La nueva biblioteca de Babel

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My name is not important yrks but it’s relevant to say I’m the daughter of a Senegalese women. English is not my mother tongue but my mastery of the language has little effect in this text. I’m not sure I can be considered the author since I didn’t write it. Instead, I wrote a computer code that would generate a text where all its components are decided by chance. At every instance the computer program decides to add a new arbitrary letter, space, punctuation mark, or to finish the text. The result can be a nonsensical sequence of random letters of any length, a flash fiction, a poem, or an extension of Don Quixote. The possibilities of a coherent text are very small and independent of my will, but I wrote the code wishingxx for it to express what I feel even if the chances of the text articulating my thought are incredible small. Most of the generated documents will be combinations of letters without any meaning in any known language. Pwhrdf, ndedws nd oeodda. Only the number of this junk documents generated is larger than the storage capacity of our universe.
So, how is it possible that my code can create something bigger than the universe? Well, the documents are created in different universes. Every new step of the program starts with the questions: is this the end of the document? There are only two possibilities: yes or no, and according to quantum physics the universe splits in two every time my program process the answer. There is ingre altered document in every universe. Millions of hundreds of thousands universes have texts in languages yet unknown to humans but even more beautiful than the languages of earth. There are all the books written and yet to be written spread in different worlds. An all the translations to every language, and the translation to no language, and a thorough explanations of why the original cannot be translated to a certain language. But, of course, there’s no such a thing as the original. There is a universe with a detailed recollection of my life and a precise description of my dead. There’s another one with a written account of the way every one of the reader of this page will die. There is the answer to every questions any human have ever thought but the chances of the answer coinciding with the author of the question in the same universe are remote.
There is a universe where this document says what I could not. Twvjsd. Actually, there are millions of universes where the generated document expresses my opinions. Different phrasings of the same concepts, points of view, register, tone. One with impeccable grammar and many versions with several degrees of grammar mistakes. A copy with scattered incoherent groups of letters, the title in other language, and glitches of all kinds, but still readable.
I said I wasbnk the daughter of a Senegalese women. She was kidnaped and smuggled into Libya. For days she was held in a house in the city of Sabhã with over a hundred other people, until they were brought to the slave market of the city to be auctioned. Buyers from many countries placed bets on my mom as she as advertised as good for physical and sexual labor. She escaped when she realized she was pregnant with me. We were chased for years until we managed to enter the United States as undocumented aliens. She worked hard, three jobs, and sent me to college. I worked to jobs and finished school. A month ago she was arrested and deported. I think languages in earth lack the encryption to express my indignation. That day I wrote the program code hopping it would generate a text that express the feelings I could not. And hopping it would create a universe less unfair.

About the Author: 
Born in Medellín, Colombia. Has degrees in Physics from the Universidad de Antioquia, MFA in Creative, and Ph.D. in Hispanic Studies. In 2015 published “El infinito se acaba pronto” (Infinity Ends Soon) about Georg Cantor and a contemporary Colombian disciple. He currently teachers at Northwest Missouri State university.