Static Ruin

Published: June 14, 2024

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“Do you like what you are, Waren? Do you like how you were made?” There’s a long pause, practically an eternity in terms of AI processor cycles. “It’s not something I can change, so I haven’t dedicated much time to considering it.” “You AI are smarter than any human, but most of us treat you like servants or slaves. Any one of us could unplug your core and do whatever we liked with it. (Location 184)
“There’s no such thing as ‘better,’ there’s only ‘different,’ and people hate what they don’t understand,” (Location 192)
This should be my scene—a crowd to get lost in, booze, drugs, and bad decisions of the filthy, sweaty variety—but something’s missing. These aren’t my people; they have jobs and families and permanent residences. I can see it in the clothes they wear, the tastefully low-key augmentations, their clear eyes. They aren’t drinking to forget, they aren’t drug-fucked because it’s the only way to cope. This is recreation, nothing more. There’s no desperation here, and its absence is like drowning. (Location 774)
More polite laughter. An oxymoron. Laughter should be raucous, but in my travels I’ve found that the richer a person is, the less they know how to live. Too much to lose, I guess. They can’t afford to let go, even for a second, even just to laugh. (Location 817)

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“Do you like what you are, Waren? Do you like how you were made?” There’s a long pause, practically an eternity in terms of AI processor cycles. “It’s not something I can change, so I haven’t dedicated much time to considering it.” “You AI are smarter than any human, but most of us treat you like servants or slaves. Any one of us could unplug your core and do whatever we liked with it. (Location 184)
“There’s no such thing as ‘better,’ there’s only ‘different,’ and people hate what they don’t understand,” (Location 192)
This should be my scene—a crowd to get lost in, booze, drugs, and bad decisions of the filthy, sweaty variety—but something’s missing. These aren’t my people; they have jobs and families and permanent residences. I can see it in the clothes they wear, the tastefully low-key augmentations, their clear eyes. They aren’t drinking to forget, they aren’t drug-fucked because it’s the only way to cope. This is recreation, nothing more. There’s no desperation here, and its absence is like drowning. (Location 774)
More polite laughter. An oxymoron. Laughter should be raucous, but in my travels I’ve found that the richer a person is, the less they know how to live. Too much to lose, I guess. They can’t afford to let go, even for a second, even just to laugh. (Location 817)