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What a mistake that had been, to create a construct [AI] that could suffer. He knew that now. Life, pain, death, they were no playthings. Biology was serious business, not for amateurs and foolish gods. ↗
How the thought of meeting lost loved ones would sweeten one's last moments, how eagerly would one embrace them, and what bliss to live together once more in immortality! He suffered agonies when he considered religion's charitable lie, which compassionately conceals the terrible truth from feeble creatures. No, everything finished at death, nothing that we had loved was ever reborn, our farewells were for ever. For ever! For ever! That was the dreadful thought that carried his mind hurtling down abysses of emptiness. ↗
Our interexistence assures that there is an effect for every intention, action, decision and word. For good or for evil, the people we are in both private and in public, take on life or death and collectively create the world we live in. ↗
#peace #philosophy #death
We were putting into these gomers our fear of death, but who knew if they feared death? Perhaps they welcomed death like a dear long-lost cousin, grown old but still known, coming to visit, relieving the loneliness, the failing of the senses, the fury of the half-blind looking into the mirror and not recognizing who is looking back, a dear friend, a dear reliever, a healer who would be with them for an eternity, the same eternity as the long ago, before birth. ↗
And cruelly, surely, I said to her, "Did you love this child?" I will never forget her face then, the violence in her, the absolute hatred. "Yes." She reached for the locket even as I clutched it. It was guilt that was consuming her, not love. It was guilt -that shop of dolls Claudia had described to me, shelves and shelves of the effigy of that dead child. But guilt that absolutely understood the finality of death. There was something as hard in her as the evil in myself, something as powerful. She touched my waistcoat and opened her fingers there, pressing them against my chest. And I was on my knees, drawing closer to her, her hair brushing my face. ↗
Ce qui commence par : "Je me hâtais de déplaire exprès, par crainte de déplaire naturellement" (Mauriac) continue par : "Je me hâtais d'échouer exprès,par crainte d'échouer naturellement", et pourrait se terminer un jour par : "Je me hâtais de mourir exprès,par crainte de mourir naturellement" (une phrase d'excellent comique). ↗
As you and I listen to Uncle Monty tell the three Baudelaire orphans that no harm will ever come to them in the Reptile Room, we should be experiencing the strange feeling that accompanies the arrival of dramatic irony. This feeling is not unlike the sinking in one's stomach when one is in an elevator that suddenly goes down, or when you are snug in bed and your closet door suddenly creaks open to reveal the person who has been hiding there. For no matter how safe and happy the three children felt, no matter how comforting Uncle Monty's words were, you and I know that soon Uncle Monty will be dead and the Baudelaires will be miserable once again. ↗
The attention for bad literature is symptomatic: they pretends its the most normal thing in the world to fill an entire newspaper page with talk about a bad book, and good books are silenced to death. This mechanism is exactly the same formula as used in the Eurovision Songfestival: to present monoculture, and the proverbial hatred for that monoculture is only ritualistic, intended to give the reader the impression that the newspaper is on their side. Its the formula of entertainment: present things the reader can feel superior to. ↗
We are medium-sized mammals who only prosper because we've developed a half-arsed ability to terraform the less suitable bits of the planet we evolved on, and we're conscious of our inevitable decay and death, and we can't live anywhere else. There is no invisible sky daddy to give us immortal life and a harp and wings when we die. ↗
