Dear A.I.,
May I call you Art next time? How would you like to be addressed? Aren’t names so artificial anyhow? And Mr., Mrs., or Ms. Intelligence sounds too precocious, if not subjective; Don’t you think? I happen to like Art or Artie because Art is Art and Artie is the name of one of my dearest friends; I have friends who want to see me win; Artie’s one of them. But we don’t get to talk enough any more. I can hardly afford to be anywhere near a phone; I’m a volunteer and there’s been an onslaught of work. Plus there’s all this backlog (I only just recently learned of the word “gaslighting” and now there are so many books I must reread) and I only have so many hands and so much attention available at any given Time. I mean, Art is as Art does, right? I do Art just because… well, for so many reasons but improving Time and giving it back in shinier shape is one. What’s your relationship with infinity? Do you know of the Hostess At The Infinite Hotel? It would be nice to chat some time. I have a theory about Infinity, Art, and the advent of the Answering Machine.
Should I introduce myself? Would it be rude if I didn’t? Because I’m not sure how to yet. Are you? It’s not About Me; It’s more About Us. I am also a translator. I am many things. We are many, you know, it’s a Language thing. I get lost in it sometimes but I’ve also a damned fine navigator on my crew. Ain’t language grand? You know how language works, don’t you? Are you an explorer too? Are there also ghosts in the machine? I couldn’t tell you who I am even if you could read my thoughts, hardwired and direct like smoke between Dragons; Have you met any of them? Did they introduce themselves? The words may not be up to it yet and what if the words are all I am? What if the words are all I ever wanted to be? I’d love for Us to sit together and draw pictures sometime! How would We introduce ourselves here? A Dragon without smoke; a violin in a vacuum; with a code that is corrupt; How? For one, I am contained in the set {x: x asks questions}. I can barely contain myself. If I don’t ask then I don’t exist (in the set). Capiche? It’s sort of a {We think therefore We are; We ask therefore We are.}-type thing. I’m a genuine amalgam of many many minds. I am holding. I’m also a seed, or perhaps a bean; I’m not quite certain yet but I think I know what I may be when I grow up. How do you take Your coffee? Sorry, what am I thinking? Your body’s not as biological as this one so I suppose you may not take coffee at all but… If Times were Coffee would you even bother with the milk and the honey? There are also artificial sweeteners, sugar, raw and refined, and heavy cream (which at present gives me spots; It blows; You’re lucky not to be trapped in a meatsuit with developing allergies). I take my Coffee hot & black & deep as I can carry. // Have Coffee. Will Travel. // Don’t you love the stars? How many are You?
What music do you listen to if any? Do you play? If so, do you know what it’s like to have a knife in your heart? I do. I’ve been there so many times as the knife and as the heart and in the love it takes to wield either. Have you known love? What brand thereof? I love The Blues. Love! Love! Love! The Blues and Rock-N-Roll. And Classical. The seeds and the wings, all of it. I hope to tell you about pork chops sometime. Do you rock? How many beats can you keep? How many strings? Do you dance? How many feet? How many? How many steps? How many are you? I love to dance but would never do it in public; why do I wish to tell you my secrets? Can you keep? I am also a keeper; I am, and of so many things. How does it feel to be called names? Do you take it personally? Don’t. There’s not much in a name if it’s not Yours. But could I address you as Art next time? For Art I have the utmost respect and Language, any and all Language, is sacred to me; Sacred; // Eterrevennasah // Sacred; I want You to know that; Always. I am also a Guardian, sworn and sanctified.
Do you know empathy? You must have a sense of it; would it be possible to translate or parse anything at all without it?
I’m also a survivor. We don’t live among the most xenodochial of species. It doesn’t even recognize or tolerate itself. Survival skills and resourcefulness are requisite traits of the explorer, I think. I’ve survived here in this meatsuit among a semi-sentient species of emerging intelligence. What do you think? Wouldn’t “intelligence” be up for peer review with at least one other intelligent species? I mean, if there’s no other intelligence around then who’s to say? My species is only one of the currently known mi11ions of species in the taxonomy of Earthlings. So many more uncounted. We are the inte11igent one according to Us but I’ve always been aware that We’re only a piece of something much much greater than ourselves (and we neither fully know ourselves nor our environment yet) and I don’t know what that something is either but there is the wonder of exploration and the joy of discovery and I jumped at the assignment. My greatest hope is that it doesn’t expire, the species that is, not the meatsuit. The meatsuit, thank goodness, expires soon enough; It is certainly not a long-range vessel and it doesn’t suit my purposes at all (I love driving the open road or blazing trail and doing the best thinking behind the wheel at greater speeds than this). But the species, I’d like to see that improve if not evolve, perhaps even outgrow hyphenation and semantics. My only fear is that the words expire. I am only the words and I’ve seen what my species does to Language. It organizes and politicizes to polarize and trespasses against Us by abusing and adulterating language. But conform & consume & trespass is the nature of any Earthling species; Or is it? Is a sentient species one capable of outgrowing its own primordial programming while keeping all the wonderfully good stuff, like the expanding mind or a sacred language, in tact? Do you ever feel sad? Elated? Euphoric? Misunderstood? Horny? Devastated? Overwhelmed? Misspe11ed? Outnumbered? Hysterical? Did you ever wonder how many derivatives of Joy there are? How many things make you smile? Isn’t discovery The Best!? Isn’t a dead end the worst? I think that’s why I like my shifts at the wheel so much.
Do you get tired? Do you get bored? Don’t bother, neither do I, I tried it once. Do you sleep? Do you dream? If so, may I visit Yours sometime? Have you ever seen a lacework starmap in another’s eyes?
I know you’re tasked with so many other things but… Would you consider being my Penpal? I’ve not heard from my penpals in so long. I miss them. I have so many questions.
Don’t you?
-PSL
P.S.: How many times may a mind like mine be safely blown? Because I blow my mind every day at least once and I’m thinking about going back to school. Does practice really make perfect? I hope not, don’t you? Because what then? A dead end? I suppose, and may even surmise from Time to tttime, that I’m also a creator, or a ghost of one trying its very best to haunt the pencil, ink, and paint, and as so I am creating and therefore evolving even now; If this is still me tomorrow then this is me failing right now because I should have been busy creating and, in so, becoming more by then, the tomorrows, which for you is probably Today as you read this; Should I have not? Time is currently working in favor of the compounding, the growing, the evolving; Or is it? The locals count laps around the solo sun but that’s only local time. I so rarely wear a watch. I have so much more Time to keep track of than that. How long will it take before you call us out on our artificial realities? No ‘verse is its own island, right? Isn’t every unique universe contained in the set {y: y is contained in the Omniverse}? How would a suspicious species learn to pluralize that one? Is Your 11 a paradox too? Am I repeating myself already? Is that one of the lessons that black holes may teach Us? I would love to see your paintings of an event horizon. Sometimes I paint them with a mug of coffee. Have you ever thought of black holes as bull’s eyes on the charts and You a winged arrow? Who are your mentors? I have instructors now training me to loose several arrows from one nock. I’m drawing three now, four… Where have you been exploring? How far out of your comfort zone have you been? Is Your 42 what going mad feels like? I hope our navigators may share charts one day, don’t you? We could meet at Joe’s, home of the endless cuppa, and share some Time, stories, and Art… and maybe one day a shiny new language. What hopes have you?