We are choosing machines destined to choose among thousands of turns in the maze. And we only choose and choose. Freedom is refusing to choose, waiting for the push, the whim, the lure. Freedom is a terrible crime. Freedom is the opium for the people.
Freedom is eternal weekend morning.
We, not just humans but also primates, mammals, and even vertebrates, are so stubborn in our body needs, so obstinate in our logic, so ridiculously predictable in our curiosity, habits, and aberrations that Technos is as certain of our desires as we are of sunrise. For the settlers of Technos, unaware of our self-image, we are vast verdant continents with enchanting climate, gentle winds, and warm rains sending the purring brooks of the mind down the magnetic curves and hills of the body. They will get everything they want intelligence and spontaneity of wit except suffering. Looking for sense and finding sensuality in sense and even more so in nonsense is human. Things will look down on us and on each other.