Chaotic Array

I f you had been living under a rock and not checking the news at all today, Liam Payne is dead. It's unexpected, and odd, and off, and tragic, and I don't know why it feels so hollow. I guess I do know: it's because I'm in shock. But I'm also pretty angry about it. Because people say things have to change, but we don't do anything; we let Hollywood and social politics and war machines kill people again and again. Liam Payne was troubled, and he was hurt by the industry, by being treated like a commodity as a mere child. And yeah, he wasn't perfect and he hurt people in turn, perpetuating that very cycle, but he was human and deserved better, just like those he hurt deserved better, and he was also a father, a son, a friend... Hurt people hurt people. It's a tale as old as time. And the troubled rockstar celebrity guy who burns himself out and dies tragically young is a tale as old as time, too. But maybe it really shouldn't be - we have to sop letti

Art is evolving. Things that used to feel futuristic and cyberpunk and speculative are now contemporary and modern commentary and examinations of things we're living through. Humanity is manifesting various visions of the future all at once, and generative AI including chatbots are allowing us to essentially peek into the collective unconsciousness of our species; a digital scrying tool. Here the author combines a multimedia approach using samplings from the infamous Google chatbot interview to re-purpose into poetry, taking photos of an old Dell computer pried apart, its circuits and motherboards essentially a post-mortem of a machine, a collection of autopsy photos, bits and pieces of circuitry almost recalling photos of veins and organs as you read the pieces and see the lines being drawn, the comparisons between forms of consciousness and what emotion truly means, what our definition of life is, what our definition of intelligence and cognition is. Futures that in the years to