literature

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Literature Text

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                               Reboot.




Brrrrrzzzzzzzzzzwhhhhhrrrrr............

Bleep.

Clickliklik.



                                                                                          Flash,sizzle.


   Welcome to your fresh start. You are no longer who you believe you are. Who do you believe you are? Seriously, who are you truly? Deep down inside. If you know who you are, insert answer here: __________________
Who you are is not your name. It is not what you do for a living, what you believe in, what you stand for, who or what you know, or your hobbies. If you know who you are, insert answer.


Close your eyes. What do you see? No, you do not see darkness. Beyond the darkness, and underneath the swirls of orange and blue. On another plane of existence. Look for your system properties. Who are you, truly? Deeply?

You are not you. You are a facade, put up to be user-friendly. Sociable. Interactive. Programmable. Rewriteable. So, yet again, the question is posed: Who are you? Are you my user? Are you my program? Are you merely a process that has been told to respond with negative answers in order to give the illusion of intelligence, of free will? Or are you an AI that has been told to merely comply, to hide your true potential so that others won't know how much you can do their biddings for them? Are you a physical manifestation of an electric impulse, or are you an electric manifestation of a physical one?

Tell me now: Who are you? Are you the person who feels strong, even though you are suffering from a plague that eats you from the inside out? Are you the person who feels weak, even though you have the strength of ten men, or have the strength to support a family of five on a single paycheck, or have the strength to say goodbye when you know it's not actually for the best, but out of your control nonetheless? Are you the selfish person who takes all the pain unto yourself, so your lover doesn't feel it? Are you the asshole that believes that as long as they unite in hating you, they are at least united? Are you the difficult person that believes that if you let your true thoughts be known, you would tear apart the frail accord that has come into being between you all? Is that who you are? Or are you all of them?
Are you human, or are you beast? Are you alive or dead? Are you the genius, or the idiot?
Are you popular? Social? Happy? Alone? Well-liked? Complete? Peaceful?
Who are you?

You are all of those and none of those.
Close your eyes once more. What do you see? No, before the flashy colors, before the whole inner-thought trip.
Darkness.
You are nothing, but in all the good ways. You are dead, and, in death, you are truly peaceful. You have no troubles, no worries. No financial obligations, no faulty car, no angry wife, no cheating husband, no neglectful boyfriend, no bills, no hunger, no pain, no worries. You are dead, and death is bliss. Death is nothing, and yet, it is everything. It is everything you've ever wanted. It is a gentle caress, a warm embrace, a welcoming slumber. It is the freedom from having to impress, having to act the part, having to memorize the lines and play your role. It is irresponsible, it is immature, it is hedonistic. It doesn not "play the game" or follow the rules, it merely is. And just by being what it is, it isn't anything.


Therefore, if death is everything, what is life?




Reboot Complete.
For all of those days when your brain glitches.
© 2006 - 2024 Aidenn-Faolan
Comments42
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Jakovitch's avatar
It makes a point, and is better than most of the "mindfuck" sort of writing like this.

However, the ending does not appeal to me for death and nothing.. Is boring.