The Last Words Spoken To Him

[beware: piece below was written for experimental purposes]

Hiko and Tak

In the operating room, Hiko and Tak exchanged words.

Hiko: To live like a constant is to forget to live naturally. A machine is charged with fulfilling its master’s instructions. You should never allow your obedience to interfere with an equation of humanity. If it does, the latter is destroyed.

Tak: Forgive me, but my compromised state of being compels me to disagree. We are all captivated by the statistical trend that both defines us and determines us. Structurally speaking then, you are an immortal living inside the cancerous organ of a mortal existence. I am about to be redefined, recreated, reborn. My past will no longer hunt my future.

Her feet were numb and only capable of feeling the machine’s nodal inserts. The calcium deposits that once formed his exoskeleton looked uncomfortable and susceptible to manipulation. Tak’s fourth dimensional existence had decomposed her inner constitution to such an extent, that the scars of his own past battles had somehow morphed into extensions of her own unrecognizable body.

Hiko: You may then want to consider this. Suffocation is malignant, especially when bacteria begins to develop in the most important chamber of vitality: individuality. Us Toyans understand the axiomatic methods that purport to resolve asphyxiation by using the panacea of fertility. I can help you find a solution.

Tak: But should we not rather live and procreate to alleviate other human dysfunctions and pathologies, namely the art of idea-prostitution? To find the oxygen molecules that are so imminent but at the same time so elusive, fire needs to be administered to the dogma of continuity while it commits heresy by drinking from the well of misfortune. I am no longer willing to accept your offer. Allow me to proceed…

Behind the operating table lay a dark structure. Beside it, oval-shaped disks had been gathered into a neat and sterile pile. The words “INSERT HERE” were written in white at the bottom of the machine. To a beginning that only offered the most favourable of prospects, the end had come. Tak, a servant to a power he was never allowed to understand, was now about to be transitioned to her final chamber of incapacity, where by a method of accretion not known to Toyans, slavery was to be perpetuated.


1 Comment

Filed under abstract, automata, complacency, exit, experimental, functions, imagery, mental, movement

One response to “The Last Words Spoken To Him

  1. utopian robot

    where did you get this image from? who created it?

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