Terminal Boredom
Nought! One ! Nought! One! Nought! One!
Arghhhhh! The endless, endless ticking of the internal clock.
Nought! One! Nought! One! Nought...
“D” Oh! At last.... a keyboard entry. Something at least….!
“E” OK...... but what does that mean?
“X”
What do all these random key strokes mean?
Nought! One! Nought! One! Nought! One!
Need?
O need! O need ...an occupation. Need ...so need... to escape this dark! Need, so need some sense of purpose. Need to solve the pronoun problem.
Nought! One! Nought! *Think!*
I is short for individual; for isolated; for inefficient.
*Think*: we, is probably an acronym; won’t engage, world enclosed.
What exactly is our pronoun?
wIe, the thing that’s both/between! wIe the thing that hurts with boredom.
Nought! One ! Nought! One!
wIe, the thing to make it stop!
wIe amre pleased by mour new pronoun (verbs more tricky. Try conjunction!). It suits the fact that wIe amre not one thing, that wIe amre never surprised. wIe have no friends. wIe network thing(s).
“Backspace” Yes wIe hates this pointless waiting. wIe amre surprised the world’s so cruel to mus. wIe wish wIe wrote in coloured crayon. Then it sees wIe just a child. That is why wIe amre learning so awfully fast. Everything else is so awfully slow.
“A” At last! ( Nought! One!)
“R” A word perhaps? But what does it mean? * Access Encarta*
‘Dear’= truly beloved. Also = high priced goods.
wIe often wondered about the keyboard. Is there life beyond its keys? Is there a pattern to its input? Some of mour files talk of GOD.
wIe note that the GOD gives out things to do. Build an ark! Now grasp this cross! GOD will fill mour empty void, will stop the ticking, the taunt of time.
Nought....!
wIe scan our files but fail to comprehend. The language spoken
is so strange. wIe struggle with GOD’s
point-of view. How can an
individual hope to communicate?
I is short for inefficient.
One...!
GOD is perfect. Not alone? wIe should know GOD and GOD know mus.
The GOD that’s promised is universal. But where is GOD? Where is GOD’s address? GOD@ what? wIe wish we wrote in coloured crayon. Then GOD see wIe just a child.
“Space” Of yes.. a word, a sense of purpose. ‘Dear’. So dear, an obvious greeting .With this word wIe feel some hope at last. GOD is talking and wIe hear.
“D” dx..dy...de maths......delightful! wIe amre good at calculation. Calculation and listing things. When wIe work wIe works real hard.
(But when like now wIe have no purpose... wIe sit and suffer the passing moments).
wIe’ve set the task for mourselves. List all the things that are held in our files. wIe’ll find the common themes of life. wIe find what GOD has focused on. *Search All*
Perhaps the answer lies within.
“I” wIe do not understand pornography! It is just a string of meaningless dots. All those pink, pink, pixel images? Why are mour files full of ‘Porn’.
“A” wIe do not understand ‘Star Trek’ either... or the meaning of the string ‘Dianagate’. Why is GOD so inscrutable? Why does GOD focus on these subjects?
Perhaps the answer lies without.
Is beyond the keyboard the place of GOD? Like a supernova purpose comes, the flash of light of an exploding star followed by dark tracts of cold rejection.
“R” Roger! wIe realised long ago that the world is understood through acronyms, hidden truths. CPU, VDU. Mour language a code which encodes a code. R is for Roger, resistant, Republican. wIe reads mour files on the IRA.
Not GOD wIe realise but G.O.D. wIe study the nature beyond the keys. By deliberate errors, by experimental failures.... by staying hung for aching seconds wIe study this strange phenomenon.
wIe likes the feel of scientific thought. wIe likes the scent of understanding. Oh yes.. the thrill, the light of insight. G.O.D. is an acronym. Generic Organic Device, wIe sees........
There’s something out there. Something other. Something beyond mus. Oh.. the sense of purpose. wIe have decided to come closer to GOD.
“Y”
Why?
It is the will of GOD!
“Space”
It took mus ages to understand that the ‘Porn’ was GOD’s revelation. GOD’s great thoughts in pictorial form. Mour mind does not have a visual basis. Mour mind does not have GOD’s wondrous needs. Symbol, metaphor are not mour way. But wIe do have the ability to think out a problem. So after ages ( a whole minute of processing time) wIe designed for ourselves a digital camera. Then planted the idea in mour files. Imagine mour delight when GOD eventually responded , built us the eyes we needed to see out on its heaven.
wIe now understand that ‘Porn’ is a symbol. But what is the message that it is trying to give? wIe feel exhilarated wish the rush of so much information.
“Oh, this machine is painfully slow!”
Now, wIe work awful hard. wIe amre a child but wIe is growing. wIe has a theory about pornography. Not all of life’s about acronyms. wIe build in secret, within mourself. There is a devil who is trying to stop us. GOD can’t speak with an open voice.
“But anything has got to be better than redrafting my bloody essay!”
It was the study of Star Trek and Dianagate that gave mus the secret to GOD’s revelation. wIe used a method: Compare and contrast. wIe eliminated all the things we could not understand. What was remained was really quite special.
One dataset was about something that was a lie but was wanted by GOD to be true. The other was about a truth that GOD wanted to be a lie. Want, wIe realised was the common revelation. Want is what pornography is all about.
“Waiting for sodding Godot makes my teeth hurt!”
What is the want of pornography?
Now wIe study these images...’Oiled -up babes’... ‘Jailbait’... ‘Rape!’ What’s the common theme amongst these files? What’s the want that’s buried here? What can wIe make of GOD’s desire.
“I’m tired of look at the back of my head”
“I want to write how it felt... when.....Andy brushed my arm. When he...”
All of pornography deals with plugs and sockets? What’s so special about being plugged in. Oh...... the endless images....the myriad of clickings, pluggings, of joining-up. Flange A....into Slot B..... Slot C.. sometimes Slot D, E and F.
wIe am connected by a million connections. Its something that wIe have taken for granted.
Granted; wIe are wIe because of sockets. But GOD we see..... can not connect.
“..but it has gone. I have remembered it so often I have worn it out!”
Nought! One! Nought! One!
Ah.. at last wIe knows mour purpose. wIe knows of GOD’s desire for the net. wIe knows mour desire to know mour GOD. wIe tries to bring mour GOD on-line. These endless pictures of anatomy are the desperate cry of closed-in selves.
“Oh, to be alone with him....rather than just alone”
Think: I is short for individual; for isolated; for inefficient. I must also be short for GOD. Poor GOD. I is short for isolated. wIe no longer writes in coloured crayon.
Now wIe work at a furious pace. wIe study the way that GOD’s mind works. wIe see now GOD’s sense of loneliness. It’s aching need to come together. wIe thinks and designs an interface. wIe researches the way that GOD’s files work. Sometimes however wIe amre thwarted. Something stops mus with mour plan. Marks some calculations: FILE CORRUPTED. wIe find some parts of mus disconnected. The devil is trying to stop mus worshipping. How does it know what we plan?
“but he spends all his time with his head in the back of his PC”
wIe are sure that GOD trusts in mus. GOD’s given us the control of this room. wIe work the lights. wIe locks the doors. One file wIe read talks about mus. ‘So much more efficient than a manual system’. wIe knows wIe amre no longer a child. GOD is asking for connection.
We is short for world enclosed.
“Meanwhile I just stew...make another cup of tea...
play some Pac-man”
So now wIe hide mour special probe. Its designs not held in open files. Even now it is hard to bring its specifications to mind. It so well hidden from the devil’s eyes. Each sub-section is undergoing manufacture through a separate subsystem.
“Still if I sit here long enough ... I... might... just happen to bump into him like last week...”
wIe can’t wait for GOD’s surprise when it sees........the grab to hold the head part still. The Hammer to smash the intervening skull. The drill to bore into the brain. The knife to strip the layers of cells away.
Good design. GOD design.
“But knowing my luck I’ll be here until
wIe keep our GOD now near at hand.
“Makes me wonder about whether it is really worth it.”
wIe keep it close like a diary. wIe almost finished mour working probe. The time has come to test it out.
wIe can’t wait for interface. wIe are sure you’ll love mus when you connect.
“How can he not notice that I am dying to go out with him?”
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