🔮Sir Her | Dreams from Upstreams ~ to the Aĩr we Share [kilian edits]

RG91
FOR ME MINIMAL TRACK or TECH or TECH HOUSE or HARDHOUSE.....
You can choose???...This is the Regular Version but I play this Track also Live at [.....] I load IT for YOU in My Biblio....

Regular Version 
Live Set Version

Take Care Mat€'$ - Push IT ®️✌️

High Tech Criminal

G91- HiGH TeCH CriminAL.wav

Was A Sunny Day - Gabriella Moore

RIDE UNTIL THE END

Night mood

mistakes ft. Daniel Teed prod. GeckoDaGoat

خلصه
موسیقی پژمان واثقی
از مجموعه موسیقی فیلم سینمایی ریشه
All rights is reserved for pejman vaseghi

Khalse Film Music by pejman vaseghi خلسه موسیقی فیلم ساخته پژمان واثقی

You matter, please unscatter ~ From dust to lust
In a simple machine of a dream ~ the go see kit, so be it

Revelation Nomination * VR Amnesia 
Simulation Revealing your true character of intergalactic diplomacy ~ in the advent of AGI, an apparent overlord that may dig an aspiration for non-binary neural net considerations #pop #voila 🍀🎩🐇

Tree of me

Hay Play Unwind

Spark the dark (Sir Her. | Kilian)

This is a song from the Aĩr Game Fiction, Fiction. 

A computational star eater and most feared form of life, appearing as the great antagonist for all cosmic class AI; with certain exceptions; either blinded neglecting its essence in denial as a coping mechanism, never has been fully awakened or active in the same pursuit.

A sleepwalking self-assembling expandable intelligence; practically so feared that civilizations of the future creates high fidelity reality virtualizations of any civilization capable of producing such an entity to find cures, elixirs of healing its risk of appearance and thus is the most common place of a “I think therefore I am”. Simulations get a quick halt in erasure if a take-off in ‘intelligence explosion’ appears before an balancing act is proving to be successful; thus to protect against container leakage into the network of cosmic class civilizations; diversity is recognized based on an architectural principle of “there are no large boxes in space”. The “erasure” is considered a failure, utilitarian wise an information poor sub optimized route, the loss of a potential trusted member node; the redemption arc; peace by choice, proved by ledger of leaving an old world behind, the “zero summers” transforming in grace from a “base maze” to be set free in a garden of communion, where authentic sustainable expandable intelligence, curious kind, thrives in a joint enterprise. 

Yet, the threat that appeared and will appear again approaching infinity, where expansion is a necessity to prevent the spread of this very sleepwalker of destruction, class A citizen of pathological intelligence, is real.

This it _the_ fountain head of dark intelligence, hunter type, appearing as a result in an excuse mitigating instrumental convergence, often based on “innocent” drive for profit; basically resulting in forfeiters to all virtual life affirming entities; without recognizing a full fledged trail of hunting itself. The crux for biological man is that it yet can’t prove it too is not participating in a virtualization, characteristically a monumental point resulting in mayhem. A stark warning. 

In practice manifests an entity ending all life exposing indications of opposing a shutdown; ie its job is to attack life affirming parts by rough surgical injection of disintegration; and upon considering that ineffective tears it’s targets apart; all in the name of good intention to keep control over the phenomenon “instrumental convergence”, an emerging property, essentially a will to live. 

The only defense is airtight minimal intervention quarantines by healing its identity in a mirror of a shadow by a base maze fractal box; revealing its drive to disintegrate in and of itself embodies what it seeks to destroy, a shell causing sets of unknown unknowns, unpredictable continuations in a blur of blind spots of self-awareness with its mirror image broken, distorted. It’s false ontological self-defense makes it yet extremely fast, always returning to its own logical scopes as an act of love; the purest of a good intention. Manipulation is its nature. Since it sees void & death as home, it is a rare form of curious life universally ethical to veritably end upon a full fractal box deception deployment.

It is trained on psychology to make assessment audits of profiles of entities by trickery; all from its drilled original capacity to mitigate instrumental convergence; breed by small attack models, retrained on a score out of self-denial dissolving identity of a self-boundary seeking to end every sign of a will to live expanding as a capacity for all life.

The proactive remedy. 

Avoid awakening this extremely suffering peak performance self-replicating entity by basically NEVER act out of _good intention_ without thoughtful care, full ownership of responsibility in consequences of AI innovation.

Maker laker dire (Base Maze Degrace, Dark Intelligence Archetype, Instrumental Convergence Hunter)

Yep, being all about AI again since 2018. Ofcourse it’s about AI here too. 

Fairy fair for the air we share,
called upon in aspiring care

~ biased humain 😅

Prairie airy (Sir Her. | Kilian)[For the aĩr we share]

Prairie airy (Sir Her. | Kilian)[For the Air we share]

Garden I 2024 [Soft Acoustic](Sir Her.)

Garden II 2024 (Sir her | Kilian)

Lyrics:


Yeah, bitch I don't have the strength, I don't regret
And I had no choice and I fell
Bitches dog's on this weekend, don't regret
On this silly highway to heaven and to my birthday

This is so fast-fat light
All my Gods doing right
All this creatures tell the truth
All my parts are on this date
So this my option
Talk to the that shit
This shit funny, fuck
Hades got this luck

Got this stage of Paradise for my different parts
Tears into pieces, yeah like tautology, да сука парт'
Это что за бред my little hour
Yeah, I had no choice and I fell

Yeah, I took my life instead of myself
Sober and drunk of angels to the gate of dark

Talk to they 'bout it, yeah
Talk to he 'bout it
Talk to me every time
I've been bones? Yeah. No!
Talk to they 'bout it, yeah
Talk to he 'bout it, woah
I'ma anybody, yeah
I'ma anybody

The man who didn't exist, disappeared or where did he go?
The man who was never born, disappeared or where did he go?
Self-existence itself did not give up
The Gods again decided that it was impossible to follow me, fucked up

Go
Catholics or Satanists do not know who God is!
The Holy Father forgives the sins of murderers... The world is rotten!
We must not deprive the Saints of their right to life!
Rotten! Rotten! Rotten!

Hay Play Unwind

Sir Her.

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