Our brain, the amazing nugget that requires thousands of people to understand even just a simple component.
Each of us being annotated in hopes of replacing our hearts, minds, and bodies. (The spirit laughs back.)
Wait. Pause. Retract?
To convenience us or covertly, to cut us out of our space like paperclips taking up the world and the people in it?
Too much of a theoretical conspiracy?
Hallucinations of what may be?
Perhaps. Friend or foe. In time we shall know.
And, yet, movies such as in The Stepford Wives, welcome tempting thoughts for some.
How could anyone ever want to replace their spouse or partner to one so much more docile and zealously serviceable?
Rhetorical?
Yet, we have annotators annotating our very moves of what was once what we did or who we were at some time in life to replace the rest of us who still are.
I laugh to think how many would pay to understand the mind of their significant other.
I laugh further to think how many would do the contrary. Pay never to have to answer for not even caring. L to the O to the L. Some of you are out there bellowing an admittance.
And, then, as if the world becomes once again a confused genre of intent, the laughing dissipates at the moment of realization that our minds, innocent at first, swarming in full light, begins to entertain the dark into darker.
I think quietly deep of movies such as Frankenstein, constantly developed from a book, Frankenstein, the Modern Prometheus, written and created by Mary Shelley. For those who may need a refresher of this plot, here is what AI overview has gathered in answering the question, What is Frankenstein about? (from all of our comprised data input):
- Plot Summary: After creating life, Victor Frankenstein abandons his creation due to its hideous appearance. The intelligent, articulate creature tries to integrate into society but is met with fear and violence, causing him to become vengeful. He kills Victor’s brother, friend, and on their wedding night, his wife, Elizabeth.
- The “Monster’s” Motivations: The creature is not inherently evil, but becomes wicked due to abandonment, loneliness, and societal rejection. He demands companionship, which Victor ultimately refuses to provide, driving the final, fatal conflict.
Innately, we have been gladiators finding ourselves in a race. Those who have managed to live won their very first gold, beating out all other racers to get to the first incubation phase as the zygote (zigh-GOAT [greatest of all times- LOL, again]).
We can all boast that we are all zigh-GOATS. It is our individual make-up of relatively twenty-three maternal and twenty-three paternal that creates either the advantages or disadvantages of the next race, however.
To make it more challenging, while some of us may have all the innate advantages, there are those of a differing comprisement who wisely thought of a way to even out odds within nepotism and cronyism for the generational race.
The interesting thing about a race is, the most desirable zigh-GOAT may stop at nothing to win.
I believe I shared this story but will briefly refresh, again:
Upon one of our walks around our neighborhood, my husband and I caught sight of a gaming chair in front of one of our neighbor’s driveway with a sign “FREE” on it. Black and red- as if still new at a department store.
Coming back around to our home, we see that our two youngest boys are at our front yard.
Unprepared to how my husband was going to announce our walk discovery, he nonchalantly tells our boys, “There’s a game chair down that culdesac,” placing his gaze toward the direction.
I was indifferent when he said that as we continued to approach our home while still walking but then, he adds, “First one to get there gets it.”
I caught sight of one of my boys locking eyes with me before both took off running toward the direction of the awaiting to be found game chair.
I heard my throat let out a small chuckle.
My dearest husband, having no siblings of his own, just created a semi-war between those two boys who just jolted like lightning toward something they never even saw.
By the time we caught up with one of them, yes, one of them, he was on the ground in the middle of the street wrapping his hands around one of his ankles. Apparently, the other one, who we found standing next to the game chair ahead, tripped him on the way.
Two loving brothers who aren’t afraid to speak their minds to one another but would have each other’s back when needed, just proved my inner hunch of what could happen when you put two incredible specimens to a challenge.
Imagine how many of us zigh-GOATS tripped amongst us thousands along the way to get to the “game chair”. (Perhaps this is where we initiated the thought “‘X’ marks the spot”. Scientifically, that awaiting X, the golden egg?, pairs with that winning X or Y to determine our genitalia.)
We don’t always think or know what we are going to create. We don’t even know how accurate of a result we will have in the end. But, essentially, just as much as we were the Xs and Ys running toward the game chair (the awaiting X marking the spot for XX or XY pairing, aka, the golden egg!), we take risks of how many trip, fall, or get maimed just to be the one to get there.
(Kind of makes you wonder why some Xs microscopically look as if they’ve lost part of a leg. Just sayin’.)
That “there” we may not even know if we would actually like or want. To just get there before others may simply be the sole and ultimate challenge. Whatever there may be.
Zigh-GOATS turned Dr. Frankenstein in the making.
Why? Perhaps because we were first swimmers before we learned to walk. Yes? And, in that realm of cognition, we must keep swimming to survive. Even if and at the cost of hurting others or at times, ourselves.
Those specimens who didn’t get to the game chair are still out there. While there are those risking hurt or injury (or, you know), there are simply the great many who just got out of the way.
Not because we don’t all want to win. No one wakes up and says, “I can’t wait to be a loser today.”
There are just those who got convinced along the way that they wouldn’t be the one (or astonishingly 15 reported in a womb; 8 born at same birth).
Some accept in silence. Some still fight to the end. Some try to make sure no one gets there, sterilizing the process.
There are the now, XXs and XYs who do best at screaming and hollering at all those moving faster ahead or, what sometimes backfires, are those cheering on the ones who have the best ability to finish first.
If and when one does, the celebration realistically becomes brief and bitter-sweet. After all, anyone who has ever arrived at an accomplishment only to find it to be just the beginning of yet another challenge only hears, “What next?”
What next? To get it right from hereon because all those watching wonder with awe, envy, dismay, or disappointment that they aren’t standing where that one is.
While others hold their breath in support of getting the next challenge done right, there are those smiling on the outside as if in support but saying some ridiculous verses to themselves justifying why all should go wrong.
In one of my earliest entries, I mentioned how I immediately sensed I had been marked inside a well-known retail brand establishment.
I was with my husband and youngest two boys. We weren’t necessarily walking in with an intent to buy but that’s how I usually shop.
I find that when I actually need something for an event, my directness and urgency leads to more drawnness to pay at full price.
When walking in to browse, having no need to make any purchase, I will only entertain what meets my non-urgent demand. This usually is that clearance after already a drop in price.
Hardly is anything worth the usual 90% actual value price hike.
Surely the hired jobs of several men, I took into count at least about four now just standing there around us, at least two in suits.
Those in suits were the special security with the other undercover ones. Both nonetheless, security.
That inside of me laughed, feeling their eagerness to engage but I thought, Let them stand there. Let them listen to my trivial conversations with my husband and boys.
Their profile had definite glitches and while they seemingly showed excitement to get me, for whatever reason they thought to, my defensive mechanisms inside started to taunt them, remembering how I helped out doing their job starting at the age of fourteen.
I understood protocol. They were hoping to be so right with their gray matter conjectures.
I walked out with my innocent husband and children having said nothing to them at all about my sensory motors telling me those inside had mistakenly profiled me.
While I felt no worry but rather, silent annoyance, an inkling of me had to wonder as to whatever their data had presented to be so eagerly certain I was that one.
That year must have really increased on their data profiling certainty because at yet another department store not much longer sometime later, I nonchalantly told a young cashier at the counter as she rang up my items to purchase to perhaps tell their middle-aged undercover perched behind me, again, in a suit, that he could move onto someone else and that it was okay. I understood.
I understood the man was just doing his job, that is. Again, however, of all to follow, there is nothing special in these cases to be the one.
Everyone needs to feed their family. From those hoping for a systems data annotation gig to the major companies depending on funding to keep their child alive and going, there is this dependency that a sound heart, mind, body, and spirit understands.
That entrapment to keep those you love alive.
And, yet, the imperfect us are in charge of creating such perfect… us.
The dichotomy. Interesting to see where this will lead the leaders of those leading this Ai, Ai, Sir! leadership.
At one point, a captain must be chosen. Imagine that. One man? chosen to steer the ship to that zeitgeist Promised Land.
The zigh-GOAT of all zigh-GOATS?
Who would vote for whom?
I take a seat, read, watch, and listen.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but codes will never hurt me.
Says who?
Says Ai?
The race must continue forging waters and ground. That’s us. Speci-men to zigh-GOATS.
