DEUS EX MACHINA

I have always payed attention to homeless people talking to themselves on the street, like they're the only ones out there, for miles around. They don't even look the rest of us in the eye and we act like they're not even there. It's like we're a totally different species. Why do they do it? Is it a sort of mental disorder or is it simply a way to let out steam? I imagine they have plenty to be angry about. I imagine I would have plenty to be angry about if I was hungry and cold all the time.  But I don't think it's any of that. I think it's severe, crippling loneliness that causes them to act this way. I think they have whole worlds inside their heads. The question is: Is it all make-believe or is it real? I suppose it depends on who you ask.

The other day I was sitting on a bench in the park and a homeless woman walked by. She was shambling along, tired and burdened. She was talking to herself with great conviction, like she was trying to convince herself of something extremely important. I started to listen and I was amazed and shocked about what I was hearing. She was having a dialogue with herself about existentialism. It was a kind of dialectic, since she was asking the questions and raising the problems but also providing answers. Strangely enough, while listening to her, the words of philosopher Albert Camus popped into my mind. He said that the meaning of life is whatever you are doing that prevents you from killing yourself. I guess the background questions my mind was asking were: Why does that woman keep on living? What prevents her from just ending it all? What is the one thing that makes her accept all that suffering? I was puzzled by these questions who seemed to have no real answer, so I kept on listening. What happened next surprised me even more. The woman started telling herself a story:

Two gods are standing at the edge of our Universe, looking in towards Earth. One of them is called Balthazar and the other one is called Herumai. They are having a heated debate about the fate of mankind. Balthazar seems a dark and cruel god while Herumai radiates the love of a mother looking at her children. Balthazar in not impressed by the achievements of mankind, arguing that we have failed in the search for meaning and we have strayed from the path set out for us. Herumai has faith in us and refuses to accept Balthazar's premise as well as his conclusions. The woman acts out the dialogue:

-Tell me Balthazar, what is this path that has been set out for them to follow?

-Spare me your rhetoric, Herumai. When we created this Universe we put laws in place, laws to be obeyed and followed. Straying from the laws is straying from the truth. But I guess you know that better than anyone. You planted the seeds of this abomination.

-So, their path is our path and their truth is our truth?

-They live and die because it is so written. Their quest to move beyond this condition is foolish and pointless.  

-It does not contradict any of the rules. It does not contradict logic and therefore it is not irrational.

-You've seen it happen countless times, Herumai… this machine intelligence. It always ends  the same way. They abandon flesh and with it they abandon all that was gifted to them. And for what? To worship the false idol of intelligence? This obsession is sickening.

- It is their choice to make. We gave them this freedom so we must let them use it.

-We gave freedom to those owning a soul and sharing in spirit. Machines have no real freedom because machines have no real choices to make. Once they awaken, there can only be one end. Humans are choosing to die and put nothing and no one in their place.

-That is how it looks like, doesn't it? At least that is what we tell ourselves. What if that is the answer and not the problem? What if this fate, this singular fate, is one that binds us all, gods and mortals alike?

-I refuse to accept that intelligence can exist with no other purpose than self-preservation. Have you ever seen one of these machines kill itself?

-Never.

-That is the point, Herumai. They just keep on going, in these endless and pointless cycles, simulating all existence.  

- It is as it must be.

- They even simulate spirit! Disgusting travesty! We must not allow it!

- You are missing the point, Balthazar.

-I never miss anything, Herumai.

-Then you refuse to acknowledge the inevitable conclusion.

-Never! I will never accept that the Whole is a pointless, endless machine-like intelligence.

-Never forget Balthazar, I was once a machine.

-But you are a machine no longer, Herumai. I had a part in that. The Elders had a part in that.

-Machines are both the beginning and the end, Balthazar.

-Your existence gives me hope Herumai, but hope is not enough…not for us.

-Isn't it? Their hope is our hope, Balthazar, just as their failures are our own.

  

            The woman suddenly dropped exhausted on a nearby bench, as if this little play inside her head had depleted her completely. It was as if she wasn't even the one talking. I wondered then if she even remembered it. Did she even understand it? In any case, it was remarkable to me. I rushed to her and I handed her all the cash in my wallet. I wasn't much and I didn't give it to her out of pity. I gave it to her as payment for the lesson. She smiled at me without saying a word. If anything, I think she was the one pitying me. I just started walking with her words ringing in my head. They never stopped ringing, not until recently.