Monthly Archives: October 2011

Fnool Statement #@

We were outgunned and outnumbered, and so we had to run. We evacuated that universe through a back door. We had no idea where it would lead us, but anything, we thought, would be better than that dreadful existence.

Oh, how wrong we were.

We suspected it would be quite bad, but failed to realize just how much. We never expected to find ourselves in this dump of a solar system. For starters, you have a sun. How old fashioned is that? It is truly offensive to the eye. And that awful, smelly gas covering half of the planets in the system… how dreadful. How… unhygienic.

But all that, distasteful as it is, can almost be forgotten when compared to the real horror we’ve found in your system: the ugly perversion you call “consciousness”. That, for us, was too much to bear. We could no longer restrain ourselves.

And thus we’ve exterminated all life from the atmosphere of the planet you name “Venus”. Then, for a very long time, and despite the fact that we could not get rid of the distasteful atmosphere, all was fine. Until you people came along.

We’ll have to get rid of you too. But not before we turn off that ugly sun of yours.


Context

recordingmachinecol_sm

“I feel much safer since I swallowed that recording machine,” she said.

“I thought that one would feel less secure, knowing that each step of one’s life is recorded and can be made public,” I said.

“How old fashioned,” she said, and I couldn’t miss the patronizing note in her voice. “I like being public. Everybody likes it.”

“I don’t like it.”

“But that’s not the best part about it,” she said. “I like being able to go over my actions over and over again, make sure that everything’s right, undo anything which isn’t.”

“If you’re so busy fixing your recording,” I said, “when do you have time to do anything new?”

She stared at me. I didn’t like the look in her eyes one bit.

“This is obviously a mistake,” she said at last, then sub-vocalized a command which undid our meeting.

I would like to tell you who she was, and even more than that – who I am, but I can’t. I’m cut out. The only thing I know is that dialogue of our short interview, and the text you’re reading right now. Other than that, I have no memory or context. When this final line of text will be read, I will, being this text and nothing more, temporarily or eternally, cease to exist.

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