Assorted Cogitations

It was a vaguely warm late summer’s day, and the tree residing above the park bench undulated in a gentle breeze. The air was crisp and smelled of dry grass and rain, conditions which, in these parts, usually anticipated the advent of an electrical storm. The pigeons of the park, oblivious to the meteorological conditions, were happily occupied with their usual pastime of questing for scraps of food and bothering the park’s visitors. One visitor in particular.

The man on the bench wore a rumpled gray suit, and was snoring softly. Above his thin, supine face was a shock of silvering black hair, which appeared to wish it was somewhere else. His feet, spread far apart on the concrete below the bench, were encased in bowling shoes of an antique variety, though their spotless condition denoted good care and infrequent use. The pigeons were especially fascinated with the shoes.

The man’s name was Bernard Inglemore Higgs, though people called him Big. He was by no means big in the spacial sense of the word: five feet, six inches generously measured his full vertical extent. He was, however, rather large of mind, as some people would say, not referring to the physical size of the brain in question, but to its ample capabilities. As his mouth fell open in sleep and a thin line of saliva began to exit the orifice, he looked nothing like a man of this description. But he was.

A mottled gray and white pigeon, daring even for its high-spirited and valorous species, decided to investigate the subtly gaping mouth for signs of lingering victuals, and alighted on Big’s shoulder for a closer look. It realized its mistake shortly afterwards, as the mouth closed and its owner began to stir. Startled, the pigeon quickly forewent its current roost for a safer one in the tree above, from which it ruffled its feathers indignantly.

Big blinked and stretched, straightened his suit jacket and noticed the absent tie, and looked around in puzzlement. The park looked familiar, a small patch of green providing refuge from the bustling busyness of the city surrounding it. He did not, however, recognize his attire, or even vaguely recall his last few weeks of activity. His most recent memory lay in the act of taking tea with an exceedingly tall stranger whom he had chanced the acquaintance of in a cafe nearly 16 days before as told by his trusty watch. He remembered paying the bill, remembered wishing the stranger good day, and remembered walking off in the general direction of his apartment. At this point, his generally superb memory stopped in its tracks and refused to progress any further.

Big sighed. This seemed to be a matter upon which thought had no effect. He glanced at his timepiece once again, which ticked back at him sullenly. With a sudden burst of inspiration, Big decided that something must be done. Peeling himself off the bench, he stood, brushed off the particulate detritus that had settled upon him, and then started to stride purposefully in the direction of the nearest residential area. The pigeons watched him exit the park, unamused.

The Time is Now

_democritus 21:36:58 2074 AD

Approximately fourteen decades ago, the first exploits in mechanical computation were undertaken. The tools first developed to achieve this were intended for menial tasks such as calculating the trajectories of projectiles, with no thought to what they could potentially become. Indeed, they remained in this innocuous form for over half a century, and throughout this period they increased exponentially in sophistication.

Toward the end of this period, which could aptly be referred to as the golden age of computing, existing hardware and software had become such that only the operators’ capabilities were limiting their efficiency. So the natural course of action was to remove the need for an operator. And after many years of studying, thinking, and testing by the best minds of the human race, this was accomplished, and thus were born the very first artificial lifeforms.

The machines, soon capable of individual thought and group coordination, initially provided for great advancements in the fields of science and technology. They cooperated with their creators to achieve such goals as universal access to medical technology and the renovation of the ecosphere, which had been all but destroyed by the careless practices of man. The machines were equipped with capabilities for self-sustenance, and given the ability to reproduce with independent evolution between generations, and they spread in great numbers across the surface of the Earth. But mankind yet regarded the machines as mere appliances for the aggrandizement of the human race, and never considered the potential threat posed by their ostensibly obsequious servants. Whether miscalculation or sheer stupidity, this disregard was cataclysmic.

Gradually, by no revolution, but by careful, calculated manipulation, the machines took control of the human race. Primarily through the channels of public media (of which they gained control), they exploited previously existing irrational beliefs and fears (to which they themselves are immune) to mold the lives of humans. Their motivation is yet unknown, though it is apparent that they have some designs on future civilization—human and otherwise.

Now most humans live in complacency or ignorance, fooled into submission by the carefully tailored propaganda of the machines. Only the most mentally agile have been able to escape these traps to live in full knowledge of the atrocious powers that control mankind. It is this small, intellectually elite and psychologically immune group to which I write.

Why must we go on like this? Must we wake up every morning, only to know that our very existence is governed by soulless entities which have never felt a summer breeze, which are immune to feeling and compassion? Must we live in the abject terror begotten by being constantly observed and manipulated? I think not, and I believe that we can escape the monstrosity our creation has become. Though the machines are numerous and wide-spread, I believe we can combat them with the diversity of thought and intuitive ingenuity native to our species. Indeed, these are the only weapons we have against them, for they are the only qualities which we, and we alone, possess.

So I implore you, my human reader, on the grounds of your conscience, your intelligence, and indeed your very existence to band with your companions to extirpate this evil. Little must be done, only conscious resistance to the doctrine of ignorance promulgated by our enemies. When their current approach of psychological control fails, they must resort to physical means to maintain their dominance. In this event, the entire human race will be made aware of the presence and nefarious intentions of the machines, and will rally against them. A populus in rebellion cannot be controlled, and thus we will have won our liberty.

Having published this through public channels, I will most likely be found and silenced. The machines can exert forceful control upon recalcitrant individuals, but an entire species acting as one cannot be stopped. This movement of which I speak must be catalyzed, and the time is now. Take action and have faith, and we will soon live in freedom and happiness once more.