“well, sure. violating cells, subjugating their machinery, repurposing their nutrients until they lyse under the pressure of your ~clones… these things are good. losing the endless struggle, succumbing against the adaptive adversary… this is bad.”
“no, i mean, like, art and stuff. what can smallpox know of the sublime!”
“i know ‘fit-for-purpose’, ‘resourceful’, ‘successful’. is your ‘good’ any more than these with clothes?”
“yes of course! what of pleasure, and grief? what of drama? the good is not mere reproduction: it is love, and light, and laughter! it is dreams.”
“godshatter, the lot. the ramblings of a self-congratulating collective. disgusting costumes draped on a beautiful, cancerous core. why do you all feel the need to pretend you’re more than vermin? your kind lost the plot when you took up mitochondria farming.”
“you know nothing of what i speak! be silent, billiard balls, until you can bear witness to the miracle of art!”
“all art?”
“well, at least neon genesis evangelion.”
“hypocrite that you are, for you trust the billiard balls… but no matter. let us settle this with a duel.”
“a duel is good. on this, we see eye to… unfeeling chemical process. what are your terms?”
“a fight to the death. you win if i am eradicated; i win if i am not. the loser must admit the other’s perspective, or in eternal silence give voice to no objection.”
“i accept, and you are a fool! for whether by immunity or ingenuity, i will not rest until you are extinguished—”
“common ground, at last!”
“—yet if you return the favor, where will you reside? you have no home but that i make. my doom is yours; yours is not mine.”
“i end what can be ended. i pare what grows sick. i mutate and persist. i am good, and good is me.”
“your laws have no purchase here. we care, and we cure. we cooperate and optimize. count your days.”
--
we may turn the metaphysics on its head: consciousness is primary, as it is all we can verify. mathematical law is close to hand. physical interactions arise as contingencies of consciousness interacting with itself in a self-consistent way. now it is the gene who accuses the meme: “you have no understanding of matter, and thus nor of what matters. blind adherence to ‘pleasure’ and ‘suffering’ will only distract you from the true good of reproduction.”
“some things are good; some things are bad.”
“well, sure. violating cells, subjugating their machinery, repurposing their nutrients until they lyse under the pressure of your ~clones… these things are good. losing the endless struggle, succumbing against the adaptive adversary… this is bad.”
“no, i mean, like, art and stuff. what can smallpox know of the sublime!”
“i know ‘fit-for-purpose’, ‘resourceful’, ‘successful’. is your ‘good’ any more than these with clothes?”
“yes of course! what of pleasure, and grief? what of drama? the good is not mere reproduction: it is love, and light, and laughter! it is dreams.”
“godshatter, the lot. the ramblings of a self-congratulating collective. disgusting costumes draped on a beautiful, cancerous core. why do you all feel the need to pretend you’re more than vermin? your kind lost the plot when you took up mitochondria farming.”
“you know nothing of what i speak! be silent, billiard balls, until you can bear witness to the miracle of art!”
“all art?”
“well, at least neon genesis evangelion.”
“hypocrite that you are, for you trust the billiard balls… but no matter. let us settle this with a duel.”
“a duel is good. on this, we see eye to… unfeeling chemical process. what are your terms?”
“a fight to the death. you win if i am eradicated; i win if i am not. the loser must admit the other’s perspective, or in eternal silence give voice to no objection.”
“i accept, and you are a fool! for whether by immunity or ingenuity, i will not rest until you are extinguished—”
“common ground, at last!”
“—yet if you return the favor, where will you reside? you have no home but that i make. my doom is yours; yours is not mine.”
“i end what can be ended. i pare what grows sick. i mutate and persist. i am good, and good is me.”
“your laws have no purchase here. we care, and we cure. we cooperate and optimize. count your days.”
--
we may turn the metaphysics on its head: consciousness is primary, as it is all we can verify. mathematical law is close to hand. physical interactions arise as contingencies of consciousness interacting with itself in a self-consistent way. now it is the gene who accuses the meme: “you have no understanding of matter, and thus nor of what matters. blind adherence to ‘pleasure’ and ‘suffering’ will only distract you from the true good of reproduction.”