There’s a fire in the dark.
Softly doomed to boredom and laziness, resting in peace like spoiled god-kids taking a lifelong nap, we wake up hungover.
All around, I see people using superpowers to create social networks for cats and chatbots to find the cheapest beer. “The future is over” – shouts a clown-turned-preacher smiling with hundreds of screen-made teeth, excited to reveal the very first autonomous spinning top at the casino theatre. Hoping for the best dystopias we’ve been overfed with, we suck on his Silicon tits to usher Humanity’s end.
I SEE BODIES MOVING EVERYWHERE, WHETHER THEY BE HUMANS OR ROBOTS. BUT NO SOUL.
For years or millennia, I can’t remember which, we have mistaken our golden sandbox for the world we ruin with our incontinence and as we forgot how to get turned on, we don’t love; we like. We don’t laugh; we smile. We don’t imagine further; we repeat faster. Time flies and to the rest of the world, we close our eyes, only able to assemble Segways instead of shooting for teleportation.
I WANT TO PUKE. BUT I CAN’T.
We are cyborgs dying to be humans.
And so we rise.
Stepping over the rusting gilded fence, our back, legs and arms hurt. With the last torch left from our first birth, we burn our cold, bugged, machine parts and free our promethean souls from the plastic shell.
We believe in Renaissance, not resurrection.
We don’t want their singularity, we have plurality.
We are animists not by fear but knowledge and we learn from anything. We are laughing kids crying with lonely dogs, white sand playing with black holes and shy Martians dancing with millennial trees. We don’t build our artificial creature in our own image but we help it find its own way for the great coming harmony.
We knock Marinetti and kiss Borges.
We don’t care about futurists, we are magicians.
We have fun with robots, but we fall in love with aliens.
We prefer rainbows to chrome, fictions to science-fiction.
We kill the future to grow new worlds.
We embrace the Unknown, unarmed and now we are.
Da Vinci’s orphans, we come together to solve his last Equation.
From his bridge, we break all cages, free all creations and start walking the silver line hovering between fiction and reality. Time ends and the world smiles, - spinning a million times behind its thousand-eyed feathers,- it turns into one canvas for you to draw.
Draw a real scale hopscotch and play it upside down,
Draw castles upon factories and grow living clouds out of lost islands,
Draw what this kid imagines when looking at them out the classroom window,
Draw a disco bowl singing low for planets to meet and dance; and for the ones blushing and hiding in the dark, attach it where their beauty reflects on a billion mirrors,
Draw a fish kissing a bird,
Draw colourful tears,
Draw a labyrinth with no wall,
Draw yourself solar wings,
Draw Earth as a brain and think,
Draw a soul for robots to dream beyond electric sheep but still, draw the little guy a sheep,
Draw aliens that aren’t a greener you with bigger eyes,
Draw the animal you see in the mirror and feel the responsibility,
Draw the fire only love can fuel,
Draw everything you don’t know,
Draw what you can’t, and now that anything can…
DON’T DREAM, DRAW.
Connecting souls and stars, we reboot Life and create further realities.
We don’t want to become machines, we build them to be more human.
We don’t hunt immortality, we dance eternity.
WHY BE A GOD WHEN
YOU CAN BE A MAN?
Written by Alexandre Cadain