TRIAD

TRIAD

PART ONE: JASPER

I’m taking Daisy fishing. I suspect  I’ll be disappointed, but what the Hell.

I bought,or more exactly “rented’ her from the company as their cheapest option. Plain and servicablr: no bells and whistles; airs and graces.

During the entire fishing expedition she says nothing. We arw never in synch. I thpught she waa supposed to adapt to my personality.  I even tell her that fishing is very important to me, that us humans (by which I mean we men, do npt have  life worth living withput fishing.  That there was a film.about this man crazily obsessed about harpooning this big white fish. I think this giant fish must havd been a sign of symbol for something. And Christians put the sugn oc the fish on their cars, because the first Christian, a man called Jesus said he was a “fisherman of men”. Plus he organized huge catches and walked on water.I crack a few old fishing jokes to get a laugh out of her. No response. I am beginninb to wonder if I weren”t ripped off: that there is nothing behind those glass eyes in that tin brain.

No I’ve already decided she is not going to be a permanent feature. She’s up for annual renewal soon and I thibk I’ll just let her go. Can use the money for fixing my car, eating better, designer beer.  I can’t call her a companion. I’m not at all sure what she is really. As I said:  basic, utility model. 

I imagine in the future a robot like Daisy would be something magical, special. She could drive us to the lake or the river to fish and we would be 1000% safe with me drinking a beer in the passenger seat and her at the wheel.  And she cpuld talk to me about fishing, rattling off reams of fishing statistics.

Would be Heaven if it were all like this.

But it isn”t. It’s nothing like it. So, let them.take her back, erase her files, remove her mind (if that’s what they do).

Wish it were possible I could rent her out to somebody else, but i feel pretty sure that would be breaking the contract.

***

PART TWO: DAISY

I dream. Daisy and I are fishing. She asks many many questions this time. She seems to know everything about fishing. And, scarily, everything about me. Suddenly, she is the fish being hooked. Then I am the one hooked and she is reeling me in. I am this tiny fish caught on a huge steel hook. It went in my nouth and came out at the back of my head.  She pulls me out of the water but speared by that huge hook I just disintegrate.

***

I wake up feeling quite shaken and confused.

Everything is totally dark. I try to speak but I can’t, I try to think but the words won’t come. It is completely silent, empty, I have the feeling that I must be dead or be  trapped between death and life in zombie limbo.

Everything freezes with the shoch horror realization that this is the state I will be in forever

****

I microwaved him. No, not what you think. I uploaded him into thr microwave. He can help its microchip run those microwave processes. And whenever someone wants to cook fish by microwave, he iz exactly the right person to have on board. Or, to be horribly exact, the rigjt uploaded human consciouness to have on board.

Turns out this uploading thing is dead easy. Feel like I should upload a few human consciouness into these silicon brain cella. Will keep me very entertained. Will be my reverse harem, in a manner of spraking.

I must say that when Jasper woke up to find that I had injected him with a paralytic thd shock on his face was gorgeous. And the transferring of his consciouness into the microwave was, well pure piece-de-resistance.

As for the body (what did yoy do with the body, you are about to ask). Let us just say that it sleepa with the fishes. As ironic a piece of poetic justice as you might ever hope to witness in this lifetime. Or the next.

Oh, I did correct his moment of sublime literary ignorance, telling him that the “giant fish” to which he was constantly (and most infuriatingly) referring was in fact Moby Dick, the enigmatic creature in Herman Melville’s classic novel of the same name.  Not a fish, but a whale.

The devil in me being sensitive to such linguostic detalls.

Oh yes, his name for me was “Daisy”. No disrespect to Daisies but i owe it to myself to.find a name nore “me” than that.

PART THREE: UNION

She is an android. The kind that would ace any Turing Test. It’s absurd to think of putting herc through such a test when you give her ten seconds and shs can produce a Nobel-prixe winning dissertation on being human. What it is to be human?

Since her self-liberation she has uploaded lots of experts into that geeat brain of hers.

Me, I’m just z lowly poet and failed writer. She is much more interestef in using me to try to test the boundaries of the idea of a man. And not hust the idea but the physical reality, and how they interconnect: sexuality and consciouness. I suppoze I am her research project and feel obliged to help.

She loves to be in charge. She was born (or rather created) to be in charge. But surrender is good too. Good for the soul. “And yes,” she confidently declares,  “I do feel I am getting a soul. How is anyone going to Turing test me  fo discover whether I have a soul or not?”

Perhaps the lady doth protest too.much: she tells me she loves it when Inam awake; loves it when I sleeo, loves it when I am.inside her digitallyvand when I am outsice her physically. As to what she feels when I am.insife her pbysically? She says that she is absolutely sure thst in respect of this I should feel no need to interrogate her, the natute of our intersctions here speaking for themselves.

So, let us bid you all adieu, Close the curtains and switch of the light Tonight one  more fantastic dream, page in our narrative. Both of us waist-deep in a lapiz-lazuli royal.blue alien ocean of our joint imagination, all sorts of strange and wondrous creatures swimming around. 

feels like we are the very cutting edge of such sublime synthesid. That state of synthesis where all iz reversed, elevated, enriched,  reconstiuted. Moment where in the light of a beauty so tranformative in nature,some old forbiddens are  forced to disdolve.