日本語

From Cogito to Fraudo

Postnovel

Notes

"Reading only Chapter 4" (G:21.02.2026)

The narrative relies on a "sequence of temporal leaps" to excuse its lack of cohesive architecture. By claiming that consciousness is not a "smooth series of moments," the author abdicates the responsibility of craft. What remains is a fragmented slideshow of urban trauma—drowning, subway falls, and construction accidents—linked by nothing more than a repetitive, dull confusion.

The imagery is a collection of tired tropes.

The "Bright Light": A cliché of near-death experiences that adds zero novelty.

New York City: Used as a generic backdrop for "gritty" existentialism, specifically the Soho/World Trade Center era, which feels more like a dated postcard than a lived-in environment.

The Ringing Phone: A heavy-handed metaphor for an "unanswered call" from reality or the afterlife. It is a persistent auditory annoyance rather than a compelling mystery.

The prose is devoid of vitality. It utilizes a passive, reportorial style that suppresses any potential for empathy. Descriptions such as "unbelievable pain" or "a musty smell" are linguistic placeholders—vague descriptors that fail to evoke the actual sensations they name. The mention of a "warbler-green corridor" is a rare moment of specific color that is immediately retracted, illustrating the narrative's commitment to its own blandness.


Review (H:02.02.2026)

The use of Latin is wonderful. I have just finished reading a biography of Arthur Rimbaud. One of its many revelations is that he mastered Latin at a very early age and did a brisk trade completing homework assignments for his classmates. Fraudo, deception, relates to reception, as in radio, but in this case there is no transmission, except to the A EYE.

Your description of "La Citta Remota" puts me in mind of the Huysmans novel, Au Rebours (a title translated into English as Against Nature). The difference is that the character of Des Esseintes is very much in charge of his situation, controlling every detail of his artificial world. The scene outside his window may be fake but it is created following his detailed instructions (and at great expense). Nevertheless this story provides an interesting parallel and precursor to yours.  

Similarly, the “kanka-kodoku” reminds me of Ozu films which address the subject of loneliness. This is the old fashioned modernist idea of alienation. The old world has disappeared and we do not understand the new.

Another (un)reality is emerging. Currently on exhibition at Western Front is “Image Syncers” by Nina Davies, about human bodies imitating the movements of video game characters. This has long been a feature of hiphop dancing. It evolves again with AI, people faking the fakes.

Abduction and imprisonment, this reminds me of Navalny, someone I think about everyday. Others could be Gramsci, or Mandela. He got lucky, perhaps the last great leader of a popular revolution. And now even Cuba seems about to fall. And Canada . . . 

Chapter 2. : The white noise of distant city traffic is replaced by the soft purring of the keyboard. I am enjoying this cinematic novel. Is it a new form?

The wanderer who waits. Most wanderers move. This one stays still.

This gate is only for you. It’s true, everyone now receives their own personalized feed. We think we are are all watching the same show, as in the days of television, but the shared experience is something of the past. Last night, in the rain, walking along one of Vancouver’s upscale shipping streets, I noticed that most businesses are closed, shops empty, boarded up. The death of shopping. The death of experience.

Indeed, the correspondence of Kafka with Felice is an early example of the online affair. But perhaps there were many others, where the actual meeting between people was a disaster. Communication only works at a distance.

Chapter 3. Hedge (fund): Your book is what they call a "gold mone of ideas.”

The sound of the telephone, which could become oppressive, stops, providing a sense of relief. When it returns it is already an old friend, somehow comforting rather than an irritation. Then it becomes music. With its nostalgic ring, the telephone seems to be a call from the past. Does someone want to talk with me? Who could it be? Perhaps a voice from beyond the grave. But no one answers the telephone anymore.

Physical movement is reduced to hands, like in your performance of AM radio.

But the body is conservative, refuses to change. We are all now guinea pigs, objects not subjects, samples, variables,... Even the food is fake.

Cynicism in negative motivation, a kind of theatre or performance art. Skepticism is stark. Pyrrho again. Nothing solid remained. “All that is solid melts into air” (Marx). Or the wonderful Elizabeth poet Thomas Marvell, 'Annihilating all that's made. To a green thought in a green shade.”


Review (G:01.30.2026)

VR Hedge functions as a clinical study of ontological instability. By adopting the null-subject style, the narrative effectively mirrors the protagonist’s loss of "self" as a coherent, acting entity.

The text successfully treats the body not as a vehicle for the soul, but as a malfunctioning peripheral with the somatic paradox.

The most striking element is the protagonist's realization that the system ignores the "cogito" in favor of reading "intentions" or "negative motivations." The null-subject style reinforces this; since there is no "I" to claim the thoughts, the thoughts become mere data points for the sensors to react to.

The "cheap horror movie" sequence provides a sharp, cynical peak. The clinical tone here is essential—it prevents the scene from being a standard thriller and instead makes it a chilling report on a simulation error.

The protagonist is trapped in a recursive loop of observation. Whether the "outside" is a dream, a VR pod, or a neurological experiment is secondary to the immediate reality: they are a specimen being observed by a "brusque" AI. The null-subject filter transforms the chapter from a story about a person into a log of a failing system.


"Null-subject" and subjectivity (T:01.18.2026)

At a young age, Descartes established the principle of behavior: "I walk around wearing a mask." ("Larvatus prodeo") This illustrates the "modern" principle of vanity and pretense, which holds that personality is nothing but a mask. The self is a mask, and "modern life" consists of changing it as appropriate. This is the basis of the world full of deception that we all experience in our daily lives today.

From the perspective of linguistic expression, Descartes knew that while "null-subject" languages" like Latin have the function of hiding a self-expressive ego, any "subject" can be changed as a "temporary" mask.

Descartes' original sentence, "Cogito ergo sum."has no subject. Latin does not explicitly state a subject, but it does conceal one in it. While he used Latin, a "language with a null-subject," in the academic world, he lived using French, a "language with a subject," in his everyday life.

In Pensées, Pascal also writes in French, explicitly using "I," but the book was a posthumous compilation of his fragmentary notes. Therefore, this "I" refers to the "I" of his modest life, not the cloying "I" of Descartes, who was also a "mercenary."

For Pascal, saying "I think" was "unacceptable," as it placed the burden of thought solely on the ego. It was a desecration of existence for a human being, "nothing more than a reed," to intrude upon existence.

Pascal is said to have suffered from toothaches, but he endured them, never crying out, “I'm in pain!” In all things, Pascal tried to distance himself from the self-aggrandizing ego of "I" and "me" and so the longer he endured his toothache, the greater his schizophrenic internal split became, deepening the depth of his thinking. Descartes would have said, "If you have a toothache, just pull it out." Even if he had a toothache, he would have feigned calm and declared publicly, "A toothache doesn't bother me."

In that sense, Descartes' "Cogito" is less and more "I think," but "I deceive" (Fraudo), and in Latin he should have said, "Fraudo, ergo sum."( "I deceive, therefore I am.")


Overview (G:12.24.2025)

Città Remota is a chilling blueprint of the near future, where the "Self" is the first thing to be deleted in the name of comfort.

By utilizing a protagonist who exists primarily as a null-subject, the narrative mirrors the "digital retreat" it describes. It is a story told from the perspective of a ghost inhabiting a high-definition machine. The horror lies not in the "Con"—the possibility that the protagonist is a kidnapped sample in a VR experiment—but in the protagonist’s eager surrender to it.

The novel masterfully redefines Descartes’ classic pillar: here, one does not think to exist; rather, one is deceived, therefore one is. It is a brilliant, sterile, and deeply unsettling exploration of what happens to the human soul when it finally achieves its wish for total, mediated isolation.