Automatonomatopoeia , December 2011

Opening:

Dan woke up from unsettling dreams and shook away the memory of the Lady in White. Strangely, he admitted that the clouds didn't look like high-speed hover trains to his automaton.

He rolled to the edge of his metal cot and placed a hand on the smooth, cold shoulder of his automaton, model LV-426. LV beeped and fully powered up in acknowledgement of his touch. Coincidentally, the notifier triggered, and the updates came on.

“I am not sure why we set that thing. I am always awake by mark six.”

“...Sunny with periods of rolling clouds that appear as high-speed hover trains. Now it’s time for Mind stretch. Say SILK —  Again — SILK. Spell SILK — S-I-L-K — Again — S-I-L-K. What does a cow drink?”  

Excerpt:

Dan listened attentively, his lips clasped tightly together. He struggled with the notion that there were automatons outside the wall.

Gil continued.

“Some believe that there are an infinite number of hives, that they are hidden in trees, within the leaves’ protruding veins, within the brooks that chatter softly like wind chimes and even within the song of birds, who replicate the first hive’s melody. The hive existed before the Administration. The hive is part of an oneness, and it is indestructible. Having had centuries to seep into the earth, like an idea, it sprouts from the cracks in sidewalks. Storms come and go; they harm Administrative buildings and demolish buildings of labour, but these blades of grass —these ideas — remain untouched. They sway wildly but keep hold.”

FacebookTwitter

Your Voice

Click here to add a comment

Name:


Location:


Web site:


Email:


Rating:






Tags (separate each tag with a comma):


Title:


Comment:




Please enter the Captcha code:

There are no comments to display

FacebookTwitter

Of Interest:

I have always been interested in tales of the dystopia. Whether its 1984, Brave New World, WE or A handmaid's tale, they peer through the looking glass, and reveal the truth. Although one could argue that such a statement is true with most literature, dystopian literature is the pinnacle of art and resistance.

I had originally titled this piece Hijacked, as the story described how signals and reality were being hijacked by the administration. With the progression of the draft, I consciously questioned if the 'cybernetic' side kick should be described as a robot, AI or if the description of the Automaton was apt. The difficulty I was saddled with was I found the term Automaton humourous, but I wanted to be respectful as I believe humans, on the whole, are asleep. And once awake, Humans are capable of great feats. Through the use of Portmanteau (the blending of words to create a new word and the sense of a meaning) I realized that I found the perfect title.  

Automatonomatopoeia is dedicated to MQ & TLP

Although truth and liberty are suppressed under the boots of oppression, it is only the truth beneath the boot that remains dormant while truth spreads freely all around. When the repressive boot is lifted to stomp the surrounding truth, like flattened grass, the truth will wake and rise proudly for the sun, growing as it once did to fulfill its true nature. And the surrounding grass, having previously escaped the boot, will have garnered the preparatory strength to be heartier and taller, providing shade, so all the oppressed rise as one, freely, as nature intended.