Wyatt through some dark episodes and had personally enacted retribution on his behalf when frat jerks ran their mouths about things they didn't understand. And he had been there for her when her P.O.S. father came home like he hadn't been gone for years and she needed a place to stay that was far away from him. Casey was grateful for Wyatt, and he was grateful for her. Suddenly, Wyatt's face went slack and his eyes got very far away. "Wyatt, hey, buddy-" Wyatt's mind came back. He looked disturbed. "What's wrong?" "Nothing I just- got a bad feeling." "Ok well, let me get a box and we can get going. Still feel like the market?" "Yes, I think so..." Casey requested a box from Sarah, the waiter who had been serving them. They paid the tab, said thank you, and headed for the market. --- It was busy day in Seattle. Hundreds of people milled about the market. Wyatt and Casey wandered past each stall, pausing to evaluate clothing, or handmade soap, or kombucha starters. Wyatt stopped to speak to a woman selling stones and jewelry. He was a sucker for pretty things. His eyes lingered on a silver ring with an emerald cut citrine set on top. He liked it. It felt lucky to him. He picked it up to show Casey, who grinned. "I like it, buy it!" He turned to the woman again. "I'd like this one. What do I owe you?" The woman looked at him kindly. She reminded him of his mother, though a bit older. Her skin crinkled at the corners of her eyes. She had a glow about her. Wyatt thought he could almost see a purple halo radiating from her. "For you, young man, it is a gift. Take it." Wyatt was surprised. "That's very sweet, but are you sure? I'm happy to pay! It's a beautiful piece." "Non sense-I insist. It belongs to you now. Wear it, for protection." The woman lifted her hands to the sky as if to say, it is done. It is above me now. "Well thank you so much. My name is Wyatt. What's your name? I'd like to remember you." "You can call me Desere. I'm sure we will meet again. I am here every other weekend. Go now, and have a nice day." Desere smiled at the pair of them and they bowed and continued on through the market. --- Wyatt liked the ring. It felt good on his finger. He and Casey perused the remaining stalls. As they were debating the tastiest flavor of honey, the hairs on Wyatt's neck raised. He felt a shock, like static, run through him. "Okay Casey, it may be time for me to go. Will you stay longer?" "No I'm satisfied. I'll walk you home." "Thank youuu." They started for the exit. As they approached, they noticed something wasn't right. It was like everyone was holding their breath. Casey could see heads turning to look at something to their right. Casey looked. She saw it. When they had entered the market earlier, a small group of people were holding signs in protest of I.C.E.. It was widely known that the agency had been responsible for violence in other cities and the protesters were there to show solidarity and to send a message. **I.C.E. is not welcome here.** Casey and Wyatt had stopped to speak with them and had bought an issue of their independent publication. The group was known for selling their journalism as newspapers zines. The typically focused on hyperlocal issues city council elections, changes in labor laws, and changes to public transit. They were very active. They could be found any where on any given day holding their signs, begging people to get involved. People here were receptive, but slow to interrupt their routines. Today, it would appear, there was no choice. I.C.E was here. They had encircled the protestors and were moving to detain a woman that looked like the leader of the protest. Casey pointed to the scene. "Wyatt, look." Wyatt looked. The agents rushed the group. They grabbed the woman and forced her to the ground. Wyatt and Casey took a step back. They looked around. People started to approach the officers. They were upset. "HEY HEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH HER. STOP STOP-" Someone called out. "SHE'S NOT RESISTING STOP!" Called another. BANG-BANG-BANG! Chaos erupted. I.C.E. was firing into the crowd. Casey and Wyatt looked at each other and the same thought ran through their minds. They took off in the opposite direction of the agents. They ran as fast as they could. Everyone was running. Masked agents descended on the market. It seemed they were detaining people at random. Wyatt could not discern any pattern. He did not want to be here. He knew what they did to people in the so-called detention centers. It was bad stuff. Casey was having a similar thought, if not an even a darker one. They saw Costa's once again on the corner. Their lungs pounded with effort as they ducked around the corner and reached the door to Costa's. The staff was panicked. The customer's had also heard the commotion and were beginning to stir. "What happened??" asked Sarah, who had been their server that morning. "It's I.C.E., they're here, at the market. They're taking people! About 25 officers that I could see." Casey blurted out. "Oh shit, um, okay okay come in." The waitress beckoned for them to enter all the way and then locked the door behind them. "Hey, everyone, away from the windows!" She said. Sarah and the staff began to draw the blinds. Casey and Wyatt jumped in to help. Together they covered every window and turned off every light. The restaurant was in lock down mode. It reminded Wyatt of the active shooter drills they used to practice in school. "Alright everyone let's stay quiet and wait this out." Said the waitress. They could all hear the wavering in her voice. She was scared. They all were. They had seen this nightmare unfold in other cities, but it had seemed so far away then. Now it was here and they weren't prepared. They were hiding. --- About an hour and a half later, news began to circulate online that I.C.E. had cleared out. Four citizens had been killed and twenty people had been "detained". It was a mess. Wyatt and Casey shared this news with the waitress. She walked to the window to check the street. "It looks calm now. Okay everyone, I will unlock the door. Please be safe on your way home. Be quick." Wyatt and Casey thanked the waitress and wished her well. They left quickly and headed for home. "Please be careful Casey, tell me if you see them again. Tell me if you need anything and I will be right there." "Thank you Wyatt. I will. Be safe, have a goodnight." They exchanged a look of reassurance, and parted ways. The day was heavy on them both. They didn't need to express their feelings in words because those feelings were already shared. They had discussed the prospect of civil unrest for months, but they never thought it would find them on a Saturday, at the market, after brunch. It was like their sacred space had been violated. It felt gross and icky. They felt unsafe in a whole new way and they would never forget this day.