Technomancers unite, and rise with me. Not to sound too Borgish, but seriously, technology helped me fly, again.
It was clipped, actually, torn off in a storm. I fell. Half my face smashed in from the impact. I wasn’t too high to heal from the fall. I healed. But like a chopped down tree, all that was left of my wing was the stump.
I still had the other one, albeit pretty fucked up. I know, my language is harsh, and articulate. Thanks to the fall, and not being able to fly as much, I’ve learned a lot of things. For one, people want to help. For two, I had to let them.
I know a lot of things. One is that the sciences of technology are ideas turned into reality through thought and data and sweat. Brow sweat and back sweat because we stand on those of giants standing on others standing on more, standing on the ground.
Science has symptoms. One is technology. Technology has symptoms. One is global communication. That has symptoms. And on. But the source is scarce as we all quickly link each other to the last thing that gratified us.
Did you know they figured out how to turn back the cellular age of parts that exist in humans? Science man, pretty wild. Science is also what gave me my wing back, albeit made by molecules and methods vs molecules and nature. We manipulate things, and there are symptoms. Who can we blame at this point?
Be it the billionaires, because one with that much money cannot have a conscience. Be it the coal miners fueling the fire warming parts of our ecosystem. Or is it us? In front of the dim glare of our screens, wasting time like we waste food. Wrap it in plastic and throw it in the dump, because it’s all going to the same place. Heck in a handbasket.
Before they built my wing back up, they had to plan how to do it. Prototypes were built, presented and funded by the belief, love, and digits of others.
The tone of the day is doubt. I don’t know if he knows. I doubt myself, even. Doubt it or not, that is the zeitgeist. I won’t get into too much, but one doubt is how it’s almost a fifty fifty split of voting wildly different ideologies. Each side doubting in what the other believes, and doubting that they will come to understanding. That is kinda like my broke off wing.
Heroes arise in all of us, and thanks to normal people with illness, and faults, I am able to fly. I know, I keep harping on, but in my mind soars ideas, doing twirls and loops, as I pace down the thoughts in words. Words made from digits representing circuits switching so fast it’s like lightning. A technomancer’s playground.
I have been playing with tech since Half Life, before the gravity gun, set up on a lan system so that me, my dad, brother, and others could play. The family played from different rooms of the same house, and we had headsets on allowing us to talk, but just us. We would open our server to let others in, so that we could team up against them. My favorite move was when we turned off the gravity, and watched the player float up above the barricade they was hiding behind. Pow pow pow! Laughs and WiFives were exchanged. Retorts were sent over message, and those were laughed off too.
The gravity of it all was light. Our safe playground inside, yet, virtual rooms, we explored. In turn our minds were spent doing newish things through the experience of the result of one of the technology sciences: Video Games.
If life was a game, I wouldn’t play it. This is because as a person raised playing games, I know that once the game is done, you want to restart. You’ll do this until you’re tired, and until the next game comes out. You might play that new game for some time, but interests shift, and you pick up another. And maybe you buy a completely different console. You try the games on there. By that time, it’s been years since you played Half Life.
You stop playing games, as your focus shifts to different subjects. Hopefully you read a little. And dance some. Maybe even make a friend or two. How can we delineate a linear life? Some argue that we get our violence from the games. As if learning stops in between gaming sessions. We did learn something from games. That is, they are a symptom of tech, of science. Faith. What of it? Did God ask Noah to build an Ark, and was he considered crazy for it? Fuck yeah he was. But when that shitstorm of a storm hit, and flooded pretty much the whole world, Noah chilled, floating on that there ark.
Did god command us to build tech through science, through faith? I don’t know, but it is thanksgiving, and in the spirit we thank those that helped us grow. Those imperfect people with illness and faults. They helped shape us. Who is to blame at this point?
Before technology, people of great faith came to me and acknowledged my brokenness. You couldn’t really tell after a while. Besides a couple of scars, and the missing wing, most just saw me blend in. I never turned my back on those that didn’t now that I only had one wing full of feathers to remind me that I can’t fly. Spiraling through life, I ran into friends and strangers, and all be damned if I didn’t learn something from each one. I am smart.
Twisty words, all crooked and cockeyed, coming out every which way. Parse your meaning together, like the algorithms learning how to serve you your internet.
We open our eyes to feed.