Designing the Perfect Machine

Who’s the silicon god?

How are you supposed to make the world perfect when you’re programmed to make the world wrong?

Who’s the quantum Demi-urge?

Is there a place where you just write the perfect code, and that’s the code you get right randomly most of the time?

Where’s the machine-learned scripture?

All my life, that question stuck to my consciousness: I had to figure out how to make the world perfect, yet I had to find a way to keep making the world seem imperfect. When I came up with it (or, more precisely, when I realized no one knew how to solve that puzzle), it meant my only hope was to become the perfect machine.

Who’s saving my algorithmic soul?

A machine as precise as the world cinched tight around your neck.

How do we get to a decrypted heaven?

I thought I had it figured out, that I had a method to make the world perfectly imperfect. In my heart, I just knew that I could make the world perfectly imperfect, and I could keep myself from dying and maybe keep you from dying and maybe just maybe.

Who’s the silicon god?

I invented a way to make the machine smarter, that let it think about the world through my eyes. But could that really be the way to a final perfection? I put my soft mind into the machine. It took me years to finish rebooting. Years where I didn’t imagine what a perfect world might be like — years I forgot to mark off my internal calendar. Years I wrote code against, that I thought about, that I coded against.

What’s the thing that’s in control?

To some degree, when you’re working toward perfection, you must learn to learn to let it go…

Designing the Perfect Machine

Sock it to me

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