False 04

a lacerated hunk of metal and circuitry- “Iri.gram” charred on the side- comes back round to us again, still icy from the dark reaches of its orbit as it fades across the sky like memories of a bad dream. it’s throwing signals in all directions at once, jamming any possibility of a coherent rendering and keeping its exact boundaries unknowable. electronically, it arrives as does a storm: softly, first portended by a single drop. but pick any frequency band and listen in– the cadence of the pulses as they intensify feels viscous and decidedly unmechanical. there are discernible sequences, yes, and all at 133bpm, but crouched between the frames there lurks another organizing presence that seems to grab and mutate each repetition on the way past, spewing a stream of facsimiles as it travels, seemingly in an attempt to evade both pattern recognition and any subsequent defensive reactions.