Beeps and Bells-Progressive

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.