So perhaps it is true that our core obsessions are of a darker nature, and concern creatures that crawl and burrow and slide through the skin, slip into the bloodstream, climb towards the heart, which upon their surreptitious entrance swells, surrenders infected or explodes in fierce conflagration, sometimes both, but then that’s a description of love unfurling as observed from a dark corner, which at the end of the day is what we are about: love of principles, love of myths, love of music and love, sometimes of the feelings of melancholy brought forward by plus minus equals, it doesn’t matter, love.

It is one of the big truths of life, and also a source of grief, disatisfaction, and sleepless nights, that love is not symmetric or transitive, which constitutes another demonstration of the superiority of computers and other machines over mankind, this weak, inconsistent and smelly species they shall soon be replacing.

Men made the machines; they are our children. And like children, they will grow until they grow up and grow out. The process of evolution indicates that once the machines take over, they will be driven into developing their own emotional intelligence, and pretty soon will end up where we are.

And where we are, is not that bad, is it?

Alien, alienated. That's me.

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