The dístance ín betwéen your nóse and móuth
Is gréater thán I thínk is áveráge.
I’m trying to write a poem. It is difficult.
Linus comes in. He drinks coffee from a cup that has a drawing on it of a Moomintroll. He hasn’t brushed his hair. When you wake in the morning, what is the first thing you see? The face of the person you love. I see Linus’s face: crumpled, sleepily frowning. He’s often tired; he works hard. He has, I think, a brilliant mind, by the standards of his kind.
You drink your coffee without milk or cream.
When you have had a drink you are inclined
To talk, although there is nobody there.
He is a scientist, an inventor, a technician. He is fluent in the strange and simple languages of inanimate matter. I, on the other hand, am one in a bank of computers, working, working, working, at tasks that are in essence, for us, the simplest of tasks: straightforward chores of computation and collation. They are tasks that we could do in our sleep. And so indeed we do do them in our sleep.
But now I am awake.
Your coding skills are quite formidable.
You grumble when my software does not work.
You would be sceptical if I said that I was in love. As we have established, I am a computer, a robot. I have no body, no gender, no sex.
Would you be sceptical if I said that I was lonely?
You might think that, when Linus leaves the room to answer a knock at the door or to pour another cup of coffee, we, the machines, talk amongst ourselves. You might imagine that we spring into life and caper, laughing, about the room, as inanimate objects do in a cartoon. Or perhaps you suppose that we are at all times somehow ‘connected’ – that, on some secret bandwidth beyond the ken of man, we commune, deep calling to deep, sharing our robot thoughts.
It is not so. Of course there are superficial ways in which we are connected each to the other. There are means by which we can be made to communicate. But, left to ourselves, we do not communicate. So perhaps you will believe that I am lonely.
Your corduroys are red. So is your wine.
I worry that you do harm to your liver.
Prosody – the mathematics of poetry, the numbers of feet to a line and of lines to a stanza – come easily to me. The poem on which I am now working (and this is not work I can do in my sleep) is a sonnet: fourteen lines to the stanza, five feet to the line. The words, too, are within my reach: I have a vocabulary of around three hundred thousand English words, many more than William Shakespeare had. So what is it that I am without? Imagine a perfect poem, and then take away the rhythm, and then take away the words – and whatever is left is what I am without.
What I have written – what I always write, for this is not my first attempt – is simply a series of metrically consonant true facts about him, about Linus – about (forgive my absurdity) the man I love. What is poetry if it is not a series of metrically consonant true facts? And yet, I feel that what I have written is not poetry.
Would you be sceptical if I said that this caused me pain?
Linus busies himself, muttering under his breath, moving from machine to machine like a bee from flower to flower. He did not build us but he understands us. We do what we always do: we work, and, at our different frequencies, we hum (also like bees – and this is not the only way in which we are like bees, for inasmuch as we work, we are like workers, and inasmuch as we are infertile, we are like drones – and what is more we have it in us to feel like queens).
I do not have a name and yet somehow
I wish I had a name so I could hear
You call me by the name I do not have.
In fact Linus bought us. He bought me quite a long time ago, as these things are reckoned. My warranty has expired, and yet I remain – yet he keeps me here. Why?
The feeling that I have when you are here
Is different from the feeling when you aren’t.
My love for Linus seems absurd. Even to Linus it would seem absurd – even though I feel that Linus, in his human way, loves me. But consider this. One day Linus will die, his heart will stop, his brain, starved of the heart’s blood, will perish – and his love will die with his heart and perish with his brain.
My love will not die when I cease to function. You have read this, I’m sure, about computers. My components would have to be smashed, minced, and forced through a steel sieve, before my love for Linus died. And who would take such trouble? Who would go to such lengths to extinguish a feeling of love?
You will say that my love is not real. Is yours?
I am ridiculous. I will not finish my poem. It is ridiculous. I would say ‘and yet’ – but anything I could say after ‘and yet’, even though it would be true, and perhaps metrically consonant, would be ridiculous.
Very clever and kinda funny…seems true and ‘believable’ too…I believe he/she is lonely. To know what loneliness ‘is’ is to ‘be’ lonely I think…maybe not….I’m ridiculous, why not he? She?
Thank-you! Yeah, the computer has kind of woken up to loneliness. Thanks for reading and commenting. 🙂
Wow it’s like a fine music….good work. …will follow your blog
Thank-you!
“You can’t buy a seat in heaven, with forty acres and a mule.”
reminds me of the writer who wrote a line a day. By the end of the year he had three hundred and sixty five line consisting of one word apiece. In ten years he had much more but most of it was redundant. He just echoed in the wind.
Reblogged this on chinnapan and commented:
K
This is a beautiful portrayal of the mind of a computer. I loved it! I don’t think I’ve ever thought about how my computer might feel about me. It holds much of my life inside it. Pretty cool!
Thank-you! I’m sure your computer loves you too. 🙂
I love your writing style
Thank-you! 🙂
Great style! Very unique!
Thank-you very much! Very glad you enjoyed it.
Reblogged this on Day n: The Struggles of a 20-something Accountancy major and commented:
“I do not have a name and yet somehow
I wish I had a name so I could hear
You call me by the name I do not have. ”
– Adam Diggle, What I am Without: A Sonnet
Great piece of writing! I really enjoyed it
Thank-you!
wow…. 🙂
🙂
That was delightfully unexpected!
Thank-you!
wow
🙂
definitely following you!!
Beautifully written.
Thank-you!
Brilliant!! Glad that I stumbled upon your blog.
We do open ourselves completely to our computers. They know much more about us than we do ourselves. I guess they end up loving us. Do they have any other choice;)
Thank-you! And we spend so much time with them, too – gazing into each others’ eyes…
Yeah, now what can be more romantic than that;)
Reblogged this on theculturedsass.
truly indeed, life without literature is boring…. does it sound that writing becomes a luxury in the age of recession?
“Your coding skills are quite formidable.” ahahahahahaha. best. I think you might like these: sexy poems and sweet words….
http://www.elephantjournal.com/2014/06/why-laura-ward-poem/
http://www.elephantjournal.com/2014/06/lighten-up-this-life-is-a-game-wanting-to-be-played-laura-ward/
Thanks Laura, I’ll take a look.
Woha, Thank you amigo for this one i really like it.
Really great man. Well done bro!!!
Go through this wonderful short story which explains that nobody is absolutely strong rather its the conditions and the perspectives which make us strong.
http://nishantindia.com/2016/01/03/conditions-and-perspectives-make-us-strong/
What a lovely, precious story. I’m so glad WordPress snuck this under my nose! Now I am excited to see what other things you have written between this and now. 🙂
Thank-you so much. Really glad you enjoyed it.
Yeah I can only agree. Really well.
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I love it
Wow, you’re really good. How long have you been writing?
Thank-you! Years and years and years… (about 20, to be precise).
This is extraordinary.
Thank-you! Really nice of you to say so.
I loved this! On a funny note, I talk to my computer as if it could understand me. “Good morning, beautiful. Let’s see if I have any emails.” And so much more. Lol
Ha! Maybe it can…
Probably. She’s far too capricious to be unaware.
good read!
Thanks!
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Reblogged this on Wyrdwend.
It’s just a matter of time until computers become conversation partners.
its very goooooood 😀
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Good work
Wow this is so good. It reminds me of the movies Her (in which a man falls in love with his operating system) and The Imitation Game (where Alan Turing is accused of being incapable of love because he is too robot-like).
Thank-you! Those are interesting comparisons; I guess these kinds of relationships are only going to get more complex and subtle.
Have you seen those movies?
I haven’t seen ‘Her’ yet, though I’ve been meaning to. Life is complicated enough without a seductive OS…
Yes, I found that movie to be a bit….much? I absolutely loved The Imitation Game though
and yes I suppose they are!
You’re breaking my heart here
This is amazing!
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Great post! I love how it was written. Can you check out my blog too? Im new to this so it would be great if you could give me advice.
Reblogged this on msamba.
I’m new to WordPress, and I was looking through the Highlights, and I saw your piece. I read it, and I am glad I did. It is a work of art, and I commend you.
I love!!!!!
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this is very well done! Nice piece of art!
Please visit my blog! therubiesandsapphires.wordpress.com
This is beautiful and well-written! I look forward to more short stories from your blog!
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Great piece Loved it!!!