Born to Etiquette#
A very short story loosely based on The Various Flavors of Coffee.
Grounds of Desire#
In the dim heat of a late Arabian afternoon, Wallis stared at his reflection in the brass carafe, distorted but familiar, the steam of freshly brewed coffee fogging the edges of his face. The setting sun bled ochre onto the sand dunes, spilling into the tent where he sat with a caravan master—a man who bore an inscrutable smile and hands like old leather. Here, in this tentative pause of time, the coffee was ceremonial, its flavor sharp, earthy, with a bitterness that lingered on the tongue. It was unlike the European brews Wallis had known, darker, richer, as if the soil of the East had fermented itself into liquid ambition.
The caravan master called it qahwa, a word that sounded like the scrape of metal against stone, grounding Wallis in the reality of his journey. He had not come here for coffee, though it would become a currency and obsession. The bitter brew was a prelude, a taste that hinted at things to come. Wallis listened as the master explained the route to the Arabian interior, his words a mix of hospitality and warning. The conversation was a veil over the caravan’s true purpose—one that Wallis dared not inquire about too directly.
Here, at the threshold of his travels, Wallis could still indulge in speculation. Coffee was a metaphor, perhaps a euphemism for the East’s forbidden allure, its contradictions laid bare. It was warmth and bitterness, refinement and labor. It was slavery in a cup, and Wallis was beginning to understand that he had crossed into a world where nothing could be entirely savored without consequence.
Fig. 30 I got my hands on every recording by Hendrix, Joni Mitchell, CSN, etc (foundations). Thou shalt inherit the kingdom (yellow node). And so why would Bankman-Fried’s FTX go about rescuing other artists failing to keep up with the Hendrixes? Why worry about the fate of the music industry if some unknown joe somewhere in their parents basement may encounter an unknown-unknown that blows them out? Indeed, why did he take on such responsibility? - Great question by interviewer. The tonal inflections and overuse of ecosystem (a node in our layer 1) as well as clichêd variant of one of our output layers nodes (unknown) tells us something: our neural network digests everything and is coherenet. It’s based on our neural anatomy!#
Road of Skulls#
The road to the interior was not a road at all, but a narrow channel of worn sand flanked by rock, cutting through the wilderness like an artery. Fikre’s presence at the rear of the caravan was both visible and unseen—she was not part of the procession in the way Wallis might have imagined. The slaves here were not bound for Africa, as his European mind had reflexively assumed, but deeper into Arabia, into homes that would remain unseen to him.
Her skin caught the light in startling ways, its pitch-dark surface gleaming almost silver beneath the brutal sun. It set her apart, even here. The caravan’s other figures—some men, some women—bore skin the color of clay or dull bronze. Fikre was like obsidian, sharp and luminous at once. Wallis found himself watching her as she moved, noting her restraint, her dignity, as though she were above the grim reality around her.
The caravan master spoke again of coffee, weaving it into a broader narrative of trade, culture, and survival. Wallis half-listened, his attention divided between the man’s words and the haunting image of the slaves walking in near silence. The coffee trade, it seemed, was intertwined with this other trade—one could not exist without the other. And yet, as he glanced back at Fikre, he wondered if she, too, was interwoven with this strange, bitter world of coffee and commerce.
Law of the Jungle#
The jungle, though a misnomer, was a place of survival, its laws unspoken yet universally understood. By the time the caravan reached its destination, Wallis had grown accustomed to the grinding monotony of travel. He had also begun to understand that survival in this world was not merely about endurance but about adaptation. Fikre, with her sharp eyes and deliberate silence, embodied this law better than anyone else he had met.
Her role within the caravan was not clear to him. She was neither servant nor concubine, though she bore traces of both in her mannerisms. Her gaze, when it met his, was unflinching, as though she could see through the layers of his European politeness, past the colonial fantasies he carried with him. Wallis began to realize that the jungle’s law was not about dominance or submission, but about balance. Every act, every word, was weighed against the cost of its consequences.
Milk#
Back in England, the air felt colder, denser, as though it carried the weight of unspoken memories. Wallis returned to his old haunts, seeking solace in familiarity. The whorehouse where he first spent his youth remained much the same, though the women there had changed. Emily, who had once occupied his thoughts like a melody on repeat, was now married to another man. The news, when it reached him, was like milk left too long in the sun—spoiled, sour, and faintly absurd.
It was in this place, surrounded by women with skin like cream, that Wallis thought of Fikre. Her pitch-dark complexion, almost silver under the Arabian sun, stood in stark contrast to the pale softness of these women. It was not merely a difference of color but of texture, of history. The milk skin of England’s daughters seemed insubstantial now, as though it could be wiped away with a single swipe of his hand. Fikre’s skin, by contrast, carried the weight of something eternal, something that could not be erased.
Honey#
Emily’s life unraveled in the years that followed. Her marriage ended in scandal; imprisonment followed, and then, inevitably, her death. Wallis, meanwhile, turned his attentions to Emily’s youngest sister, Philomena—or Frog, as she was affectionately known. She was a creature of contradictions: light-hearted yet deeply observant, playful yet wise beyond her years. Marrying her felt like sipping honey after years of bitterness, a sweetness that clung to the tongue and softened the edges of his memories.
And yet, even as he settled into this new life, Wallis could not entirely forget the coffee. Its bitterness had left an indelible mark on him, a reminder that sweetness was never without cost. Fikre’s face, her silver-dark skin, haunted him still, a ghost of a life he could never fully leave behind. The honey, it seemed, was only a salve, a fleeting comfort in a world where the grounds of desire were always bitter.
Show code cell source
import numpy as np
import matplotlib.pyplot as plt
import networkx as nx
# Define the neural network fractal
def define_layers():
return {
'World': ['Cosmos-Entropy', 'Planet-Tempered', 'Life-Needs', 'Ecosystem-Costs', 'Generative-Means', 'Cartel-Ends', ], # Polytheism, Olympus, Kingdom
'Perception': ['Perception-Ledger'], # God, Judgement Day, Key
'Agency': ['Open-Nomiddleman', 'Closed-Trusted'], # Evil & Good
'Generative': ['Ratio-Weaponized', 'Competition-Tokenized', 'Odds-Monopolized'], # Dynamics, Compromises
'Physical': ['Volatile-Revolutionary', 'Unveiled-Resentment', 'Freedom-Dance in Chains', 'Exuberant-Jubilee', 'Stable-Conservative'] # Values
}
# Assign colors to nodes
def assign_colors():
color_map = {
'yellow': ['Perception-Ledger'],
'paleturquoise': ['Cartel-Ends', 'Closed-Trusted', 'Odds-Monopolized', 'Stable-Conservative'],
'lightgreen': ['Generative-Means', 'Competition-Tokenized', 'Exuberant-Jubilee', 'Freedom-Dance in Chains', 'Unveiled-Resentment'],
'lightsalmon': [
'Life-Needs', 'Ecosystem-Costs', 'Open-Nomiddleman', # Ecosystem = Red Queen = Prometheus = Sacrifice
'Ratio-Weaponized', 'Volatile-Revolutionary'
],
}
return {node: color for color, nodes in color_map.items() for node in nodes}
# Calculate positions for nodes
def calculate_positions(layer, x_offset):
y_positions = np.linspace(-len(layer) / 2, len(layer) / 2, len(layer))
return [(x_offset, y) for y in y_positions]
# Create and visualize the neural network graph
def visualize_nn():
layers = define_layers()
colors = assign_colors()
G = nx.DiGraph()
pos = {}
node_colors = []
# Add nodes and assign positions
for i, (layer_name, nodes) in enumerate(layers.items()):
positions = calculate_positions(nodes, x_offset=i * 2)
for node, position in zip(nodes, positions):
G.add_node(node, layer=layer_name)
pos[node] = position
node_colors.append(colors.get(node, 'lightgray')) # Default color fallback
# Add edges (automated for consecutive layers)
layer_names = list(layers.keys())
for i in range(len(layer_names) - 1):
source_layer, target_layer = layer_names[i], layer_names[i + 1]
for source in layers[source_layer]:
for target in layers[target_layer]:
G.add_edge(source, target)
# Draw the graph
plt.figure(figsize=(12, 8))
nx.draw(
G, pos, with_labels=True, node_color=node_colors, edge_color='gray',
node_size=3000, font_size=9, connectionstyle="arc3,rad=0.2"
)
plt.title("Inversion as Transformation", fontsize=15)
plt.show()
# Run the visualization
visualize_nn()
Fig. 31 Glenn Gould and Leonard Bernstein famously disagreed over the tempo and interpretation of Brahms’ First Piano Concerto during a 1962 New York Philharmonic concert, where Bernstein, conducting, publicly distanced himself from Gould’s significantly slower-paced interpretation before the performance began, expressing his disagreement with the unconventional approach while still allowing Gould to perform it as planned; this event is considered one of the most controversial moments in classical music history.#