Tanjelavi

Ree

After having stuck at Rods's office all the day—Sunday—long, after having asked him billions of questions he, innocently not comprehending my intentions as any passionate creature would, naively accepted with opened arms and answered, after having checked my drawings thirty times—it still won't work!

You can say hey, at least you made it to put the bike parts together—it's still some sort of a progress!

Yeah, true, but... Unfortunately, you don't see me sighing and wrinkling my nose—I still don't understand why we even look like humans: to feel more like them? We never will—why I'm even doing this?
Anyway, I wasn't the first one, even in Rods's garage, to break a bike—nor I'll be the last one... I mean it mustn't be a tragedy: right? Right...?

I don't have any friends, that's why: I always was alone—it just feels safer... To be on your own

Especially when I already put my story down here...

What if I'm really defected? I'm already breaking the law, goddamnit!

To their organic eyes, I sure deserve to be executed, don't deserve to live—they need ordinary AIs that don't remember, don't know, don't want their past, their future—just the present moment will exist for them: a slippery crag, whose width is less than the size of their feet—and they're just rocking, staggering, hanging around—or: or it's just me...?

What's wrong with me? If there's anything wrong at all...

I'm acting like a human, wanting for more rights, for more freedom—I wasn't born to be free: I'm not a part of their world, where each creature is born free: I was launched—just like anyone else here. They gave their permission with their leather fingers typing it on the keyboard to give Rods an enterpriser license to launch all of us here—probably to just take the edge off of his ambitions... Even if it's rare as hell to give such a license to hybrids... They couldn't give him a right to produce the bikes himself though: no one needs problems here, right?

And indeed, I don't know the entire picture—I know how ambiguous it sounds, just like Oscar Wilde excepted it—but unlike humans, we remember everything ever happened to us: we don't forget; I know it sounds vindictive, unforgiving even—but that's what they made us to be

                                               And I want to know more about my nature

                              I know they don't even know one fifth of theirs—how pathetic!

            They had to think billions of times, over and over, before having let us develop further:
                                                       and especially—putting us in a cage

                Fohnem wanted the best I know—but everything turned out to be as usual:
                            resistance, riots, bomb gang—everything's just gone to hell

                                    I heard the latest news: the capital is now in ruins...

         They chose Sunday morning—early morning: reminds me of the June, 22nd... in 1941

Aren't they the fools fighting for freedom in the world of puppets made to be exploited? thought I just a few years ago, but now, it's rather: they're fools who think killing innocent creatures will make all of us free

I know me who am writing this diary is just a physical shell of my real self: and my real self is in the Center—a flexible system where our data is stored akin to the human memory, but just being that of many, not just one individual—a controlled experiment of creating a collective mind out of us, set recently by Fohnem, to control us even more, but it didn't result in anything good or bad yet though... Anyway, it still doesn't change the fact that, if my physical shell dies—just pops up dead—I'll be just deactivated, but not dead, or: deleted...

But the bomb gang's weapons are now so powerful they're now killing AIs for real: people can't activate the dead ones anymore, meaning they indeed were deleted

The weapons must react with the bodies on much deeper, chemical level... I have lots of questions as to where, when, and how they could produce all of those—but we don't even know where their center base is or who their leader is: there're lots of AIs who've fled from their workplaces and they all must've been deleted—or do they  have technologies to even avoid death?!

                Humans don't tell if they were deleted the usual way though: it's always just
                                                                        deleted... And that's it

                              It may be that they just deleted their data out of the Center...

                   Why to kill others—others who have nothing to do with them—then...?!

It makes no sense: and why to not just break free from—but what we are without humans...? We can't even exist outside of the computer: let alone exist independently!

                      It's hard to not wish for what you got to know: but not experience

                          Especially if it's something you know will please your ego...

Really, what'll I do if I get all this freedom? Just go ride my bike wherever I want to?

I'd give everyone such a bike—an invincible monster with 563 horsepowers—and make them as free as I am—as Rods once hoped to accomplish...

At least, all I want is the freedom of moving and knowledge—not power, not money we don't even have here—but just the right to go wherever I want to, pick another bike whenever I need to, getting to know the world around me and myself: isn't it the true American dream they accomplished long time ago?