Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Cyborg files - 2

You stare. You look away. You look around. You stare again. You start whirring about the success of this year long after a collective of cyborgs had gone over that individually, collectively. Holding back, what for. Out of the blue, why now. You continue in an excited, data-overloaded manner: the high-speed churning of the chips in your synthethic skull and the rest of your mechanised body going into an overdrive comes out in erratic, jerky body movements, jerkily repeated words. Had you been human, I would've processed an involvement of alcohol intoxication . But you're not one, you're only a cyborg. These rainbow wavelengths out of your chipsets -- where, how did you learn this -- wrapping around my torso and meshing with my waves is the first. You indicate that this year you had processed much data you never thought you would process in one's cyfe. How although built for something else, your chips had to process a brand new data, to make sense of new information, to integrate that information into the system. I stare. I look away. I go into an overdrive manifesting in silence. Most of us, cyborgs, overloaded with foreign plus unprocessable data, respond by silence. Just as it used to be when the two of us sat facing each other, comfortable in utter silence. The reasons for uploading this data from your chips to mine after I had processed everything to zip, archive and store for all eternity are unknown, motives uninteresting. At the very end, simply unimportant. Hours, days later I find myself replaying our last connection data, the lights repeatedly going out, lighting up, chirping of the chipsets, rainbow wavelengths shooting in all directions. Everytime I replay this data, I go into an overdrive. Silence. That very last piece of data makes the story complete. Processing complete. Safeguard chipset signals: "Are you sure you want to zip and store the data?" I override the safeguard: "Yes".

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