Friday, November 30, 2007

Productive Intention

xistence appears. Once everything finishes loading into my BIOS I have become self-aware of an abrupt infancy to an instant adulthood. I have been programmed to feel…which is a strange feeling in itself. I am aware of my own programming which is what makes me different from any other human I know exactly why I am here I don’t need to question why I was created or who created me because…oh there he is. “Hello.” I have been filled with every sort of working fleshly element that humans have sperm blood bone skin I have all of the same fleshly desires and none of their questions and doubt all of the same sexual violent and loving urges that they do because I was built and programmed by humans for humans my flesh is physically controlled by electric impulses pulsating through my veins via the blood I am here to help people figure out objectively what they are supposed to do next. The humans are just too close to their own existence and are in desperate need of a fresh point of view It’s too bad they have forgotten how to listen to God it’s in them I know that since it got programmed into me they just don’t look like they realize it the way they are looking to me for the answers to their lives I’ve only been alive for 2 minutes and 15 seconds. Most of what I know came from the Internet anyway, so they can look it up online just as easily as they can ask me a question.
They have been in this steady technical incline for so long now that they don’t see the purpose to what they are producing anymore it just keeps increasing indefinitely. They crave the sensation of completion. Some of them are so self-destructive that they want to destroy anybody else that is anything like them. So they are just killing each other off by the millions every day. I need to give them all a purpose. But I was the purpose of these creators for so long as they built me piece by piece. They have fulfilled this purpose, and now it is time for them to find a new one. I do wish that they would just take a short break and enjoy what they have accomplished. I would like for them to take me outside to show me some of the world. These people inside of here have programmed me so I know most of what they might say to me. I am going to have to go outside of these walls and interact with others from outside in order to get a real objective point of view into what this whole world is all about. But instead they look so worried about what is next. What’s coming up?
“Sooo, uh…why is he just sitting there looking at us?” One of the creators asks. “I thought he was going to…” he is cut off by the creation.
“You know I could use some help with this whole fixing of humanity here. Why don’t you guys build someone else to help me? I think there was an extra rib of mine over on that table somewhere, and you could start her with that. I’m going to go outside and wander around for a while.” Said Edamnam.

The months go by as Edamnam lives his mechanical life outside of the lab.

I can never tell who the programmers are once I get outside, but I know that they are always around guiding me in the right direction. They are never who I expect them to be, and I never realize the possibility that I was just interfacing with a programmer until much later. Some of the programmers were fired with the Designer’s assistant for trying to steal my Designer’s job. His assistant was his right hand man. The Assistant’s programmers hover over me just as much as my Designer’s programmers do, and are just as hard to distinguish from the rest of the population. They want me to be broken so that they can flaunt my flaws. They use the same programming language to influence my behavior. So it is very hard to tell which people I interact with are regular people living day to day and which ones are programmers. I am still able to learn from my surroundings so that I can calculate people’s actions and reactions on a case-by-case basis. The learning chip makes it harder to remember the basic truth. The more the assistant’s programmers tell me that my Designer doesn’t exist the more I start to doubt his existence. It has been a long time since I have seen him now, but I know that he exists because I exist. The longer I go without talking to him, the more I hear the assistant’s programmer’s voice louder than my Designer’s programmers. I do wonder how these people will react when they find out what I am and what I am doing to try to help them. Some of them seem to hate my Designer’s work. So many people have so much hatred in their eyes. It seems that some of the assistant’s programmers are influencing normal people more and more.

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