The “ghost setting” on the XLR 53 Nikon was intended, it seems, as a stunt designed to capitalize on the setting fetish that characterized the shift from analog to digital. Only three prototype cameras were manufactured, and of those only one managed to be smuggled out of on the Nikon head offices in Konan, Minato-ku, Tokyo. The footage is banal, except that the camera picks up audio frequencies undetected by the human ear. There is so much sound, fanged all around, not wanting to be found. Is it any wonder that the camera was scrapped, with a tag-line like that? In any case, the LS archives are in possession of 22 clips extracted from the only surviving camera. This is clip #3, with the ghost setting “on,” picking up frequency scraps otherwise undetectable.
This video’s metadata indicates it was filmed last week at the Lost Signals Midwest Regional Branch by someone unknown to us. In other words, right under our noses. Since its beginnings in the 1830s, Lost Signals has had its share of moles, spies, turncoats, and even saboteurs. (Those of you who received Bulletin #1 know about the unfortunate legacy of arson-fires that have plagued our various headquarters.) Despite ever harsher, extra-legal measures to deal with spies and other disruptors, which we ourselves have documented (at great potential risk) to circulate here among our employees as a warning, these excursions against Lost Signals continue.
Why the saboteur has named this video file “erin’s book” is unclear, although we have our theories. In any case, we post it here for you, the curious.
Tagger Julio Stevens discovered from a paper published by the University of Oxford that the ‘complex tidal dynamics of the Bristol Channel are not yet fully understood’, in particular ‘the sensitivity of the quarter wavelength resonance to changes such as those caused by energy extraction.’ For years, Stevens, in deep meditation, has watched the tides of the Channel rise and fall: a difference of twelve point two metres from low to high. Close by his observation seat is the site of the receiving station to which Marconi first transmitted radio waves across open sea from Holm Island to Lavernock Point in South Wales.
Stevens is convinced that the natural resonances of the sea tides, and the manmade resonances of the telegraph have combined to open a vortex in space/time so that signals from parallel dimensions, postulated in the quantum theories of Anthony Aguirre and Max Tegmark, are received and recorded in the molecular structure of the concrete of the abandoned Lavernock bunkers. By attuning himself to the resonances of sea, air and light, Stevens claims to record in his wall art fragmentary transmissions from an island (or islands) in one (or more) of our parallel multiverses, that are not limited to any fixed moment in malleable Time. —David Enrique Spellman
Since the discovery of a hidden trench dwelling dug into the hillside behind an electronic appliance dump in a small town in Massachusetts, reports are emerging of the discovery of more underground chambers connected with the disappearance of Gerardo Fischer. It is thought that Fischer ran one, or more, archaeological projects in conjunction with the productions of his theatre company. The latest hidden chamber to be discovered lies close to the remains recently unearthed at Göbekli Tepi, in southern Turkey, that indicate the presence of a Neolithic skull cult.
There is no apparent indication of any connection between the Fischer chamber and the Göbekli Tepi archaeologists; other than coincidence, and Fischer’s known fascination with etched glass skulls. Amira Hamade, founder of the Iranian theatre group Gulmohar, is known to have worked with Gerardo Fischer on a production called The Flame Trees in a cave complex near Göbekli Tepi after she chose exile in Turkey following the Khomeini revolution in Iran.
Amira Hamade is convinced that these recently discovered skull remains are evidence of a force that resides in a deeper plane of being that links up author-nodes across continents via a spiderlike network in the collective unconscious. It was her daughter who discovered the cave chamber where Gerardo Fischer appears to have conducted his own archaeological research in this zone in southern Turkey.
This footage depicts a camera infected by what it sees. The canister is labeled “Kino-Diablo” and has been in LS storage for some time, burning its way through storage level after level and into the sub-basements. Information is, or sometimes is, or sometimes can be a virus, and in this case the virus infected the apparatus (the term for cameras and camera equipment preferred by the Althusserian-Marxist theorists who discovered this film) so quickly that whatever aura it had most swiftly and notably (from a documentary perspective) melted not only the film and the camera, but the camera-woman herself.
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When Lost Signals receives a tip about potential archival material in a remote location we generally send a small team out to scout the area, document the site, and collect samples to determine if full excavation is desirable. Such was the case earlier this summer when we were told of an abandoned hippie compound in southwest Illinois that supposedly housed old automobiles into whose seats had been sewn dollar bills with serial numbers that served as longitude and latitude coordinates. These coordinates, strangely, reflect the previous locations of the Lost Signals stations, beginning with the first one in 1838 and continuing with subsequent ones, after a series of arson fires destroyed them. (More information about the troubled and violent history of LS will be available in the Bulletin of Lost Signals, #1.)
Here is a short clip from the team’s arrival at the abandoned hippie compound, the first of thirteen barns on the 26-acre property, each housing broken down old cars with those dollar bills sewn into their seats.
The Museum of the Novel in Buenos Aires – that was once housed above a boxing gym on the Avenida Rivadavia – disappeared this year not long after the great novelist Ricardo Piglia passed away. The museum was the site of intersecting plotlines and home to the automaton created by Macedonio Fernandez to contain the memories and spirit of his wife Elena. The automaton outlived her husband and became the source of hundreds of stories that escaped from the white nodes of language hidden in her circuitry. A number of nodes – no one knows how many – unknotted during the clandestine removal process, and caused power surges along the fibre optics of the new broadband infrastructure in the tunnels beneath the Argentine capital. Subliminal pulsations of light, that flash via the screens of international video calls, have caused stories to jump across continents in fragments, and to emerge as automatic writing on the mobile phones of sensitives as far away as Mongolia and Australia. It appears that the automaton Elena may be composing and transmitting a vast elegy for Ricardo Piglia, who did so much to preserve her immortality. Programmers from the Far South Project are working to reconstitute the complete text, but they are unsure that it will ever be possible, or even if Elena intends it to be. —David Enrique Spellman