An Irrelevant Happening

"Well the twoscore certainly don't think so, but you can never count on them to take the long-term ramifications into consideration." She said, tossing her hair over her right shoulder.

"They're easy enough to manipulate, though, for the same reason."

You know, I was alive once. I was an I, I guess, is really what that means. That's our common ground, our shared perspective. OUr "I-ness" your highness. That's the basis for our equality and the foundation for our empathy. There's an eye in there.

I has a thought. I guess most frequently it's the language generator they installed when I was a kid. I always wondered what an "I" that reached maturity without language would have going on in 'Is head. Would the constant chatter of "thought" be imagery instead?

What of the words we don't attach to? The ones that slosh down the drain of time into the nothing, the one's we judge as not resonant with our concept of self? Is the chatterbox spinning truths when it tells me what "I" think of my "self?"

I was alive once, and I typed on a keyboard. The witnesses wrote it on the blockchain. It was a thing that happened.