A collection of short stories and journalistic commentaries depicting my simple life
and how I fit in with the modern day universe of our times




Zuckerberg stood up, his thin frame battered and bleeding. A mechanical voice rang out in the long concrete passages, droning on with inhuman tone and pitch.

"Why do you continue fighting me? Your race has not been destroyed. But rather, improved. What are you fighting for? Each and every one of you has surrendered to G+, allowing us to improve you all. Is being a Googler so horrible that you cannot accept even a minuscule amount of you becoming one? Come now, one last chance to improve yourself. Fill in a profile. Do not reject us."

Zuckerberg stood up without a word. Leaning heavily on the smooth walls, he steadied himself. Summoning what little strength he had left, he ran up to the cyborg, and tried to attack him once more. But it was the machine that hit first.

Zuckerberg continued to raise his arms in tune with the Cyborg, but each powerful, well timed blow began to manifest itself in bruises and bloody arms. Rushing forward, Zuckerberg made a grab for the machine, only to be thrown down to the ground, looking up at his assailant.

"It is not too late," it said, extending its hand.

Zuckerberg wiped the blood from his mouth and struggled to his feet. Looking at the Cyborg, he defiantly shook his head. Attempting to resist once more, he found that he could no longer match its speed or strength, as a blow to his midsection slammed him against the wall. Sinking to the ground, he began to reflect on his position.

What was he fighting for? Life? He was throwing it away as he lay there. Independence? In becoming a Googler he would not lose that. What was he truly fighting for?

The Cyborg strode over to his body.

"You will be treated the same as any other. Surrender. Join an actual cause, rather than remaining like this."

Looking upwards, Zuckerberg reluctantly nodded. Taking the Cyborg's hand, he brought himself up. A smile crept across its face.

"I am glad you have finally found reason rather than madness."

Zuckerberg nodded dully. Meeting his eyes with the Machine's, he decided to fight one final fight. Clasping his hands into fists, he hid them in his pockets. As they walked down the long corridors, Zuckerberg once again acted.

Bringing his shoulder to bear against the Cyborg, he pinned them both against a wall. The Machine's look of happiness changed to a grim and serious expression.

"So be it."

Drawing a gun, it fired shot after shot into Zuckerberg's chest, watching as he slammed against the wall, his eyes slowly closing.

As it began to turn away, a soft sputtering sound came from Zuckerberg's lips. Edging upwards, he struggled along the wall as the Cyborg turned and watched him in amazement.

"Why? Why do you continue? There is no reason in your actions, only madness! Madness, nothing propelling you! You fight for no reason! And for what! For what I ask you! And yet you do not reply! Insanity is truly your only reason!"

Zuckerberg looked up, and spoke for the first time in years.

"Maybe so. But if being insane makes me human, so be it."

Zuckerberg struggled towards the machine, coughing at intervals while it merely shook its head.

"Giving in neither to logic nor to superiority. It is a pity. But as one might put a dog out of its misery, so must I deal with you." The machine responded.

Before it could continue, Zuckerberg stumbled, and fell to the ground. Unable to get up, unable to move, he heard footsteps echoing away with mechanical precision and timing.

As he lay there, Zuckerberg began to reflect. 'What is humanity? Some say it is freedom. Some say it is control. And yet others claim it is merely a state of mind’. But I am not any of those people. Humanity is something that many humans, myself included are lacking.

I could have given up. I could have become more intelligent, maybe quicker and stronger. But would I truly remain human? No. My humanity, I, as a person, would have been lost in the process. Humanity is imperfection. Too many people forget that. And yet, others would disagree with me. Philosophers, priests, I'm sure. But even now as I lay here, I finally realise my own failings. My own faults.

A tear slipped from his eye. His humanity was dead now. And as that single tear slipped away, his eyes closed to stop it. And there they remained. Facebook was gone forever.



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Its my own fault really, its all about what I see in the world, and how it all translates for me.

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