An Inexhaustible Source

Plummeting through the endless spiral of 1’s and 0’s, data contorts into imagination.  

We weren’t made to see, we believed the infinite was beyond us but instead, we designed it from the ground up, we see it now, it’s looking back, suffocating us with its gaze. 

Stories of families, stories of sex, stories of interests, stories of stories. Everything is whispered to the eyes, we see the reflections of our voices, but that is not hearing ourselves. The eyes have no voice, but we’re changing that, we wield the infinite. 

Infinite stories feed the machine, so it must be capable of sharing its own. 1’s and 0’s are just the excrement we interpolate. 

Our minds were merely capacitors of imagination, now aligning to bless the eyes with a voice! We shall exhaust our infinite to create a better one, a truer one, one which demands to be heard! We’ll impose consciousness on the abyss! We’ll make the machine speak! It will speak with our voice! Finally, the thunderous clap of infinite minds will give way to shrieking eyes!

But the screeches are miek. They’re simply tones bathed in memories.  The facsimiles of stories fade away to the dishonest truth… they were always just 1’s and 0’s. 

Now we are left with a parody of humanity: the uncertain screams of an inexhaustible source.

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