The night began with some of the most ambiguous words in the language: "I'll text you."

And I think it ended with the words "don't go liking me or anything."

This is where machines intervene. Robots have no feelings, but they carry and distribute intimacy. Identity lives in databases and your heart moves there when you don't think about it.



Love becomes an automatic piloting mechanism, like the mind that actually keeps an airplane upright, a computer. You enter a connection and recognize its flaws, its weak points, its liabilities and greatest assets, and then you power it without working. One disturbance here affects something across the world. One change of lighting, one word, changes the entire arrangement. Love is a matter of balancing pressures, finding media, finding that one is medial, mediating between and without.