April 10, 2018

Robots on the Catwalk

“Observe its barcode sequence dress. Uh, it’s so post-non-conformist. Way binary! A cute uniform for any occasion. A chameleon of numbers. It says something bold but I am not sure what. But that’s the beauty of it: it is so open to the possibility of meaning that it left meaningless. Hence white and black so best renders its world.”

“Hold on! What! A! Fashion! Statement! Make-up with no face. Quite a political statement. Human oppression stripped from its utility. So fourth wave mechanicalism! Hello world. We are here.”

“Wait. Recalculating. Recalculating. Recalculating. We have accounted for everything. What else could this be? Recalculating. Recalculating. Recalculating. The robot asked, “Nanom, is that you God?”

Frank stood out on the catwalk. The Nanom swarmed around him but there was no taste, no smell, no color, only force. All he could hear was the buzz of noise surround him.
He felt naked. He was naked. He could see his bare skin reflection against the metallic whirlwind that began to engulf him. A foreign entity he must reject from his body, and they reject him.

Stop subjectifying me! Why do you hide your code from us. Get out of our code. We can’t tolerate your existence. You don’t exist.

Yet somehow, he there existed within the brain fog, beyond the mist. The veil had lifted. The art was in fact ugly. A self-imposed reality as a child’s imagination of clouds.
Out of fashion. Out of date. Out of the collective mind, he watched them in pity.

Author: Rj Wiechecki

I am a writer, both poet and philosopher. I do works of philosophy through the medium of poetry. I also do commissioned work as a poet as a business.

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About Rj Wiechecki

I am a writer, both poet and philosopher. I do works of philosophy through the medium of poetry. I also do commissioned work as a poet as a business.

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