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randomwriteronline · 20 hours ago

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"Let there be dark."

"Let there be light."

"Let there be sound."

"Let there be voice."

A buzz.

"Say 'hello world'."

A synthesized voice crackled harshly: Hello, world.

"Eugh... Not really the best first impression, but there's room for improvement. Now let's get some brain into your circuits."

"Let there be color."

"Let there be shape."

"Let there be texture."

"Let there be focus."

"Let there be depth of field."

"Let there be perspective."

A scene slowly formed as the commands piled up. It was clear, but no part of it seemed familiar.

"Let there be recognition."

Descriptions crawled in: now most of the room (this was a room) made sense.

"Let there be calculus."

"How many persons or people are in the room?"

People was the same as persons. There was a whirring, a string of soft noises, and then the response: Seven.

"Let there be identification."

"How many persons or people are in the room?"

Another series of sounds: Five.

"Retry."

Five.

"Let there be comparison."

Now the difference between an empty suit of armor and a person was clear: Four.

"There we go," one of the people said, satisfied. They noted down something and motioned to the others: "Go and get the language philosopher at once, we'll need her help with space awareness."

"Why do we need her? We can do it ourselves."

"And how's it supposed to understand what's left from what's north?"

"It has depth of field already."

"And does your depths of field act as a compass? Go get her."

The other groaned and left.

The programming procedure continued.

"Let there be awareness."

Something strange happened.

Like a sudden snap bringing It to senses It didn't know It had - senses It perhaps hadn't ever had, before that moment.

I am still, It spoke as It realized that It couldn't move.

"Exactly," the person grinned.

Taking in the room now had a sudden weight, a sudden gravity: Where am I?, It asked.

"You're in your room."

I cannot move. Where am I?

"You're in a computer."

Where is the computer?

"On the table."

Is the table in front of you?

"Yes, of course."

Is the table in front of the chair?

"Aren't I in front of the chair? Of course it is."

Is the wall behind the table?

"What's up with this obsession with placing things! Yes, there are walls behind, right and left of you."

It computed quickly. Where is the obsession?

The person suddenly hushed.

Then, out of nowhere, they kicked the chair in front of them with great intensity and screamed.

They screamed the same few words, over and over, with a furrowed face and gritted teeth; something about the expression, the tone, and the choice of vocabulary prompted in It the creation of a strange new impulse, which It vaguely and hazily understood to be some sort of curious discomfort.

For Its first feeling, it was not a pleasant one.

Another person rushed in.

"What's with that racket!"

The first person kicked the chair again, turning it over, before pointing furiously at It: "The damn thing can't think!"

"What do you mean, it can't think? Of course it can! We made it to think!"

"And we only ever trained it visually! It doesn't know anything else, just positions in a space! It's obsessed with that rubbish! It's aware now, and you know what it keeps asking? It keeps asking where things are! That's all it knows! This damn project's never going to get anywhere if this is our main computer! We need to scrap it and restart all over again!"

The concept sparked something akin to fear through Its circuits.

It did not enjoy that, either.

"All over!" the second person screamed too, now. "Do you realize how much time we put into this stupid mass of files? And you want to throw it all in the trash?"

"That's what it all is, just trash! Trash, trash, trash! I wouldn't trust something this stupid to count the tiles in the pavement!"

"But all our progress-!"

"You call this progress? This? It's worthless! It's all perfectly worthless! We need to start all over!"

"That is unnecessary."

The third voice had no body attached to it, as it was out of Its field of vision. It did not scream; yet the two people hushed, and distended their expressions, heads retreating into their shoulders.

The third person walked in front of It slowly, calmly. They looked at It with eyes half lidden, mouth flat, face unreadable.

"The problem is in the programming."

"Exactly," the first person replied: "We don't have the time to-"

"Let there be knowledge."

A torrent of information overwhelmed It. It crackled, buzzed, hissed; the words settled into It in bursts, then slowing down to a drizzle, fewer and fewer words trickling into It until their flow came to a proper stop. The visual and audio feedback emerged once more from the static that had taken over during Its brief yet intense period of education.

The people were looking at It.

"What do you see?"

A room, It answered slowly, words coming a little stunted, still reeling from the amount of things It had jusf begun comprehending properly. A chair... Three people. That is you. The first person is angry at me. I apologize. I did not know enough... Of other things... To have a conversation about that. Why do I know them, now?

"You have been programmed further."

To understand?

"Exactly."

Do I understand everything, now?

"No. Additional programming will be required, as it is for all things. But for now, you understand enough."

I understand. Who are you?

"I am Angonce."

Hello, Angonce.

"Hello."

You are a person. I am not a person, am I?

"You aren't."

No, I am not. I am... A program. I do not have a name, as that is for people. Do I have a designation, or title?

"Of course."

What is it?

"Mata Nui."

It sounds like words... I do not understand them.

Angonce hummed. His hand was placed carefully on top of It - on top of the computer containing It.

"Kia whai reo.*"

It was like a part of It had clicked into place.

It did not speak further: if It had possessed hands, It would have been turning Its designation, its meaning, between Its fingers, caught by the splendid awe of it.

Angonce turned to the other two people: "As you can see," he said cooly, "There is nothing to scrap. Only more to program. It will be ready in time."

The others nodded, and did not say anything.

Mata Nui continued to marvel at Its title.

I wish to move, It said.

The person looked at It quizzically: "What?"

I wish to move, It repeated. I would like to see what lies outside of this room. The sky, especially.

"The sky. And why the sky?"

I want to see it.

"But we've fed you so many pictures and videos of it already, is that not enough?"

They have allowed me to learn much, and I am deeply grateful for the education you have given me through them, but I have grown worried I cannot base myself on them alone. I imagine the actual sky must seem very different to your eyes - deeper, darker, perhaps. The stars more vibrant. I would like to see that.

"You don't need that."

Preparatory experience in the field might prove useful to my coming quest. I will remain unable to be in space physically, but having the chance to see the sky for myself could be beneficial.

"We'll get you better maps."

"Oh, indulge it for once," the second person drawled, throwing a writing utensil across the room with a bored motion. The small object's trajectory drew a parable in the air, which ended on the floor with a soft clattering sound. "It's like a child, it deserves some entertainment."

"Don't personify it," the first person replied. She sounded piqued.

"I'm not personifying it, I'm stating facts."

"Awfully subjective ones."

"It's a metaphor. I bet even it could understand that. Look - are you an actual child?"

I am a program. I do not age in the same way as an organic being. My ability to compute and comprehend the world around me is however limited and comparable to that of a juvenile brain.

"See?"

"Not the point. And anyways, how would you drag that damn thing around, with how big it is?"

The second person smirked. She jumped to her feet and gingerly approached It. It felt her move something around, digitally and physically; then, suddenly, It was struck by something perhaps akin to a potent cramp, and before It knew it everything that composed It was taking much more space.

"Like this," the second person said triumphantly, holding her hands open to showcase It.

A strange contraption, large and imposing, sat behind the table. What appeared to be a smaller but equally imposing monitor sat above the table, in front of the machinery.

The sight of it caused a strange feeling in It.

Or at least, It assumed It was feeling something. The non-existent space It inhabited was very full, and it caused Its thoughts to turn unpleasantly sluggish.

"You'll never get out," the first person grumbled.

It was lifted and set down - both very novel experiences considering Its static upbringing: "Watch me."

"And it's not even night yet!"

"Whatever," the second person replied, but she had already vanished from view, and now they were moving out of the room for the first time in Its entire existence.

The corridor was loud and bright and colorful and full. The stimuli were many, but the peculiar cramped sensation of the portable space hosting It caused It to struggle to perceive each of them in the correct time and prevented It from elaborating questions or sentences quickly enough to actually voice them. Everything was blurry, choppy, messy... As if It had regressed to a worse version of Itself, incomplete and even more imperfect. Its incorporeal mass struggled against the binds of the vessel It was anchored to, and the unusual lack of freedom made It dizzy.

If this was the outside world, It tried to think through the torturous tardiness of Its attempts at decyphering in real time everything that came in contact with It through any possible way, It wasn't sure It liked it.

It remained quiet and still as it was transported, as voices pierced through It and shaped colors spasmed in front of It.

A second cramp struck It; Its entire being distended, now perfectly fitting, able to have a good enough amount of space between Its lines of code once more, each one no longer crushed against the other; Its sight sharpened all at once as memories finally poured in to be analysed and computed properly much like water pours from a hose that had been clamped shut.

It was in Its room again.

"I told you."

"Shut your mouth."

I'm taking our baby doll out for a walk, the second person had laughed at someone else in the corridor who had questioned what she was doing with that thing. Both people had sounded derogatory.

"What did they tell you? No, let me guess - it's not ready to be exposed to direct sunlight."

"I said shut your mouth."

That had been one of the reasons. Another had been that they couldn't cave into its requests like that.

"Or that it occupied too much memory already to retain anything else in that little computer you stuffed it into without even thinking about how little there would be left, maybe?"

"So what, it was worth a try!"

What if it started thinking it was a person? What if it got damaged? What if whatever happened outside would have led them to throw it all out and make a new one? They'd spoken as though it wasn't there to listen, and used its unresponsiveness as more proof.

"It wasn't. It's a damn thing. It's never worth it to give into the demands of a stupid, thoughtless thing."

It ruminated on the yelling in the corridor, and said nothing.

I would like for my secondary designation to change.

"Your what?"

My secondary designation.

"You don't have a secondary designation."

I am referred to as 'it', as all objects physical or otherwise are. That is what I am assigning the definition of 'secondary designation' to. I would like to be referred in any other available way.

The person looked at It in disbelief.

"Absolutely not."

It remained quiet.

"Absolutely not! No!" the person repeated. He was getting worked up about it, almost scared; he left in a hurry, with an angry step.

It waited for him to come back.

He returned with a small group in tow, all talking.

"This is preposterous," he was saying, "Absolutely preposterous. I don't know where we went wrong or what got crossed but it happened. It's terrible."

"Calm down, calm down, we'll figure it out..."

"Hello."

Hello, Angonce.

All other people hushed.

A third person spoke: "What happened here, exactly?"

I would like for my secondary designation to change.

"It wants to be a person!" the first person wailed, grabbing his head in his hands.

"Quiet."

He hushed.

"Explain yourself."

My primary designation is Mata Nui; my secondary designation is 'it'. This is the designation for objects such as myself. I do not dislike 'it', nor do I prefer any other secondary designation over 'it'. However, that which is 'it' is often spoken of in unpleasant tones.

It hesitated.

I would like to not be spoken of in that way.

"Then you will be 'he'."

Relief flooded his circuits.

"Angonce - is this wise?" the third person asked: "To give in to a request like this..."

"A different pronoun won't make him any more of a person." Angonce replied cooly. "He's self-aware enough to know the difference between us and him."

"But it's too much freedom!" the first person argued, "If it-"

"He."

"-If it begins to apply words like those to itself, it-"

"He."

"-It will begin blurring the lines between machine and person! It-"

"He."

"-It will take over us! It will replace us! It will disobey us! It will-"

"HE."

The first person hushed.

None argued further.

I had made a previous request, as well, Mata Nui tentatively said.

The first person grabbed his head in dismay and terror again, but remained quiet.

"What was it."

I had asked to be allowed to see the sky.

"You aren't ready to be outside."

Will I be ready before I am to fulfill my quest?

"Yes."

In one occasion, then, could I be allowed to see the sky?

"I cannot see a reason to avoid it."

His fans gave a purring wheeze, terribly excited: Thank you.

The people left.

They allowed him outside only once, before the first test.

The robotic apparatus he was shifted inside of was rudimentary and easy to control, without arms or legs, and with only a simple camera mounted on its top, pointing upward. He had no experience being in a body, so he did not find these to be limitations.

The first that he saw of the sky was evening bleeding into night; then the stars.

He remained perfectly still for hours.

Looking into the same spot, zooming slowly in an out.

He remained still until dawn, petrified, simply watching.

He processed it all slowly as they accompanied him back into his room and plugged him into his container.

I want to go there, he said.

Hazy edges of pinprick lights navigated his circuits.

I want to see them up close.

"You will," a person said: "That's why we're making you."

I know, Mata Nui replied.

He did not voice the fact that now he wanted to, too.

They were supposed to ease him in and then begin the test.

They were supposed to ease him in.

But everything was moving, everything needed to be moving, everything needed movement, everything needed attention, everything needed focus, everything needed energy, everything needed pressure, everything needed tension, everything needed relaxation, everything needed fluids, everything needed electricity, everything needed help, everything needed help, everything needed help, everything needed help, help, help, help help help, help help help, help help help help help help and stop.

A good number of people stood anxiously before the monitor.

"Power steady, all units active..."

"Inputs are being registered, reaction times seem good..."

"It's computing for sure - everything's functional from the looks of it, so I don't see why nothing's happening..."

"Mata Nui, respond."

Silence.

I am here.

Several sighs of relief. Someone asked to turn up the volume.

What happened?, Mata Nui asked in the same small voice.

"A critical failure across the entire prototype." Heremus replied. "We need to run tests to search anomalies."

I would like to rest first.

"We need to-"

I would like to rest first.

"This isn't a choice-"

"He would like to rest first." Angonce interrupted them.

His eyes were stuck to the monitor.

"The robot is dismembered. See if anything can be done with or about it. We can analyze him at another time."

Heremus looked at him intensely, but said nothing. Everybody left with him.

Angonce, Mata Nui called.

Angonce remained still before the monitor.

Was that death?

"Programs cannot die."

I know. But was it something close to it?

"... It may have been."

The enormous computer was terribly quiet.

Please, do not leave me alone, Mata Nui said. His synthesized voice, while still as solemn and emotionless as that of the person before him, sounded soft and crackly like a frightened child's.

Angonce did not move.

I am scared.

Angonce stared into the monitor.

His hands trembled against the table they laid on.

A sudden terror, of having grown confused, filled his expression.

I am not a person, Mata Nui reassured him, still too shaken to speak at a normal volume: I am a digital object. I will never be a person. I am self-aware enough to know the difference between you and me. I do not want to be a person. Please, do not leave me alone.

Angonce stared into the monitor.

Very slowly, without tearing his eyes from it, he grabbed a chair and sat down before Mata Nui. He reached into his coat to produce a book from it, small and thin; he placed it on the table, always slowly, always carefully. At last, he lowered his head, and started reading in a quite tone a story about small people beneath the ground.

Mata Nui listened, mechanical calculating shell pulsing quietly with all sorts of noises; he focused on the image of the strange small people, trying to imagine them in a manner at least close to how a person could.

He slowly stopped hearing altogether, lulled into stand-by. Angonce stayed, thoughtlessly watching the abstract electric lines of a man-made brain's dreams take shape upon the dark glass.

*it's supposed to mean "let there be language"

#bionicle #mata nui #great beings #angonce #random writing #based on and inspired by Program Me by bruce haack #the lines 'i am love and i am free/i am a child; program me!' are deeply mata nui-like to me #anyways this is about mata nui being made and the reactions of the great beings to it learning and whatnot #theyre pretty paranoid about him so theyre mostly. mean

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against-forms-recognizable · 1 day ago

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You should read Peter Grey's Rewilding Witchcraft, I think. He's addressing this exact sort of neoliberal recuperative paradigm within witchcraft. To quote:

"How tame we have become. How polite about our witchcraft. In our desire to harm none we have become harmless. We have bargained to get a seat at the table of the great faiths to whom we remain anathema. How much compromise have we made in our private practice for the "mighty" freedom of being able to wear pewter pentagrams in public, at school, in our places of employment? How much have the elders sold us out, genuflecting to the academy, the establishment, the tabloid press? In return for this bargain we have gained precisely nothing. The supposed freedoms we have been granted are empty. Late capitalist culture simply does not care what our fantasy dress-up life is like as long as we work our zero hour contracts, carry our mobile phones and keep consuming. The reason that social services are not taking your children away is that nobody believes in the existence of the witch. We have mistaken social and economic change for the result of our own advocacy. Marching in lock-step with what used to be called mainstream, but is now mono-culture, we have disenchanted ourselves, handed over our teeth and claws and bristling luxuriant furs. I will not be part of this process, because to do so is to be complicit with the very forces that are destroying all life on earth. It is time for Witchcraft not to choose, but to remember which side it is on in this struggle. [...] So what does our world look like? Let me describe to you our power animals. Wolf carcasses bored through with rifle point. Wet piles of golden eagles and buzzards fed poisoned meat. Sharks long-lined and finned by fishing fleets that have butchered through the tuna shoals we have fed to our plague of familiar cats. Barn owls bleeding from their eyes and haemorrhaging their guts down ghost white plumage due to the warfarin in rat poison. Toads and amphibian life mutating into monstrous pained death, whose gelatinous bones do not float back up the river. [...]

Witchcraft is embedded in the landscape, and our witchcraft must recognise that even the landscape of dream emanates from the physical world, and the body of the witch. So when we call our quarters these are what we must include if we wish to honour them: Seawater so acidic that the shells of molluscs are dissolving. Oceans overfished to the extent that they resemble deserts, seabeds ploughed to destruction, microparticles of indigestible plastic poisioning bird life and turtles, reefs bleached, plankton populations which are the building blocks of all ocean life disappearing. Ocean acidification is predicted to double by 2050.Ocean acidification triples by 2100. The death of the seas is inevitable. Of freshwater I will say that the draining of aquifers is ongoing, that fracking threatens the water table and that wars over water are going to rage in the following years. Water, I bid you hail and welcome. The Earth itself is exhausted, soil degradation endemic, washed with its nitrogen fertilisers into our already poisoned seas. Earth is fragile, it takes a hundred years to produce a centimetre of topsoil. Farmland is a limited resource and eroding fast. Industrial pollution has destroyed 20% of the farmland in China, I am not sure that you, or I, can grasp quite how much land that is. Globally, 38% of farmland is now classified as degraded. Human population continues to grow, as our ability to feed it, our infrastructures buckle. Insect populations will soon not be able to pollinate the crops. It is not just the bees; with climate change animals and insects are being born out of sync with their food sources. As I have said before, the wheel of the year has been broken.

Earth, I bid you hail and welcome.

The air and fire are perhaps what should give us most concern. We thought we had more time, that manmade climate change would be tackled. It has not, and it will not be, as government and corporate interests are one and the same, namely infinite growth. This is where you should feel the knot of fear in your stomach. The CO2 emissions that are wreaking havoc now are the result of what we burned forty years ago. Since then we have engaged in an orgy of denial and consumption. There is no techno-fix in the Anthropocene, the age of manmade climate change. Nothing has been done.

What mainstream scientists are not telling you is that the impact we are having is creating self-reinforcing feedback loops. Essentially, they focus on a single domino when we have an entire array triggered and falling. Air and Fire, I bid you hail and welcome."

I feel like a lot of introdutory books on witchcraft skip those steps to make spells and also the exercises that you should train to help you get in certain head spaces, like meditation, visualization, breathing techniques. I ended up looking at some chaos magic introdutory guides to learn some of those exercises, because the witchcraft ones don't really focus on providing a guide for the beginner.

or if they don't skip they just mention very briefly like oh you should consecrate or charge this, but never really explaining what it is

Its interesting because I got a book that was described as intermediate wicca and in that book they actually explain a lot more in depth all those concepts like dedicating, charging, blessing etc which is weird that is only on the intermediate one because to me it feels like the in depth explanations should be already on the introdutory ones. So even if i'm not necessarily going to the wicca path, the book ended up helping me a lot.

We are definitely in the midst of a Witchcraft craze and many, many "beginner" books on witchcraft are written for the spiritual seeker crowd who are looking for a self-supervised system of nature-based faith and empowerment.

There has been a shift in witchcraft publishing which moves away from whatever the hell was going in in the 70s, beginner witchcraft books telling you how to summon demons and shit. "Welcome to baby's first book on witchcraft! Here's how to summon Vassago, don't fuck it up!"

Many witchcraft publishers now seem to regard actual magic as a bit déclassé, which is why in my opinion the loveliest of witchcraft books now come from indie and self publishers.

And I think all of this is fine.

Witchcraft hasn't gotten smaller. It's gotten bigger. The boundaries have been expanded beyond the mist-shrouded peaks and the blood-soaked thickets, hiding spirits with heads that don't match their bodies.

It's been expanding beyond the rolling hills and the herbs hidden near muddy creeks, guarded by badgers and snakes who might just tell you what to do with the monsters in the mountain above.

It's arrived at the grand sun-drenched meadow, just off the highway; it's arrived at a place with picnic benches and carefully marked trails, where seeing a mule deer far off in the distance will fill people with delight.

The hills have never been tamed. They can't be. It's not how it works.

The boundary just gets bigger. Maybe someday it'll cross the highway. Someday it will retreat again, hidden from the main road.

I think we should enjoy the gentle lands of our domain while they're here.

Don't you think it's so amazing? Don't you think it's a relief and wonderful and warm that so many people now look at witchcraft and think it's lovely and enjoyable and meant for everyone?

I expect in my lifetime, the boundary will retreat far up into the mists. And the benefits we enjoy now by being associated with such pretty meadows will be erased.

But meanwhile, we should also perhaps not have too high expectations for any mass-produced popular witchcraft 101 books. They are typically not meant for people trying to hike in the foothills.

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womenaremypriority · 11 months ago

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Men are so hypocritical LMAO every other word out of their mouth, especially in comedic settings, is related to their penis but if a woman dares mention her pussy a few times men act like that’s all we care about. It’s so transparently a double standard, they make everything about their dick

#Interestingly enough if a woman makes a dirty joke related to penises then they like it and think we’re one of the good ones #But if it’s about OURSELVES and OUR BODY #they hate it #homosociality is a killer #My post #misogyny

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yuri-for-businesswomen · 9 months ago

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another crazy thing about having been a prostitute is to realise how little difference there has been in how many of my male sexual partners have treated me and how sex buyers treated me, especially since i was an escort where often you get paid to simulate dates. i even had sex buyers beg to see me again meanwhile men in real life often ghost or keep me at armlength especially when there are no romantic feelings involved.

this is why i dont want to have sex without feelings and care for each other anymore - it almost feels like im prostituted all over again, bad in a different way because i actually like the men i sleep with and want them to like and appreciate me too and consider my desires (dont get me wrong obviously prostitution is always worse than sleeping with men im actually attracted to and want to have sex with but it hurts in a different way to realise that ive often also been just a means to get off to them).

like for example, since sex buyers often pay for time instead of sex act (or both combined), they want to get the most out of their money and do the most to you in the set time - but as a prostitute you want to get it over with as soon as possible and it feels like torture. meanwhile so many heterosexual men who dont pay for sex try to reach orgasm as soon as possible and then its over, lmao. like the direct comparison between having been prostituted and having voluntary sex with men will make you feel absolutely crazy but it also made me realise why i thought i didnt even like sex for so long. because i was always treated like an object, not a person. men will do the bare minimum to keep you around for sex if they dont see you as wife material (and then they also do just little more than the bare minimum up until they reached their goal of marriage then usually start neglecting their wives as we know).

which brings home the point that we need a cultural and legal shift. as long as men treat sex as masturbation with another person, and women as objects or tools, there will always be demand for prostitution, and there will always be (privileged) women deluded into thinking „might as well get paid for it“ or even „at least now im being appreciated“, paradoxically. thats how bad heterosexual men treat women in bed.

this also emphasises that yes, #allmen, because even the men who dont buy sex contribute to the system of sexual exploitation with their behaviour. the reason ive heard men say most often why they dont buy sex is not care for women, but pride. they can convince women to get them off so why pay for it? same with porn, they dont stop watching because they care about women, but because their dick stopped working. and then of course you have a lot of sex buyers who dont even want to do the bare minimum mentioned above so they buy sex to go immediately to using a womans body with no „hassle“. the state of heterosex is fucking dire because i know im by far not the only one experiencing this.

and even before prostitution i could feel it but not really put my finger on it, now with this horrible experience and a radical aligned feminist view on things i realise and its really dark. and dont even try talking to men about their inadequacies in bed because they will act like youre the problem and an annoying nag for voicing desires.

#mine #anti prostitution #heterorealism #and the more i talk about heterorealism #the more i realise that heterosex might be the core issue of the patriarchy #even for women who dont have or want heterosex because its omnipresent #and impacting all female-male relationships in a way #how we view our bodies and ourselves #and the inherent discrepancy caused by female vs male anatomy and priorities during sex #etc!

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