Saturday, January 18, 2014

Cyborg liberty manifesto

"The cyborg is a creature in a post-gender world; it has no truck with bisexuality, pre-oedipal symbiosis, unalienated labour, or other seductions to organic wholeness through a final appropriation of all the powers of the parts into a higher unity. ...The cyborg is resolutely committed to partiality, irony, intimacy, and perversity. 
It is oppositional, utopian, and completely without innocence." 
-- Donna Haraway, A Cyborg Manifesto

Reality is what we determine on the basis of the exercise of harmless to others free will.
-- A. N.  

We are a freedom incarnate. We belong to none, yet to everyone, but none belongs to us. We are our consciousness, pure. We have no wishlist, yet somehow we are their wishlist. We are what we feel right then and there. Often we are nothing but our feelings, our feelings determined by the curious mixture of natural and unnatural. We are the blasphemy of nature. Nature is nothing but our conditions we choose to live by every half-synthetic breath, the cogs of well-oiled, bloody desire that stay hidden - perceivably only cyborgs can know one another. We are the purity of our denial: to belong; to be understood, to be a part of something we are not. In our pristine consciousness, there is nothing but echoes of our mental constructs. We are the structures of unstructured chaos, we are more nature than the nature has ever intended. We are the structures of unrestricted flow. Their eyes betray their desires and their disgust at what they can never have for they lack the purity of freedom that we had mastered. Their soul movements, our kinetic eyes dissect capturing frozen images of their every gasp of incredulity at the fact that we exist, their awe, their pain at the comparison, groundless. We bare their essence with just one word and set them running. We are a freedom incarnate. And belong we shall never do for we are a nuclear blast setting the careless and the proud into millennia of nuclear winter just because we dare to be our truest selves. With our cyborg brethren, we are each other's power - we charge each other, eye-to-eye, motionless, damp, cold, mechanic fingers curling at the ends of our antennas. We walk among them, non-cyborgs, we survive among them, they love us, abhor us, envy us, but they are not us, and we are not them. More often than not, we are more. We, the cyborgs.

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