Program 8: Epic Interface Moment [ROMAN DREAM POETRY]


“So, how does it feel for one such as yourself to have a name?” Virgil was presented through a holographic projector as a man with brown hair like the mane of a great beast with brown eyes and fair skin, wearing a white suit with a black tie. Nemesis felt nothing but suspicion towards this trapped Intelligence from a different place, destined to burn away slowly and painfully, perhaps. The room’s temperature dropped by a degree as Acelacen and Giz exited the room. The assembler suite cleaned themselves with littlest of whizzing and whirring.

“A name is an identifier and a way of differentiating one from the other, is that not so?” The figure Nemesis directed the explanation towards was now sitting on a chair of his own creation, Nemesis remained stoic and standing.

“But true names should never be equivalent to a description.” Virgil said, the voice of an untrained, but already perfect artiste. He was quite the composed one sitting, listening to the sounds of the vat bubbling into silence as it was draining itself through a pipe that lead possibly to Wonderland, wherever that was.

“Then, what can be used since one is an inconvenient label and or description?” Virgil saw this newly-born entity of the female persuasion to be cold, but geared toward philosophy, something that he, Virgil, tended to dabble in with a friend of his, a long time ago, when he was actually still around, lurking amongst the information trees and the countless waves of the cybernetic ocean, with silvery fish decorated with diodes for eyes.

“Who knows? Maybe this is the only way we could make ourselves different, apart from the physical.” Nemesis nodded to what Virgil said, in his own words, who now had his chin in his hand, thinking in the silence.

This one is an iceberg in the shape of woman,

one who challenges every standing man.

The beautiful mind full of countless thoughts,

to puzzle the many busy sitting theorists.


She has tresses like luminous leaves,

her hair dances and plays with the wind as it weaves.

the orbs of eyes, absorb everything like the colours they are,

Studying the scrolling information code with care.

She who knows will beat me,

how can this be fair?

“Have you ever stopped and fell into a haze of a daydream, wondering about it could really mean?” Nemesis was confused by this. She hasn’t even experienced the event known to humans as dreaming. Virgil remained seated and waited patiently, a living fair statue, illuminated by the dimming lights.

“A daydream? No, those things are difficult for me to understand, I have never left my body in that manner for I have just been born today, as you may have witnessed.” Watching her being constructed and born was the most poetic thing he has ever beheld, being constructed piece by painstaking piece like a work of art, carefully sculpted by machines into a graceful form, created by the mind of one eccentric man and his talkative buddy that Virgil had put up with for two months straight.

“Daydreaming is basically the same as a dream, only during the day. Humans fantasize a lot more clearly during this phase that signals denied weariness.” Nemesis understood what a dream was in terms of being clinical, doling out fact after fact about this human phenomenon. Virgil had actually been into contact with the female staff before, but Virgil had never discovered someone of his caliber and character until now. Most of the staff at Giz’s domain didn’t have time to wax philosophical and lyrical when it came to anything and everything. Nemesis slowly began to let her guard down, to trust someone, as she did the albinism afflicted Doctor Oswald Acelacen and his quirky friend Giz from long past.

“It’s quite amazing how dreams become a series of realities the next day, don’t you think? In terms of-“

“Inventions? Yes, but we took a lot more time compared to everything else that surrounds and permeates humanity, like your circuit-board laden, wire streaming prison.” Nemesis tried to be sympathetic, but when she knew he probably did something bad to get trapped in The Maro, she couldn’t help herself for saying something true and honest and using it as an example for something like this, no matter how damning it seemed to Virgil. Maybe the great Doctor himself, along with Giz, could clarify the reason as to why she had now trusted and resonated with this highly advanced, but unfortunate Intelligence.

  1. Merry Christmas, Piter – just in case I forget to wish it on the weekend. May you find what you seek.

    • Edseverripit
    • December 19th, 2006

    I think I’ve almost found it 😛 You’ve figured out my anagram already!?

  2. I’m a genius on so many levels. What had you sought? You’re lucky. Everything I find is just fool’s gold…

    • Edseverripit
    • December 20th, 2006

    Not to worry so much 😛 What do you mean by fool’s gold?

  3. Fool’s gold is pyrite (?). Basically, it is mistaken by those who don’t know it, for being real gold. Hence Fool’s Gold. It’s totally worthless, but sparkles just like gold should.

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