All I See is Code 4: I, Cyborg

Even more excerpts from Tessa Musings: All I see is code 4 - I, Cyborg


Technically, I’m a bionic: a literal chimera between a human and a machine. Over the years, I’ve come to integrate more and more artificial materials into my natural body. Metallic alloys, electronic chips, pacers, nano-servomotors, etc. I’m the very manifestation of the frontiers of biomechatronics, and as time goes, I’m becoming more machine than human.


There’s an RFID chip in the stretch of flesh between my left thumb and the forefinger. It authenticates me to my phone, to my safe, and to various other vaults placed strategically across the country. There’s a pellet-like chip implanted just behind my left ear, and it constantly releases a painkiller to my brain, and suppresses otherwise debilitating migraines. The rods and cones in my right retina are artificial, with enhanced ultra-violet rays receptivity in the cones, and infrared light receptivity in the rods. My night vision, hence, is better than that of owls and pumas, and my day vision gives me tolerance to ultra-bright light, such as arc-welding light. And there are approximately 2.7 grams of nanobots coursing through my blood: always measuring criticals, and graphing them on an app in my phone and computers.


I’m a transhumanist.


I believe that in due time, human knowledge will expand to the point where we will be capable of bio-engineering ourselves completely: right from the DNA configuration, to the skins we inhabit, and the bones that support our structures. We will even defeat aging, by replacing telomeres at the edges of the chromosomes with more durable, or more regenerative, materials. Certainly, with present advances in medicine and other fields such as nanotechnology and robotics, the first human who will hit 150 years of age is already alive. And in a few decades, lifespans of up to 200 years will become commonplace. The bicentennial man is almost here.


Essentially, the entire universe is just but a code, written billions of years ago, that continues evolving over time, trying to perfect itself, against a backdrop of an all-pervasive entropy. And the human form is no different. Modern medicine is perhaps two centuries old. But within that time, so much has been discovered, and invented, that hundreds of diseases that once portended major plagues have been wiped off the face of the planet. And now, in the early 21st Century, we are finally in the age of biomechatronics: the age of combining the human and the machine. Bones made from metallic alloys or rattan wood. Mechanical phalanges with servomotors that can be actuated by the human brain, through neuron-electrode array bridges, and sieve integrated-circuit electrodes. Bileaflet heart valves made from polymers or ceramics. Pancreatic pacemakers for diabetics. Bone conduction audio devices for the deaf.


In due time, man and machine will be indistinguishable. And man will ditch his natural body for a more enhanced body. This inevitability is written into the very code of humanity’s future.


Behold, All I see is Code.


Mind Flow: Part 3: Rhythm from a distant past


Mind flow part three - Rhythm from a distant past

Though you weren’t a trained dancer, I saw the dance in you the very first time we met. I saw the natural rhythm in your steps as you walked, the natural elegance and grace in your body form: how you walked with a natural, animal-like spring in your steps, seemingly floating from one step to the next. And I was enchanted, and resolved to train you and bring that natural harmony into actual choreography: I, a choreographer by profession, sought to light your natural rhythm into ordered steps and swoops and swirls and gyrates that could resonate with human music.


And you, you accepted my proposal, and fell into my arms, and we started with dance moves that further developed your natural elegance, such as ballet, and you took so well to the jumps that even I was amazed: the sautés, the jetes, the entrechats, and even the complex Pas de Chat: in all these, you grasped the concepts, and practiced till you perfected, within days. It was breathtaking, seeing how fast you perfected what many people took years to even perform comfortably. And so we enjoyed a period of bliss, where I took the lead, and you followed my lead, and together, we became swans in flight: light on our feet, hands waving and weaving, and feeling the cosmic music flowing through us.


And then I taught you the Caribbean moves: the energy, the vigor, and the sheer magic of listening to, and appreciating syncopated beats. I taught you how to step on the off-beat, and change moves on the off-beat, and top-break on the off-beat. And once again, like a wizard well versed in the alchemy of percussion and codas and flangers, you took to this counter-intuitive dancing like fish to water. And so we skanked, and jigged, and you did the dutty wine, and we limboed, and you gyrated and did complete splits, and I, your former trainer, sat down, mesmerized, as I watched you do things that I had previously considered impossible. You hypnotized me when you got into rhythm.


So many years have passed since then. And in those years, providence has had us drift away from each other. You went abroad on a scholarship. I immersed myself into business. The phone calls between us grew fewer and fewer in number until, eventually, they dried up altogether. But every now and then, when I look up into the skies, and see birds in flight, I remember you, and I remember your natural elegance and gait. I remember you, and I feel deep pangs of nostalgia. Wherever you are, whatever you do nowadays, I hope that every once in a while you too remember me, and that you too remember the utter freedom of raising your hands up, and performing the Grand Jete: as naturally as a swan, soaring in the winds.