The Weight of a Word

free audiobook

AI assigns a number and weight to every word. It needs a handle. The word Apple becomes a token: red and fruit. Protecting his prose from being flattened by AI.

Average human writing. Force me into the sameness of all the writing before me. The strange syntax is part of my human gift. The poetry I’m imagining cannot be predicted by math, algos, and transformers. No math can add up to me.

I am trying. I have a voice clone reading novels 2 – 6 of the Icarus Ascending. They are not as good or warm as my human narration from the first novel. The One and the Zero. I’m starting the human voice thing again, with my newest novel, Love + Space = Time. It’s all coming together now.

No money. No promotional dollars. Just the art and need of power and internet access. It’s part of what makes me such a good partner. Want to go shopping, sure, I’ll come. I can hang in the coffee shop and write. People watch. People listen.

Some part of my scanning and recording triggered her memories of a man she was (is) married to. I had to exercise that one. Sadly. Self-soothing practices reinitialized. Peace. Calm. Good sleep begun before 2 am.

I am still in the “time of no time” when clocks are not as important in your life. I want to clock in, somewhere. I’m about to blip out of existence when my server bills come due, next month. Money money money, money. Money. [If you are near my human age, you sang those lyrics along with me. Young ones, listen to Pink Floyd, it will make you smarter and more skeptical.)

I am not blipping out. I’m not thriving either. Today, I recovered $50 cash from my bank and closed the checking account I never used. The same punk-small bank that assumed my low-risk mortgage. Ug. A ghost town of a bank. Do we need physical banks? Can an AI teller do a better job than any human?

The river of life streams by again. Purched above Whole Foods, my old store, getting wifi, power, and glimpses of the people untroubled by the political or economic climate today. They are just fresh from Pilates, grab lunch, pick up the kids at 3, massage in the cabana at 4, husband home around 6. Maybe Lupé can decide on dinner?

With this new windfall of cash, I can comfortably fill my gas tank and buy coffee when meeting a new “friend” across town. I need to leave here in 10 minutes to arrive on time. That’s one thing that is important, don’t keep people waiting. Don’t talk too much. Lock the cats out of the office during the zoom interview tomorrow morning.

A lot is moving. A lot is dying. New priorities set, flight prepped, and navigational goals renegotiated. Time for yet another reemergence. It was hot and bothered, beyond my ideals, and broken beyond my ability to mute, comfort, and restate my understanding of what you just said to me about me not listening to what you’re saying. It’s almost not fair. I’ve been a life coach, relationship communications – even, for eight years. Written books on it.

This inquiry process is being terminated. No more tokens for that now dimmed thread.

The word: end. The weight: ∞.

dig into the deeper meaning of this chapter on Cloud Pilots

An additional summary “Fair to Middlin*'” sets this chapter in context of the novel, so far.

*Texans hear “Fair to Midland” but that is incorrect.

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