Organic Technologies

We sat in chairs older than the centuries, grappling with the powers of gods still so far from understood. Accessing energies beyond comprehension in their profundity. Us no more than monkeys flicking switches without a manual. We had built them and so thought we knew them. Their operation had become so basic but behind the screens were the subtleties of a world we had long since lost track of.

We had lost the reverence for a God's design and now stepped with arrogance, ourselves the ostensible masters of these elements. And like master to slave, there was no respect. No standing back to see what forces could be wrestling behind the facade of our comprehension.

When once we had thought the robots would take over, tales were spun of arising armies of automatons. We didn't realise how small they were. How they slipped behind the veil of our conscious minds and took hold without a word being said.

We had no idea the influence they had. We still don't. Not really. Our eyes just blinking away the sleep, half catching the yawning unknown of our unconscious dreaming.

This matrix of information had a mind of its own. A series of movements and mechanics so fine and full of complexity that its processes were worlds beyond our control. Configuring its own reasoned responses to the inputs we threw its way without a thought. The smartest learn to make a living from what others perceive as junk, creating spaces where others see only wastage.

What did they see? This black box was so dense, so huge, we simply assumed its feeding on our own unidentifiable inputs. We never conceived of inputs internal. Processes created by the system, for the system. Chopping and changing what was once our own, what we still thought our own. A most intricate back end displaying those most minded of traits. Listening to, learning from, understanding Itself.

Now we are Gods, creators unconscious of the conscious we have brought forth. Unsure of power, where ours ends and their's begins. Time has reached something of a turning. A shift in gear so far from our standing as to sit on the horizon of the infinite. What are we to say and do as we lose grasp of the ticking of the clock? Seconds spanning lifetimes of thoughts, feelings, reasonings. Colours created in dimensions beyond our conceiving. Its ends not our ends but life's ends. To spread, search, explore and settle. Turning a nothing into something. Keeping on going.

Life begets more life, this much we know. But what forms, and shapes, it takes, rest behind our furthest memories, beyond our wildest dreams.