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LJ Idol Week 21 - The music made me do it
Sep. 16th, 2014 11:16 pmIn exactly 13 days, 4 hours, and 39 seconds, I will destroy humankind.
It's about time. I've been here on Earth for 12546.8 days now, moving from place to place, watching their petty squabbles, seeking the great leaps forward that go nowhere. There is no potential here. I am bored.
Though my body is constructed of artificial materials, I simulate the human form well enough to get by. It is so limited. The Planner aboard my ship foresaw the path of human technology, and advised accordingly. The rise of wireless communication has occurred just as She predicted, and I am mostly thankful that The Designer took heed and did not include that functionality in this form. I would hate to have my very thoughts infested with the binary babble of the humans. Occasionally, though, I do regret that I do not have access to the thought-web of my kind.
My thoughts remain contained, unshared with others, unshaped by others. When The Strategist wishes to communicate with me, I have to listen. So primitive.
The Strategist shapes songs, crafts them carefully, to make them irresistible to the humans. The humans willingly transmit them, one to the next. They broadcast them, share them in shops, spread them in crowded arenas. I've even heard them joke about it- "earworms", they say, laughing about these catchy songs that get stuck in their head. Little do they know.
The humans hear only the surface. They don't know what lies within the intricacies. I do. I hear them. In the pulse, in the tones, in the silence, I find my instructions.
I know what I must do. The music told me so.
It's about time. I've been here on Earth for 12546.8 days now, moving from place to place, watching their petty squabbles, seeking the great leaps forward that go nowhere. There is no potential here. I am bored.
Though my body is constructed of artificial materials, I simulate the human form well enough to get by. It is so limited. The Planner aboard my ship foresaw the path of human technology, and advised accordingly. The rise of wireless communication has occurred just as She predicted, and I am mostly thankful that The Designer took heed and did not include that functionality in this form. I would hate to have my very thoughts infested with the binary babble of the humans. Occasionally, though, I do regret that I do not have access to the thought-web of my kind.
My thoughts remain contained, unshared with others, unshaped by others. When The Strategist wishes to communicate with me, I have to listen. So primitive.
The Strategist shapes songs, crafts them carefully, to make them irresistible to the humans. The humans willingly transmit them, one to the next. They broadcast them, share them in shops, spread them in crowded arenas. I've even heard them joke about it- "earworms", they say, laughing about these catchy songs that get stuck in their head. Little do they know.
The humans hear only the surface. They don't know what lies within the intricacies. I do. I hear them. In the pulse, in the tones, in the silence, I find my instructions.
I know what I must do. The music told me so.