All food is either precipitated from strange lipids, coated in organophosphates, or grown in depleted soils. The air teems with the vaporized remains of mismanaged forests, tire rubber, and the miscellaneous glues and solvents used to address the fact that the desk I’m sitting behind is an assembly of compacted waste chips with no integrity of its own. The great computers count the primes; somebody scrolls through my photos. The phone recommends a few girls to me. I lift the metal plate and put it back down. A man I studied with writes C++ in Los Angeles and missiles around the world acquire locks on civilian targets. Morning standup, what did you do yesterday, I deleted a few families. I ask Claude for help. Glaciers drip, drip, dripping. He’s still scrolling through my photos. She texts me back. I text her back. Zero to seventy on the 101, a billboard whips past—Helvetica Neue, white text on bokeh—meet your new AI proctologist. Accelerator jammed to the floor. Siri interrupts the furious roar of the engine: Haha sorry I’m pretty busy for the next few years Smiling Face with Tear Emoji See-no-evil Monkey Emoji. Meditation teacher: in deep, altered states you can learn to notice the inherent stupidity of doing anything at all (upon hearing this many listeners became awakened). I change the color of a button and make eight thousand dollars. I change it back and get promoted. Phone buzzes, little green icon…!!…Low power mode disabled. Lift the plate and put it down. Oh you’re doing inner work too? That’s great. My new practice is going to the forest and screaming and beating the shit out of furniture. Interviewer: it looks like you’ve never stayed at a company for more than a year, why? <head thrown back, mouth open wide, droning like a didgeridoo> Ok, thank you. The next interview is a take-home, you’ll have three hours to automate everyone you love in PyTorch.
THE INSULT is that it’s all an accident.
Reminded me of Radiohead's "Fitter Happier".