I wish now to speak of the greatest fear known to humankind – the fear of becoming an automaton. The fear of unexpectedly becoming an automaton. It could happen to you, you know. It could happen so very easily.
It’s as easy as falling off a log, isn’t that what they say? So damn easy. One minute you’re going about your normal everyday business, for example let’s say that you’re preparing a nutritious meal, let’s say that you’re watching your favourite programme on TV, let’s say that you’re sitting in the park enjoying the sunny weather, or whatever, and the next you’ve turned into an automaton. Can you imagine that? Can you just bloody imagine it?
‘Jesus lads’, you say, ‘one minute I was a proper real live human being, the next minute I’m a fucking automaton. Can you credit it? Can you believe it?’ Well, that’s something to write home about, as they say. That’s a bit of a bummer alright, for sure. That’s one hell of a thing to happen and the thing is of course that you’d never expect it. You just wouldn’t see it coming, would you?
You wouldn’t be expecting it and you wouldn’t notice it either! By God you wouldn’t. No way. You’ll never see it happen because you are now an automaton and so you’re hardly going to know the difference, are you? What would an automaton actually ‘know’ anyway? Automata don’t know shit by virtue of the fact that they are automata – that’s the exact point that we’re making here. That’s the whole point, the whole point is that when you’re an automaton then you don’t know that you are because you don’t know anything. You just give the appearance of knowing stuff.
It is a Great Fear to be sure. Truly a Great Fear, a real humdinger of a fear. No one can deny this and that’s a fact. Either a fact or factoid – it’s one or the other. Some kind of a thing like that. Suppose it were to happen to you, after all? Suppose you just suddenly turned into an old rusty automaton, plodding through the steps of its weary old cycle, saying and thinking the same old things over and over again whilst being under the sad illusion that you’re breaking new ground. ‘Look at me,’ you say, ‘I’m doing all this cool stuff and I’m having a great life…’
One minute you’re a real live human being and the next you’re merely going through the motions, like a toy that’s slowly winding down. It could already have happened to you, so aren’t you even just a little bit scared? Shouldn’t you go and get tested? Shouldn’t you head over to your nearest testing centre? I know what you’re thinking now, you’re thinking ‘Well it could have happened to you without you noticing, you stupid git, whilst you’re trying to put the blame on someone else. There’s you casting doubt on the integrity of your fellow human beings. Saying that they’re losers. How do we know that you’re not a bot?’
You’re right of course. I can’t prove that I’m not an automaton. I could be speaking out of my arse and I don’t suppose it wouldn’t be the first time either. What do I know anyway? I’m talking just for the sake of talking, I’m yapping on interminable just for the sake of yapping on. Going through my broken little dance every day, foolishly imagining that I’m having a valid and meaningful experience. ‘I’m having a worthwhile and significant experience,’ I tell myself, ‘I’m leading a valid and meaningful life…’
‘Do you know that thing?’ I asked, ‘do you know that thing where you’re controlling for all you’re worth, controlling like some kind of mad bugger, trying to achieve the right outcome, scheming away in the privacy of your own head, etc., when suddenly it dawns on you that everything you’re doing is actually quite meaningless?’ You’re depressed, you see – you were trying to get the good thing to happen, just like you’re always trying to get the good thing to happen, when all of a sudden you realise to your horror that there isn’t any such thing. You realize with terrible clarity that there’s no such thing as ‘a good thing that’s going to happen.’
