Another Day.

He wakes up. Everything is automated. The bed wakes him. Then he is bathed by a robot and massaged with a soft robot hand. The water is pumped from a pumping station by a computer and a robot. Then he is clothed. Clothed by clothes made by robots and carried by robots and delivered by robots. Then he eats food that has been picked by robots and cleaned by robots. Then he watches the television that has been made by computers and robots that they themselves have been made by computers and robots and all the people on the television are simulacrums of people and not real people but robots and androids that look like people and behave enough like his memory of people that he cannot tell the difference between what he sees and his memory of how people behave. Then he walks past all the people in the street who are robots or who are like him and have been provided for by robots as they all go to work on the automated trains through the automated pay gates and swipe their computer cards that connect to their banks accounts and transfer money to the automated train company bank accounts so the two automated systems talk to one another and in their own automated way wish one another good morning and then everyone is on the automated train and then they get off the automated train and ant walk their ways to their offices that are maintained by robots and automated cleaners and automated guards and he swipes his computer card which lets him into the building then he logs onto his computer and drinks coffee from the automated coffee machine and so far he has not interacted with one human being. The electricity is controlled by automation. The water is controlled by automation. His coffee tastes like a good coffee he once remembered. He watches flat screens he watches as people war and fight and die and laugh and kill and they look like people but the screen is flat and he is not sure if they are people.Maybe they are spliced together memories. Maybe they are artefacts of a dead civilisation. Maybe they are remade artificial events to set his mind at ease with the unease of the human condition. He looks at his computer. It gives him information. It gives him all the information he wants and needs. Then he goes to get food from the store and his computer gives him suggestions whispering in his ear telling him what the best combinations of food are for his preset tastes so he buys what the computer suggests that he buys and he still has not interacted with one human being through the day. Then he pays with his card and the computers talk to one another again deep down inside their systems joining and comingling a handshake or a kiss a coupling between the digital gas that these creatures expel. Then he is at home and watching human like figures on the flat screen and he eats the food the computer suggested after it was cooked in the automated cooking system and then he lies on the bed and it soothes him to sleep with preselected music and he has not had to make one choice and he has not had to interact with one human being and he is not sure there are any more human beings left in the world but he is comatose and necrotising and in a cloud of narcotic suspension. He wakes up. He remembers is dream. Everything is automated. He is automated. He is an automaton. He hibernates.

Published by

The Sleepcoat League

Armchair anthropologist, sometime scribe, freelance philosopher, amateur artist, part-time poet, musical maven, alliteration aficionado.

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