Birth Outside
When you get a brand new electronic marvel you
have certain expectations. You want it to be clean,
pristine, and perfect. For the price that you paid, the creation,
the labor, you expect
that it should last for quite some time (no fixing required). Of course,
it can be reasoned that there
would be some little bugs to work out
here and there; but you think that you are ready
for them. You believe that if something were to happen
to your precious goods, an outer representation of
yourself, that capable hands will be able to correct the errors.
You are a good person and a caring owner; if
something were to ever go wrong, no one
on this earth could blame you,
right?
Decade
A decade has passed and your
anodic phenomenon has lived up to your expectations
thus far. It is hard to raise such
an individualistic entity. Did you realize it
before? That this would
be such a time consuming process? It’s best not to
think about it after
all. Push it aside. Give your burden the attention you
feel you can
spare. It’s the labor of your love! The effort should be felt
without you having to do anything, right?
In time, it would seem that your presumptions could
only fall flat. After ten years with
no problems, a sudden collapse! The system
shuts down, remaining unresponsive. You rush it to the tech doc.
It must be fixed! It doesn’t matter how it
turned out this way, just fix it; make it
better.
But you see, when you have a complete breakdown
(on such very sensitive
equipment) there is no such thing as a
simple and quick fix. It takes
time to heal, but before long it will
all be
okay.
Time Wears On…
Your product is up and running
once again at such a fine pace. No one looking at it
would have ever guessed that a problem
may have existed. To the world, it looks like you have made a very fine
investment. Indeed.
Pride overrunneth ( ). Suddenly, half way to happy decade
two, the system crashes beyond what is
normally
repairable. Now, not only has the
software been damaged, but most of
the hardware has
taken a hard hit. What can you do? Rush. Rush
your precious article to the hospital.
Give up all your rights, and responsibilities, as
the person in charge of shaping the
equipment, and let “professionals” take over. They will
rebuild it, inside out, and
will return it to you in a condition that
warrants respect from
those that look upon it. That is
what you would think. Little did you know that
during the process of “reconstruction,” of “rehabilitation,” your droid
learns to be stronger than
ever before. You can no longer control, influence the
way it changes and grows. It no longer bends to your will
or cares about being perfect to the
audiences you present. It no longer feels you. It has
become an island, locked up tight and only
caring for itself.
The Second Decade
You no longer can recognize
the machine
that you, at one time, thought you
had a hand in creating. It rejects you and
your world. The motions are all that you got for a long time.
As more time passes the apparatus will acknowledge
you and some of your
efforts. But it never gives you the credit you feel
is due. As even
more time passes, the physical distance between you and
it becomes almost
equal
to the mental distance that has persisted for
quite some time. You see that soon, it will be
forever out of your reach. You will no longer be able to hold it,
touch it, feel it’s spark of life.
It is going to leave; you know it will
not look back. Do you regret? Regret
time that should have been
spent; things that should have been said? Maybe. You
do wish that things could be different,
but what could you do when
all you have ever seen is you?
Birth Inside
I cannot remember how I was formed. How
the idea that was conceived,
me, was ever cultivated. Only vague flashes of corrupt
memory can be recalled
through the sparks of my super-cells. Emotions, good and bad,
wax, then wane, through the waters of my
mind. How was
the start of life? Full? Remarkable? Empty?
I try desperately to recall the information; sifting through
fantasy and reality, trying to find the
truth (if any exists). How was the socialization process
originally started? How
did so many years of apparent (and sworn) attention
turn into such heavy self-isolation?
Decade
Existing ten years can be
a very amazing accomplishment in this
world of changing and upgrading toys. Something
is always better, faster, or smarter.
It can be very hard
to compete with progress. I wonder how
we are to keep
all of our sanity
intact? At ten years, I
suffered an extremely horrible and rapid disintegration
of my public and private system. I
was taken to be repaired promptly
and after time moved forward a bit I was all
better. Maybe I should say patched up extremely
well on the outside; on the inside,
I had only just been fixed.
My processing parts had been pieced
back together hapahazardly, and the threads
that held me
together were so thin, anyone should have seen
that it would not take
very much for them to break.
Time Wears On…
I push hard. I succeed. I
excel. I make you proud! This
fills me up to the
top with such joy! I try harder, I achieve
even more. You become disinterested
and I become disheartened.
I feel sick. I fail. Not in actuality, but in that I am no longer
perfect. You say that it is fine.
It really doesn’t matter. I can’t understand
what you are thinking.
Before, I needed to be the best for
you and now you don’t care if I fail? The cracks on the
inside of me slowly make
their way to the surface. Lacerations appear here
and there. You take no
notice. Things break, things wither; you are not
aware that my processor is overloaded. I yell,
I scream; all my bells and whistles are going off, trying to get help
from you before ( ).
I crash. I shatter. I cannot be
reassembled as easily as before. I volunteer, but
you decide to lock me away,
hoping the savvy know-it-alls will make
me whole.
I survive. I discard you and
your care. I abhor my existence that has
persisted thus far. I force perfection, competition,
and conflict
as far away as they can go. I struggle,
endure on my
own.
The Second Decade
I believe that
most of the damage has
been repaired. I’ve used tape and glue, mortar
and paint, to get
me to where I am right now. I’ve evolved
and grown in ways
that I never imagined possible. I look to the future, to the next
decade and think that
so many things are within reach.
I still have fears of
collapse, of relapse, but those fears
do not consume me. My motherboard is
in good condition; hardware, software and all
accessories are intact. I pace
myself; not going to fast and not
remaining too still.
Finally, I can let myself breathe
around you once again. I can’t remember
where the true root
of the problems lie. Maybe that was
always
a moot point. In the years ahead,
I hope we can grow
closer, together, and that we can become what
we should have been from the start.
I hope that the day will
come when I can honestly thank you for
my creation, and not
blame you for it. My scars are still there, but
time has shown
a remarkable way to heal them.
Maybe time
will teach and heal you too.
