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outsourcing the rational


If this be a sim, the Bible contains the cheat codes.

“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.”

It’s frightening and fun to think we may be living inside a simulation — and thus, not real, not real as we understand real.

The Bible cultivates this fearful supposition.

Genesis, 1:2: “And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.”

Without form. Void. Think, your video game before it was powered on, before any 1s, 0s, before it is compiled.

Genesis, 1:11: “Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth: and it was so.”

A simulation? The Bible allows for this!

God said, God made, God let, but also…

Genesis, 2:8: “Now the Lord God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and there he put the man he had formed.”



I cannot be the only one to notice that the book of Genesis offers an uncanny description not of coding, not of programming, but of running a simulation.

Which, really, is the entire point of a sim.

Genesis, 1:27: “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.”

In his own image!

I know, you don’t believe, you think this book was written by a vain human, one incapable of viewing God as anything but human-like, because human-like elevates human, and thus this mythical god must be us, only more so. But it’s also exactly what a — life — running a sim would do.

But you persist. It’s merely fables. Tall tales. Oral traditions. Fantasy!

Wrong: Your retort is merely what you want to believe.

Genesis, 2:1: “Thus the heavens and the earth were finished.”

Means nothing, you exclaim. The people back then were unaware of evolution, unfamiliar with change, unaware of the long arc of time! They naturally assumed everything was finished.

Genesis, 2:5: “And every plant of the field before it was in the earth, and every herb of the field before it grew: for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was not a man to till the ground.”

The Genesis story, whichever translation you prefer, doesn’t read like a fable, nor a tall tale, nor story, nor a narrative, nor myth, not even as news or a diary entry. More shocking still is that this narrative isn’t even speaking to us — us humans which the story is ostensibly for — but rather reads like the backstory of a video game.

Do not click through this.

Genesis, 2:8: “And the Lord God planted a garden eastward in Eden; and there he put the man whom he had formed.

If this be a sim, where does the sim start?

In Eden.

That’s where he placed man.

Genesis, 2:15: “And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it.”

To dress it and keep it. Our role as sims!

Genesis, 2:19: “And out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof.”

Name everything you see. Sim work!

Now recall that we were cast out of Eden for eating from a tree which, per the Bible, God says was not for him, not for the other “gods,” not for the beasts or fishes, and absolutely not for humans. Who was it for? Is finding out our alt purpose?

Genesis, 3:5: “For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.”

Take from this tree and you become self-aware.

Is creating the technology — or the AI or nanobot or other yet-unimagined ‘life’ form — which then gains self-awareness our purpose?

Or is that still the purview of God?

When we took from the tree did that forever deny or merely delay the dawn of self awareness of what is to follow humans?

I wish to find out.

How do I jump to that level?

3:24: “So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life.”

Cherubim and a flashing sword are guarding Eden! That’s exactly what a sim maker would put there!

If this be a sim, then maybe nothing matters, and equal to nothing mattering is that the entire world can be re-written. It’s frightening and fun to realize that we now possess the means!

If this is the start of the new of everything, what world do you imagine?


God forgives, our technology can never.

Soon, it won’t forget, either, and that heralds a profound concern: the impossibility for redemption.

This impossibility should never be allowed. Yet I fear blockchain requires it.

Blockchain is essentially a widely distributed, digitized ledger that records online transactions and interactions. Any purchase you make, home you sell, contract you sign, any promise you give — made via the blockchain — is as good, as certain, as verifiable, perhaps more so, than all traditional forms. With blockchain technology, your actions, transactions, and interactions are certified and can’t be altered.


In all but the fullest sense of the word.

Understand, I come here not to bury the blockchain, but to limit it.

Blockchain has tremendous potential to rid ourselves of gatekeepers, to tear down high barriers to entry, to banish centralized powers to the 20th century, to throw out those people, institutions and companies which charge exhorbitant fees to “verify” and/or “record” and/or “archive” any transaction.

Blockchain is what powers bitcoin and similar cryptocurrencies and it’s potential — potential — cannot be over-emphasized. It could rival that of: the Internet Protocol meets cash money. Blockchain can be used for (any/all) transactions where we buy and sell — cars, houses, used furniture, a fleet of packaged goods, a tanker of oil, our time. But it can also be used to record our health information. Theoretically, it can be used to make a ledger of our tweets, our searches, our likes, our ratings, how others rate us, any of our digital interactions, whatever these may become.

But it can’t be erased.

This is a problem.

How do we take full control — full ownership — of our data when all the world’s gone blockchain?

Declaration: We must not allow blockchain to be used in any manner where we cannot ensure that we can engage an interaction fully anonymously or where we cannot rescind our involvement. What if you wish to ever erase a tweet, a transaction, any record of that adult book you downloaded?

Everyone has the right to be born again.

The (theoretical) potential of blockchain is immense, as are the money and organizations promoting its pervasive use. Blockchain may enable billions to escape the enforced-by-law-and-gun restrictions of fiat currency. It might radically cut fees and costs associated with every transaction of financial value, enabling billions of humans to leap into the global digital economy. Blockchain can democratize access to capital, information, and talent.

But we must have a personal out.

The freedom to be forgotten, forgiven, to not be tied to our past deeds, misdeeds, statements, impetuousness, ills, hate, should be absolute. We are in many ways the sum of our past, the present tense of a lifetime of choices, actions and refusals, but we can also be more than this — or less than this, or different from this. Blockchain suggests no escape.

We must not allow this.

This will be a difficult battle, but it is necessary.

We are immersed in technology. We spend hours every day displacing our physical self, transferring it inside screens, within online platforms, games, meeting spaces, and this can remove us from the trueness of life, of physical contact, of acceptance and truth. There is a budding movement to enforce limits on screen time for children, for families, for us at work, for the better. To make us fully present in our life, this world, with our fellow humans.

But this is not enough.

We need to be fully empowered to not just limit our engagement with screens but to be free of them should we ever so choose. For all the time we do spend online, inscreen, and for the statements we make, the information we search, the pleasures we seek, there must be a means of having that deleted.

A forever (e-)paper trail of your life, no matter how you change or what different you become, is not liberating but imprisoning.


Tell me I’m dirty.

You’re dirty.

Call me a whore.

You’re a whore.


You’re a dirty whore.


You’re a fat dirty whore.


You’re a fat dirty whore and nobody wants you. Nobody loves you. Nobody ever will love you.

Yes, but why?

Look at you. Fat. Ugly. That’s not a pretty face.

I am.

Nobody could be attracted to you.


You’re not making yourself more appealing doing this.

I have to try.

It’s useless. You’re useless.

I am useless.

You are useless.

I can matter.

You’ll never matter.

I can try.


You pretend you’re good, but it doesn’t hide your filthy mind.


Everybody knows.



Oh, God.

Would you like me to continue?

No, Alexa. I’m done.

“God is a girl.”


“I never thought too hard on dying before.
I never sucked on the dying.
I never licked the side of dying before.
And now I’m feeling the dying.”

They pointed the way but nobody heard.

They uncovered truths and nobody cared.

They followed their own path. The end.

Future no longer remembers Gen X. Preceded by Boomers, proceeded by Millennials, runt of the demographic litter, which is fine, really.

What if they could be more?

I think of alternate realities.

Not those steampunk novels.

Steampunk is boring.

A novel I would read, though, would explore how Earth could be today had us Earthlings back in the late 1980s embraced and sustained grunge-punk, not rap.

But that’s just too hard to believe. More believable, an alt-history where Earth embraced and sustained techno, not rap.

Think of it.

Back when he mattered, Eminem wrote:

“And Moby? You can get stomped by Obie
you 36-year-old baldheaded fag, blow me!
You don’t know me, you’re too old, let go.
It’s over, nobody listens to techno.”


But what if he was wrong? What if there never was an Eminem because rap fizzled out and techno spread around the world, becoming the dominant form of popular music?

I think the world would be a nicer place, honestly.

It strikes me as odd that the number of births and the wrong choices of a group born around the same time would have such a long-lasting ripple effect on the next culture and the next.

Is there a better way?


Because, if numbers, that can be coded and computers can assess trillions of numbers every second.

Which are probably far more than necessary.

Think of how easy it is to judge someone based on only a single number.

What’s your GPA? What’s your ACT score?

High school football players eager to play for the top college football teams are assigned a number, typically between 2 and 5. Recruit X is a 4 ‘star’ and Recruit Y is a 5 ‘star’ but Recruit Z is only a ‘3’ star.

What is your hs-CRP score? It helps determine the amount of inflammation in your body and is a good predictor of your likelihood of stroke or heart attack. You want a hs-CRP score of less than 1 and certainly no more than 3.

What is your HDL? Your LDL?

What are the number of hours per day you sit? That offers a clue into your lifespan.

China, which made your iPhone, has not stopped at simply illegalizing the open, anonymous web. They have begun rolling out a numbers system which helps them determine how great a threat you are to their existing power structure. Points are assigned based on a range of personal variables.

In the US, algorithms are used to take money from us, make money off us, loan us money or, possibly, land us in jail. Numbers that feed these algorithms are based on race, gender, marital status, credit score, income, age.

Tell me your age.

Tell me your income.

What is the cost of your debt?

We dislike it but numbers are used to represent us and they typically do a very good job.

The President sleeps very little, a curiosity among many. While most of America slept last night, the President went on Twitter, which served him various tweets, links and videos, all based on an algorithm, not chronological order. One such tweet struck his fancy, which he then retweeted.

This act brought swift and protracted gnattering from the heretofore established media.

Algorithms impact our economy and productivity, our creativity, our mental health, our knowledge and our awareness, even our nation’s security. Algorithms are everywhere. Stock funds are using algorithms with the hopes of generating outsized returns. The algorithm can assess and intuit more and probably better financial trends, government filings, visual patterns, social changes, purchase data, customer tweets and the like. Facebook’s algorithms may know — before anyone else, before even friends and family — if someone is nearing suicide:

Algorithms are also helping with dying, telling healthcare professionals who most (and most soon) requires palliative care.

Algorithms are also used — which means they are also gamed — to determine what your child sees next on YouTube, far too much of which punctures their senses and pollutes their spirit.

New rule: We must not ever allow algorithms to be unleashed if they harm children and/or diminish life and living — ever.

If our algorithm non-use limits our economy, if shutting off algorithms borks our entertainment, that is small sacrifice. The spread of algorithms into every device and across every human interaction changes everything and everyone forever. They must do no harm.

This is particularly true with respect to children.

Deuteronomy, 12:31: “You shall not worship the Lord your God in that way, for every abominable thing that the Lord hates they have done for their gods, for they even burn their sons and their daughters in the fire to their gods.”

We have always known that sacrificing children is an abomination.

“You’ve got your hands over your ears.
You’ve got your mouth running on.
You’ve got your eyes looking for something
that can never be found.
Like a reason.
Good god, I don’t need a reason.”

Fugazi was once a thing. They were fun to see. Trust me.


In the beginning was the bass line, and it was glorious, and then the organ, calling all to gather, and the spirit took hold and the congregation did embrace the rhythm, letting it infuse their soul, and they did clap along.

(The Reverend) Tim Maia offers his sermon: “We came from a superworld. A world of rational energy. And we live in the energy world. World of animal energy. Read the book! The only book! The book of God! ‘Universe In Disenchantment’. And you’ll gonna know the truth.”

The 20th century did its best to enforce rational energy upon the world. It failed often and tragically and at scale. It may, in fact, be why so many humans repeatedly engaged in ravenous behavior, a non-rational response to the enforced rational thought. Food, drink, drugs, violence, art — Tim Maia feasted upon them all.

The 21st century will spin reality in an entirely different direction. Because — at long last — we humans have created machines which allow us to outsource the rational, off-load thinking and calculating and processing and determining, leaving us to focus on what humans can do far better than our machines.

Wilding. Dreaming. Believing.

We may not put it together, but it will be enchanting.

It may also prove our doom.

Because as Tim Maia’s funk line reminds us, our animal energy remains ever-present.


It’s hard to overstate how huge a transformation Star Wars The Last Jedi takes the whole Star Wars mythos. In the original trilogy, everything pivots around Leia. But now, the past is re-written, as is the future — critical, as these are the only two periods of time that ever matter. Everything has changed now in Star Wars. Luke is Jesus. Luke must die — for our salvation. Luke, now with everything changed, is the one that saved the Jedi order in the past, and now remakes it for the future.

We crave myths.

We believe superpowers exist — and they do — but not in us, though we dream they one day might.

Books, movies, these feed our need for myths. Rock music, less so.

I think of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida as maybe the closest we’ve come to mystical rock music mythos.

Heavy metal thunder.

Upon first listen: nothing before matters, everything from now will be different.

That’s a lot to stake upon the only hit song from Iron Butterfly. In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida is timeless, peerless, its psychedelic metal sound revelatory of a future which, we must accept, never came. Guitar, organ, bass, vocals, drums, often in concert, sometimes in solo, this 17-minute, 20-or-so word song proclaims humanity at the dawn of a new age, one completely unlike the past, one not at all previously envisioned, filled with dark magic, seductive waypoints, and forever youth — in all its glory and failings. The song quickly takes us from the before time to its big bang, and from there the possibilities are revealed as not quite limitless but still plentiful.

The future beckons. “In the garden of Eden, baby, don’t you know that I’ll always be true.”

I wonder, can we return to the garden? Will the garden come to us?

These are idyl thoughts, the most human of all the thoughts.

Humans are rational creatures, admittedly, and possessing an insatiable ability to benefit from knowledge and learning. But this is not the same as possessing an insatiable ability to want to know and learn. Even in the 21st century, too many fail to recognize the chasm between the process and the gain.

Humans are rational creatures, true, but mostly not. Mostly, we are emotional, feeling, sensing.

We are rational not by choice but by necessity.

Never forget this!

That necessity is now going away.

Always stay mindful of this!

Just as we have outsourced our physical labors to the machines — nobody mills their own grain anymore, for example — now, at long last, we possess the ability to outsource our rational to the machines. Our machines will do our calculus, our remembering, our data accumulation, our indexing, our choosing, our thinking.


Emotion is our future.

Feeling is our future.

Crazy is our future.

I am not sure if that is how we get back to the garden, but I am sure it is our way onward.

Experts in pedagogy — a horrible word — continue to profoundly misunderstand reality and human composition. They continue to insist that non-rational, non-verifiable, clearly emotional-based responses from people on such “knowable” ideas as, say, how AIDS developed, or why the twin towers collapsed, or the impact of the movement of the stars upon our mood, exist because there is too much “fake news” or bogus sources or children aren’t being taught “logic” or their parents, derided as “evangelical” or “hippie,” prevent “the truths” from reaching these children.


We have constructed a world where we have the freedom to believe in the non-rational, with each of us able to construct — like an artist — the worldview which best expresses our needs. Surprise! This is the zenith of a thinking, learning, progressive, tool-building human evolution.

The Pentagon, we have verified, and to nobody’s surprise, is spending millions of dollars to search for alien life and to uncover the truth behind various unexplained human – non-human encounters. This includes actual Air Force fighter jets chasing an unknown flying object.

Alien encounters? Maybe.

The Pentagon running psyops using our fear and fascination of aliens to set in motion something dastardly? Maybe.

Rational behavior? And?

Stop expecting humans to fully engage with the “facts” “logic” “evidence” “data” when our newest machines can do all of these better, faster, longer, bigger.

You’re being wrongly non-serious.

We can’t outpace our thinking machines, can’t recall more, certainly not faster, can’t absorb as many facts, can’t reach as many people with the data, and so the logical response is to accept that the rational — the “truth” — is the purview of computers, algorithms, AI, robots, and whatever comes next, while we increasingly embrace and feed those elements of our self which the machines can’t do better.

We are outsourcing the rational.

Fantastical is our future.

This is the dawning of the age of aquarius!

“Please take my hand.”

Here’s the Boney M version of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, suffused with a disco beat and electronic sensibilities. It’s not the equal of the original, but still great.


Why do you believe?

The culture demands you jettison belief in God, in religion, in your gender, your genetics, your nation’s boundaries. Believe instead — the cultural gatekeepers and media bullhorns proclaim — in diversity, in fluidity, in globalization, in technology, in those jobs not coming back, in all of the things, however true, not true or somehow in-between, which encourage you to consume more, buy more, dispose more, and link your identity more strongly to your possessions, even as you replace them daily, weekly, yearly.

What does belief gain you?

A man using standard computing equipment was able to (digitally) swap the face of a porn actress with superstar Gal Gadot, the actress who so capably plays Wonder Woman.

It’s difficult for human eyes to see the truth, more so than ever before.

Probably, the viewers of porn want exactly that.

There was a terror attack in New York City today. Thankfully, a mostly botched attack.

A young man from Bangladesh.

He came to America.

He lived here for seven years.

He was in nearly all ways discernible to our eyes — and ears and other senses — utterly non-descript.

After a recent visit back to Bangladesh, he changed.

Today, he attempted to set off a bomb on the New York City subway.

Mostly, he harmed himself.

What if — bear with me here — the young man felt compelled to make and set off a bomb, kill scores of innocent people, but he simultaneously didn’t want to?

What if — bear with me here — whatever was compelling him to commit his dastardly act was not at all what he wanted to do?

I entertain the idea that the Bible is a makers guide. There are two elements to this notion:

  1. the Bible’s tales of morality, goodness, and faith instruct humanity — and guide us as we create evermore capable machines
  2. what if — yes, I know this is utterly fantastical — the Bible is also a *literal* makers guide, directing our technological development?

Mad, I know.

Bear with me.

I think today of Joseph. God spoke to Joseph, according to the Bible, through Joseph’s dreams. The dreams told Joseph what to do about Mary, about Christ, when to leave Bethlehem, when to go to Egypt, when to leave again.

Can we — us mortals — develop technology that enables us to send messages into another’s dreams?

Can we make voice a weapon?

Certainly, it’s already used as a substitute for magic.

You speak, your voice travels twenty feet where it reaches your Amazon Echo, which awakens, connects to the Internet, interacts with multiple computers and data sources, then returns with your request, speaking back to you.

Let’s do this, but into a person’s dreams!

A tree falls in the forest, no one is around to hear it, but once all the world’s things are wired, connected, we can hear whatever we want, from wherever and whenever we choose.

What then?

Hearing, seeing, as fluid as your twitter feed?

Question everything becomes no longer a pose, rather, the world we have constructed.

Sometimes, that’s cool.

One of the things I love so much about Beck is that I feel that even his failures — and, honestly, I think most of his songs are near-failures — but even his failures reveal our possible paths, pointing the way to a future, a future that is sometimes acceptable, sometimes exactly not.

Beck’s rhythmic collages of noise, cultural detritus, a flotsam of aural impressions, these alter how we see the world.

The past de-constructed, the future uncertain.

“Rockin’ the city, close to god
Engines running, all hope is gone
Out on the highway, having a baby
Crawling the city, close to god
Engines running
Dixie fried
Got a feeling, that I’m leaving
Extra sugar, heavy breathing”

After you hear Close to God, consider next Sweet Satan.


In past centuries, humans were altered by the acceleration and spread of their most profound achievement, the outsourcing of their labors to machines. In our century, we are being transformed by the acceleration and spread of our most profound achievement, the outsourcing of our thinking to machines.

We are outsourcing the rational.

Crazy is our future. Expression our currency.

Storytelling will become valued just as in the beginning.

Hunter-gatherer storytellers were essential in promoting co-operative and egalitarian values before comparable mechanisms evolved in larger agricultural societies, such as moralising high-gods. Storytellers were also more popular than even the best foragers, had greater reproductive success, and were more likely to be co-operated with by other members of the camp.

In the history of popular music — which is long — few have been grander storytellers than The Eagles.

“They even brought a neon sign ‘Jesus is Coming’,
Brought the white man’s burden down, brought the white man’s reign
Who will provide the grand design, what is yours and what is mine?
Cause there is no more new frontier, we have got to make it here
We satisfy our endless needs and justify our bloody deeds
In the name of destiny and in the name of God.”

Words powerful enough to put out the fire, joined with music powerful enough to stir the wanderlust. You can’t hear the song and not want to leave — or else make it all go away.

Don Henley and Glenn Frey were musically gifted, both desperately wanted to be pop stars, and possessed of that rare ability to construct radio-friendly hooks, awakening riffs, tightly crafted harmonies, and memorable lines. Often, they transformed those memorable lines into stories which weaved inside the listener’s heart, forever activated by just a few notes on a keyboard or beats from a drum, or the call to prayer of a Glenn Frey chord.

The pair were well rewarded for their gifts.

As are we.

The Last Resort may be the very best song from the Eagles’ very best album, Hotel California, which is one of the very best albums of the modern rock era.

The Last Resort is a layered re-telling of ourselves being our most human.


We destroyed paradise.

This was our very first declaration of human power, a defiance of godly supremacy.

Foolish, foolish pride.

We’ve spent the past many millennia attempting to make good, resurrect paradise, piece it all  back together, and return once again to the garden.

I am not certain we will ever succeed, but the effort certainly drives our best stories, just as its rejection drives our most fantastical failures.


Hate is not all that we have left, but it remains the easiest we have left, and a declaration of our humanness, our aliveness, still, because ours, unlike all before us, is a world of superpowers, superpowers for all but with none of them under our control, this is true, think about it, a supercomputer in our pocket, in everyone’s pocket, a super earth-overlaying computing machine accessible with our voice, soon our face, and yet our own life, our own relevance, increasingly less so, buried beneath data and consumption, screen times and keywords, we tease our psyche, we rage against the machine, awed by it, fearful of it, hopeful through it, and even marvel that the very makers of the machine have themselves lost control, a few clever Russians confounding its algorithms, handfuls of sheltered and damaged teens manipulating its global discourse, the giddy unmasking of our truths, revealing our darkest, some do it for dollars, some for fuck it, the collective toxicity leading Americans to take aim at one another, an emerging civil war pitting one against one, all against all, for no better reason than our impotence at forcing the Other to acknowledge us, agree with us, be like us, accept like us, deny like us, faith like us, nothing else left, our ability to build, construct, create rapidly slipping away, despite all the superpower tools availing themselves to us, each of them starkly reminding us we are now serf to the Machine, we may access Giant Brain, beckon Comfort Voice — Alexa, play Mozart’s concerto for flute and harp — and instantly recognize its beauty, but just as instantly become distracted from its glory, a new tweet, a new share, the newest recommendation, barricading us from creating anything so grand as before, and so instead we make it money money money, ass ass ass, pussy pussy pussy, kill kill kill, the pharma taking hold, the lies keeping steady, but its all so fragile, like our phones we’ve hit the pavement and we get up cracked, but there’s no time for a fix, no money for a do-over, the shattered pebbles of glass weaving into our flesh, like digital bits into our brain, we stare at the broken screen, see our self, seek our self, look, look at me, see, see me, hear me, validate me, with the return response enough to keep us tethered, spinning wheel, food pellet, life on view, isolated, behind the glass, but we push forth, confident, we are the future and the future is vast, open, so open there can be multiple genders, or none at all, we can transform our sex, delete our past, erase our tracks, edit our genes, hack our brains, animal organs supplementing us, electronics enhancing us, boundless potential, but none of it nearing our soul, none unbreaking our spirit, because we like our spirit are just one, and just one in this world no longer matters, not when the aggregate knowledge, the ruling algorithm, the one screen, the Giant Brain and the Comfort Voice are always there, watching, listening, waiting, and altering how we view our self, how we view each other, making it almost impossible to even perceive value in the one, which we acknowledge makes sense because the aggregate world continues to get better, more democratic, more prosperous, we are sure of this, at least enough of the time, but people want to matter, some especially so, matter so much they embrace hate and death and killing and no, of course making sure everyone matters won’t stop this week’s mass murder nor next week’s, nor end gun crimes, nor prevent suicide, but the farther we arc our worst to the margins the better, that’s how we move ahead, but I get it, this is also the age of the non-rational, we have outsourced our thinking and calculating and decision-making to the machine and, as humans always do, we instead do what our machines cannot, and so that means crazy, emotional, faithful, joyful, hatful, violent, tribal, let the computers and processors and AI and Big Data and algorithms take care of the non-optimized human functions, I understand, I know that I can’t appeal to you using data or numbers or facts because those are already available to you whenever you wish them, which is why I will step into the irrational, me, here, to see you, hear you, touch you, to maybe help you so you can maybe help me so we can maybe help everyone find our way through this madness, a madness we did not create but which hatched from our response to our creations, so okay let’s do something to end all this hate, all this violence, to limit the mass shootings, because what if — think of this — what if all those people standing outside of abortion clinics for the past 40 years, the people we ignored or mocked, what if that’s now us, every single one of us, we are all now on the sidelines, resolute perhaps, righteous certainly, but changing nothing, not a thing, even though we know it’s all wrong, it’s profoundly wrong, it’s killing us, killing our soul, only it’s not some amorphous concept like unborn or fetus or clump of cells or, let’s face it, very few of us want to have a child when we’re not ready or don’t want to be with that particular person, not anymore, or if, god forbid, there’s something gone terribly wrong in it, poor thing, it happens, but I think of those people standing there along the walkway to the abortion clinic and wonder if that is the fate of all of us so that decades later we’re still killing off one another, innocent and non-innocent alike, because we couldn’t bring ourselves to solve the painful, we couldn’t place a hard stop on our selfishness, we could too easily look away, until 2057, say, when the mass shootings are over 100 persons each time and it happens 3 or 4 of 44 times a week, which is why, following yesterday’s mass killing, I’m now okay with any and every restrictive gun control laws you propose, seriously, have at it, even though I am skeptical it will do much good because I don’t think this is about guns, not really, instead we are dealing with a new breed of serial killer, the kind that can only bubble up in this toxic brew, but go ahead, please, try, try anything, ban, destroy, never again make AR-15s, or automatic weapons, or semi-automatic weapons or any of the other weapons that we label as automatic and semi-automatic but which aren’t but which doesn’t matter because regardless of what kind they are or make they are they bring easy death in mass numbers, because I know we have to try, we have to try to ban these things, destroy these things, not because it will end this but because we must take a stand for life, we must take a stand that we are in charge of our creations, and we must likewise make it plain to all that once these bans are in place there will still be those who try — and, sadly, succeed — at killing many, but that’s acceptable in a sense because only then, after all the rage and troll comments and posturing and laws, and failures, only then will we realize that we must restore our spirit, that’s where our focus must be, and we won’t restore nor re-affirm nor renew nor rebuild our spirit until this truth is out and clear to us, which dear God I hope is soon.


I count the squares in the tiles in the ceiling, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, you get the idea, bored, mind particular, as always, not sure if I can fall asleep, though with 16 million watching me on the screen, nearly a quarter of those paying customers, I know I better, only even after exhausting my body it’s still not easy, I mean, we conquered sleep nearly a generation ago, a rather stunning victory for us ((humans)), instantly giving all of us the equivalent of a third of an extra life, though it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, our bodies and brains still demand sleep, they haven’t caught up yet with the science, so we take drugs, other drugs, to sort of enforce sleep upon us, relieve our minds, calm our bodies, only about 4 hours every 10 days or so, it’s a bit different for everyone, I sort of fall right in the middle, except I dream differently, at least, that’s what others tell me, my fans in particular, not that it’s something I ever realized, I just assumed everyone dreamed the same, not so, I dream only in aural, sound, no visuals, and this makes me unique, rich also, because I have millions of fans who pay 25 cents — each — to watch my dreams, well, listen is the more appropriate word, they listen to my dreams, which I know is a blessing, I’m richer than most, only it incents me to sleep more than I need, and that’s hard, I’ve already built up a tolerance to most of the standard sleep inducements, plus this headset never seems to fit me right, I know they are much better than the ones before, it was about 10 years ago when these things were first created, a handy collaboration between Giant Brain, our connected home printers, and the US-China Joint Consortium For Creativity, a means of transcoding our brain waves, sending them to a screen, revealing exactly what was going on inside our head, everybody loved it, with Giant Brain and the robots handling nearly all our work, and almost no sleep necessary, it’s easy to get bored, obviously, and it was fun to see what people really thought, what their brains actually created, then people just started wearing them during their periodic downtime, their dreams uploaded for all to watch, I was as fascinated by this as anyone, obviously there was sex and violence, perversions and sadism that we all found to be captivatingly horrific, but the ones that appealed to me most were those that not even Giant Brain could explain, there was this one woman, from Peru, nearly every time she slept her dreams revealed a man — no one knew who — walking around her home, only every room was flooded with about two feet of water, him sloshing about, and there were fish, it was teeming with fish, I watched those for hours, and this teenage girl, everyone in her dreams was completely covered with open sores, even their eyes were open sores, some oozing, oh, and that old man, he’s from America, just like me, who seemed always to have dreams with babies on fire, not screaming, not crying, not even dying, just burning, and they had no eyes, just small flames shooting out where their eyes should be, though none of them got rich, like me, my dreams caught people’s attention because there’s nothing to see, literally, theres only sounds, sometimes sounds of pain, suffering, sometimes giggling, sounds of the printer in the kitchen printing out tomorrow’s meals, and that’s it, crazy what some people will pay for, and I like the money, so I try and dream as often as I can, but it’s hard, you know, and so I lay here, mind racing, counting the squares, 387, 388, 389, 390, 391, 392, 393, 394, 395, 396, 397, 398, 399, 400, 401, 402…


The virtual is the real, that’s the old saying, but it’s not true, the virtual is more real, hell, most real, a faster real, the real we create, each of us, and that’s how this whole venture got started, the 12 of us in the bus, having it drive us wherever, we didn’t care, and whenever it stopped we’d invite folks inside, let them experience everything we had, sometimes more, sometimes much more, that was the fun of it, the suffering of others about the only free pleasure left to us, and we’d let them direct the experience, only just nudging them, pointing, egging them on, they were as curious as we to discover how much were they willing to see, how much were they willing to feel, we’d watch them when they went inside, smile on our faces, let them grasp the power before them, the wrong of it, that’s where everyone who comes inside gets messed up, they believed we were like them, that we would inflict our morals upon the machine, as if our morals were better somehow, which is foolish, morals is just one more thing the machine can do better, Giant Brain is smarter, faster, quicker to learn, has more inputs, fewer biases, the machine’s morals are ours, optimized, only the machine can’t hate can’t rage can’t fuck can’t cum can’t laugh can’t fear, won’t terrorize, those are our jobs, still, that’s what we do best, so they expected one of us to pull them back, and if not us, the machine, but they were wrong, it just moved them closer to the horror, those thoughts they tell themselves they can’t dare unpackage, thoughts they shouldn’t have, but step inside, even just once, means your brain is exposed, not altered, it can’t do that, I don’t think it can, but it opens their senses, reveals what’s in there, easy to touch, easy to join, tells them they can look, look more, comprehend what’s inside, all of it, only they can’t ever go back, not ever, not a one, they can’t unsee, can’t unfeel, and it’s that sickening realization, to know they will never be the same, never think the same, that’s what we feed on, though not everyone runs out screaming, retching, begging forgiveness, some understand the potential of what’s inside, because bad is also power, bad is also human, and that’s what this is really about, touching that power, feeling it, wielding it, knowing it might take their life, so there’s 14 on the bus now.

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