westid

whoop de fuck for them, finding fortune by taking to a sector that hasn’t discovered a way to avoid hiring a human being because it hasn’t been completely automated yet. when i watch, the old guard is ever older, ever guarded, thanking fuck that they managed to live the whole of their life before they were broken off and replaced by a talking head. we don’t need to do the painstaking precision of what olden days people used to describe as “skilled work” … remember the three blokes who used to file these down to size that were paid off by voluntary redundancy so that their space they did their work in could be cleared away, making room for the machine that most men may have the misfortune of being made redundant by, in more than many marvellous meticulous manufacturing machines monopolising our masculinity and miserable melancholy of the undeniable truth that the old ones are so relieved to retire without wanting to work when relieved of what they have about them, when they still have so much to give

it doesn’t matter if you make the decisions, carry them out. now we can make a billion decisions per second, and they are seamlessly carried out in the beautiful black box that we never need to open, or adjust bespoke for another arbitrary purpose ever again. man and his machine can fuck off now, and disappear like most men couldn’t bring themselves to bear – into the mortal monochrome of ubiquity. so you can make this, this computer. here again i cite the reference of the electric motor. it rotates, and you can put your different utensils on it. it calculates, and you can install your applications on it. the thing is, from now until forever, they become built in. now you have to move, but do it quick. if you’re not in the cutting edge of the thing that it’s built into, then you’re as disposable as the thing that’s built into it

what i might find worth observing are the even more meticulous, microsocopic even, turns that technology is not yet tough enough to take. a machine can be as tough or as dexterous with its digits as you want it to be – and the science of what makes it big or tangible or monumental, just to watch because it’s something so massive that man made to make mountains out of marble and monoliths at which we remember being mesmerised enough to marvel, bigger or tougher are just arbitrary variables. suddenly being sat on top of the world doesn’t feel as spacious any more, and everywhere you look to seek out anything that makes that miniature, has been mapped and chartered and wringed and mangled and mashed

but when they need it doing, you can come to me. deus ex machina of my passion, second natured nurture in my craft. when you have the pieces, i can put them together. when you can wonder and watch, i can revive in a minor miracle so far fetched from your field, but you can always be sure in mine. i’ve got you, and this is what i do. when you create this and with these hands, those, what else is there left to do?