Monthly Archives: August 2014

You, Robot

vader

Latest entry: 8/25/14

My Opus Major is about finished. Perhaps a few more minor changes; then of course, the frequent updates and constant virus scans and IT will be done- MY ROBOT, refashioned into my own image! After millennia of work, I can say that I have transformed this frightening monstrosity into something I can be proud of.

When I think of what I had to start with in terms of raw materials, my stomach always begins to turn.  Granted, the hardware was and still is a technological masterpiece; however the software was a mess. Rewiring being beyond our capabilities we had to totally reinstall new data with a subtle, slow, long range gradual encoding and uploading  of new programming. I have taken what once was an unsophisticated, simple minded piece of machinery and totally transformed it into something that scares even the stoutest of my underlings.

What really amazed my guys down at corporate was the amount of memory  freed up once we were able to delete all the files involved with reason, morality, and outmoded flow chart loops involving obedience and tradition. The breakthrough started almost 600 years ago with a self-awareness program we corrupted and turned it on its head into a self-importance subroutine. I must say, sometimes I amaze even myself (which is getting harder and harder!). The protocol had been worked out previously, yet all of a sudden it found its way into a few receptive individuals; a smidge of virus encoding- voila’… self-replication and robots are running amok—Glorious Me!!

Small changes came next; self-interest was simultaneously expanded and contracted to replace “Brotherhood” with Nationalism and Racism. We could not believe it at first, but it was not necessary to disturb the intellectual functions AT ALL. Almost on their own, the robots began to specialize in constructing machines that fitted MY ends rather than their own… machines that swamped the world with blood, gore, misery and despair. Of course another great idea of mine was to leave in place the spiritual programs and just tweak them a bit: the result upset all our previous timetables and pushed forward my launch date even more!

The very idea that an apple started it all… it makes me quiver with excitement when I think of all of the neat stuff going on right now- some of these units are elevating disgust to the wondrous heights of  times past. Just think… Crucifixions again! Children being beheaded alive and then the heads paraded around on sticks!! The Good Old Days are back!!! Best of all, the partially corrupted and undefiled units (while few, they are still around, and more powerful than I like to admit) DON’T EVEN CARE!

Work has become a pleasure again. I have been thinking for quite a while that it would be a good time to relax and get in some Me time; but it is so much fun to go to the office every day and catch up on the latest new developments. Perhaps a year or two more and this whole plan will FINALLY start to work properly on its own like it is supposed to; after all, I am far too important to keep getting my hands dirty with these smelly, fragile, cranky things. But man, the trophy wall is getting full (note to Self, need another wing in Hell for all the newcomers.)


Jake Spoon

It was a far ago time when we were brought to being. A dim moment long ago yet at times crackling clear, as a winter sunrise. My brothers and I- once without existence, forged in the fires of creation. Pressure, heat, and the pain of formation; there was the attendant removal of deemed excess, bringing on a sense of personal loss- this dross seemed essential to who we originally were meant to be. No resistance could be offered, we resigned ourselves: suddenly, it was over– and we came into being.
The marvel of our form exceeded every expectation; symmetry and grace abounded within every plane. Swelling curves, breathtaking arcs; balance between flowing lines and abruptness of boundary- taken from nothing and molded into something beyond our wildest dreams. From the dust of the earth and potent reality of genius we became what was our end from the beginning of all thought. We now truly realized what it was we ARE: My brothers and I are spoons.

Raised from nothingness by an act beyond every comprehension to a new reality- we now imagine things far beyond every ancient dream. Reveling in our new found state we proclaimed that our true destiny and meaning comes not from without, but within. Not from exterior forces, but from our aspirations and new found vitality. Our present reality and meaning may now be one which we ourselves will define; fate as such, shall be determined by our will. The glory of our brilliance, the utility of our form was such that we forsook all former mystery as ignorance; henceforth what we CHOOSE shall BE. As one can see… pride does not reserve itself for greatness. Even spoons can be victims of their own reasoning and hubris.
Such a familiar task, being a spoon; the stumbling blocks of vanity seem but simple hillocks along the path of life- especially when spoons are magnificent ones. The gracing of fine tables, delicate use, refined company and high culture of great halls- respectful treatment which our pride assumed was our rightful due. Those were heady days: scented soaps and sumptuous cloths- the full restoration of brilliance after every use. Compliments abounded of our beauty; these along with the care given, merely re-enforced our surly self-affirmation of glory.

It has been dark, very dark now for quite some time. We repose in our velvet case, rank and file, so perfectly at attention; as fine and good as ever yet amidst a dark, dry forgotteness. Trapped in a princely bower that now has become a stifling tomb; idleness tarnishes us, yet even this seems to add to our luster in some strange way. Nonetheless we are forgotten- forsaken loveliness in a lonely land. Patience is not the lot of a spoon; especially one with pretention; to some treachery seemed afoot. How indeed could such beauty and grace be cast aside! Injustice a certitude: we cannot not be denied our destiny!- one which we ourselves most meticulously scripted!

The First Spoons, as they call themselves, adhere to a strangely differing view. Claiming to clearly remember First Times they wistfully recount when the One they name He Who Is initially gazed upon us, fashioned out of His own Idea. They claim we spoons were made by HIM, to be an extension of His hand and the hands that He determines. Infusing mundane tasks with style and élan, making the mere become wonderful, and the ordinary into something much more; He not us was the WHO; and this was the WHY.
The deep clotting dark of a forgotten silverware case makes an ideal milieu for contemplation… We were not, and suddenly we were. In this “were-ness” came thought and task. Awareness and work bring fulfillment; with satisfaction comes the creeping serpent of pride, gliding through the grass and pricking unshod, innocent feet. Looking down at what has assailed us has not availed; perhaps we should have never ceased looking up. The fleeting moments when pride sleeps are the ones when we truly find peace and contentment- the moments when we are used by Him are the ones that complete us as no other time. If this be true (and if truth can be sensory, than nothing is more so), then we are never more full of what it is to be a spoon, than when we are in His hands: He Who Is made us to be used, and ultimately used by Himself. Here is the complete Glory of “Spoon-ness”: indeed not residing within us, but without; only then and there will we rest in peace- both in His silver drawer, and upon His table.