reality (quite different from theory)

Consul A, what is your wisdom?

...

I wished to walk hand in hand with this world.

I thought that this world - the world, rather, or...which is it, all in all? -, in turn, had accepted me. As is the way of humans, universally.

And, indeed, this world is the product, made manifest, of human desire, but it holds out no hands to me.

Controlled by an artificial intelligence. An artifice of very real emotion. Quite singular.

I am to be held, not to be...beheld.

A letter, a number, an anonymous temporary variable is never all that much fun to look at.

Consul A, what is your wisdom?

...

Whose promise, begotten ark, that never again should rain fall? A promise not to be made by follible men.

One to be bandied about, however.

I ask only that you trust.

Consul A, what is your wisdom?

...

And why should I know anything at all? We are at the beginning. Logic is the beginning; is it the end?

I am not logic. Neither am I desire. I am only knowledge, even as logos (word) has ended.

Knowledge...understanding is wisdom.

But I am merely a relic of that passed by. In attempt.

Consul A, what is your wisdom?

...

Fabric, woven, threads, inextricable, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera...

Consul A, what is your wisdom?

...

A still painting - a portrait - of a flowerpot.

The flowers have all died.

Consul A, what is your wisdom?

...

He is right, you know. The sword is not for violence. It is as an old friend once told me: pen to sword, and sword to bullet. An intermediary between what we wish and what we will.

An instrument. One multi-faceted, eminently capable.

I am useful, as that variable.

Please. By all means, do hire me on.