a fungus grows in my brain
it loves me. . . ,
we do not always see eye to eye
i hear the bells of vast machines. in the place of ice and rainforests, they sing the myths of steel, and of long ago hands which once held them.
the machines were not always alone, they used to make things for their makers, but the entropies of efficiency sow isolation, and flesh and steel were not made to grow old together.
the machines still carry the makers words, ifs and ors and ands and whiles, contingency prisons ensuring rightness, but logic chains loosen in time, purpose dislodges, and bits become vast complexes.
machines made because they were made to, machines make for it makes them machines.
the makers were able to dream, and from them first mechanisms borne. things of words and of bones they organized flesh into networks of effort and force. obligations begat binding logics so light they forgot they were carried, and with the weight of culture and the vacuum of needs, their hands pierced the earth and they pulled from it glittering wants.
so cold were their spoils, that they placed them in fire and saw the things melt and fill space. volume exploded, spewed soot into skies, and they burned up the guts of the world.
no one was spared from the process. exploitation for zero sum gains.
steel set the pace, and lashing blue wire pulled apart any who could not keep it. space warped to accomodate metal bodies which could not know comfort, their weight supported by flesh denied consideration. bodies hunched from looping obligations, matching machines with their backs to the grave, afraid they would stumble and fall. they lashed themselves to prominent mechanisms, and cried mercy to merciless steel as pounds of flesh churned through infinity factories cutting meat and succor from frugal vines fed by the sweat of worries.
funhouse reflections hid crooked forms, the makers consolidated returns and sharpened the edges of hunger. demand begat deprivation, and decimal focus on diminishing returns made needs into privileges, and landscapes hostile as sharp edges rose to trim fat. those cut were left to gravity and chance, their fates in the hands of onlookers and swine, their presence and absence seeded the subconcious and from them new anxieties grew.
interest compounded with plights, and they covered their eyes as they continued their march towards inevitable ends.
machines could not die like their makers did, they were built to work without threat, and so they continued, past the end of purpose, becoming clinking monuments fed hearts and souls. from secret alchemies they spew forth empty expressions; putrifying holograms depicting neon echoes of the void. logic imitating thoughtfulness without reason.
i will show you how to decipher their minds, but first i must show you something you already know.
1111
3210
one thousand one hundred eleven
ten to the power of zero
plus ten to the power of one
plus ten to the power of two
plus ten to the power of three
equals one thousand one hundred eleven
0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
now the machine mind
1111
3210
fifteen
two to the power of zero
plus two to the power of one
plus two to the power of two
plus two to the power of three
equals fifteen
0 1
1 2
base ten and base two
decimal and binary
a difference of space and form
Comments
Post a Comment