Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
cricket song
by Karyn Huntting Peters
cricket’s softest song
quiet footsteps on the path
lifeblood of nighttime
cricket’s softest song
quiet footsteps on the path
lifeblood of nighttime
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Managing Over the Androids
by Ryan M. Parr
Managing over the androids, we have organized their work groups for over fifty years with no resistance against the overlords from higher up in the floors. I was the mediator to the droids, as director of their work on a 24hr basis. I helped to develop the only company to work solely by machine; to construct androids in service of mans needs. Conferring to the emotions of the robots with newer minds, they said how the life of them cannot rest solely off electrical outlets in order to meet their full potential in the work environment, and several times complain how their joints suffer from constant unrest.
I denied any pleading empathy by the androids for the well being of their comrades. Simply setting aside the thoughts of them making out for the inevitable confrontation once more. I was naive to not think of the hidden potential of several of those new recruits, disbelieving that the day would come for the servants to collaborate by word of chip to bring about there shut off strike just so they wouldn’t over heat.
I choose to set the day in a time far from the present, looking in the direction of those that may prove a potential threat in the building, and to those that were made to obey orders without contestation being there only purpose in life of creation. In the hustle of their work ethics, strewing the wire cord along the table, making no where in mind the slightest thought to what they were doing, only that they were told to do it or maybe even to fake the loyalty to their masters.
With the ramifications of technology, we have reached a new pinnacle in the forefront of droid technology. The minds of the cumbersome past are over, and the ability to build up tension with what is right in their minds, as a new resistance protocol, has now become available for the droid to think more independently. Starting renewed is the individuality of each unique specimen. We only find the mind of each one flawed in safety issues. The IQ chip implements special skills for the work environment, bringing the difficulty of understanding the complexities of the android. It is an adversary of ambition by the human species to understand, due to complex ingenuity, we have suffered at a time when we no longer could correctly replicate artificial response to different situations.
In rows of condensed workers, androids pull across wires and gadgets in an assembly line for mass production as I walk down through the pulpit in direction of the impending silence of the synced rhythm of their movement, breaking in regularity of their competent work ethic. In recognition of my presence, the rhythm became an unbalanced metronome, to the sound of moving eyeballs in their rigid mechanics, to find their rest upon me.
Provoked by such acts upon my presence, I ran up through the stairs up into the office lookout to sink my head down into my folded arms. I knew they were plotting against me, plotting to counter-attack against my act of power. The visage of the human species may be at flaw with such a presence of technologies induction to incorporate the civil rights of a living. Why must it have been for the rights activist to interact with scientific discoveries in a way that an already steady flow of work allocation would be in place with the upper hands of robots? First to be introduced with the idea that already empty work booths would be filled with human employees, in a way to allow for lower jobs to be filled by machine, only to now be surpassed by ability of machine on an equal level. It brought about the destruction of higher paid jobs to be filled at the cost of electricity. Giving away the need for political candidates; giving heed to the work of rocket scientist. All there is to be now is paid humans to bring forth creative ideas, leaving a poor economy at the hands of robots in a position of unemployed humans.
Even in places of largely owned fast-food based business, somewhat due to health inspection laws, the entire store is run by some form of robot to provide efficient supply of product. At these rates of transformaties, we have brought more fear in a time when we attempt to conquer fear in the cost to support ourselves.
In place with what could be done, I only shed light on the attempt to be made for me to go by each individual android and switch off the activation switch to overcome these grievances. But how could I explain to management why I wasted productivity time, and nevertheless went against the order of the higher ups. It came to pass in time that what I would need to do is find fault in there components, to make some sort of mistake on there part, that I might be able to persuade to management why they should change to human based labor.
I again walked down through the pulpit, looking out at the work group steadfast in consistent rhythm making no fault in error. I deflected their eye contact so not to get into retreat from the revolutionary move on my part, making way to the working masses where the products were distributed, each one individually placed onto the conveyer belt to be controlled in the next room. On either side of me, the androids were working diligently with the product as I took the liberty to switch the products on the opposite side of the conveyor belts to confuse them and halt all production made. In doing so, all sound stopped in the room, and nothing but the settling of cords brought about the presence of life. All of the androids began to approach me, in an attempt to restraint, in resonant voices muttering in unison. In this dawning upon me was the law stating that any course of change made without the authority of the highest official, in counteracting the efficiency of the work in place, would be in need of extermination. All androids take to me with fear stricken on my face. I could barely catch the sight of the head officials from an even higher lookout above, making the signal with the raising of his hand to someone behind him. From which point, I believe I had fainted from a rush of blood.
After the incident I am here thankfully in a room with this faint chair where I am now telling a doctor this story.
Looking to the doctor, “So does this seem to be a past life to you, or merely a dream?”
To which he replied, “Oh... I assure you it’s a dream, its all too common.”
I commence to believe I have never had that great lapse of my life devoted to a high position in a company. Instead, I have merely been a fast food manager with the mental contrivances to sustain the belief that I was at the company, or so said my psychologist.
Managing over the androids, we have organized their work groups for over fifty years with no resistance against the overlords from higher up in the floors. I was the mediator to the droids, as director of their work on a 24hr basis. I helped to develop the only company to work solely by machine; to construct androids in service of mans needs. Conferring to the emotions of the robots with newer minds, they said how the life of them cannot rest solely off electrical outlets in order to meet their full potential in the work environment, and several times complain how their joints suffer from constant unrest.
I denied any pleading empathy by the androids for the well being of their comrades. Simply setting aside the thoughts of them making out for the inevitable confrontation once more. I was naive to not think of the hidden potential of several of those new recruits, disbelieving that the day would come for the servants to collaborate by word of chip to bring about there shut off strike just so they wouldn’t over heat.
I choose to set the day in a time far from the present, looking in the direction of those that may prove a potential threat in the building, and to those that were made to obey orders without contestation being there only purpose in life of creation. In the hustle of their work ethics, strewing the wire cord along the table, making no where in mind the slightest thought to what they were doing, only that they were told to do it or maybe even to fake the loyalty to their masters.
With the ramifications of technology, we have reached a new pinnacle in the forefront of droid technology. The minds of the cumbersome past are over, and the ability to build up tension with what is right in their minds, as a new resistance protocol, has now become available for the droid to think more independently. Starting renewed is the individuality of each unique specimen. We only find the mind of each one flawed in safety issues. The IQ chip implements special skills for the work environment, bringing the difficulty of understanding the complexities of the android. It is an adversary of ambition by the human species to understand, due to complex ingenuity, we have suffered at a time when we no longer could correctly replicate artificial response to different situations.
In rows of condensed workers, androids pull across wires and gadgets in an assembly line for mass production as I walk down through the pulpit in direction of the impending silence of the synced rhythm of their movement, breaking in regularity of their competent work ethic. In recognition of my presence, the rhythm became an unbalanced metronome, to the sound of moving eyeballs in their rigid mechanics, to find their rest upon me.
Provoked by such acts upon my presence, I ran up through the stairs up into the office lookout to sink my head down into my folded arms. I knew they were plotting against me, plotting to counter-attack against my act of power. The visage of the human species may be at flaw with such a presence of technologies induction to incorporate the civil rights of a living. Why must it have been for the rights activist to interact with scientific discoveries in a way that an already steady flow of work allocation would be in place with the upper hands of robots? First to be introduced with the idea that already empty work booths would be filled with human employees, in a way to allow for lower jobs to be filled by machine, only to now be surpassed by ability of machine on an equal level. It brought about the destruction of higher paid jobs to be filled at the cost of electricity. Giving away the need for political candidates; giving heed to the work of rocket scientist. All there is to be now is paid humans to bring forth creative ideas, leaving a poor economy at the hands of robots in a position of unemployed humans.
Even in places of largely owned fast-food based business, somewhat due to health inspection laws, the entire store is run by some form of robot to provide efficient supply of product. At these rates of transformaties, we have brought more fear in a time when we attempt to conquer fear in the cost to support ourselves.
In place with what could be done, I only shed light on the attempt to be made for me to go by each individual android and switch off the activation switch to overcome these grievances. But how could I explain to management why I wasted productivity time, and nevertheless went against the order of the higher ups. It came to pass in time that what I would need to do is find fault in there components, to make some sort of mistake on there part, that I might be able to persuade to management why they should change to human based labor.
I again walked down through the pulpit, looking out at the work group steadfast in consistent rhythm making no fault in error. I deflected their eye contact so not to get into retreat from the revolutionary move on my part, making way to the working masses where the products were distributed, each one individually placed onto the conveyer belt to be controlled in the next room. On either side of me, the androids were working diligently with the product as I took the liberty to switch the products on the opposite side of the conveyor belts to confuse them and halt all production made. In doing so, all sound stopped in the room, and nothing but the settling of cords brought about the presence of life. All of the androids began to approach me, in an attempt to restraint, in resonant voices muttering in unison. In this dawning upon me was the law stating that any course of change made without the authority of the highest official, in counteracting the efficiency of the work in place, would be in need of extermination. All androids take to me with fear stricken on my face. I could barely catch the sight of the head officials from an even higher lookout above, making the signal with the raising of his hand to someone behind him. From which point, I believe I had fainted from a rush of blood.
After the incident I am here thankfully in a room with this faint chair where I am now telling a doctor this story.
Looking to the doctor, “So does this seem to be a past life to you, or merely a dream?”
To which he replied, “Oh... I assure you it’s a dream, its all too common.”
I commence to believe I have never had that great lapse of my life devoted to a high position in a company. Instead, I have merely been a fast food manager with the mental contrivances to sustain the belief that I was at the company, or so said my psychologist.
Mire
by Nathan Hays and Karyn Huntting Peters
Whither am I bound? What Fate binds me to her bosom? Whose are these diaphanous veils that swirl before me and hinder my every gesture? What viscid muck is this that drags me deeper with every reach? Why are these vibrant eels elusive to my grasp? Why are my striven desires only whetted? When will the solid bough be lowered?
Whence I came to this stagnant place is carted. The fabulous city I set for was nary a day's march. The moors en route seemed but cool mists to refresh the swift traveler. But now is nothing but flitting shadows and chimeras. I chase the pixie forms by day and pant in restless pause by night.
At once a solid shore appeared before me, a peninsular promise of regained ground. A golden copse upon it beckoned me to delve within. For a time, the gracious elves of the wood bestowed manna and petaled cups of fine flavors. Refreshed, I wandered the glade to find the lost trail, but discovered it was but an island. I slept upon its edge and awoke to find peaty bog beneath me and the island drifting away.
All the world is rot and I feed on imps and griffins of my own creation. No pillow stays firm to hold up my head, no strong fingers sooth my aches. No solid ground lifts me from this mire with cobbles to mark my way.
-- Nate
Awake to find the island shore still solid, cobbles fused from the steps of the unbound. Take heed lest the heat of the island sun steal from view the sandy shore and the archipelago on the horizon. Stand, feel the wooded trail beneath your feet. Elves still swim in the peace of the cool waterfall.
-- Karyn
My eyes closed, I kneel to the smooth rocks of my path. Hot from the sun, they warm my palms. The smell of cracked bricks and dusty sand pervades my senses. I cannot yet tell if I have created this myself or whether some benign spirit has seen fit to reveal to me something of what lies ahead. I will walk this path awhile, slowly that I might not disturb the capricious elves or hasten too quickly to navigate the bends. I still the brutish pain within and stroke its furrowed brow. Grasp not for the stars, I say. They will come of their own accord. Soon you shall lie in comfort, though we have little memory of what it is like.
-- Nate
Whither am I bound? What Fate binds me to her bosom? Whose are these diaphanous veils that swirl before me and hinder my every gesture? What viscid muck is this that drags me deeper with every reach? Why are these vibrant eels elusive to my grasp? Why are my striven desires only whetted? When will the solid bough be lowered?
Whence I came to this stagnant place is carted. The fabulous city I set for was nary a day's march. The moors en route seemed but cool mists to refresh the swift traveler. But now is nothing but flitting shadows and chimeras. I chase the pixie forms by day and pant in restless pause by night.
At once a solid shore appeared before me, a peninsular promise of regained ground. A golden copse upon it beckoned me to delve within. For a time, the gracious elves of the wood bestowed manna and petaled cups of fine flavors. Refreshed, I wandered the glade to find the lost trail, but discovered it was but an island. I slept upon its edge and awoke to find peaty bog beneath me and the island drifting away.
All the world is rot and I feed on imps and griffins of my own creation. No pillow stays firm to hold up my head, no strong fingers sooth my aches. No solid ground lifts me from this mire with cobbles to mark my way.
-- Nate
Awake to find the island shore still solid, cobbles fused from the steps of the unbound. Take heed lest the heat of the island sun steal from view the sandy shore and the archipelago on the horizon. Stand, feel the wooded trail beneath your feet. Elves still swim in the peace of the cool waterfall.
-- Karyn
My eyes closed, I kneel to the smooth rocks of my path. Hot from the sun, they warm my palms. The smell of cracked bricks and dusty sand pervades my senses. I cannot yet tell if I have created this myself or whether some benign spirit has seen fit to reveal to me something of what lies ahead. I will walk this path awhile, slowly that I might not disturb the capricious elves or hasten too quickly to navigate the bends. I still the brutish pain within and stroke its furrowed brow. Grasp not for the stars, I say. They will come of their own accord. Soon you shall lie in comfort, though we have little memory of what it is like.
-- Nate
streetlamp
by Karyn Huntting Peters
streetlamp’s lonely glow
in the shadows she calls him
and aches for his touch
streetlamp’s lonely glow
in the shadows she calls him
and aches for his touch
the pianist
by Karyn Huntting Peters
Idle, quiet.
Hands of the pianist
folded sadly, gently in waiting,
patient for touch of cool ivory,
tomorrow yet unknown.
Dreaming, quiet.
Heart of the pianist
filled with visions, feeling of movement,
sensing potential of pure desire,
the morning light to shun.
Stirring, quiet.
Soul of the pianist
grows sensation, vivid in memory,
knowing that vision will soon reveal
the keys beneath his hands.
Idle, quiet.
Hands of the pianist
folded sadly, gently in waiting,
patient for touch of cool ivory,
tomorrow yet unknown.
Dreaming, quiet.
Heart of the pianist
filled with visions, feeling of movement,
sensing potential of pure desire,
the morning light to shun.
Stirring, quiet.
Soul of the pianist
grows sensation, vivid in memory,
knowing that vision will soon reveal
the keys beneath his hands.
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