Cthelllic Tendrils (#2: Sorcerer, Shaman, Smith)


A becoming-animal is always involves a pack, a band, a population, a peopling, in short, a multiplicity. We sorcerers have always known that – Deleuze and Guattari

She is the blackening Mother who ruthlessly opens up (epidemic lines, contaminations, contagious machineries, alliances, etc.) … through a strategic epidemic which is nothing but the ungrounding depths of openness, openness as the plague. – Reza Negarestani

Continuing on from last time!

One of the more interesting UFO cults to hang around the underbelly of the weird 1990s was the Industrial Church of the Nine Knocks. Lacking the relatively friendly aesthetic of groups like the Raelians and having not wiped themselves out in a spectacular death rite ala Heaven’s Gate, the Industrial Church gained a reputation for the sheer strangeness of their primary practice: attempting to fuse their body with media technology. As recounted in old BBS messages and green-fonted .txt files, this was a messy affair, involving (with various degrees of ‘professionalism’, if such a word is relevant here) the implanting of radios, microphones, circuit boards, so on and so forth, just underneath the skin, with wires sewn in to connect these instruments with what they described as the body’s “electro-magnetic mesh”.

The goal of this practice was to turn the body into an open channel – a biomechanical “tuning-in” to some cosmic frequency being broadcast from “out beyond the end of the world” , which was connected in some way to a perceived increase in UFO activity and encounters with “sinister Schwa-faced greys” (the “Nine Knocks” in the church’s name seems to be a reference to the nine knocks heard by Whitley Strieber in his infamous abduction episodes, which may or may not be a recurrent phenomenon – exhibited even during the course of Jack Parson’s Babalon Working). Xenocommunication: the forging of contact with outside forces outside the channels of communication deemed safe by social regulatory forces.

Take Kant’s famed prohibition on transgressing the limits. His injunction was for one to remain on the shoreline and never venture past the Pillars of Hercules, which have etched into their ancient stone surfaces a warning that beyond them is the oceanic void of nihil ulterius. Reason remains reason as long as it stays in bounds, fixed to a secure infrastructure. In xenocommunication, by contrast, one is carried off – wittingly or not – in a violent riptide that flows out past these earthen gates. Land, channeling Bataille, calls this as a “tragic” or “pure communication” with a “cosmic madness”.One needs to look no further than Lovecraft, Crowley, Grant, or Templeton for what encounter looms on this line: that with the Dweller on the Threshold, the “unutterable Abomenon of the Outside”.


Trafficking with this outside, Deleuze and Guattari write, is the craft that belongs to the sorcerer. They take a key example Lovecraft’s character Randolph Carter (a figure he, perhaps tellingly, may have modeled upon himself), who undergoes a radical flight from this reality into a higher, external dimension and encounters other versions of himself, “Carters of forms both human and inhuman, vertebrate and invertebrate, conscious and mindless, animal and vegetable”. In the midst of this “cosmic continua” Carter ultimately encounters an Outer God named Yog-Sothoth. As Lovecraft’s own interpretation of the Dweller on the Threshold, Yog-Sothoth is indistinguishable from the cosmic continua itself, and as the Outside that envelopes the Inside, it is a swarming multiplicity – an “All-in-One” and “One-in-All” that is entangled with “ultimate animating essence of existence’s whole unbounded sweep”. Plane of consistency, anorganic continuum, absolute deterritorialization…

In their extended discussion of the sorcerer, Deleuze and Guattari discuss the relationship between this figure and the phenomenon of self-organization variables: the pack, the band, the swarm. It is here than one of the primary conduits between Anti-Oedipus and A Thousand Plateaus is opened up. In the earlier book, the critique of Oedipal configuration leads to an extended critique – one that spans the whole of human existence – of familial filiation, which emphasizes the importance of the hereditary lineage (and which ultimately produces the closed dynamic of the Oedipal triangle). In the latter book, the pack is treated as something that reproduces itself in a wholly different manner: “We oppose epidemic to filiation, contagion to heredity, people by contagion to sexual reproduction, sexual production. Bandits, human or animal, proliferate by contagions, epidemics, battlefields, and catastrophe”. They continue:

Propagation by epidemic, by contagion, has nothing to do with filiate by heredity, even the two themes intermingle and require each other. The vampire does not filiate – it infects. The difference is that contagion, epidemic involves terms that are entirely heterogeneous, for example, a human being, an animal, and a bacterium, a virus, a microorganism, or in the case of a truffle, a tree, a fly, and a pig. These combinations are neither genetic nor structural; they are inter-kingdoms, unnatural participations. That is the only way nature operates – against itself… The Universe does not function by filiation. All that we are saying is that animals are packs, and that packs form, develop, and are transformed by contagion.

The non-filiative mode outlined here is one in which xenocommunication – and, more properly, xenocommunion – is carried out through alliance. The alliance is the entry of forces into the rhizomatic assemblage, where each decodes and recodes the functioning of one another: orchid and wasp, human and tool. This is what makes the sorcerer’s work arrive under the shadow of extreme risk: one never knows what will emerge on the other side of the assemblage once it has been entered into and the process begun. The collision of the inside with the Outside can only ever carry with it the specter of death, as there is no chance for what has come before to escape unscathed. For this reason, the alliance takes place between the pack, whatever seething composition the multiplicitous outside is taking, and the exceptional individual – think Captain Ahab and the White Whale, or the motif of the “Loner and the Demon”.

The alliance is first and foremost a demonic pact, but Deleuze and Guattari are quick to say that we should not understand the ‘exceptional individual’ as an individual in the straightforward sense. The pact is forged between the swarm and a “phenomenon of bordering”, which they dub the Anomalous, the Outsider who moves through the edgelands. As Mark Fisher points out, the Anomalous is distinct from the Abnormal: the latter “correlates to a ‘set of characteristics’ – a set of law-like norms, which it transgresses (and therefore, by dialectical logic, confirms and continues)”. The former is already beyond these norms. Deleuze and Guattari: “Sorcerers have always held the anomalous position, at the edge of the field or woods. They haunt the fringes. They are at the borderline of the village, or between villages.” (We’re now very much in the same territory as my earlier post on the repressed double and patchwork understood as an eerie politics).


The shaman is a sorcerer-like figure in that it haunts the borderlands of society and traffics openly with the Outside – but unlike the sorcerer the role of the shaman is far more ambiguous in terms of how it navigates the relationship between interior and the exterior. The goal of the shaman, particularly in the so-called ‘primitive socius’, is the cure; in Deleuze and Guattari’s analysis, this cure is far more akin to how they understand the goal of schizoanalysis in that it immediately follows the pathology into the social field, and then even deeper flows, instead of focusing only the nuclear family unit (which does not exist in the primitive socius, as family is not defined in terms of filiation). “It is not only a question of discovering the preconscious investments of a social field by interests, but – more profoundly – its unconscious investments by desire…”

At the same time, however, this activity is carried out to ensure the stability of society by ultimately warding-off the Outside. Just as war, like Pierre Clastres argued, was used as a means to prevent the State from forming and seizing the primitive socius (which it would always fail to do), the goal of the shaman was to operate at the borderlands and absorb the deterritorializing flows, to take them into himself, in order to make sure that the social machine would be fall into the “germinal influx… the non-coded flows of desire capable of submerging everything”. In her commentary on the MU Statoanalysis Group’s seminal text Flatlines, Linda Trent points out that this function make the shamanic a precursor to the body the despot, which acts as the stabilizing force for the megamachinic State by ensuring that “all lines of escape are reterritorialized on his own body”. This, of course, will become translated into the Oedipal function when the aeon of the despotic state passes through to the aeon of the civilized capitalist machine – so while there is no Oedipal complex in the primitive socius, the body of the shaman acts as a proto-Oedipus, an earlier regulator of the xenocommunicative function.

And yet, at the same time, the shaman taps into the Gothic Line running down into Cthelllic depths, the machinic phylum’s molten core. Consider, for example, the usage of iron in the shamanic initiation ceremonies of the Yakut people, as recounted by Mircea Eliade in Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy:

A Yakut shaman, Sofron Zateyev, states that as a rule the future shaman ‘dies’ and lies in the yurt for three days without eating or drinking. Formerly the candidate went through the ceremony three times, during which he was cut to pieces. Another shaman, Pyotr Ivanov, gives further details. The candidate’s limbs are removed and disjointed with an iron hook, the bones are cleaned, flesh scraped, the body fluids thrown away and the eyes torn from their sockets. After the operation all the bones are gathered and fastened together with iron… The Yakut Gavril Alekseyev states that each shaman has a Bird-of-Prey Mother, which is like a great bird with an iron beak, hooked claws and a long tail. This mythical bird shows itself only twice; at the shaman’s spiritual birth, and at his death. It takes his soul, carries it to the underworld and leaves it to ripen on a branch of a pitch pine. When the soul has reached maturity the bird carries it back to earth, cuts the candidate’s body into bits, and distributes them among the evil spirits of disease and death. Each spirit devours the part of the body that is his share; this gives the future shaman power to cure the corresponding diseases. After devouring the whole body the evil spirits depart.

(The Yakut shamanic initiation ceremonies follow a near-universal pattern of shamanic rites that involve the penetration and/or surgical dismantling of the body by metallic instruments, a phenomenon that some have speculated are connected to the probing motif reported by countless UFO abductees. With this in mind, it is certainly curious to recall the curious body modifications carried out by the Industrial Church of the Nine Knocks!)


This relationship with iron puts the shaman into close constellation with another sorcerous figure – the smith. As the Yakut say, “smiths and shamans come from the same nest” “blood brothers” who share a fundamental – yet sometimes antagonistic – relationship. As Eliade notes in the The Forge and the Crucible, this connectivity is reinforced by the role the smith plays in forging the iron instruments used in the aforementioned initiation rites, which are themselves presided over by K’daii Maqsin – an “evil deity” and “Master-Smith of Hell” who “dwells in a house made of iron, surrounded by splinters of fire”. Finally, the figure of the smith itself is one that shares the power of healing that is characteristic of the shaman, but unlike the shaman this can be carried out directly, without the intermediate of spirits. The smith’s “craft is not looked upon as a commercial one”; it is an occultic practice bound to “the possession of initiatory secrets”.

Deleuze and Guattari summon the smith to serve as the diagonalization that problematizes the binary of the State and the nomad that occupies a major portion of A Thousand Plateaus. The opposition between the State and the nomad ultimately derives form the work of Arnold Toynbee, who posed that in the aftermath of the last Ice Age, there was a shift in global migratory patterns. On one side were populations who settled down and cultivated agricultural civilizations, while on the other were those that were committed to constant movement over a territory. To the sedentary agriculturalists, the State, and to the mobile, the Nomad. For Deleuze and Guattari it was (and still is) the State that produces what might be called History; those who are outside, then, are outside history. None the less, the two forces are in constant interaction: when the nomadic encounters the State, war is produced – and it is the State as an apparatus of capture that constantly tries to seize the nomadic in order to overcode its functions and deploy it for its own ends. Each exhibits their own form of space as well: State societies are defined by the striated space, while the nomadic

(This gives a good insight into the organizational structure and dating schema of the latter part of A Thousand Plateaus: the ‘Geology of Morals’ plateaus sets up many of these frameworks, tracing stratifications up through deep time to the arrival of human civilization under the guise of the alloplastic strata. This is dated to 10,000 BC, alluding to the end of the ice age, while the following two plateaus – the ‘Nomadology’ and the ‘Apparatus of Capture’ – dive into the nomadic and the State societies and the mutual interactions of each, respectively.)

The smith slips between each category. Against sedentary living and the pure movement of nomadism, there is ambulant motion. This is close to the notion of nomadism, and is often treated simultaneously in the text (the nomad sciences, for instance, are also described as an “ambulant science”) – but the distinction is ambulant carries with it an emphasis on engendering connections between wildly heterogeneous forms and the movement between them, in this case the State and nomad societies. This is one of the reasons that the smith is a sorcerer figure: it too haunts the borderlands, trafficking openly with the State and the nomad, upon which both depend for their survival (and vice versa). The smith thus has its own kind of space characteristic to it: the holey space, which burrows between the striated and the smooth.

Transpierce the mountains instead of scaling them, excavate the land instead of striating it, bore holes in space instead of keeping it smooth, turn the earth into swiss cheese. An image from the film Strike [by Eisenstein] presents a holey space where a disturbing group of people people are rising, each emerging from his or her hole as if from a field mined in all directions. The sign of Cain is the corporeal and affective sign of the subsoil, passing through both the striated land of sedentary space and the nomadic ground (sol) of smooth space without stopping at either one… Smiths are not nomadic among the nomads, and sedentaries among the sedentary, nor half-nomadic among the nomads, half-sedentary among the sedentaries. Their relation to others is results from their internal itinerancy, from their vague essence, and not the reverse. It is their specificity, it is by virtue of their itinerancy, by virtues of their inventing a holey space, that they necessarily communicate with sedentaries and with the nomads (and with others besides, with the transhumant forest dwellers). They are in themselves double: a hybrid, an alloy, a twin formation.


State                          Smith                       Nomad/war machine

Sedentary                Ambulant               Pure movement

Striated space         Holey space           Smooth space

Concrete line           Gothic line             Abstract line

Here things turn again towards the crushing, infernal depths of the earth. The smith acts the Anomalous who straddles the boundary between civilization and the nomads and wolves and forest and sea people that traverse the Outside; it also plunges into the deep Outside strata geological strata – and even deeper still, towards the destratified. Unlike the closed organism, it carries out xenocommunion with the “streaming, spiraling, zigzagging, snaking, feverish line of variation [that] liberates a power of life that human beings rectified and organisms had confined”. In other words, the Gothic line, the machinic phylum. The sorcery of the smith is a Cthelllic demonology, a chattering passage into the domain of matter-flow that is “inorganic, yet alive, and all the more alive for being inorganic”.

If the smith ambulates, it is not entirely of its own volition: it must follow the tendrils of the phylum:

…the machinic phylum is materiality, natural or artificial, and both simultaneously: it is matter in movement, in flux, in variation, matter as a conveyor of singularities and traits of expression. This has obvious consequences: namely, this matter-flow can only be followed… To follow the flow of matter is to itinerant, to ambulate. It is intuition in action.

The flow of the phylum, as a singularity, thus serves as a sort of attractor that pulls the ambulant figure towards it. The model of the sorcerer, the demonic pact with the swarming multiplicity, and the rhizomatic assemblage: the smith and the singularity, together, as a critical point that triggers the creation of creation anew, the production of production. The phylum’s phylogenetic line is cut and radiates off into an ontogenetic line of technical development that is still part of the primary, singular phylum. Likewise, the smith sets in motion events beyond itself: it becomes shaped by the tool as much as it shapes the tool, and all those who use the tool are shaped by it, and produce the conditions for new tools to be put into play… the cycle launches into a spiral, the tendrils piercing the surface of the earth and climbing ever higher, higher, coating the earth in a megatechnical mesh, like some gigantic, distributed bush robot –

As DeLanda notes in War in the Age of Intelligent Machines, the phylum is constantly ahead of those try to wring from the metallic flux instruments to be used. Development moves forward only when cascades of singularities come together. One example he uses is the modern firearm, the dynamics of which can be divided into three distinct stages: a propulsion stage (the propelling of the projectile), a ballistics stage (governing the projectile’s trajectory) and an impact stage (“effects of the projectile on the target”). Focusing on the first – and most important stage – will yield a complex array of developmental paths that had to come together before the weapon could be actualized proper:

…the propulsion stage concerns the evolution of three different mechanisms: fueling, ignition and guidance. Each of these mechanisms, in turn, is related to those critical points in the flow of matter and energy that I have referred to as “singularities”: the onset of a supersonic shock wave which defines “detonation”; the threshold of pressure reached by gunpowder gases inside a closed chamber which defines “explosion”; the minimum number of turns, or threshold of spin , after which a projectile’s aerodynamic properties mutate from incoherent to coherent.

While the full extent of DeLanda’s analysis is beyond the scope here, what is important is that each mechanism – fueling, ignition, and guidance – all have their own histories, tangled messes of events and accidents and discoveries. Seen from this point of view the firearm is the byproduct of a massive convergence, the focal point of waves rolling across geological time-scales into human history, coming together in reversed pond-ripples. On the other side of that convergence: everything that the fire-arm has already and will reformat, and all the other meshes of ontogenetic machinic development that it cuts across. Now take this lesson and multiply it for everything that has been, that is, and that will be.

On the horizon: the Gothic line comes together, following a vast, imperceptible and terrifying convergent wave, into a maddening concrescence beyond thought itself.

[h/t to Cockydooody for alerting me to strange and curious practices of the Industrial Church of the Nine Knocks]



Wash Out


America is nothing but the West, and that’s the land of the dead. No sign here of a new world – let alone a New World Order. Something Old

Not far from my home is a town called Horse Cave. Once a tourist trap – the main event being a larger cave entrance in the middle of downtown, which lends the town its name – most of the buildings now sit empty, and abandoned. Keep driving past them and you’ll be on an open stretch of highway, dotted by faded industrial sites, trailers, and the county high school. The highway connects Horse Cave to Cave City, and in all reality the towns are one and the same, divided only by the county line. The closer you get to Cave City more and more of the landscape becomes dotted with old, strange roadside attractions – take the Wigwam Village, for instance. Built in the late 1930s as part of a motel chain that spanned the US (of the seven that were built, only three are left), this utterly-impractical dwelling was an expression of the emergent automobile culture, its then-already kitsch-retro contours etched into landscape.

More motels proliferate inside Cave City proper. Most of these were built in the decade following the Wigwam Village, as indicated by undeniable influence of Googie architecture on their design. Like the faux-Americana of the Wigwam Village, Googie in a temporal index: its roots are in the aesthetic of the car culture, buts its gaze is directed towards outer space. The vector for this gaze is the Atomic Age. The automobile, atoms, and flying saucers collide in Googie, along with gentle borrowings from the European avant-garde. The utopian, plastic, left accelerationist offspring of Streamline Modernism.

Now, as the color pop of Googie dulls to weathered oranges and gray, many of these motels now serve as permanent residences for the people of the margins. A small handful are burned out completely, boards covering shattered windows and kicked-in doors. The walls are covered in graffiti left by squatters passing through the area.

In an essay titled Amerikkkan Gothik, Mark Fisher (going under the alias of ‘Mark de’Rozario’) describes how when it comes to America, it was Philip K. Dick who knew best how to disconnect science fiction from the future that Googie presents. While the triumphant, postwar industrial machine and its adjacent PR industry cultivated an image of an impending “jetstreamed, wipe-clean, air conditioned, atomic-powered New World”, “[a]ll the kibble – the crud, the waste, – vacuumed out of SF’s dream home pile[d] up in Dick’s seedy tenements.” On the far side of things, where the industrial process grinds out the human substrata and the PR machine loops into the escalating loop of self-reference, the promise of the car culture, the Atomic Age, and the Space Age collapse into the very kibble it strove to eliminate: luxury motels gone fleabag, the Dimestore Indian decapitated, and nobody knows why they were here in the first place.

Uneven and combined, stagnation and lift-off run together as SF capitalism falls up into cyberpunk. Fisher continues:

In adapting Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, [Ridley] Scott re-roots LA in the Northern line, imagining the city of Angels as a neo-medieval City of Quartz… The expressionist style Scott adopts is arty through and through: even the adverts look elegant (whereas in Dick’s world, all the art would be an advert – probably for a hardware store… In the movement from paperback to art movie, there’s also a shift in religious sensibility. Dick’s religion is Weekly World News improbable: revelation is inseparable from mass-mediated sensationalization. It’s all dimestore prophecy and visions of God under the influence of a dentistıs drug. Gnosis is to be found amongst the discarded candy bar wrappers and cheap tunes of an artless huckster culture where everything is for sale: part of the challenge is being able to spot that the way out is hidden somewhere in the trash. Scott replaces Dick’s kooky-quacky loony toons All-American Gnosticism with the sober intensity of Protestant nonconformism. His replicants, especially Roy Batty, speak in the language of Milton or Blake. In a sense, this is no less American. Blade Runner’s infernal city is more Paradise Lost than Dante. Arriving from the dying sky of a choked ecosphere, the replicants come to an Amerikka where the calcified determinism of social stratification finds metonymic expression in the very architecture of the city – opulent Citadels of wealth loom far above new shanty towns, as inaccessible to the subproletarian cybernetic troglodytes below as baronial castles were to the medieval peasantry. Europe, again…

For Fisher, the distinctly American excavated of cyberpunk that is carried out by Blade Runner is one in which the future of the country’s impulse – the immigrant dream of the future – is forced to grapple with the reality that “the future is no longer virgin territory”. Googie was doomed before it was ever conceived.

Deleuze’s essay on Walt Whitman identifies the fundamental American quality as the fragment. Expressed in society – and in literature – as a spontaneity that subsumes advanced planning, the fragment is a reiteration of the country’s immigrant origins. As a patchwork, a “nation swarming with nations”, the ultimate, rapidly deferred goal was the engendering of a “society of comrades”. One must add to this picture that would was to bind together this society of comrades was their escape from one another. The push for the frontier that began immediately in the wake of the consolidation of the revolution into statecraft was less the drive of that state itself than the forging of lines of flight away from it. One exited for the borderlands, and the lands beyond the borderlands, to evade the clutches of an political machine that rebirthed the iteration of the megamachine, the Daddy Ur-staat, that had just been pushed back. It is for this reason, as Deleuze writes in his reprisal of the American question in his essay on Bartelby, the revolution, much like the Bolshevik revolution, was originally against the figure of the Father itself:

The American is the one who is freed from the English paternal function, the son of the crumbled father, the son of all nations… their [the revolutionaries] vocation was not to reconstitute an “old State secret”, a nation, a family, a heritage, or a father. It was above all to constitute a universe, a society of brothers, a federation of men and goods, a community of anarchist individuals, inspired by Jefferson, by Thoreau, by Melville… America sought to create a revolution whose strength would lie in a universal immigration, emigres of the world, just as Bolshevik Russia would seek to make a revolution whose strength would lie in a universal proletariatization, “Proletarian of the world”… the two forms of the class struggle.

Ride the line of flight long enough and you’ll cross into the West’s westernmost limit. “[T]he West… played the role of the line of flight combining travel, hallucination, madness, the Indians, perceptive and mental experimentation, the shifting of frontiers, the rhizome”. Blade Runner deals with the attempt to destroy the Father and the subsequent flight to the West, though the order is scrambled; whereas the American flight waged war against the Father in the Eastern colonies and then proceeded towards the West, the replicants begin in the colonies and take the conflict with them to that city that is west of the West: Los Angeles. Like the American revolutionaries, they too want to be rid of the Father. Here the biological father, perhaps even the Ur-staat Father, has already been killed: the replicants have no parentage except a vast techno-economic structure plugged into a military machine (“daddy is a North American aerospace corporation, mummy is an air-rad shelter” – the genetic line of the Replicants is the same as Googie). Positioned forward in time, we can imagine perhaps that a revolutionary cycle playing out time and time again: kill the Father, crash down in the West. Reset as the cycling development of the relative deterritorialization and reterritorialization… going on and go until, at last, the Wall is transgressed, relative exploding into absolute deterritorialization. By then it will make sense to talk about America, much less the West-

Before hitting the wall, reaching the West must denote not the culmination of the frontier, but the point where it hits the relative limit, before falling back in itself must fall back into itself. The whole thing at this point is a simple game of self-reinforcing recursivity. Here we move from the Deleuzian West of hallucination and madness to Baudrillard’s West, where hallucination and madness persist but have been transformed into the shimmering brilliance hyperreality – neither reality or the unreal, but an instant utopia where everything is “real and pragmatic, and yet it is all the stuff of dreams too”. A continental scale hologram “in the sense that information concerning the whole is contained in each of its elements.” Fractal America: one fast food restaurant, one suburban cul-de-sac, one stretch of strip malls, motels, and neon-spattered country bars and the whole is revealed.

This Hyperreal America of the 1980s was suspended is a mishapped triangulization between Space Age dreaming, the manic peak of the dreamers themselves, and a series of looming mutations. It one sense it is now dead, the hologram having ran itself down into the rubble that piled up along its edges and in its blind spots. In another since it is still alive, as an object of nostalgia, as a motor for politics, as something attainable, as a reason for living. Yet even then, the end was palpable, if still unthinkable. “The microwave, the waste disposal, the orgasmic elasticity of the carpets” Baudrillard wrote, “this soft, resort-style civilization irresistibly evokes the end of the world.” Today it is both palpable and thinkable, as long as one looks at it indirectly. Zombie politics, a ghastly creation shambling through the wasteland of trashed affluence and consumer society’s ruin.


Cthelllic Tendrils


Follow the plummeting line downwards, Professor Barker tells us, past the rigid lithosphere where the tectonic plates crush together in howling grind, beyond the asthenosphere’s lurid flux of solid and molten matter, and downwards still through the mesosphere where this flux becomes chaotic, battered by seismic shockwaves and the pressure builds to insanity. Propelled into crushing depths at a screaming velocity we arrive at the outer core: an immense monster of energy, this swirling and churning ocean of liquid iron and nickel. Turbulent flows rocked by seismic shocks producing electrical loops generating the earth’s magnetic fields. Blacker than the frozen cosmic void: Cthelll, the schizophrenic heart of burning matter.

[T]he interior third of terrestial mass, semifluid metallic ocean, megamolecule, and pressure cooker beyond imagination… Cthelll is the terrestrial inner nightmare, nocturnal ocean, Xanadu: the anorganic metal-body trauma-howl of the earth, cross-hatched by intensities, traversed by thermic waves and currents, deranged particles, ionic strippings and gluttings, gravitional deep-sensitivities transduced into local electromesh, and feeding vulcanism…

Trauma-core. The Planomenon. When Cthelll hits the the borderlands of the mesosphere its anything but nonlinear. It’s a jagged internal coast that “contains troughs and swells, deeper than the Grand Canyon and higher than Mount Everest, spread across continent-sized areas.” In this zone – referred to as the D” layer – heat flows and matter are channeled together in great plumes that rush upwards, piercing each successive geological strata before rupturing at the surface in volcanic activity. Volcanic behavior, magnetic fields, the drift of continents – all find their motor in the immobile movements of Cthelll.

If there is a fateline that plummets to these depths, it is the Gothic line introduced by Wilhelm Worringer and elaborated upon by Deleuze and Guattari. From the geological veins of metallic mineral pumped up into the crust of the earth to the biological veins carrying iron-dense blood (a remnant of the iron-dense ocean that once covered the planetary surface before sinking into the dark depths) to magnetic field overhead to civilization’s reliance on the tapping into each of these flows, the metal radiance of Cthelll crisscrosses everything that takes place far above it. Speaking of the Gothic line, Deleuze and Guattari write that

metal is the coextensive to the whole of matter… Even the waters, the grasses, and the varieties of wood the animals are populated by salts or mineral elements. Not everything is metal, but metal is everywhere. Metal is the conductor of matter… Metal is neither a thing nor an organism, but a body without organs. The “Northern, or Gothic, line, is above all a mining or metallic line delimiting this body.

For Mark Fisher, the Gothic line is an affair of Gothic materialism, another name for which is hypernaturalism: “In the move from Naturalism to hypernaturalism, the old distinction between vitalism and mechanism – which, [Norbert] Wiener says, had been rendered illegitimate by cybernetics – collapses.” Hence the focus on uncanny technology that has been focused on in this blog. In hypernaturalism, there is nothing idiosyncratic or distinct about human or animal behavior that separates it from that of the machine, or the machine from the so-called ‘natural’ system. Instead of rising all things up to a human level (arrogantly presupposing human superiority) or pushing everything down to a base level (presupposing non-human inferiority), hypernaturalism charts a diagonal line away, into an indeterminate zone where these value judgments no longer hold sway. Here singularities, intensities, haecceities reign supreme.

Two of diagramming tools that Deleuze and Guattari lend to hypernaturalism are abstract machine and the machinic phylum. The first of these, the abstract machine, is the force that engenders the ecumenon – that is, the strata, or plane of organization – atop the planomenon, the plane of consistency. In the latter, the flows of matter are completely unformed and unorganized, yet become organized through being distributed into substances and forms by this abstract machine. Cthelll is an oscillating planomenon; that which organizes from this Entity – and slips back towards it – is an ecumenonical organization.

If this sounds oblique, consider Manuel Delanda’s unpacking, in War in the Age of Intelligent Machines, of the abstract machine by way of the study of self-organizing processes. Building on a conversation about turbulent liquid, crystallization, and metal’s transition from non-magnetic to magnetic, he writes that

all these different processes, at the onset of self-organization, have turned out to have similar mathematical structures. The process through which the photons in a laser undergo a spontaneous organization and become coherent (all “cooperating” to emit light of the same phase) has been found to be essentially similar to that of molecules in a liquid ”cooperating” to form eddies and vortices, or in a different case, crystalline structures. Since the actual chain of events that leads to the spontaneous formation of new patterns and structures in different media must be completely different, all these transitions from chaos to order are said to be “mechanism independent.” Only the mathematical structure of these transitions matters, as far as their self-organizing effects are concerned, and not the concrete ways in which the organization of molecules (or photons) is carried out. For this reason these mechanism-independent, structure-building singularities have been conceptualized as ”abstract machines”: that is, single “mathematical mechanisms” capable of being incarnated in many different physical mechanisms.

The singularities referenced here refer to points which trigger self-organization. Something can pass through a series of states – a succession of intensities like stages of temperature, for example – but when it enters into the proximity of the singularity the abstract machine takes over. Water goes from a consistent, unorganized room temperature to boiling to evaporation after passing through different singularities which, in turn, trigger the molecules to enter into self-organization that ultimately culminates in widespread systematic shift.

The second tool Deleuze and Guattari provide is the machinic phylum, which is itself synonymous with the metallic Gothic line. The phylum is nonorganic life: it is not only the unification of the organic and nonorganic under the rubric of the abstract machine’s functions that rupture the boundaries between the two, but the implication – proceeding from this – that nonorganic things and forces can adopt the attributes of biological life.

Vital impulse? Leroi-Gourhan has gone the farthest toward a technological vitalism taking biological evolution in general as the model for technical evolution: a Universal Tendency, laden with all of the singularities and traits of expression, traverses technical and interior milieus that refract or differentiate it in accordance with the singularities and traits each of them retains, selects, draws together, causes to converge, invents.

The machinic phylum is the Cthelllic tendrils radiating out from the geocosmological compression chamber, rhizomatic burrows making their way through time and space, cutting up and down different scales, acting the bleeding edge of deterritorialization through disrupting the stable ground of a tool, a social configuration, even the human body (Lyotard’s inorganic proletarian bodies warped, broken, and remolded by the machinic arrays they are inserted into, for example). From the perspective of Delanda’s robot historian – one that is writing the historical of its species’ genesis through the nonlinear meanders of matter and process – “the notion of a machinic phylum blurs the distinction between organic and non-organic life, which is just what a robot historian would like to do. From its point of view… humans would have served only as the machine’s surrogate reproductive organs until the robots acquired their own self-replication capabilities. But both human and robot bodies would ultimately be related to a common phylogenetic line: the machinic phylum.”

Deleuze and Guattari divide the great, nocturnal Cthelll line of the machinic phylum into two different lines: a phylogenetic line and a ontogenetic line. “At the limit there is a single phylogenetic lineage, a single machinic phylum”, but this line itself becomes cut by the assemblage; that is, but a composition of forces that have entered into mutually transformative process – the orchid and the wasp, the worker and the machine, all the way up to the scales of culture and historical stages. It is this entering into of relations that cuts the phylum: one extracts something from the phylum and the extracted line extracts something in turn (hence why it is deterritorialization’s bleeding edge). The cut of the phylum produces many distinct phyla, both indistinguishable from the machinic phylum itself yet distinguishable by want of its specific attributes. From Cthelll to veins of iron ore to the various Iron Ages to the lineages of tools and weapons internal to them: snaking passages from the phylogenetic line down to the ontogenetic.

[At some future, yet very soon date, I’ll pick up where this leaves off: tracing the operations of the Cthelllic tendrils on human societies through a succession of figures – Shaman, Sorcerer, Smith.]