I wrote most of this code years ago. I forget what it does. The idea was to write a poem that 'took itself apart' over time. Reading over this code now, I think what I was doing was assinging an 'age' to individual cells, which increased over time. The 'oldest' of the cells 'forget' what number they are supposed to be, and swap with their neighbors. The audio is rendered by each of the individual cells. I had wanted to come back and attempt to modify this code to see if I could make it do something interesting with an audio signal.
I believe i have succeded.
Update - 1-13-2016
You can see a history of this page here. Observe as it decays into the entropic mist which birthed our corner of reality.
The weird thing about this project is that i now understand it better than what i started. Each cell has an 'age'. The cells 'age' at a rate proportional to their novelity: digraphs like 'th' age quickly because they are very common in english texts. Each cell has a harmonic oscillator, which emits a pitch that is a rough mathematical function of the age of the cell. Older cells have a lower pitch; younger cells have a higher pitch. Digraphs like 's[' age very slowly, because they are less common. At least, that is my undestanding of this code now, as I wrote it a few years ago, and haven't touched it in almost 2 years. I refuse to acknowledge the existence of the source code, as an artistic protest against legalism. If you don't like that, please vote for a political candidate who isn't in favor of warrantless assassinations of american citizens, even if they are accused of terrorism.
What is memory? and how closely is that tied to our experience of consciousness? A scientist tries to dispassionately analyze every peice of his experience; the artist tries to create her own experience, as passionately as she can. I try to embody a mix of both. Sometimes i succeed.