Day 16 - They Took That Which Was Special

They Took That Which Was Special 

Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

The repetition turned his days into a blur. He could blink and a week might be gone. His existence was set to default mode with hobbies and habits simply part of the cycle of the day. One activity lead to the next but there was no greater meaning that the continuation of the cycle.

He knew where to find people. He knew what they were doing. Always. It was a repetition of its own. Bar, restaurant, coffee shop, meal, drink. A constant loop where one ending had already begun the next cycle. Perhaps the weather could change or a different sport for a different season. But the people remained predictable as ever.

He had never met someone so boring. He thought he was boring. He thought the people he knew were boring. But she was the most boring person he had ever met. She didn’t have an opinion. Or a single thought. She could repeat, recycle and repeat. He had heard it all before. And she couldn’t even add an ounce of energy to make it sound interesting.

Was it rote memorization? Training and practice would at least imply that there was some effort being made at some point in the process. Or something worse? Somehow it was the blind recycling of words she had heard before, shuffled in an attempt to sound human, but with no understanding of context or application?

There was a series of photos that had become popular. He wasn’t sure a human had been involved at all. They said you could type in all the correct keywords and style clues and that the algorithm could produce a better final product than a thousand hours of actual human effort.

She loved the photos and could talk about them at great length and explain why they were different and what the hidden imagery meant and what secrets of life and understanding could be gleaned from studying them.

She sounded like a press release.

He wondered if he pried her mind open if he would find an original opinion, or perhaps just the average of a dozen different algorithms. What was the current hit TV show? The best movie of the year? The song of the summer? The latest creation from fashion week? Add it all together and the algorithm could almost sound like something.

He had read that there were brainwave scans that could determine what parts of the brain might light up in response to different stimuli. What you were afraid of might expose your political or religious beliefs. The right electric pulse, the right level of chemical, or the wrong pH balance might be mistaken as having a personality.

If he plugged himself in, could the algorithm make him interesting? Or those around him? What if he cut the right part out? Or added the proper scar tissue? Would he suddenly be the life of the party? Could he create one of a kind masterpiece?

What had they done to her? She could nod and agree and spout common sense or conventional wisdom. But she couldn’t run in the rain and break her favorite dish or glue it back together into a million new pieces of priceless art.

What was left, deep down, hidden inside? Was there anything there? You couldn’t just be the sum of averages, could you? Consensus of the masses; rebooted and reissued with a shiny new package. And what if the algorithm was wrong? What secret had been lost? And where did originality lay?

Could any of them be new again? Would the pills or engineering or modified nutritional balance allow that?

He had to wake up early for work the next day. He asked if she was ready to leave and interested in going home with him. Her face formed a smile and she said the correct words in proper response. They were a perfect match. The algorithm made sure of it.