I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Story Bone

Part of GM's downsizing means selling off thousands of out of date industrial robots. I imagine one working for a carnival as the engine for a wicked cool ride. But, as the lyrics go, how does it feel? Things to play with include rudimentary intelligence, a high level of strength and danger, working for carnies, giving joy to kids, and missing all the other robots it used to work with at the factory.

Also, could be a parable of retrained, out of work, union employees. Or a general midlife crisis moment for the robot.

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