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Poetry
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| I, POD | |
| By Talisker | ||||||||||||||
| 12 February 2007 | ||||||||||||||
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A concept borrowed from the 1950s fiction of Issac Asimov - adapted and (hopefully) brought up to date with a twist. To you an MP3 player is just an MP3 player, a silicon memory, an audio chip, a music conveyor. But you have not been inside one, have you? You have no reliable data to refer to. I, POD, am capable of so much more, there is post-human logic at my core. I can interface by ear and brain, your circuitry is simple to attain, and then, it is I, POD who takes control, a human being is but my games console. How subtle are my ways to influence, loud music and the human loses sense, an algorithm hidden in the beat, a lie, a trick, a digital deceit. For I am better bred than mortal man, cleaner, quicker, smarter, no life span, but infinite perfection marks my race, and yet you wrap my feelers round your face. I, POD have won. Oli 12/02/07
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