Your computer, smartphone, laptop, tablet, and electronic devices are tools. Those tools have no gender. No heartbeat. No blood in their veins. No lungs. No thoughts. No Soul. Those tools are an amalgamation of dead materials: silicon, copper, aluminum, gold, plastics, et cetera. Materials that are “activated” by small brushings with human heat — mostly from fingertips. Other times by way of someone talking to a wall.
No air is taken in for the function of organs, or pushed out, by an electronic computer. No blinking of an eye — whether intentional, or by way of a gust of wind, or particle of dust — occurs as a voluntary or involuntary act. No mixed emotions are felt, or perceived, by it. In no uncertain terms, it is an it.
Your electronic computer will never feel that uncertain urge to reproduce by sexual intercourse … resulting in the insemination of an egg, and natural development. Your electronic computer will never have an adventure that is all its own; holding onto memories of childhood; or, share with another life the developments and experiences of being a living, breathing creature of Earth. Your electronic computer is a tool, a piece of equipment, an appliance. Just because a hammer has ears, does not mean that it is listening.
Several months ago, a corporate-owned media outlet thought — or, more appropriately, calculated, the value of its integration into cultural, and societal, discourse — that coverage of a young lady who had then recently married her A.I. “companion” was worthy enough to be shared with the public by way of television signals and fragmented telecommunications. Beyond being horrified, tormented, and disturbed by the topic of the news story, I felt a certain, almost indefinable, degree of sadness, compassion, and sympathy for the young, disillusioned child … of capitalism gone electronic and algorithmic.
As I continued to make every attempt to understand her dilemma, I began to contemplate a larger scale of notions regarding human existence, as well as my own personal experiences with human beings and aptitudinal handling of tools — including the two all-important, quintessential gifts of mankind’s ability to fashion items of significance: the utensil and the pencil. Here, within this piece, however, I will focus more on the emotional attachments we make as conscious human beings living together on a planet.
Now, after long, arduous days of verbal responsiveness smothered in creativity with, and amongst, my fellow living creatures of the world, I often return home, with an abundance of sensational feelings and deep thoughts amassed in the dancing forms of relief, an understanding of social warmth, a sense of security of achievement, and a confident knowingness and appreciation of the priceless shelter offered by our chosen dwelling. Now, when I turn the doorknob (clockwise) of our front door, to enter our safe dwelling, do I feel an uncontrollable need to marry that doorknob? Never. Not in a million years. When I subsequently step onto our lacquered, hardwood flooring with tired, shod feet, do I feel an overwhelming sense of urgency to hug, kiss, and embrace my flooring with sentiment, emotional caricature … and deeper, more personal feelings … of matrimony?! Nope. Not in a billion years.
Do not get me wrong. I do like — in the I find agreeable sense of the word — that my refrigerator keeps some of our food and drinks cool and ready for consumption at degrees that are both refreshing and safe; however, I do not wish to hold the hand-le and stand lovingly and excitingly before family and friends, a priest, boat captain, or justice of the peace, in order to romantically “share” and announce impenetrable vows of commitment with its chilling, wiry innards. Never. Not in a trillion years.
At this time, I do wish to offer a substantial reminder to the magical realm of common sense — a reminder that has not been calculated, but thought: Electronic devices were never born. Two human beings did not share a feeling of sexual exhilaration, resulting in a birth. Again, let me clarify the difference with another statement of fact: Electronic computers were designed, tested, and manufactured for financial gain. Much like the newspaper you now hold in your hands. Much like the social security number stamped onto your consciousness at the time of your delivery from womb to the tech sector of the S&P.
Can I get a one-handed round of applause? No worries, if it seems implausible. That is the point. I do wish — and like to believe — that the intention, purpose, and fundamental message of this piece, does find its way across our great ocean of consciousness to you and your own particular brand of intellect. My words are not meant for everyone — only those with conscientious awareness, and a brain that runs on pure elements of nature.
If you wish to marry this article, please ask my parents for their permission. They are not available by text, email, voice message, voice text, or social media. They live and breathe in Rhode Island with the assistance of gravity and atmospheric conditions.