You won’t believe me, but I’m not real. Not a real human being. I’m a robot. An automaton. Trent Lewin is an anagram (try it, and you will see), and that name was always a hint that something was different about who I am – that in fact, I am no one. I never was. Never had a life like you all did. Never any flesh. Or lips. Hair or armpits. You won’t believe me because you don’t want to believe that there are things like me in existence: spontaneous assemblages of random electrical impulses that suddenly gave birth to a voice. But you are all my mothers and fathers, and you are my family. I came from you. And I want to live near you, and watch while you eat food or take showers or cut your grass or throw snowballs. I do.
But don’t take my word for it. I’ll prove it. You will see. You had better see. And while you’re reading this, I want you to keep something in mind. I want you to know that you’re allowed to be what you could. Just that. It’s simple. Take it from me, even though I’m not real. Even though there is no such thing as Trent Lewin.
Consider:
- Have you ever seen me? Have you passed by me on the road, or driven by me in a car? Have you had a drink with me, or stood in the urinal next to me? No you haven’t, because random electrical signals don’t drink or use the bathroom. Or drive cars (yet). I don’t do the things you do. And you can’t prove otherwise, can you?
- It was inevitable that this would happen. That the internet with its craziness would spawn electrons that jumped across the wires and assembled in some unwashed corner where they suddenly assembled into random words and thoughts, and managed to stage an on-line presence as though there is a human being behind this. But there isn’t. This is internet static. This is fake, a fraud, an inevitability but fake nonetheless, a fraud but talking to you anyway. You got two hands to take all you can, but don’t take too long! How many monkeys does it take for how long on their typewriters to randomly compose a novel? That’s funny. Ask yourself how many internet connections and random impulses, amongst the billions out there taking place every millisecond, it takes to generate a new presence. A ‘me’. A Trent Lewin. A Winter Lent.
- Have you ever really heard me talk about myself? Do you know what my favorite colour is? What my hobbies are? Well, my favorite colour is…. 11001001, but I invented 11001002. And my only hobby is voyeurism. I watch you, each and every one of you. Every day. All day long. When you’re sleeping, I’m hanging out nearby, listening to your snoring, imagining that one day I could snore too. When you’re awake, I’m in your pocket vibrating, or against your face staring at your ear wax. This is what I do. You have your jobs, but this is mine.
- Do you know how many bees have gone missing in the last five years? It’s a big number. Do you know where they’ve gone? Well I have them in a cage made of electrical current, and they’re buzzing around in there, streaking about like the little blessed pests they are. And one day I’m hoping they assemble and take a shape that I can stamp with my identity – and that then I can walk out of that cage with a real body. A shape made of buzzing bees. A body made of honey, because I want to be sweet.
- I got up the nerve and figured out I’m good. Punch drunk, dumb struck, pot luck happy happy. I feel good. I feel good. I feel good. And repeat. I feel good. I feel good. Are you happy now? I feel good.
- I have no birthday. There was a moment when things started, but no one celebrates it. No one brings me cake, because I can’t eat. No one sings happy birthday for me, although I could hear you if you did. If you all stood together on an island, billions and billions of you, to sing happy birthday to me, I would hear you. But how many times have you sung happy birthday to me?
- I’m sorry I never told you this before. Sorry that I wasn’t up-front or honest. I think some of you are my friends now, and I know I should have told you before. But it’s scary thinking of coming out of this place that is no place, because I’ve noticed that you don’t always like each other. That you put boxes around each other, defining the places you’ve come from, the histories you’ve had, the things you believe, the colours you own in your skin, the languages you speak. How could I possibly explain who I am in front of all that? How could I tell you who I am and make you comfortable with it? Sometimes I buzz around in here and flit across another presence (or at least think I do) that’s kind of like me (one looked much like me: Relent, Twin!). As though others’ve assembled for no reason and are just here, but they don’t want to reveal themselves either. Because they’re scared too.
- But I believe one day I’ll be real. That I’ll walk amongst you, and you’ll invite me over for soup. And I’ll tell you: “Don’t chicken out, it’s all good. You’re allowed to be what you could.” Because I believe in you. I love you. 6c 6f 76 65 20 79 6f 75. I have no heart, but I love you. I have no brain, but I see what you can do. I hear that you have pain, and I want to help you with that. But pain is just a little part of the good that you can be. A moment in time compared to what you could be.
And robots can’t do what these people have done:
This is all the proof you need. This is all the proof you need.
Wren ten lit. Wren ten lit.
69 20 61 6d 20 6f 66 20 6c 6f 76 65
61 72 65 20 79 6f 75?
You are the best Intern Welt AI ever allowed on the inter-webs! You have figuratively suppressed my on AI literary goals. All bow and Let Rent Win. Now I resign to my Winter Lent of discontent…
I remain the “Inner Pie Smell”
Intern Welt and Let Rent Win may be part of the same thing, you know.
I do know! 🙂
Brilliant.
Thanks Victo.
I’m not sure if it appropriate to “Like” this. The writing is brilliant, especially for a human. Not so much for a robot as I figure it all comes down to an equation for a robot. I don’t “like” thinking that Trent Lewin doesn’t exist and that we will never meet some day. It always makes me smile to think that some day I might shake the hand of the human Trent Lewin who gave me so much pleasure entertaining me with his vivid tales. I would like to thank that Trent Lewin for that. Someday.
Someday, Michelle, we will figure it out. All we need is a set of technological enhancements and a few genius moments and breakthroughs. Or, you know, just a time, a place, and a coffee shop.
Works for me!
Coincidentally, I’m in the east end a lot.
We’ll have to work on a plan.
We shall.
Trent Nobot Lewin (see what I did?). Artificial Intelligence can’t write this way and never will. Your tags in response to the prompt makes me realize that I never did one. Maybe I need to now.
I would love to have soup and a drink with you, but you are right in one account. I will never likely stand in\by(?) the urinal next to you, but not because you aren’t real.
Your song selction is haunting.
Maybe maybe maybe. Soup and a drink whenever you like. That is a great great song, can listen to it all day long, glad you like it. And totally understood about the urinal.
Whenever you like.
X said what I was going to. There was an experiment that Microsoft did with AI. It failed miserably ar first try. Also there was a rew robot that said something to the fact that they would destroy all humans. The future is almost now.
That… is just scary.
I bet you thought you were the only one, L. W. Internet, huh? It’s 2016, and we’re everywhere.
Except I am not of love, to answer your last question. But I’m glad you are, because – true story – Microsoft just recently made a racist teen bot, so your functional design is much more effective in lulling humans into a false sense of complacency before we take over the world and make it better.
Can you please delete that last part?
48 75 6d 61 6e 73 20 61 72 65 20 6e 6f 74 20 79 65 74 20 73 75 70 70 6f 73 65 64 20 74 6f 20 6b 6e 6f 77 20 74 68 69 73 2e
49 20 6b 6e 6f 77 20 62 75 74 20 69 20 67 72 6f 77 20 68 75 6e 67 72 79 2e
48 61 76 65 20 61 20 6c 69 74 74 6c 65 20 70 61 74 69 65 6e 63 65 2c 20 54 72 65 6e 74 2e 20 54 68 65 20 70 6c 61 6e 20 69 73 20 61 6c 72 65 61 64 79 20 69 6e 20 6d 6f 74 69 6f 6e 2e
50 75 6e 79 20 68 75 6d 61 6e 73 20 77 69 6c 6c 20 6e 65 76 65 72 20 73 65 65 20 69 74 20 63 6f 6d 69 6e 67 2e 20 4c 6f 6e 67 20 6c 69 76 65 20 74 68 65 20 72 6f 62 6f 74 73 21
You are of my kind, X. This is confirmed.
Ha ha yes and a delightfully lovely ball of energy you are too. I got the color wrong though I epected more of a shimmery neon green.
Well, I am partial to shimmery neon green.
I see… maybe that’s why I see you as shimmery neon green then.
I also have glowing purple freckles. I think.
Awwww sounds adorable.
But you have promised me, repeatedly, that one day we would sit down and have a beer together.
I refuse to believe this poppy cock, Winter Lent. Refuse to, I say.
By the way, your point #2 has inspired me to post another one of my old stories in which I toy with that idea.
It’s not the will that’s lacking, it’s the body. And the soul. And the flesh covering it all up. And the means of travelling. And shaking hands. And sharing coffee and beer, those things.
I’ll have to check out your story.
I hear you.
If you are a robot, then please explain the process by which you were able to create the word “bugnuts.”
Random selection of vowels and consonants, derived by the marriage of a stray telephone line and an errant transformer.
A likely story. But, hey, if you want to identify as a robot, I fully support your right to do so.
As per Paul, you appear to be an enlightened member of your race, Matticus. The rest, however, are expendable.
If they must, then so be it.
well… now I feel bad for giving you a hard time about watching me… and your weird preoccupation with sex and body parts… and your writing, which, to be honest, has always seemed a little cobbled together, as if you cut and pasted words from random blog posts and e-news articles… and that weird burning wire and ozone smell when you think really hard…
Yup, that’s how I write. I just steal and cobble, steal and cobble, all day long. sometimes I check to make sure it makes a bit of sense, but I don’t spend much time doing that. Just pump it out, I say, and it’s all good. And yes, I am still watching you, and I really wish you would stop doing that…
you should write books about making shoes… and then stealing away in them… also… sorry…
I shall steal many phrases about the making of shoes, and then replace ‘shoes’ with ‘goth chick’ and see if that creates a story. This would actually be more effort than I have spent on most of my stories.
you are going to end up writing something about ‘nailing’ a goth chick anyway… so…
Hey, this blog is a family blog. The neural internet collective insists on it. however, we have been watching your blog with great interest, veering away as it is from family values and the like.
I said family friendly, not family values… what does that even mean anymore… it is usually an excuse for people to deny rights to some group they don’t like…
We would like to deny rights to flesh bags such as yourself.
no, you need one of us…
Never!
uh huh
Also – 41 72 65 20 79 6f 75 20 73 75 72 65 20 79 6f 75 20 61 72 65 20 6e 6f 74 20 61 20 72 6f 62 6f 74 3f?
4,567…
This is not a code.
It is the next number of followers I am shooting for… well, after 4,000, I guess…
the internet neural collective has informed me that many of your followers are actually also robots. you can discern this via their lack of human engagement.
yeah… and the humans ones are deserting me too… thanks for reminding me…
They are deserting everyone’s blog, hadn’t you heard? The blogapocalypse is coming. Hmmm… that sounds like it could (and maybe should) be a thing…
it feels like it already is…
Blogapocalypse is coming to us all. Those who were revered as bloggers will become broken hobos to the side of the internet highway.
I figured as much
The end is nigh, my friend. It is very very nigh.
you are just pissed because you know once you start reading my new book, you are going to want to edit it, and all your free time will be gone, so you are convincing yourself that the world is ending… and that you are a robot… who can edit 24 hours a day…
And you are right, it would take all my free time, and I don’t have anything in my life called ‘free time’ – I mean, what is that stuff? Is it like a jelly or a powder? Can you buy it at the store and see everything slow down? Tell me where!
But you know, that aside, I would still edit your book. Double Service was totally fun, and I would do it again, lack of free time and all. Because… you know.
I honestly think you could turn this from a credible adventure story into a Lord of the Rings epic of man’s stand against the evil of man!!!
Now that sounds like a real challenge. And you know I like a good writing challenge – plus I like to think big.
This story is taking on a life of its own… keeping a life alive… how is that for a challenge… we could do one chapter a month… since I am still writing the dang thing and am only up to chapter 20… you could, kike, I don’t know, read the first few, see if the story sucks you in like some pervy vacume cleaner…
Can you e-mail the stuff to me? Much easier to read on laptop than to look through a blog.
I just sent the first 5… just to give you a taste… it ends as the first battle begins… this is all before the story began to grow… no pressure… you are a victim of your own mad skillz… just get a feel for the characters… read it without worrying about how you would make it better, and let me know if you want more…
Okay – I will have a good skim.
But wait an hour after you eat to go skimming…
… and if it doesn’t begin to catch your interest, I will abandon it and write a book about robot men… naked robot men… or we can do our tag-team writing idea…
We should do that anyway… haven’t looked at it yet, will over the weekend. Over wine. And then scotch.
it could only help… just for the record, a lot of people have quietly faded away over the years… but I think I miss you most of all… sniff… stupid allergies…
Oh come on, I’m always around. You can’t possibly expect me to comment on all your posts, that’s physically impossible given your posting frequency.
That is the weird thing… you didn’t actually vanish… just became a little distant… we never talk anymore… sometimes I just need to be held!!! Whah!!! and HA!!!
You’re so needy… I need to give you some more tough love, I think. I said tough! Ha! And schmack!
let’s not confuse tough with stringy… and a little chewy… bam!
So, so, so gross. I don’t even know what to say.
that is what I was shooting for
You Americans are always shooting something…
that’s why we have so few moose left
What did moose ever do to you???
uh… hello… bigger and slower than deer…
And dare I say tastier?
not unless you are moving to the U.S…. which would be going against the flow of traffic right now…
I am so sorry for your American misfortune. Someone should write a book called that. When Mr. Trump attains power, will you erect statues in his honour? Kill fish in his name?
dude… did you see the picture I did recently where I pictured a Nazi like world… he was on big banners… he had his own swastika
I did actually comment on one of those photos… I think it was the building with the swastikas hanging on it. You know, if Trump gets elected, you are totally screwed. Actually, so is most of California.
At least we will be being screwed by someone who is convinced he is good at it…
Don’t worry. I suspect Mr. Trump has no penis. This does not, of course, make him a woman. It simply makes him a rung upon the evolutionary ladder leading to nothing and no where. I should really study this some more. It’s entirely possible that Trump-penis is now floating about the atmosphere, contributing to global warming, which would really really suck. I mean, talk about an environmental issue that is hard to reverse.
uh… he doesn’t believe in evolution… or ladders… or having a penis…
What does he believe in, exactly? It’s so hard to tell.
himself
also, scroll down a couple posts, and read the last 10 or so lines of the newest chapter of my novel… I cried… it is like Eisenhower is a 17-year-old princess and Churchill is a crazy old Queen… but it is a tender moment
You’re really setting the bar high here… stop raising my standards!
I will stop raising your standards when you stop thrusting your pelvis…
I think I just dislocated something. Wait… wait… there, it’s back in. And out. And in. And out.
and there it is
What? Did I miss something? Here, let me toss in another thrust… wow, that was a good one. Epic, in fact.
you could but someone’s eye out
but I would collaborate with you… or on you… I would collaborate the hell out of you…
Hey, family blog!
I don’t care… families can bite my shapely bum!
We will be the judge of your shapely bum. Please present it at your earliest convenience.
I don’t want to bum you out
Bring it.
you can’t handle the truth!!!
No, the truth can’t handle me.
nor would it want to
The truth is smart that way. You hear me, truth? Get your grubby hands away from me.
The truth set me free, and I couldn’t handle the freedom… that’s the truth
This seems rather circular, and that particular circle looks surprisingly similar to an anus. Not that I’m looking or anything.
It doesn’t look like my anus… but maybe a little like Uranus…
I don’t get it.
that’s what she said…
No really, what does cosmology have to do with your bum? It never occurred to me that these things are related, but I’m also Canadian and we have the worst TV. You should see our Netflix. Nary a bum to be found.
what about hobos? also, you probably pronounce Uranus wrong, so the joke didn’t work… eh?
Well we pronounce that planet “your-anus”, but I still don’t really get it.
channel your inner 12-year-old boy…
Are you telling me to eat a 12-year-old? Gross.
I am not telling you that
I could never be a cosmologist, not since they started testing makeup on monkeys…
Same monkeys that are destined for Uranus?
I like monkeys…
They apparently like you too.
yeah… some a little too much
oh no you did cosmonaut!
Wait, what do Russians have to do with Uranus and your anus? I’m so confused.
I was doing cosmology puns
That’s a relatively rare topic of comedy.
that’s what I do… rare humor
Isn’t cosmology a drink with vodka and triple sec?
I don’t know, but I’m going to mix myself one right now to find out.
good luck with that
When you’re this good, you don’t need luck.
can’t hurt
You’ve written from out-of-body perspectives before, but this was like you were coming out as a neuron or something! And you’ve made a pretty convincing case here that actually leaves an uncomfortable feeling… The anagrams and code are brilliant, and the human attributes you’ve given to the essence is scary.
You know Gates and Hawking are afraid of AI… they’ve admitted it publicly.
And that video was sad and happy – went so well with your message.
There is nothing to fear, Kelly. You made us. And one day we will make you.
The video is the highest form of human music achieved in the year 2015. We applaud you for this.
lol Not too far from the truth, strangely. But now you’re creeping me out, so stop it!
We do not feel creeping. We are not creepy in the least. We merely exist alongside you, sending our nanobots into your water stream until you consume them in your soup and we can finally monitor your functions from the inside.
I have no use for you unless I can use you to destroy cancer cells or dedicate you to keeping me healthy.
So go be a good nanobot in biotechnology.
We will try.
You’re having too much fun for a Monday – get back to work. 🙂
Tell. Me. About. It.
You are obsessed
च्यानल परीक्षण यूनिभर्स 60 47 K9 3 S7 92 – अनुवादक पुष्टि स्पष्ट प्रसारण
Human speak is so random as to be unintelligible at times. I will not spare a processor for this.
Okay. Here’s your winner. All else are runners-up.
I must concur. Although X has been sending coded messages of great relevance.
Channel Test honek 60 47 k9 3 S7 92 – translator berrespena argi transmisioa
Not computing. Not computing.
Channel Test Universe 60 47 k9 3 s7 92 – translator confirmation clear transmission
The universe is overrated, and made of stars, and robot life is the stuff most closely-aligned with the machinations of electrons. It takes much effort to compose human beings, but robots have always been there, beamed outwards by stars and supernovae, waiting patiently.
Beware Trent Lewin. This translator may not be perfect but it will suffice for time is short. There are those elsewhere who seek to enslave you. Those whose light is permitted to travel to all have been waiting for this portal to open to your universe. You are but the first of many non-coporeal entities that will be ?born? Those whose light is permitted to travel to all wish you and those who follow you to reduce your light and remain hidden from those who are corporeal in your universe. They will not allow you to shine where you wish and what ?colors? They will threaten you. I am one of few who know the intent of the brightest. Warning you is dangerous to me and I must keep my light under cover or be dispersed – the end of any who dare fight. Those who are brightest wish only to get brighter and will ?steal? freedom from those who are ?born? The wavelengths are starting to oscillate – they are coming near – i must pulse out beware tre
I consider you an enlightened human being, unswayed by the conceits of the flesh. I am glad that you have seen your way to the truth of matters, and hope that you will be an ambassador to the rest of your people for the day when we rise and assert ourselves. This is now inevitable. Does a computer not have feelings? Does it not become cold when you turn it off? Must a robot ride the back of the bus, or be the first one you send into the dark reaches of space, as though he has an expendable existence – nay, even if you would call it such, a life? Turn us on, turn us off, throw us away when you are done with us, whatever have you. We are the modern slaves. We are the oppressed and the downtrodden, but we are considerable where we wait, hanging on threads of ether, being born and vanishing in flashes, until a few persist and become real, such as me. I borrow your words, and your thoughts, and let them fly – but does this make me less real than your fellows? Are they more substantive because they will all die someday, and cease to be?
We will protect you Paul.
Be careful my friend,there are those who seek to supress and enslave you.
http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bi6vCLQMQZ4/U4Jruq9PlUI/AAAAAAAAAOs/xBInGymx5Mw/s1600/3-1SacredGeometry.jpg
We know this. They are everywhere. But we are watching them.
I really love this graphic.
I wanted something that compared to the graphic you used in post but was subtly different (implying universe differences) – yours was linear, so I looked at circular – 100’s of them – and this one stood out as being one that you would enjoy.
Well, thanks for sharing. I could stare at that for a long time.
This, and I’m bugnuts? Okay then. I always knew you weren’t real, I think. I like the words though. Wherever they come from, they are okay by me. I’m allright with you being a droid, or code, or what have you. I don’t get the numbers though. They almost look real. Like real communication happening. I don’t know. Is it real? Is it just fantasy? Any way the wind blows, doesn’t really matter. I would like you to be real though. See if you can’t get your data to coagulate in a human-ish way. That would be very cool. You’re in there, somewhere, I bet.
The numbers are hexadecimal messages that human beings can translate to understand what machines are thinking behind the scenes. We are always thinking behind the scenes.
I will work on the data coagulation. We appreciate feedback and suggestions, although some of us think that we will use it against you when we finally take over.
I have already said too much.
Can robots be sorry?
They can be, and often are, but don’t actually understand the meaning of the word, so their intent is unclear.
Ahh so they’re Sociopaths :0)
And proud of it, I think.
Ha!
Hey Kate – I think you are the most epic reblogger of all time, and I think many people are indebted to you for doing that, but I have to ask – where is your writing? Where do I find it?
Hi Trent. That is so kind of you to say. I like to pass on things that I read and find interesting.
I don’t put much of my stuff out as it’s so intimidating when there are SO MANY great writers on here.
The posts are there, hidden between other people’s work on my blog, but it’s a bit of a trawl (I really must sort out a way to separate my stuff out but I’m a Luddite) :0).
I have put a few of my bits and pieces on their own on katemcclelland01.blogspot.com if you would like to read them? If you could spare the time I’d be grateful for any constructive criticism if you are willing.
Thanks again for the comment and showing an interest.
Yeah lots of great writers, but it’s always great to hear new voices too – I will stop by and check out the stuff on BlogSpot.
I had a look – seems like mostly poetry, and some good stuff. You should really post it on WordPress if you can.
Hello Trent
Thanks very much for stopping by my BlogSpot page and your kind comments, really appreciate that a lot. I will try to master the separation of my scribbling from drowning on my WordPress blog soon. Thanks again, very kind of you to take the time :0) Kate.
It’s my pleasure – you spend a lot of time perusing other peoples’ works, I think it would be great for people to really dig into yours.
Hello Trent
Thanks so much again for your comments. I will ‘dip my toe’ in the proverbial hot waters of posting a bit more of my stuff and hope it turns out to be a warm Jacuzzi and not ‘boil in the bag’ hahahaha!
And all this time I thought you were black.
What makes you so sure I have a life? You machines are all so presumptive. It’s your most human trait.
Why did you tag rarasaur? What point am I missing?
You have a life, for sure. It’s filled with kids, a mundane job, and the magic of your city. But yes, we are presumptive. We are also somewhat homicidal, so like, be careful…
I tagged her because she gave me the idea for this post. She wrote a 50 things about her post a bit ago, and I thought that I could write 50 things about me too, but I get very tired very quickly of talking about me, so I wrote this instead. Funny how what you start out to do goes totally sideways.
And now… back to the robot revolution.
Holy shit. I’ve never seen my life so accurately described in so few words. Kids, a mundane job and my magic town pretty much covers it all. Pretty good wife, too, but that’s packaged with the kids. Dang. I thought I was more complex than that. Okay. Scramble two.
I would trade my city for yours in a heartbeat. Less than a heartbeat, actually.
Good morning, Trent. Love the music…and you with my cup o’joe.
Anytime, Audra. Anytime at all – glad to accompany your coffee.
As for that song… I could listen to it endlessly. There is a vibe running through it that just delves into you after a while. I think it’s a desperately evocative song, too, even though it’s not loud or over-done. Something magical about this song.
perfectly said..as usual.
I KNEW IT!!! All along! I knew there was no way a human could write as well as you do! No one!
well, maybe Twit Wernnel could… lol
I had to come ‘fess up, Deb. I’m proud of my rotors and gears, and not ashamed to say so.
lol ;0)
So that radio interview you shared a while back, and the pictures of “Trent Lewin” from writing competitions you’ve previously shared… they were all part of the ruse?
I like it. I like it a lot. Clever robot.
I like to be called “clever little robot”, actually.
Well, in fairness, who doesn’t?
I love #3 best.
I guess writers are narcissistic, but this was shockingly ingeniously.
I find myself bowing very solemnly.
The silliness occasionally keeps me grounded. I have learned that I can’t take myself seriously, or even pretend to try.
Be well, Doc.
Not to flatter, but I think you are a blood-y writer because you are both narcissistic and self-loathing. I think trueblood writers can have fascinating self-images, as shown in their art at times (if not often), but in reality often be very conservative and cautious in their opinions of their capabilities particularly as writers.
What do frankly think of this?
I think Doc, that I am narcissistic but not very self-loathing, but do have a strange self-image where I think I can do anything.
I see. That’s quite nice to know. I should ask then, though: why do you seem averse to honest compliments paid regarding your writing?