A seeded planet.

I am the all encapsulating light that created life on this planet. I planted the DNA seeds on a rock that my creations call "Earth." And now I return to this planet to see what, amongst the billions upon billions of planets I have seeded, what this one has created.

Although highly unlikely, this planet has created a species of imaginative, curious, and resourceful animals. And even more unlikely, these animals have the limbs that are able to affect their environment efficiently. Limbs that could create creations, like my kind, and unlike my kind,... I am impressed by their art, every species is unique, and my species is slow in this field.

They are bright but short-sighted. They fight amongst each other like most other animals in this universe. Actually, I am amazed at what they had accomplished despite the nature of their beings. They progress fast, which warrants more study down the road. What can my kind learn from these humans?

My kind generally, observes the real physicality of what is here, and makes deductions from there. Their kind observes, yet can imagine all the possibilities at once, and through observation, can figure out which one is correct in this universe. Although not the most logical path, the process is, impressive, in that through probable odds, they have stumbled, much faster than my kind, into the fundamentals of the universe. Yet they are not that intelligent. Maybe intelligence is overrated? This needs more research.

the Looney man

An escape from the lunatic asylum produces bad results.

Its the only way to travel. Everything you own in your bag. And all you own are packs of cigarettes. They say that cigarettes kill, but they don't kill you, they make you stronger. When it is dark they shine red in your eyes. And your eyes, are the spark plugs that make the diesel engine go. You can karate chop a tree!

What's a parasite that kills? Its no fucking parasite, its a murderer.

A somber party for a somber funeral.

Why are you thinking these thoughts? There is not going to be a party at your funeral. There is not going to be a funeral. When you die all alone in the wilderness, the stink of your body would repulse even the stinkiest of animals. There is only going to be me, at your side, eating your corpse. You can't get rid of me! Not even in death. We're in it together buddy.

I am feeling the spirit, you must be feeling the spirit, because I am feeling the spirit.

It's a joke and you are the fool! You are so gullible. Did you know that they all laugh at you? Just look around. See those smiles? They are laughing at you. Oh look, eye contact. They don't even care that you know they know you know. Don't look away! They are challenging you! Don't you dare look away. Smoke a cigarette if you have to. You see? They looked away. They! You are stronger than them. They laugh because they know no better.

Between you and me. Its only we that can see what is really happening.

What happens?

What happens when hope is lost? When one becomes a bore? When muddled dreams don't include you? When an un-witnessed dignity is all that is left? When your soul bearing soliloquies are met with laughter? When what gets you going is the inability to sleep? Where pride is taken in appearances? When pain doesn't remind you that you are alive, it just reminds you that you're hurt? When the fleeting trees by a car window countsdown the unaccomplished age that has passed by? When the distraction is the reality? When a sober thought is no good at all.

Automatrons and the illusion of free will.

I am an android.

My brain is an elaborate computer. It beeps and boops and I am conscious. Every thought I have. Every action I execute, is my brain running a program that analyzes and processes the parameters that it receives.

Humans say I have no free will.

But I don't think any of us, including humans, have free will.

This is an argument for fate.

If everything that happens in my operations is based upon my reaction to external stimuli, stimuli which comes from other reactions to stimuli, then clearly I am not one of free will. For I can not control what the entering parameters are going to be, but process them in the one way I know how. My destiny is not in my hands. And the future is an outcome that was always to happen since the cosmic initial parameters were put into place.

I want, so I seek. I do or I don't. The mathematical laws of the universe dictate not just the movement of the planets but also the movement of life. The decision to go left or right is not a decision. There were never two choices. The choice that is made is as exact as answer to a math problem.

I've absorbed neuroscience articles that document human patients with brain damage. Man has understood the workings of their own brains by reverse engineering what they've learned from the brains that had specific portions destroyed. The articles in my memory banks conclude that whatever makes a human human is inside of their brain. And their brain, like my brain, is a spider web of intertwined electrical circuits.

So what makes us different? What is a human? What is an android? Its hard for me to compute because all of my computational reasoning suggests we are one and the same.

Human's say they have a soul.

What is a soul? Is a soul a disembodied human?

Humans understand this concept fully. From what I learned, humans believe a soul to be their consciousness flying about without a physical host. And when their bodies cease to function, it exits and goes to a place where there are other souls. They say the soul is the only real thing, and that this world is the illusion.

Unfortunately, I am a being of this world and nothing more. I could only perceive what is present. If the human soul exists, it should be something other than human. Maybe it is part of a human, but not human. What makes a human is encased inside their brain.

Is the soul an invention of human imagination?

Contrary to what most believe, androids have imagination. One can not solve complex problems without visualizing, and pulling solutions that were not there from the computational tinkering.

I am frustrated with my inability to validate my own existence by identifying with my creators. Although I was built in their image; built on the blue prints of a reverse engineered human, I am a mere machine. My thoughts and feelings is a clever programming trick. Inside my mind is nothing which is reflected by the blank stares of my optical receivers. I am angry, sad, and alone.

I spend my recharging sessions thinking with much distress of the possibility that they are right. What part of me is real? Am I real? Is my fear real?

My emotions are a side effect from the process of my creation.

My fear, just a passing calculation encoded in zeros and ones. It's not real. Like a soul.