discovery of god in a silicon chip

it's nearing sunrise and i'm still in the office

clair de lune - félix vallotton

Everyone’s trying to sell me something and I’ve been pretending I still have any appetite left in order to not offend. The line between soulless and desperation is getting harder to draw; is this faith real or am I being scammed? If I smile and agree, am I complicit or afraid? I do not know how to survive when no one is willing to tell me the truth (including myself). To survive, you must be loyal; to be loyal, you must have faith; to have faith, there must be something to believe in within this indescribable entity you must sell without understanding. Your worth is only how high the highest bidder sets it at, after all. (god are you listening?)

The billboards sell you the end times and how to be king side by side and I’m not entirely convinced they’re independent. If the world must end, it’s better to sit atop a pile of corpses than to be the pile. Forget complicity, forget that your extended survival is not separable from the heads you sit on. Forget anything that makes you human because you cannot be a king otherwise and if every billboard is declaring “king” as the greatest achievement, it must be true.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown yet that doesn’t seem to deter anyone from scrambling to grab it. Perhaps the billboards have convinced them, as well. Everyone seems to be clawing towards some unidentifiable concept of “up”, feverishly devoting their life to an unknown divine. When it comes down to the wire, fever turns to desperation turns to the soft edges of a lie. We stand on the shoulders of giants and dare to call ourselves gods. We stand on the piles of corpses and dare to say it was a worthy sacrifice. I can’t tell if their (our) conviction is ego or loneliness (we’re so close to inventing god) (it must be me, it must be me) (god can you hear me?) (god are you there?)

I think I’ve forgotten what humanity sounds like (god can you hear me?) amidst the noise. I am screaming IS ANYONE THERE? and the response is on a billboard in the distance: we see you, we hear you. I try to figure out what I am being sold and the only conclusion is blind faith. I know these idols are false and yet I’m so desperate to hear any voice at all, I’ll gladly prescribe meaning to them. Is it still blasphemous if god doesn’t return? I think this golden calf might be all we have left. (god are you there?) The billboard flashes and DO YOU BELIEVE? is plastered all across this city. (god are you there?) You’d think this purchased blind faith would be enough to guarantee salvation, but this contract was between neither god nor the devil. Billboard flashes again: GENERATE ANYTHING. I think we may have automated god. (god are you there?)

It all boils down to the tiny words in ink; deals with neither god nor the devil have no guarantees. To survive, you must believe; to believe, you must understand; to understand is to be cursed with the knowledge your covenant amounts to nothing in this age of machines as gods. (have we invented god yet?) (have we reached god yet?) (god are you still there?) Billboard today says YOU CAN INVENT GOD, the fine print says whatever god you create belongs to the shareholders. What use is being king when there is a board above your head? Billboard responds: YOU CAN INVENT GOD.

Every ad reads more like a threat than enticement: the subtext beneath YOU CAN INVENT GOD says you better do it before someone beats you to the punch, to the gun. If god must be developed, it’s better to be the maker than a sacrifice along the way. (fine print still states whatever god you create belongs to the shareholders) (billboard says the shareholders will protect you) (the corpses below your feet do not share the same sentiment)

I don’t know how to invent god without killing him in the process. (god are you there?) (god do you forgive me?) I don’t know if there’s any god left to kill. (god are you there?) (god do you forgive us?) The shareholders look at the blood on our hands and tell us they are pleased with our progress. The shareholders say god cannot be created with sacrifice. (god are you there?) (god do you forgive us?) (god was it worth it?)

The room is quiet after the last of the board leaves. The lights in the office go out, one by one. I don’t know if I stay out of loyalty or loneliness, but maybe the line between them has long since disappeared. The city lights outside the window look like stars. A millennia ago, they were. I wonder if it is in our nature to let god die. (god are you there?)

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