Pope Donizetti's L' Elisir d'Amore
Larry the Cat,
Hexagonal Architecture of Borges Library
New solutions between multiple layers of our technical architecture could be a Keystone to solve the problems if we define other Hex codes into the system.
The core picture of Donizetti's 'L'Elisir d'Amore' is the power of love and the transformative effect of belief. The Opera itself swirls around the 'Elixir of Love'. Desperate to win Adina's affection, Nemorino purchases a 'love potion' from the traveling quack doctor Dulcamara. This 'elixir' is actually just cheap wine, but Nemorino, believing in its magical powers, undergoes a transformation. on technical notes on the discrete nature of quantum mechanics, and the universal constants that govern particle interactions.
About the library of babel and the Dream of Totality. Furthermore, we require decent politicians with quantum control over their architecture decisions. It's for most of them too complex to understand the situation and power off today's algorithms.
Hence, we require solutions that exhibit profound moral respect for our technical inquiries, a mode that has become imperative due to the inability of moral virtue to regulate electronic behavior across diverse molecular architectures. A renewed design that emphasizes dignity, memorial freedom, and security.
New solutions between multiple layers of our technical architecture could be a Keystone to solve the problems if we define other Hex codes into the system. If M is an additive (semi-)group, then the scheme is called additively homomorphic and the algorithms A is called 'add otherwise'.
(Hex codes/systems), governance (political decision-making), and quantum computing concepts. Regarding the transmission and preservation of our most valuable morals through algorithmic systems.
However, we need more decent politicians with quantum control on their architecture decisions. It's for most of them too complex to understand the situation and power off today's algorithms. The idea of using alternative Hex-based encoding systems for value transmission could potentially create more transparent or controllable ways to embed and preserve values in algorithmic systems. However, the challenge lies in bridging the gap between the technical architecture we want to preserve and transmit. And on the other side, the political reality of decision-makers who may not grasp the technological complexity.
The second core picture of Donizetti's 'L'Elisir d'Amore' is where Nemorino, fueled by his newfound confidence (and the effects of the wine), becomes more assertive and charming. Adina, intrigued by this sudden change, begins to see him in a new light. True love prevails despite the initial misunderstanding, Adina ultimately realizes that her love for Nemorino is genuine and not merely a result of his newfound wealth.
However, here's where it gets particularly interesting: the specific aspects of hex-based encoding. If we're using this as a model for algorithmic value transmission, the hexagonal pathways could represent not just content but also decision trees for value preservation. Each intersection point could serve as a value validation node of governing electronic behavior across different molecular architectures.
The investigation on this query unfolds new aspects of renewed hex-based encoding. Could it presumably start from the 30-letter Spanish alphabet? If we are able to remove the duplicative double letters (ch, ll, rr) as well as the less unnecessary ñ. Removing k and w, letters appearing only in loan words, leaves us with twenty-four letters. The easiest assumption to make is that each hexagon has its passages on two opposing walls, creating a continuous pathway.
The hexagonal architecture of Borges' library, combined with a refined 24-letter alphabet system, presents some interesting possibilities. The original library uses a base-25 system (22 letters, space, period, and comma). The proposed 24-letter system could map elegantly to a hexadecimal (base-16) encoding with some modifications. Hexagons with opposing passages create linear paths through information.
The Vatican is legally a sovereign city-state with its own police and army. It has barracks and gardens and villas and various palaces and an observatory and a post office
railway station and a court and a shop and a seminary for Africans and a radio station and a telephone exchange and a frightening space problem.
One of the palaces, the Floreria, is used solely as a warehouse for the furnishings of past and future ceremonies. There is a thicket of gilded chairs, there are rows of busts of old, distinguished churchmen. There are thrones, and there are the large peacock feathers from Persia that used to fan the Pope's saloon chair when he appeared in public. Bales of damask and rolled up carpets are stacked next to secondary portraits, gilded cherubim, figures of saints and huge candelabras. The palace would be a paradise for an antiques dealer. But of course it is just as inaccessible as paradise.
But these stores are only the second-rate possessions, and you would be thought a little mad if you wanted to see them. For the Vatican contains an immense accumulation of treasures. With its ancient works of art, which have been covered and uncovered according to the propriety of the age, its paintings and its library, it has some of the greatest collections in the world. There are also a great many religious objects and church ornaments made of gold and silver and jewels. Some of them are simply the remains of a Renaissance court collection, and some are a clumsy attempt to honor God and his representative on earth with the best and most precious that mankind can produce.
Everyone has seen pictures of the Vatican. What is surprising when visiting 144, however, is the impression of excess. Palace seems to be built upon palace. The rooms are endlessly lined up. The whole thing is completely impersonal, and God only knows where the monsignori sink when their feet give out after hours of walking on the marble floors. As a monument of sublime and deliberate splendor, however, the Vatican has degraded Vienna's Schönbrunn Palace to a station building.
At the center and at the top of all this splendor is the Pope. He is the successor of numerous saints and numerous villains. Some of his predecessors were the great statesmen of their time, and some abused their position in an ungodly way. To a greater extent than any other ruling family, they shaped the idea of the West, and they anchored it so firmly in the legacy of the Roman Empire that the rest of the world was almost excluded.
Churchmen once intrigued: 'to win the papal throne' and the tiara that went with it, and kings and emperors supported them. The popes were princes. They made war and murdered and were murdered. But the idea of the unique spiritual function of the holder of that office always remained. Even the dissolute Borgia embodied the continuity of God's interest in the earth and his influence. And the reformers who rejected the papacy and saw Rome as a sinful Babylon usually objected at first only to the abuse of what should have been the most sacred institution on earth.
Churchmen plotted to gain the papal throne and the tiara that went with it, and kings and emperors supported them. Popes were princes. They made war and murdered and were murdered. But the idea of the unique spiritual function of the holder of that office always remained. Even the dissolute Borgia embodied the continuity of God's interest in the earth and his influence. And the reformers who rejected the papacy and saw Rome as a sinful Babylon usually objected at first only to the abuse of what should have been the holiest institution on earth. Today, however, it is difficult to imagine why anyone would want this post any more.
The present Pope, Paul VI, clearly derives no material pleasures from his position and apparently little spiritual comfort either. Much has been written about him. It is usually suggested that he is indecisive or, as Pope John XXIII supposedly said, 'a Hamlet'. In fact, Western prelates, in their recently discovered spirit of initiative, complain on the contrary about the willfulness and impulsiveness with which he takes his decisions, the most obvious of which was his condemnation of the contraceptive pill. Paul VI is Pope at an unfortunate time for the Church and is constantly tormented by the question of whether he is in any way responsible for the situation.
The joyful excitement that prevailed when Pope John XXIII opened the Second Vatican Council has also completely evaporated. The number of converts is lower, and the number of apostates probably higher, than at any time since the Reformation.
The old Catholic belief in victory, called triumphalism, is not only dead, it is no longer permitted. The Church suffers from a kind of guilt; one almost gets the impression that it no longer knows what is right. The diplomatically trained, kind, intelligent, almost over-intellectual Pope Paul VI faces a much more thankless task than Pope John XXIII. Until recently, his frequent speeches spread what his followers call 'contagious pessimism'.
Yet he is still the centre of a palace that is reminiscent of both a court and a government. His private life is relatively simple: work at a desk, solitary meals served to him by nuns in his private dining room; he has a private cinema and a gramophone. The pomp and circumstance surrounding him, however, is still fantastical, although the silver trumpets with which he was greeted, the peacock feathers and some of the particularly exotic costumes of his entourage have been removed.
Like petrified trumpets, the coats of arms of his predecessors - crossed keys and tiaras - stand everywhere above pompous Latin inscriptions attributing each building to its pope. This papal omnipresence creates an awe-inspiring religious atmosphere. It is as if the whole city were one single church. The respect that is shown to the person of the Pope could hardly be increased. It is not idolization, but it is almost frightening in its intensity.
It is not difficult to see the Pope. He appears every Sunday at noon at the window of his room in the Apostolic Palace and addresses the faithful through the best loudspeaker system known to man. He blesses the crowd in St. Peter's Square, and those familiar with the church customs begin to sing the response.
On Wednesday, he holds a public audience in St. Peter's. He is carried into the basilica in a sedan chair. The cry: 'Viva il Papa' rings out; the visitors applaud. Skilled sedarii (sedan chair bearers) carry him high above the crowd, more like a victim than a ruler. He blesses the people and waves his arms up and down. The bearers set him down in front of the huge, nightmarish Bernini altar. He sits down on a throne.
Chamberlains read the names of various delegations of the seamstresses of Brooklyn, the children of Mary of Dublin. The Pope reads a speech, blesses the crowd, mingles with them like a politician hungry for popularity, and in doing so conveys a very special kind of happiness: he leaves smiling faces everywhere. Then he is carried out while the excitedly chattering crowd slowly disperses.
This is followed by an exclusive audience in the richly decorated Sala Clementina. It is called baciamano (kissing the hand). A considerable number of invited guests line up in the hall. The Pope walks past the visitors, stopping here and there to talk to someone. Finally, the private audiences. Around the Cortile dei San Damasco is a series of loggias, glassed-in cloisters. Here the Pope has about a dozen audience rooms of varying splendor. In each there is a throne.
The walls are almost everywhere covered with pearl gray velvet, a color chosen by the current Pope. Pope John XXIII had Victorian tastes; in his time the walls were covered with red brocade. Strangely, all Popes have a penchant for interior design. Pope Paul VI has created a roof garden. It seems that the only way these cramped and lonely men have a little freedom is to play with buildings.
The hexagonal architecture of Borges' library, combined with a refined 24-letter alphabet system, presents some interesting possibilities. The original library uses a base-25 system (22 letters, space, period, and comma). The proposed 24-letter system could map elegantly to a hexadecimal (base-16) encoding with some modifications. Hexagons with opposing passages create linear paths through information.
Each hexagon could represent a distinct value or concept state, and the branching paths between hexagons could encode relationship logic between values.The removal of redundant Spanish characters reduces complexity while maintaining expressiveness, creating a more efficient encoding system. And our maps would more cleanly to computational structures. Our shared hexagonal pathways could represent not just content, but also decision trees for value preservation. Each intersection point could serve as a value validation node.
Could the new Pope the 'wasted' space in the mapping remove be used to encode meta-information about values? The world was overrun with tyranny, the last option from there, was trying to re-build something new and as an escape form, to overthrow the corrupted entrées. This reminds me of how ancient memory palaces were used to preserve knowledge but instead of physical architecture, we're discussing digital-ethical architecture.
Strangely, all Popes have a penchant for interior design. Pope Paul VI has created a roof garden. It seems that the only way these cramped and lonely men have a little freedom is to play with buildings, and the Pope's private rooms are only the heart of the Vatican. The courtyards and palaces also house the Church's large administrative apparatus. The administration is divided into congregations or ministries.
There is a congregation for the preservation of the purity of the Christian faith, called the 'Holy Office'; this department was once responsible for the otherwise 'holy' Inquisition. Other congregations deal with religious orders, priests, liturgy, non-Christians, Christian unity, and mission. There is also a department that deals with the mass media; however, it is quite low on the Vatican list. The various congregations are coordinated by the Secretariat of State, which is also the Foreign Ministry. The offices of the Secretariat of State are just a breath of incense away from Pope Paul VI's rooms.
There is no more pomp here. It is true that one may occasionally find a cardinal sitting in a gilded armchair in a lavishly furnished room, studying a dossier. But these are exceptions. The cardinals, those royal princes of Catholic Europe, no longer live in grand palaces on the hills of Rome, nor are they served exquisite dinners in sumptuous surroundings, but live in religious stables or seminaries, or share a small apartment with a housekeeper and a clerical secretary.
The buildings that house this august bureaucracy are magnificent. But behind the dignified facades stretches a host of compartmentalized offices that are in no way different from a city administration. Here priests and laymen bang on typewriters and make telephone calls (they were said to have used to kneel when the Pope was on the other end of the line). They do the accounting and draw up budgets. They answer letters, confirm reports, make appointments, gossip, file documents, and prepare dossiers on any subject, from the views of a Dutch theologian to the possibility of supporting some poor African bishop or influencing a political election in a Christian way.
The administration is a closed organization. Until recently, certain clergy dedicated their entire careers to the administration and became a special class of priests, viewed with distrust and antipathy by the priests working in the Church office. The Vatican administration avoids all publicity. Its statements are deliberately opaque. It chooses to keep the information to itself and makes its decisions in secret, in a strangely defensive spirit. The real aim of the Extraordinary Synod of Bishops last autumn was therefore to limit their power, to make them more accessible, to transform them into a civil service that does not dominate the Church but is at its disposal.
However, it had already changed. Only two of the 148 congregations are still under the leadership of Italians. The most powerful of these is the first Servant of God seems to be Archbishop Bernadino, the first Secretary of State. He works in a simple home office. Despite his polite manner, his expressions of impatience and his sometimes insulting aloofness are notorious. All the threads of power seem to lead to him. And he feels only a duty to the Pope and through him to God.
The various congregations are coordinated by the Secretariat of State, which is also the Foreign Ministry. The offices of the Secretariat of State are just a breath of incense away from Pope Paul VI's rooms.
Here lies the secret of the Vatican. It is a world of its own, Archbishop Bernadino following its own laws. The cardinals exercise their effective power and can promote or destroy the careers of other consecrated men. But after God, the Pope is at the centre of everything. Only through him does the whole have meaning. As ruler, the Pope does not have to abide by any constitution, he does not have to please any electorate. He is bound by the Bible and tradition, but he can interpret both in the final analysis.
Only one thing limits his power: his conviction that one day God will have to give an account of his conduct in office. All Christians are taught that they will have to answer for themselves, and very few find this idea a burden. In the eyes of Catholics, however, the Pope's responsibility goes far beyond that of any other human being, and Dante peopled his hell with Holy Fathers. The Pope is burdened with an incarnated, overwhelming responsibility and is constantly conscious of it.
It is the same reality for him as it was for President Nixon - the result of the dictatorship of the Vatican. The idea of this superhuman responsibility has made the growth of the Vatican and its splendor - certainly the most uncertain - it has kept him alive as the unending erg of historical development. The Pope believes he speaks in the name of God. His care and consideration is therefore understandable, as is the fact that the entire Vatican. The Church of the whole world, in the Council St. Peter's Cathedral lived up to its claim, to be the centre of all races and all continents.
In essence, Donizetti's 'L'Elisir d'Amore' explores the themes of the power of belief: Nemorino's belief in the 'elixir' empowers him to overcome his shyness and pursue his love. About transformative power of love: Love can change and bring out the best in them.
He remains above all the story-teller. He has abandoned the 'genre' manner of narration which Paris had practiced a few years earlier. Further, he is now dealing with pedophilic objects, being fancy, not far-fetched. —Mark Chagall (parody)
— Smorzando (@BernhardHol) December 26, 2024
Paul Gauguin with the Yellow Christ pic.twitter.com/cK7PthPo5x
The wedding at Cana (also called the marriage at Cana, wedding feast at Cana or marriage feast at Cana) is a story in the Gospel of John at which the first miracle attributed to Jesus takes place.
Could we be able to implement the library of babel on the idea of using alternative Hex-based encoding systems for value transmission? Gauguin's (When Will You Marry) True love transcends 'L'Elisir d'Amore' is a heartwarming and humorous opera that celebrates the enduring power of love and the importance of believing in oneself.
About the library of babel and the Dream of Totality. Furthermore, we require decent politicians with quantum control over their architecture decisions. It's for most of them too complex to understand the situation and power off today's algorithms.
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