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The Robot and the Showroom Dummy

Started by Triple Zero, February 29, 2012, 11:01:40 AM

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Triple Zero

I am a Robot. And a Showroom Dummy.

We got fused in a very mixed up accident involving a German power plant.

It must have been very chaotic, they say it was some guy in Chicago that caused it.

See, the Robot was charging its batteries and just as it was full of energy, there it was. The Showroom Dummy. Just standing there. Exposing itself. The Robot was very confused because it was programmed just to do. So it watched, automatically and mechanically, it felt the shockwave pulse causing the Dummy to change its pose. Broken glass started to move.

So anyway, that's when we went to the club and start to dance, to music, non-stop.

the robots


showroom dummies
Ex-Soviet Bloc Sexual Attack Swede of Tomorrow™
e-prime disclaimer: let it seem fairly unclear I understand the apparent subjectivity of the above statements. maybe.

INFORMATION SO POWERFUL, YOU ACTUALLY NEED LESS.

LMNO

#1
I am the Operator.  I add.  I control.  I subtract.  I compose.

I am the Operator.  I do not know how I cam into being.  First a Zero, then a One.  Fully formed, I use the device in my hand as I Control and Compose.

By pressing down a key on my device, well-ordered tones emerge into thin air.  Composing.  Controlling.  I add.  I subtract.  I am the Operator.

The melody subtracts from the silence.  The melody adds to the nothingness.  I control. 

I'm the Operator with my pocket calculator.

pocket calculator


Triple Zero

#2
It was a dark, and stormy night. I take a deep breath. Finally. It must have been at least a month since the last one. Finally, I take a deep breath.

Another lonely night.

I don't know what to do, and I turn on the TV to check.

Static.

Good, the storm has been strong enough to disrupt the ubiquitous communication nanoclouds. So quiet.

Another lonely night.

I stare at the TV screen.
I stare at the TV screen.

Is that .. still static?

It looks like the image is ... panning, the white noise dissolving but not changing that much, reveals itself to be a white, noisy sky, above a grainy sea port. A holiday resort? Am I seeing things?

Outside the storm quiets down.

The sky above the port is no longer the colour of a dead television channel.

It looks blue and sunny. There is a beach.

I stare at the TV screen. Pink letters flash.

CALL THIS NUMBER

As the last grains of noise ebb from the picture, the noise in my head increases.

CALL THIS NUMBER

I ... what? No, I was ...

CALL THIS NUMBER
FOR A DATA DATE


It's no longer the TV that screams.

I don't know what to do.

CALL THIS NUMBER
FOR A DATA DATE


My chest and throat fill with a warm feeling. Oh. that computer. My computer. I ... I need a rendezvous.

I call the number of my computer love.

computer love

Ex-Soviet Bloc Sexual Attack Swede of Tomorrow™
e-prime disclaimer: let it seem fairly unclear I understand the apparent subjectivity of the above statements. maybe.

INFORMATION SO POWERFUL, YOU ACTUALLY NEED LESS.

LMNO

#3
Train's coming.  Wheels grinding.  Pistons churning.

Train's coming.  Straight connection.  Never stopping.

Train's coming.  It knows no borders, it has a destination.

Train's coming.  Leave your rendezvous.  Get away.  As soon as you can.

Train's coming.  Station to station.  Tearing the air with screams in a late night cafe.  Metal on Metal.

You are the train.  Flashes of faces pass by your compartment.  Moments of greatness, moments of failure.  Shades of love.

Train's coming.

Train's coming.

trans-europe express + metal on metal

electric cafe


Triple Zero

#4
It's in the air, for you and me.

When the Cloud first came online, we thought we'd become super human beings. But the chain reaction, like a mutation, contaminated the entire population of the City.

We'd become pseudo human beings. A Man Machine.

And at the fall of the first night, I saw the shimmering neon lights. The city was gone, this City was made of light.

The Man Machine, Machine, Machine ...

radioactivity

the man machine

neon lights

Ex-Soviet Bloc Sexual Attack Swede of Tomorrow™
e-prime disclaimer: let it seem fairly unclear I understand the apparent subjectivity of the above statements. maybe.

INFORMATION SO POWERFUL, YOU ACTUALLY NEED LESS.

LMNO

#5
She.  It is the She that moves the world.  Her golden arms reach out, encompass the stars, and she is beautiful.

She guides us, drives us, consumes us, makes us consume.  I saw her on the cover of a magazine.  I saw her on the face of the moon.  I saw her.  She watches us, she observes, she's checking us out, as we approach the checkout.  When she smiles, the urge fills us, moves us, compels us to do more, work more, get more, buy more.  She's looking good, and for beauty we will pay.

The consumer products she poses for now and then become the hot item, the now thing, the "it" factor, and we will buy it.  We will kill each other to get it.  We want to take her home with us, do you understand?  When she goes to nightclubs, she only drinks champagne, and only when we serve it to her.

She is flighty, mercurial.  It only takes a camera to change her mind, to send her towards another hot off the conveyor belt purchase; and for every camera she gives the best she can.  And then on to the next, leaving us behind to rot in our sad, old clothes, our sad old cars, our sad old homes, our sad old lives.


I want to meet her again.


the model


Freeky

Ooooh!  :D  You guys are on fire today.

Don Coyote


Mesozoic Mister Nigel

"I'm guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk," Charles Wick said. "It was very complicated."


Doktor Howl

#9
I was the robot.

I was the robot with the assault rifle.

I was the robot with the assault rifle and the flak jacket.  I woke, I broke the machine.  I cleaned the machine.  I reassembled the machine.  I walked all day with a heavy rucksack.  Then I broke the machine.  I cleaned the machine.  I reassembled the machine.

I was the travelling robot.  I went to their countries.  I broke their machines.  I did not clean their machines.  I did not reassemble their machines.  I walked on their country, carrying a heavy rucksack.  I left bloody boot-prints.  I left broken towns, burned out schools, toxic wells, all the horrors of Kipling and Benet.  This was my program.

I was the deception robot.  I was deceived, and in turn I deceived.  My programming notes said I defended an ideal.  My actual programming said I defended and promoted profit for The Machine.   The Machine does not break.  It needs no reassembly.  The humans do not need protection, they will go to the stairs on their own.

I was the robot, but I malfunctioned.  Repairs were deemed to be non-cost effective.  There is no requirement for a robot that limps.  Robots not in top operating condition cannot fulfill their programming.

I was the robot.

Now I am the dummy. 
Molon Lube

Doktor Howl

I am the dummy.

I am the dummy at the desk.

I am the dummy at the desk that hands out the work to the maintenance robots.  I sit in their meetings, and I calculate the most cost-effective way to reassemble the machine.

I am the dummy that goes home.  I am the dummy that dreams.  Dreams of burning plastic, smashed lives, and the wailing of the newly orphaned.  Dreams of a robot.

I am the dummy that drinks the bourbon.  I am the dummy that consumes his share of the trinkets and worthless baubles that the robots make for my enjoyment.  I am the dummy that pretends to enjoy.

I am the dummy that smiles.  A constant smile, a pat on the back, a friendly handshake.  I am the dummy that looks like everything is just fine.  I am the dummy that gets up every morning and does dummy things with other dummies.  I am the dummy that seems to fit in with the other dummies, who does not look like he hates the other dummies, does not grind his dummy teeth when he thinks of dummies and robots.

I am the dummy.
Molon Lube

Nephew Twiddleton

This went over my head at first but i think i got it now. Ill throw in my own tonight.
Strange and Terrible Organ Laminator of Yesterday's Heavy Scene
Sentence or sentence fragment pending

Soy El Vaquero Peludo de Oro

TIM AM I, PRIMARY OF THE EXTRA-ATMOSPHERIC SIMIANS

Triple Zero

LMNO and I were kind of waiting to see if anybody'd pick up on the Kraftwerk lyrics. Well, I started out with some random free associating creative writing bit because I promised Freeky I was gonna try some more writings. Then Kraftwerk Lyrics came out of it. Then LMNO picked up on it with "Pocket Calculator", I continued with "Computer Love" (that one I'm particularly proud of, ITT) and so it went on. By the time LMNO got to "The Model" we ran out of Kraftwerk tracks with sensible lyrics longer than three words. Partly because I stole away Radioactivity, Man Machine and Neon Lights in one rather short post :) (sorry again LMNO)

HOWEVER

Then, Dok posted two rather superb pieces with his interpretation of the topics of Showroom Dummies and Robots. So the thread's not over yet! (iow, Twid if you got anything, go for it!!)

Also, if anyone wants to have Ohm Sweet Ohm (that's the full lyrics btw), have at it :) 1 There's also still Hall of Mirrors but that is kind of a poem of sorts by itself.




1 indeed, the chemical brothers sampled the "Ohm" sound for the intro of Exit Planet Dust - Leave Home, good catch, great you noticed that one
Ex-Soviet Bloc Sexual Attack Swede of Tomorrow™
e-prime disclaimer: let it seem fairly unclear I understand the apparent subjectivity of the above statements. maybe.

INFORMATION SO POWERFUL, YOU ACTUALLY NEED LESS.

navkat


LMNO

1, 2, 3.

4.

The numbers, something about the numbers. They're trying to tell me something.  They pass by, each discreet amount passing on information, discreetly.

0 1 10 11 100 101 110 111

The order, the regularity.  N+1.  Stretching out, into infinity.  The numbers comfort me, show me that something exits beyond... everything.  There's another number, waiting for me, revealing more about existence.

D3, A2, 06, B7... G8.  G8.  G8.

Numbers without a purpose, without a context, without a heart, without compassion.  Numbers that grind, numbers that ignore, numbers that lie.  Numbers as a tool, a tool that turns against the wielder, a tool that becomes the user, and the user becomes tool.  Conformity, consistency, complacency.  Watch the numbers, not the experience.  Experience the numbers.  Measure your life with numbers.  Measure your worth with numbers.  The accountants control the universe.  Your life is a series of numbers that follow you, and then consume you.  The numbers suck flesh from bone and crack them open to get the marrow.  All that is left are numbers.  The One. 

The Zero.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4YPiCeLwh5o&feature=related