Under cover of darkness, veiled in the shadow and mystery of night, a dream came at once to me of a place, a person and a thing. The place I knew did not exist, and the person was a stranger wearing my skin, so I had all but dismissed them. The thing, however, intrigued me. There was an allure to it; a freedom. Imagine, a possession that could give you the freedom you so desire. Many think they are free, but truthfully they are imprisoned most of all. Many small freedoms can be given up without much notice before you will feel a great loss, and so, many will give these away. But imagine a thing that would take them all back, in but a blink of times eye. How far would you chase this thing to retrieve those lost freedoms? Would you become someone else to retrieve who you once were? Would you pursue a place that you were certain did not exist? Do you believe you could reach your destination and not lose your sanity and identity along the way? I am a rational man, but I feel that to get where I am going I must be irrational.
January 10, 2013 | Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: a dream awake, dream, dreaming, dreams, freedom, identity, life after social media, lifeaftersocialmedia, mystery, shadow, tarot, the man, the spire, the thing, the tower, walrus | Leave a comment
Before there was the machine, there was the boy.
The sun had pressed hard against the steel of the machine, heating it’s surface and scorching what it touched…yet, never did the machine feel this, it simply understood the reasoning behind it, although not always the science. You see, these things had to be programmed in (and the running joke in the universe had something to do with programmers). It was all a sort of religious stigmata to the thing; phantom signals to phantom locations that, although seemingly obvious, could still be brought to question with quite some fruition. But the meaning of these things were lost to the machine, it simply did not have the capacity to understand such things (as they were never programmed in).
The boy, however, felt many things…most things, if we were being honest, but he wasn’t with himself, so why should we be with him? While some would relish in their own knowledge of the senses and probe deeper into their being, the boy simply did not question things. He was as he was and this was fine by him. It should come as no surprise then that the man, who had since grown out of such things and began to look inward, would be the one to look at the boy and create his perfect paradox: the machine.
Where the boy would run and jump and skip heartily down the lane, the machine would sit emotionless, still and quiet. When the boy would answer questions wrong, the machine would choose an alternate answer; just as if the boy were to answer correctly, the machine would choose the incorrect answer. This pattern would continue on, though most times unproductively, through every possible facet of life (or inanimacy, if you were to ask the machine). After some trial, the rules were changed, if for no other reason than to make the man’s task at hand easier. It would be allowed to look, to listen, and to observe by any means necessary, and when the time would arise, the machine could stop looking, and speak. The machine would learn a skewed version of childhood in this manner, as this was the great idea of the man, who would see the machine through it’s early stages.