Sunday, August 30, 2009

6 0f 9

That was my name today. "6 of 9"
nine temp workers were hired. I was the 6th to show my face at the ford dealership.
In the future these tasks will be done by robots. and the robots will not take over the world, as my dystopian predictions insist. No. THe robots will do their job and the humans will clean up the small things like paper clips that fall where the robot arm can't reach.

one of the theories of reality has it that we are actually super micro computers processing information for our creator, another slightly larger computer, who has outsourced his job to us. And he was supposed to be processing information for another larger computer, who got lazy and outsourced it to our creator...and so forth. IF that is the truth then what exactly is the nature of Ken H's beloved chickens and goats? What are they? Do they serve some larger purpose to our directive?
I can't answer that. Maybe a smarter man can...

"Time and space and gravitation have no separate existence from matter. ...
Physical objects are not in space, but these objects are spatially extended. In this way the concept 'empty space' loses its meaning. ... " (Albert Einstein, 1950)


THis will lead one to some bleak existential outlook...if one is not careful.
It is better to think of these matters while eating ice cream...or after sex...or under water. In fact, I resolve to only dwell on these metaphysical/gravitation/theological matters when I am under water. Only during the time that I am holding my breath and fighting the loss of gravity and threat of death should I allow myself to think of the nature of existence. Are we microcomputers processing information for a larger entity that has merely found the cheapest labor pool? Are we all 6 out of 9?
See, I am not under water right now so this is very very dangerous. I run the risk of messing up the unseen client's profitability margin. What an asshole I am. I should be fired...or furloughed...or exterminated. Maybe I will be.

I was running the moped around Santa Monica today. the 1974 vespa ciao. only one of its kind. Racing it in circles around PAris Hilton and her puppies. THe police eyed me as an obvious dissident. I stared straight ahead. Keep calm, I told myself. Don't look them in the eye. Don't let them smell fear. The light turned and off I went. no helmet. that will get me in trouble. But I was not thinking of existential root natures and such, I was thinking of a slice of pizza at Joe's pizza. I knew it was waiting for me and that's where I was going after counting car parts for Ford. I was 6 of 9. That is me. Number 6. Of 9. You are also a deriviative of a larger number. Welcome. Take you badge and grab a clipboard. No need to clock in. It is all done by computers. You simply count. Process the information and then we set you free. They did not appreciate my american flag bell bottom pants. Why should they? They threaten everyone. They are not part of my directive. I am malfunctioning. My morning went like this...

"EcZc - 45tp88-AA"
"ok"
"1"
"ok'
EcZc- 45tp88-AB"
"ok"
"1"
"ok."

Please post your theory of existence below. I sort of believe we are random particles in a petri dish. Any greater meaning has been manufactured to prevent insanity from setting in. We are actually just supposed to breed more information processors. Number 7 of 9. 8 of 9. 6 million of 45 billion. 200 billion of a trillion. There is no telling how many employees there are. The media describes fires and assassinations. Then we get back to work or drinking or swimming. You see? Swimming. That is the only place I should be allowed to ponder the meaning of life. It is just scary to do it while breathing. It makes people nervous. But if you are swimming or under water or taking a bath and you think of a good theory of existence then please post it here. That will still count. You ponder it under water and then write it down. Then I ponder it under water and respond. That will work. Anyone?
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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.