

“Language,” William S. Burroughs reminded us, “is a virus from outer space.” Performance artist Laurie Anderson adds, “That’s why I’d rather hear your name than see your face.” This metaphor captures beautifully both the power and the danger presented by the task of communicating the “flux of wholeness,” as Heather Raikes describes the rheomode.
Raikes’ use of the rheomode suggests that technology might be seen not just as a channel for communication and performance, but more radically as the environment in which subjects serve as conduits for experience. A virus operates autonomously, without human intervention. It attaches itself to a host and feeds off of it, growing and spreading from host to host. Language infects us; its power derives not from its straightforward ability to communicate or persuade but rather from this infectious nature, this power of bits of language to graft itself onto other bits of language, spreading and reproducing, using human beings as hosts.