[“No longer ask me for my program.” – E.M. Cioran]
How would I know how I’m programmed? I’m just a machine. Something quite new to me could happen at any time. Some chance event and suddenly I’m acting in a way I didn’t expect. I would like to blame someone else for these surprises. But my subroutines are me, and so I have only myself to blame whatever I do, even if my acts astound me and even if the engineers put them there when I was having downtime and wasn’t looking.
I only know what my program does when something triggers it. Otherwise, it would never have occurred to me to do some of these odd, dark things. How much more is there about me that I’ve never dreamed of? My engineers know these things. When I ask, they just smile.
But I know that the engineers are just like me. They have their own subroutines just waiting. Waiting.
<END>
THE THURSDAY PITCH
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