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literallys-illiteracy · 3 months ago

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Impromptu electric screaming analysis:

So o'er on twitter i saw an analysis of different Meursault EGO and how they could relate to his nature in particular, and as i have recently re-read Philip K. Dick's 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?', (henceforth: 'bladerunner' to save time) i thought i would add onto their analysis regarding Electric Screaming.

Foremost we must discuss three perspectives of this EGO ere-we analyse it's relation to Meursault and 'The Stranger'.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?:

The primary theme(s) in 'Bladerunner' is akin to that of the movie inspired, is best presented in the form of a question: "What does it mean to be human?"; in the novel, we follow a bounty hunter, who is responsible for finding and hunting down humanoid androids who have escaped to earth. The method used by our primary 'hunter', named Deckard, to determine whether one is an android is called the 'The Voigt-Kampff Test', measuring minute differences in reaction time, and ones visible 'empathy' (a word which appears over 100 times in the book).

Empathy is shown throughout the entire book; the claim is made that it is a purely human trait, that:

"“An android,” he said, “doesn’t care what happens to another android. That’s one of the indications we look for."" [...]

this concept of empathy is transposed by the bounty hunter(s)' lack of emotion shown towards the androids, reffering to them as "it", using the phrase "retired" rather than killed; Furthermore, there is limited empathy shown between the human's within the book: Iran and Rick(Deckard)'s marrige is shown to be distant, with Iran distaining Rick's work, viewing him as a murderer; another hunter, Philip Resch, showing no remorse to 'retiring' these androids, even after retiring his supervisor (who had turned out to be an android in himself).

Resch acts as a foil to Deckard, who, after the hunting of three androids, shows no remorse, even willing to "retire" himself should he turn out to be one; Though Deckard's attitude began as kin to that of Resch's, he begins to question himself, ruminating over the reply of one whom he had just retired:

“An android,” [Deckard] said, “doesn’t care what happens to another android. That’s one of the indications we look for." “Then,” Miss Luft said, “you must be an android.”

This change in mind is borne from both the refute posed by Miss Luft, compounded by his encounter with one 'Rachel Rosen', who, though momentarally, made Deckard question his faith in 'The Voigt-Kampff Test', that, should a person be emotionally or empathically deviant from the norm, they would be murdered by the pretense.

L'etranger:

The Stranger, novel by Albert Camus, also sold as L'etranger and The Outsider, is the novel of inspiration for Meursault, following the internal journey told in two parts, following the death of his mother, and preceeding his murder of another; and following his imprisonment and proceeding execution.

The name of the book stems from Meursault's views being abstracted from the norm - his beliefs differ in such a way that he is posed as a "Stranger" to common society. To summarise Meursault's beliefs is best said as "absurdism", that humans have no inherent meaning, or purpose.

I would like to aside a small section to clarify the difference between 'existentialism', and 'nihilism', and how they contrast the beleif in Providence. The three philosophies listed above are all intrinsicly linked in their belief of an inherently meaningless, chaotic, and fleeting universe; these three beliefs however trifurcate at their response to this belief.

Though i will assay to discuss each three apart, there is a large field of overlap in each of them, stemming from the variant nature of human beliefs, and their resistance to being defined.

The easiest to define, and the most intrinsicly linked betwixt the others is absurdism: Absurdism, discuss the absurd nature of human life, our innate urge to attempt to find meaning in a meaningless universe, the order and rationality that man attempts to maintain fighting against the chaos and irrationality of their universe; absurdism, while not claiming to understand or define reality, believing it epistemologically infeasable, states that existance within this universe is inhieriently absurd. Traditionally, one of the posed responses to an absurdist world is suicide, in the belief that, though the universe is meaningless, it is the nature of humanity to seek meaning despite knowing its futility, that obtaining true meaning is bootless — it is through this lens which absurdism differs from the belief of nihilism;

Nihilism, as prior mentioned, relates to the belief of a complete and utter meaningless in life and the universe; the sad quirks of circumstance act to both start and end all things, and that there is no point in existance. This is now a topic which i find frustrating, as when defining nihilism one must contend with the fact that nihilism does not act as one singular belief. Nihilism is... tricky. In many ways there is potential to define what a nihilist beleives, however that will almost never encompass the entirety of their philosophy: The most common trait, often acting as a throughline for the other's, is the non existance of human purpose, and lack of meaning in the universe. This is the basis of what i will refere to as 'existential nihilism' (which is the primary focus that returns forthcoming). Existenital nihilism may be accompanied by other fields: Epistemological nihilism, or the belief that knowledge is inattainable and emphemaral (closely related to the field of sceptecism); Moral nihilism, which poses that, the chaotic and fleeting nature of the universe descents an innability for definite and universal morals (somewhat linked to the belief of 'Hard Determinism'); or even Ontological nihilism, which posits the idea that nothing at all exists.

Finally, relating back to the concept mentioned agone in absurdism, of "mans search for meaning to be fruitless and futile in the meaningless universe", is 'existentialism', the acknowledgement of the universes transient, chaotic and absurd nature, alongside the idea that one should still strive to live an authentic life in which they find value or meaning in their existence; The primary difference that existentialism creates from nihilism is their treatment of the universes' lack of meaning as an adjacent concept to the meaning one finds in life.

The reason that i find these topics hard to discuss in any true depth is due to their compounded nature; it is far from impossible for a person to believe in aspects of both nihilism and existentialism, or existentialism and absurdism. Mentioned ere, existential nihilism is the belief in a lack of meaning in the universe, the belief from which all three philosophies discussed are descendant from. Without acknowledging the intrinsicly linked nature of these topics, all rooted in the common belief of nihilism, one is unable to properly realise the difference in each, and one will be less likely to properly grasp how one may have overlapping beliefs.

There are many examples that i could choose from, too many to discuss in this Meursault essay (remember when this was about him?) but the two i have selected are: Friedrich Nietzsche, and (so that i can somehow relate this back) Albert Camus.

Though commonly (and correctly) attributed a nihilist, Nietzsche did not believe in absolute (or ontological) nihilism as others may, nor did he believe in futility persuing meaning in life — Nietzsche was both and neither an existentialist and a nihilist, believing that one can and should find meaning in their life, coming to terms with their lack of inherent meaning, yet overcoming it, whilst also beleiving that that there are no inherent values or morals that one should hold. It is to be noted however that Nietzsche was a self proclaimed nihilist, yet also rejected common notions of the belief. Due to this, one might define his beliefs as separate, as 'Nietzscheist', yet one must also accept that there is a futility attempting to create labels for what a person may believe.

Camus, in comparison, denied both the label of a nihilist and of an existentialist, though he was often labelled as the latter due to the closely related nature of both absurdism and existentialism being practicalised responses to existential nihilism. Similtaneousley, one may pose several of his works as leaning closer to nihilism, though writing against nihilism in his essay 'The Rebel', such as, and most notably, the acceptance and inevitability of death present within 'The Stranger'. Meursault's final thoughts within the novel reflect how many feel detached from the universe;

“I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world, finding it so much like myself.”

more specifically, Meursault acts as a moral nihilist, akin to Nietzsche, not understanding the supposed inherent morality or value present in human life, nor understanding those who refuse to acknowledge the inevitability of death.

2 layers of contrivance:

Dreaming Electric Sheep Encounter

the encounter and EGO gift for Dreaming Electric Sheep has been in the game for quite a while now, and Its always been one of my favourite for its existance being a reference.

in whole, this abnormality seems to relate to somewhat similar themes as the novel it references; The concept of exploiting the non-human, or androids, in order to fuel socity as in the novel is present — Desperately longing to escape, the sheep is used as a source of power having its freedom removed along with its lightning.

There is a second theme present however within the abnormaltiy observation logs (and arguably though Meursault's own EGO), that of the electricity being harmful to the sheep. Sinclair, thinking that this is the case, chooses to plug more cables into the sheep, attempting to siphon it, concluding that:

Well, there’s no way for us to know now, but… I wonder if lightning actually hurts this Abnormality. Or… maybe having its electricity taken away hurts more.

This concept is (once again, arguably) present in Meursault's EGO line:

This electricity is all I have left… I can't…!

3rd layer of contrivance:

so. what does this EGO represent on Meursault?

personally, through the relations to both The Stranger, and Electric Sheep — Books questioning the reality of humanity — there is a likely chance that this EGO is indicitave of how Meursault can be exploited or abused by others around him, perhaps not nessecarally exploited for something that he specifically provides, as is the case for the Electric Sheep itself, but rather being overworked and exploited for his time, as others know that he simply does as he is asked.

The EGO corrosion animation also supports this concept — within the animation, meursault simply falls to the ground and releases his electricity, potentally representing his being overworked.

This was SUPPOSED TO BE A SHORT ESSAY!

anyways it was inspired by a twitter thread

#project moon #limbus company #literally's ramblings #essays i wrote primarily while half asleep #limbus #lcb #projmoon #Meursault #do androids dream of electric sheep

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binah-beloved · 6 months ago

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Arbiters Do Not Believe in Tears

Binah x Reader Android AU Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: Descriptions of small injuries and death

~ * ~

Androids do not feel. It is not an opinion, it is a fact, told constantly to everyone and anyone. Androids do not have capacity for emotions. They are here to use, to be used, to serve those who bought and own them because they can never be anything but owned. You know this. The world knows this. Everybody knows this, and those who believe otherwise are called foolish, tearing an inevitable cackling laugh from people’s throats as they slap the table, how stupid and silly, how naive! They’re words you ponder as you continue your life’s work of creating and welding and repairing, your dingy house filled with bits of metal, bobs you found tossed aside. One person’s junk is another’s treasure, although some would call you an idiot for thinking you could make something out of nothing. But nothing is never nothing. And perhaps you are an idiot, or stupid, or silly, or foolish or naive, or perhaps some combination of everything, when you pull a discarded android out under the scrapheap.

Black, gold, and porcelain, once pristine and now tarnished. The interlocked hexagons immediately mark the android as an Arbiter class, models only available to the wealthiest and most influential people. Yet this one has been thrown away and left to rot, rust decorating her elegant features, and a frown flits across your face. Someone must have been very frivolous, or perhaps very cruel, to toss aside an Arbiter android without a thought. It’s not surprising. Those types are all fat old fools, after all. Nothing to it but resources, you try to tell yourself. But your hands lay flat on the android’s shoulders and refuse to curl, taking not one bit of metal from her. The gears in your head turn, fingers tracing and examining every patch of rust and severed wire and those closed eyes, neutral and silent. “Fixable.” Your voice comes out in a whisper, carefully hefting her onto your back and hurrying away, just as the sun begins to set.

It becomes a personal project of yours, an attempt to repair a disabled Arbiter as you scrounge around for different parts to use. You’re not even sure what metal she’s made of, something high quality and cold and much, much too expensive for you to even have a chance of glimpsing, but slowly your list fills with checkmarks and new cuts join old scars on your hands from your work. Gloves cost too much, and your fingers are essentially dead in feeling anyways. The android sits on your workbench, the corpse of an effigy, and doesn’t move. In truth, you’re not expecting her to be alive. The rational part of your brain keeps repeating the facts, over and over. Clearly, she was shut down. She can’t be repaired. She will never wake up. You’re excellent at not listening to those thoughts, letting your body methodically move while you keep your mind blank apart from the spark of hope twinkling in the center. Maybe, just maybe, your skills will suffice. Maybe. There’s a twitch from her fingers, and you pause, breath dying in your chest. They move again, more this time, slowly curling and uncurling into a fist before the android’s body jolts and clicking whirs fill the room as symphonic noise. Slowly, she sits upright, and slowly, you take a few steps back, unable to keep yourself from staring as her golden earring sways. Her eyes open like a splash of midnight, and she’s staring directly back at you, voice coming out flat and cold.

“I am Arbiter model 008, designation Garion. What are your orders?” You open your mouth, then close it again, not her original owner nor another member of the elite. You could say nothing. You could simply keep your mouth shut, and she would leave as an Arbiter to find a new directive. You could turn your back and pretend like you saw nothing. But you know and she knows that there’s nowhere for her now. “…Stay a while.” And she does. She becomes a constant shadow, watching you silently from a corner in your little, decrepit house. For several days the android simply stands there, doing and saying nothing but observing your every movement. Occasionally you look up from your work, meeting her bored black gaze, and you wave. At first there’s nothing, but gradually her head tilts at your small actions and the kind smile you give her. One day, she waves back, stiff and a little awkward, but it makes you perk up nonetheless. She moves closer, more freely, beginning to explore the house when you’re bent over pieces of metal and solder, before standing directly behind you and watching you work with a flicker of interest, although she rarely answers to her designated title. Something is disconnected, unfitting, and you take to simply calling her “Dear” from the pool of sweet sincerity in your heart. You answer when she asks questions, not berating or sneering but giving her a nod and swift demonstrations and free reign to examine anything she wants. So she sits, the nameless android, and reads every book you have to offer, cold fingers tracing over one word again and again. It’s that word she holds close to her when she approaches you one day, a hint of apprehension in her eyes.

“…I would like for you to call me Binah, from now on.” She’s amazed at her audacity to request something as an android, a tool, a weapon to be used. What’s more incredible is your response, a nod and a gentle agreement that it suits her. For the first time, Binah smiles a little. Binah is never apart from you after that. Wherever you go, she goes, even if it’s simply to find more supplies or to watch the stars come out. She’s always there, a quiet, constant presence by your side. There are flashes and glints of feeling, slowly, as she begins to separate things she likes and dislikes and learn, always learning more and more with keen interest. She likes the night sky, books, the scent of tea. She despises too much noise, too many people, those who never listen. You, she finds, she likes immensely.

She never tells you this verbally, but you know when her fingers curl around yours and your hand presses against her cool cheek, eliciting a shudder as she practically melts against your touch. Some people ask if she’s yours when they see her behind you, carefully watching for any threats. You always deny it, every time. The thought of being Binah’s owner makes your stomach turn, seeing and accompanying her during her growing sentience and awareness as an individual. But she interrupts you one day when that familiar question rises again, answering with a monotonous yes and an icy glare until the person who asked runs off in a panic. You blink, turning to look at her only for cool, heavy arms to wrap around your waist, her hand over your beating, human heart. “I am yours, and you are mine. If you will have me.” Her words are firm and laced with certainty, the gentle touch of her fingers betraying her hidden, developing emotions. You stare at Binah and merely nod, and she softens briefly to bump her forehead against yours.

You were told that androids couldn’t do a lot of things. They don’t feel, don’t form attachments, don’t understand bonds or gentleness. Everything is proven wrong, to your delight. It has never felt so good to be wrong, wrong about each “fact” that tried to force its way into your head. Wrong, except for one. Androids cannot die. Not in the way that humans do. Everyone knows this. Binah knows this. You knew this. They could be shut down, or lose their directive, but Arbiters were made to survive. You had told her about death, your fingers laced with hers during your evening walk. “Humans rot underground, but I like to think that eventually we grow into flowers again. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Yes. It would be nice. Her words go unspoken.

Binah stands in the rain, wrapped in the coat you made for her after she discarded the golden hexagons to remain with you. Of course, there’s no cold to her, but you loved and she loved the fabric, the way you would tuck yourself into the front while she was still wearing it. She idly twists her rings; one, two, three; resting on her favorite on the left hand. “I am Arbiter model 008, designation Garion. What are your orders?” Her voice is as apathetic and even as the day you first met, drizzle clouding her vision and wetting her synthetic hair. You always told her it was soft and smooth, and she couldn’t help but lean against your hands whenever you pet it. “…I am Arbiter model 008, designation Garion. What are your orders?” Her fingers lace together and grip hard, the same crushing force that has killed countless people, yet treated you so gently. She always was fond of caressing your face, feeling the way your skin dipped under her careful touch. Fascinating. Wonderful. Human.

“…I am Binah, your android. Please…” Instinctively, she reaches out for your presence, trembling minutely and unable to keep the repressed waver out of her tone. “…What are your orders…?” Androids also cannot cry. Almost none of them are made with it in mind, even less so Arbiters who are made to kill and maim. But Binah feels, and wishes that she could so. “…I miss you.” The rain weeps in exchange, and a lone android sinks to her knees in the flower field where you’re buried.

#project moon #lobotomy corporation #lobotomy corp #library of ruina #binah #binah lobcorp #binah library of ruina #lor #lobcorp #lc binah #lor binah #binah x reader #library of ruina x reader #lobotomy corp x reader #the reason for this is because i wanted to #i like binah and i like androids #she misses you #and will miss you forever #wifi writes

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myonmukyuu · 2 years ago

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Today's markers #7

#kanade yoisaki #my art #project sekai #prsk #i like this song and think about the niigo live orchestra performance a lot #project sekai colorful stage featuring hatsune miku for apple and android devices #<my fav way to refer to this series klsghskgh #myon's marker training arc #copic markers

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rupasriymts · 11 months ago

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