“Technology has moved from the reorganization of the physical environment to man’s biological body, genome and consciousness.”
Vitor Weiss, being the first of his kind, and only One-Earth-Day Old, felt divided in two. Prior to the evening’s mission, Angela Weiss, his Maker, gave him a concise summary of the world into which he had been delivered, albeit not of natural birth.
Vitor, she said, you are an original man. A Synthetic Creation. A posthuman. Angela showed him a WIKI Page on the laptop computer. Diamond. Synthetic. What does that mean? Exactly how many people exist who know? A Synthesized Diamond is crafted of pressure, detonation, sound, or vapor. Like the diamond, Sweet Vitor, she told him, you are of many things. And, as the diamond, you shine.
Vitor, forgive me. It’s merely a metaphor: but I am your mother… and more… you will discover. A parent is both a friend and an adversary. This, is the same for all! Like many of this world, you are here because you are wanted. Not all children are wanted, but most children are wanted.
However, you are unique. The myths and histories have records of your type. Are there any alive today? Likely not. Like the diamond, of many sources. Why another?
We shall see, forgive me if I made a mistake.
In front of his eyes, that highwayman. Within his vast consciousness, synesthetic visions of Francisco Goya’s, “Attack On a Coach.”
Two handfuls of people, the winners and losers of an energetic encounter.
Teeth-Troll, as Vitor Weiss had christened him, based on his hygiene and apparel, should find another line of work. He was inferior, a rank amateur. Vitor had speed-read an Ebook book by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, “Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus,” Angela explained the book was written longer ago than Vitor could imagine.
Why, Angela? Why that story? Because you frighten me Vitor, with your talk of bending snapping casting into the deep sea, the two of us… it’s counterproductive, really.
Vitor requested the only sustenance known to him so far; lemon cookies and Polar Bear Seltzer. Vitor really enjoyed the laptop computer. He expertly examined, parsed, the Drudge Report, Jeff Rense, and Sott.Net. Journalism, Angela said it was called.
Vitor realized how lucky he was to be at the Sea with tiny Angela — and promised to be more careful with his temper.
Vitor also learned Francisco Goya was quite unique, much like Vitor. But not so funny.
Could they go visit Goya?
Aleister. What? Vitor had the highwayman repeat the single word. Aleister, the man who would-be-robber said his name was Aleister. It’s Scottish, he told Vitor. Corvette, you have a ‘Vette, man?
It’s a 2012 GS Convertible. Black, Otter… Automatic, that’s it. I’m Vitor Weiss. It’s really Angela Weiss’s Corvette. Have you seen it Aleister? I just got here on the Sea… Ocean… It’s Angela’s Corvette. Have you seen the Corvette, Aleister? Vitor inquired delicately.
Angela? Your Old Lady, Vitor? Yes. She is an old lady. Alabaster and shades of pink. Tiny not like Vitor. Littler, like Aleister but not so bad-smelling. She doesn’t make black shiny water outside the leg-garments when challenged. Almost, nearly, she admits, when laughing. That she told me. Aleister.
I’ve seen the car, Vitor Weiss.