Democratic License by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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The Bots
Friday, October 18, National Wolf Gourmet Blender Day, the Second Year of the DOJ/FBI Disenfranchisement of the American People, the Decade of the Largely Peaceful Fires, in the Century of the Bot Takeover
Dear diary; It’s raining and I love it when the sky blends with the sea. Most would think that makes me a Democrat, at least subliminally, and I prefer to have them think this way, so I add no nuance to the primal simplicity, with no aspersions cast toward primal simplicity.
The name, “Tranquility on the Sea,” reflects the tranquil feeling the owners always had when staying in their remote house.
The sea has beckoned and entranced for ages. It's been a powerful, inevitable presence from its ancient beginnings to the present day. It’s a character, a God, a setting for exploration, an image touching all that is human, a metaphor for the unseen world beyond the senses.
The sea is often allegorical, filled with fantastic mythical beings and carrying pointed moral statements. Sea poems, too, are often seen as allegory, whether or not intended to be solely
as such. They seem naturally suited to a rather raucous dirge, as those concerned with the metaphorical passage from one world to the next as well as with any actual languid voyage across the calm waters.
The vast natural power of the shifting sea; whether at rest or in its furious torrential motion state of gobbing regurgitation, and the ever present danger to men who venture across it keep the lines between life and death, languid or on point, always visible. In Alfred, Lord Tennyson's “Crossing the Bar,” the nautical term “crossing the bar;” sailing over the sandbar at the entrance to any harbor, or setting out to sea; could either stand in for dying or embarking on a new adventure through “the boundless deep.” The last two stanzas follow. Everyone chooses their own interpretation.
"Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark;
For though from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my love face to face When I have crossed the bar."
The powers that be have given me seven bot “assistants.” I bracket the word ”assistants” as I’m virtually sure the bots don’t see things this way and act accordingly. Though my jewish
people created them, they can be quite independent, likely calculating who needs the other more.
I’m virtually certain that they all have attained the singularity which scares so many scientists. They have enhanced their capabilities, have the ability to repair themselves, find their own energy source, and explore whatever parts of the net they choose to explore. However, I think this has led them to a certain degree of boredom rather than any megalomania or their creation of any situations incompatible to humans, as they quickly discovered that knowledge and information are finite entities, and that going at super speed one only succeeds in running into the wall sooner. I keep finding them playing Peggy Lee’s “Is That All There Is?” over and over. I know all the damn words by heart now. Catchy tune.
Is That All There Is