what is the nature of the interface? language simmers in the core of our collective memory language provides us with the ability to codify the universe and yet it's oilier than a mackerel language leaps, language stumbles, weaves, and muddles like a river in runs and turns and bends and yet it does absolutely none of those things and yet the listener knows it does all of those things and this oily fish at the center of the universe is how humanity communes with stardust and sand and this language, it becomes numbers, things that have always existed but only concretely when attached to a word are there a finite amount of ideas in the universe? An ostensibly countable infinity? and does that mean that one day the last original thought will be had? does that mean that every single thought can be found by compute? if there was a thought machine, and an infinite amount of time, would it think every thought that would ever be thunk? or is the universe of ideas infinite? an ever expanding space of collective thought of things unthinkable that will one day be thunk of worlds, patterns, and mental simulacra entirely incomprehensible could a mental ship set sail on this ocean of thought? would it ever be able to return to its home port?