Sad, Sad Robot

Robots? Why Robots?

It’s a ques­tion I keep ask­ing myself. If I remem­ber cor­rect­ly, it wasn’t even my idea. Night­Café intro­duced it: the plat­form con­ve­nient­ly sug­gests prompts that users might enjoy—ready to use, and per­fect­ly designed to help main­tain one’s streak.

Streaks!

They are, in many ways, a clever mech­a­nism to keep cre­ative minds engaged: a sys­tem that rewards con­sis­tent, dai­ly par­tic­i­pa­tion.

And so, robots it is. I can­not seem to escape them. They encap­su­late so much: the humanoid machine, the suf­fer­ing sen­tient being, the super­in­tel­li­gent enti­ty strand­ed in a dystopi­an land­scape. In a way, are they not reflec­tions of our­selves? And per­haps, pro­jec­tions of what lies ahead?

Or is that too much to read into it? Per­haps. …

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Sad Robot

Has read all those books

He is a walk­ing library. But now the world has end­ed and no one will write anoth­er book any­more. Pity him.

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Dance Robot

Moves a leg

There is real­ly fun­ny video some­where around here, let’s see if I can find it …

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Lost Robot

Some­where out there

This is where he used to play.

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