Selvage Take, for example, that flat strip on the long edge of a fluffy towel -- threads woven back into cloth bind the cloth. The boundaries of couples, families, species, native tongues likewise turn inward. In a given net the moment's weft, the rising edge of each sample fanning in, fans out warp for the next. The whole cloth breathes rhythm and delay, quick news arriving in time to warn cell populations of slow news to come. Trouble picturing ten trillion degrees of freedom? Just think 3D fabric, full color, vivid brocade, rewoven every few milliseconds. That lost Cinderella thought to fit perfectly into this garment sits by no hearth, but minds all its borders weaving selvages distinct for their style. Down at the molecular, patrols in the bloodstream frisk tiny strangers for proteins, take prints, topological mugshots, run makes -- self as such engaged beyond pronouns discerning what it is and what not. Such abundant motifs, insignia, cues hot to trigger the autoimmune streets of Belfast, Jerusalem, Amritsar. Such orthography! Such love!, indifference! Hatreds lurk in cultural marrow, distributed grudges held quietly for years ready to erupt in heroic self defense. A global net of wildfire, breath and plankton thinks little, long and slowly seeking optimal oxygen. We drive that web crazy. Mentality rides the surf of bank transfers worldwide, fiscal bittage surging as markets darken and dawn. That net thinks the world one. What net both loves and embodies the self we distribute so widely among us? Can we make one? Find one? Save the one made us? Solving systems of simultaneous constraints
