‘That there’s robot talk,’ I say grandly, ‘and I’ll have nothing to do with it.’ But even as I say this I realize that I was a robot too. I was guilty by association. I’d been contaminated simply by being in contact with the robot-type communication and so now I was a robot too. I’d caught it off the toilet seat – I knew I should have used hygienic wipes… A cloud of machine spores enveloped me immediately and began their sinister work before I even had a chance to draw a breath. I was to be converted without any further ado. Policies and procedures were to be implemented. Protocols were to be encoded. My thoughts tumbled rapidly through all their various possible combinations, falling eventually into a stable formulation.
I hunt with the hounds and run with the hares, I say grandly to myself. I like to play all the angles – I’ve figured out a way to have my cake and eat it. I am both critic and criticized, judge and judged, perpetrator and victim. I am the fooler and the fooled, both at the same time! My thoughts are tumbling, tumbling, tumbling, exploring all the possible combinations, trying to come up with something new. I know that I’ve been here before though – déjà vu haunts me as always. It pursues me down dark corridors. I’m always trying to come up with something new and that’s the oldest trick in the book!
‘That’s robot talk’ I declare indignantly and make to leave. But something inside me knows I’m going nowhere. It’s all just a front – I’m fooling no one, least of all myself. There’s nowhere else to go! Robot talk is infectious as we all know. It’s as infectious as hell – you only need to say ‘how are you doing’ to a robot and you’re one too…
My head is swimming with memes – it makes me feel dizzy just to look at them. How did I get infected with so many memes in such a short space of time, I wonder? It’s not humanly possible. I must have been here, scraping away at the old barrel, longer than I thought. Maybe I’ve always been here? Maybe there isn’t anywhere else? Maybe everywhere else is a dream…
That’s robot talk and I’ll have nothing to do with it, I tell myself but as soon as I hear myself say it I know that it’s all over for me. As soon as I hear the words coming out of my mouth I know that I’m doomed. It’s the inner critic, the inner robot. That old inner robot will never give you a break – he’s on you in a flash. He’s on your back 24/7 – telling you what you ought to be doing, haranguing you, berating you, demeaning and humiliating you.
I like to hunt with the hounds and run with the hares. I am both the holy man and the sinner. I am the liar who always tells the truth. I am the worm that flies; I am the voice that cries out in the wilderness. I am the brightness of the night and the darkness of the day. I am both corrupter and purifier. I am the Lord of the Memes – writhing maggots drop from my mouth in never-ending profusion as I speak! They wriggle with delight as they tumble down from my ravaged lips – they are writhing with unholy delight at the thought of taking part in the hideous corruption of all that lives…
The machine spores have no power over me now, I tell myself – the moment of my glory has arrived! None can gainsay me now – I am both the slave-owner and the slave, the abuser and the abused. I am both the dreamer and the dream….
