“How can you possibly tell the rest of us what your bleeding edge is up to if you don’t understand it yourself?” Chelsea demanded back when things were good between us. Before she got to know me. I shrugged. “It’s not my job to understand them. If I could, they wouldn’t be very bleeding edge in the first place. I’m just a, you know, a conduit.” “Yeah, but how can you translate something if you don’t understand it?” A common cry, outside the field. People simply can’t accept that patterns carry their own intelligence, quite apart from the semantic content that clings to their surfaces; if you
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